DONALD RESUMING HIS JOURNEY, HEARS A CRY OF DISTRESS.--FINDS A MAN UNDER
A FALLEN TREE, WHO, AFTER CARRYING HIM SOME DISTANCE, HE DISCOVERS TO BE
ALEC GALBRAITH.--THEY CAMP FOR THE NIGHT.
Donald was about to leave the scene of havoc caused by the whirlwind,
when a groan, as if from a person in pain, reached his ears. It was
repeated with a faint cry of "Help! help!" He made his way among the
fallen branches in the direction from whence the sound came. At length
he saw, beneath a fallen tree, a man of strong frame, so pressed down by
a bough that he could not extricate himself.
"Get me out of this, for I can endure the agony no longer," cried the
man.
Donald hastened up to him. "I'll do my best to release you, my friend;
but let me see how I can best manage it," he said. At first he thought
of chopping away the bough, but then he saw that the man would suffer by
the blows. He soon, on examination, determined how alone it could be
done. With his axe he cut two pieces of wood, one of which would serve
as a crowbar, the other thicker and shorter, to place under the bough
after he had raised it. It was a work of time, and his heart was
grieved at the pain which the poor man was enduring during the
operation.
At length, by great exertion, he raised the bough sufficiently off the
crushed limb to enable him to drag out the sufferer.
"Water! water!" were the only words the latter could utter. Donald had
a small quantity in a flask, with which he moistened his lips. It
somewhat revived the man; but how, in his crippled state, he could be
conveyed to the township, was now the question. The stranger was
strongly built and heavy, and Donald felt that, sturdy as he himself
was, he could scarcely hope to carry him along the uneven track so great
a distance. Still, to leave him in his present exhausted condition was
not to be thought of; the wolves, too, from which he had escaped, might
come back before he could possibly return with assistance.
"I must take you on my back, my friend," he said to the stranger, who
appeared to have recovered sufficiently to understand him. "I see no
other way of preserving your life. Trust to me. I can at all events
carry you some distance before nightfall, we will then encamp, and
continue our journey to-morrow."
"I am not worth the exertion and trouble it must cause you," said the
man, gloomily. "The pain overcame me, and I would that the trunk itself
had fallen on me, and put me out of existence altogether."
"Nay, nay, my friend," answered Donald. "You should rather be thankful
to the merciful God who, though He has allowed you to suffer injury, has
preserved your life, that you may yet have an opportunity of devoting it
to His service."
"I do not comprehend your philosophy. I know that I have been suffering
unspeakable agony. I have nothing to be thankful for on that account,"
answered the man.
"We will not dispute the point now, my friend," said Donald. "But let
us make the best of our way to the township. This stout stick, which I
used as crowbar, will serve to support me as I walk. Now let me lift
you on my shoulders, and we will proceed on our journey."
Donald, on this, stooped down, and placed himself so that the stranger
could cling to his back, and with his heavy weight he made his way
through the forest.
He had not gone far, however, before he began to fear that he should
make but slow progress, even should he not be compelled to abandon his
intentions altogether, and to leave the unhappy sufferer by himself in
the forest. He staggered on till he reached a small stream, where he
could obtain water to quench the sufferer's burning thirst. He examined
also the injured limb--the bone did not appear to be broken, although
the flesh was fearfully bruised and discoloured.
The clay was already far advanced, and when in a short time he began to
feel the strain which had been put on his own muscles, he came to the
resolution of encamping where they were, and should no one appear, to
continue the journey the next day.
Having first bathed the sufferer's leg in the cold waters of the stream,
and bound it up as he best could, he commenced making preparations for
encamping, by cutting some spruce fir tops for a bed, collecting stakes
and slabs of birch bark to form a hut, and dry branches for a fire.
This did not take him long. He hurried through the work, for he wished
to shoot some birds or catch some fish for supper. Having lighted a
fire, he left his patient, suffering less apparently than before, and
went off up the stream hoping to find the necessary provisions.
He was more successful even than he expected, and returned with an ample
supply of fish and fowl. Hitherto the stranger had been in too much
pain to speak more than a few words. The food greatly revived him; and
as he sat up, leaning against the side of the hut, Donald observed that
his eyes were fixed on him with an inquiring look. Donald had spoken
several times in broad Scotch.
"It must be so," exclaimed the stranger at length, "though I am not
surprised, Donald Morrison, that you do not know me."
Donald gazed eagerly at the stranger's countenance, then leaning
forward, grasped his hand.
"Yes, I know you now, Alec Galbraith, my dear friend," he exclaimed,
"though till this moment I had no suspicion who you were. How thankful
I am that I should have been sent to your help."
Donald then told Alec how anxiously he had been inquiring for him, and
how sorry he had been at being unable to discover where he was. "I
don't like to make you talk now, though," he added. "You must tell me
all about yourself by-and-by."
"That would not take long, Donald," answered Alec. "Though, as the
subject is not a pleasant one, I will gladly defer it. Just before I
had discovered who you were I had been intending to insist on your
leaving me till you could send some one back from the township to bring
me in, if any one could be found to perform so thankless an office for a
wretched pauper like me. I had been counting on my strong arm and
resolution to make my way in the backwoods, as many another determined
fellow has done, and now I find myself suddenly brought down, and for
what I can tell to the contrary, a helpless cripple for life."
"You are right in supposing that I would not leave you, my dear Alec,"
answered Donald gently. "Indeed, I would not have done so had you been
a stranger. Trust to God's loving mercy for the future. Your leg is
not, I hope, materially injured, and on your recovery you may be able to
carry out the plan you proposed, for I feel sure you will find
employment for your head as well as your arm, and the two together, in
this magnificent country, will secure you all you can require. But oh,
Alec, if you would but put faith in the love of God and His protecting
care you would no longer be in dread of the future."
Alec sat silent for some minutes. "If God is such as I was always
taught to suppose Him, He can only visit with His vengeance a being like
myself, who has dared His power, and done numberless things which He is
said to prohibit. No, I feel that I am a wretched outcast sinner in His
sight, worthy only of punishment. He has for some time past been
pursuing me with His vengeance, and I see no reason why He should stop
till He has crushed me quite."
"Of course, my dear Alec, you are perfectly right in your estimation of
yourself, and right, too, with regard to God, if you judge Him as man
judges. His justice demands your punishment, but His love and mercy
would preserve you if you would accept the plan He has formed for saving
you and restoring you to that favour which you have justly lost. He
asks you to do what you have just done, to acknowledge yourself a
sinner, and now do what He demands besides, and throw yourself
unreservedly upon Him."
"Your system is a beautiful one, Donald, but I confess that I cannot
comprehend it," said Alec, with a groan, produced by the pain he was
suffering, then he added, in his old careless and somewhat sarcastic
tone, "Tell me, old fellow, is it thoroughly orthodox."
"It is according to God's word, and that I dare not dispute," answered
Donald. "And I will pray that His Holy Spirit will make it as clear to
your mind, and bring it home to your soul, as He has to mine. We will
not, however, talk further now, as it is important that you should get
some sleep. I will watch over you, and keep the fire burning, and I
hope that to-morrow we shall be able to resume our journey. Before you
sleep, dear friend, we will offer up a prayer for God's direction and
assistance."
"As you think fit," answered Alec, expressing no satisfaction at the
proposal.
Donald knelt and prayed, and then read a portion of God's Word. Alec
sat listening, but made no remark, though he pressed his friend's hand
when he had finished, and then lying down closed his eyes.
As Donald sat by the side of his friend he observed that though his
slumbers were troubled he appeared to sleep soundly. He had resolved to
carry him till he could get help, though he felt that the task was
almost beyond his strength; but he did not despair. He prayed for that
aid he so much needed, and felt sure that it would be sent in the way
God might judge best.
The faithful believer does not expect a miracle to be wrought in his
favour, but he knows that the Most High, who allows not a sparrow to
fall to the ground without knowing it, so orders and arranges all the
movements of His creatures, that He accomplishes, by apparently ordinary
means, whatever He desires to bring about. Thus when the believer prays
he is sure that his prayer will be answered, though it may not be in the
way he, in his finite judgment would desire. Resting securely on God's
love and mercy, he is sure that all will be ordered aright.