AN ESTRAY FROM CIVILIZATION
They paused by the cabin door, left open by Angelique, and listened
intently. She, too, had caught the alien sound, the faint, appealing
halloo of a human voice--the rarest of all cries in that wilderness.
Even the eagle's screeches could not drown it, but she had had enough
of anxieties for one day. Let other people look out for themselves;
her precious ones should not stir afield again, no, not for anything.
Let the evil bird devour the dead chickens, if he must, her place was
in the cabin, and she rushed back down the slope, fairly forcing the
others inward from the threshold where they hesitated.
"'Tis a loon. You should know that, I think, and that they're always
cryin' fit to scare the dead. Come. The supper's waited this long
time."
With a smile that disarmed offense Margot caught the woman's shoulder
and lightly swung her aside out of the way.
"Eat then, hungry one! I, too, am hungry, but---- Hark!"
The cry came again, prolonged, entreating, not to be confounded with
that of any forest wilding.
"It's from the north end of our own island!"
The master's ear was not less keen than the girl's, and both had the
acuteness of an Indian's, but his judgment was better.
"From the mainland, across the narrows."
Neither delayed, as a mutual impulse sent them toward the shore, but
again Angelique interposed.
"Thoughtless child, have you no sense? With the master just out of a
faint that was nigh death itself! With nothin' in his poor stomach
since the mornin' and your own as empty. Wait. Eat. Then chase loons,
if you will."
Mr. Dutton laughed, though he also frowned and cast a swift, anxious
glance toward Margot. But she was intent upon nothing save answering
that far-off cry.
"Which canoe, uncle?"
"Mine."
The devoted servant made a last protest, and caught the girl's arm as
it pushed the light craft downward into the water.
"My child, he is not fit. Believe me. Best leave others to their fate
than he should over-tax himself again, so soon."
Margot was astonished. In all her life she had never before associated
thought of physical weakness with her stalwart guardian, and a sharp
fear of some unknown trouble shot through her heart.
"What do you mean?"
The master had reached them and now laid his own hand upon Angelique's
detaining one.
"There, woman, that's enough. The storm has shaken your nerves. If
you're afraid to stay alone, Margot shall stop with you. But let's
have no more nonsense."
Mother Ricord stepped back, away. She had done her best. Let come what
might, her conscience was clear.
A few seconds later the canoe pushed off over the now darkening water
and its inmates made all speed toward that point from which the cry
had been heard, but was heard no more. However, the steersman followed
a perfectly direct course and, if he were still weak from his seizure,
his movement showed no signs of it, so that Margot's fear for him was
lost in the interest of their present adventure. She rhymed her own
stroke to her uncle's and when he rested her paddle instantly stopped.
"Halloo! Hal-l-oo!" he shouted, but as no answer came, said:
"Now--both together!"
The girl's shriller treble may have had further carrying power than
the man's voice, for there was promptly returned to them an echoing
halloo, coming apparently from a great distance. But it was repeated
at close intervals and each time with more distinctness.
"We'll beach the boat just yonder, under that tamarack. Whoever it is
has heard and is coming back."
Margot's impatience broke bounds and she darted forward among the
trees, shouting: "This way! this way! here we are--here!" Her peculiar
life and training had made her absolutely fearless, and she would have
been surprised by her guardian's command to "Wait!" had she heard it,
which she did not. Also, she knew the forest as other girls know their
city streets, and the dimness was no hindrance to her nimble feet. In
a brief time she caught the crashing of boughs as some person, less
familiar than she, blundered through the underbrush and finally came
into view where a break in the timber gave a faint light.
"Here! Here! This way!"
He staggered and held out his hands, as if for aid, and Margot clasped
them firmly. They were cold and tremulous. They were, also, slender
and smooth, not at all like the hands of any men whom she was used to
seeing. At the relief of her touch, his strength left him, but she
caught his murmured:
"Thank God. I--had--given up----"
His voice, too, was different from any she knew, save her own uncle's.
This was somebody, then, from that outside world of which she dreamed
so much and knew so little. It was like a fairy tale come true.
"Are you ill? There. Lean on me. Don't fear. Oh! I'm strong, very
strong, and uncle is just yonder, coming this way. Uncle--uncle!"
The stranger was almost past speech. Mr. Dutton recognized that at
once and added his support to Margot's. Between them they half-led,
half-carried the wanderer to the canoe and lifted him into it, where
he sank exhausted. Then they dipped their paddles and the boat shot
homeward, racing with death. Angelique was still on the beach and
still complaining of their foolhardiness, but one word from her master
silenced that. "Lend a hand, woman! Here's something real to worry
about. Margot, go ahead and get the lights."
As the girl sprang from it, the housekeeper pulled the boat to a spot
above the water and, stooping, lifted a generous share of the burden
it contained.
It had not been a loon, then. No. Well, she had known that from the
beginnin', just as she had known that her beloved master was in no fit
condition to go man-huntin'. This one he had found was, probably, dead
anyway. Of course. Somebody had to die--beyond chickens and such--had
not the broken glass so said?
Even in the twilight Mr. Dutton could detect the grim satisfaction of
her face and smiled, foreseeing her change of expression when this
seemingly lifeless guest should revive.
They laid him on the lounge that had been spread with blankets for
Margot, and she was already beside it, waiting to administer the herb
tea which had, also, been prepared for herself, and which she had
marveled to find so opportunely brewed.
Mr. Dutton smiled again. In her simplicity the girl did not dream that
the now bitter decoction was not a common restorative outside their
primitive life, and in all good faith forced a spoonful of it between
the closed lips.
"After all, it doesn't matter. The poor fellow is doubtless used to
richer cordials, but it's hot and strong and will do the work. You,
Angelique, make us a pot of your best coffee, and swing round that
dinner-pot. The man is almost starved, and I'm on the road to follow
him. How about you, Margot?"
"Poh! I guess I'm hungry--I will be--see! He's swallowing it. Fast.
Give me that bigger spoon! Quick!"
"What would you? Scald the creature's throat? So he isn't dead, after
all. Well, he needn't have made a body think so, he needn't. There,
Margot! You've messed him with the black stuff!"
Indignantly brushing her child aside the woman seized the cup and
deftly administered its entire contents. The stranger had not yet
opened his eyes, but accepted the warm liquid mechanically, and his
nurse hurried to fill a bowl with the broth of the stew in the kettle.
This, in turn, was taken from her by Margot, who jealously exclaimed:
"He's mine. I heard him first, I found him first, let me be the first
he sees. Dish up the supper, please, and set my uncle's place."
So when, a moment later, having been nearly choked by the more
substantial food forced into his mouth, the guest opened his eyes,
they beheld the eager face of a brown skinned, fair haired girl very
close to his and heard her joyous cry:
"He sees me! he sees everything! He's getting well already!"
He had never seen anybody like her. Her hair was as abundant as a
mantle and rippled over her shoulders like spun silver. So it looked
in the lamplight. In fact, it had never been bound nor covered, and
what in a different social condition might have been much darker, had
in this outdoor life become bleached almost white. The weather which
had whitened the hair had tanned the skin to bronze, making the blue
eyes more vivid by contrast and the red lips redder. These were
smiling now, over well kept teeth, and there was about the whole
bearing of the maid something suggestive of the woodland in which she
had been reared.
Purity, honesty, freedom, all spoke in every motion and tone, and to
this observer, at least, seemed better than any beauty. Presently, he
was able to push her too willing hand gently away and to say:
"Not quite so fast, please."
"Oh! uncle! Hear him? He talks just as you do! Not a bit like Pierre,
or Joe, or the rest."
Mr. Dutton came forward, smiling and remonstrating.
"My dear, our new friend will think you quite rude, if you discuss him
before his face, so frankly. But, sir, I assure you she means nothing
but delight at your recovery. We are all most thankful that you are
here and safe. There, Margot. Let the gentleman rest a few minutes.
Then a cup of coffee may be better than the stew. Were you long
without food, friend?"
The stranger tried to answer but the effort tired him, and with a
beckoning nod to the young nurse, the woodlander led the way back to
the table and their own delayed supper. Both needed it and both ate it
rather hastily, much to the disgust of Angelique who felt that her
skill was wasted; but one was anxious to be off out of doors, to learn
the damage left by the storm, and the other to be back on her stool
beside the lounge. When Mr. Dutton rose, the housekeeper left her own
seat.
"I'll fetch the lantern, master. But that's the last of Snowfoot's
good milk you'll ever drink," she sighed, touching the pitcher sadly.
"What? Is anything wrong with her?"
"The cow-house is in ruins. So are the poultry coops. What with
falling ill yourself just at the worst time and fetchin' home other
sick folks we might all go to wrack and nobody the better."
The familiar grumbling provoked only a smile from the master, who
would readily have staked his life on the woman's devotion to "her
people" and knew that the apparent crossness was not that in reality.
"Fie, good Angelique! Never so happy as when you're miserable. Come
on. Nothing must suffer if we can prevent. Take care of our guest,
Margot, but give him his nourishment slowly, at intervals. I'll get
some tools, and join you at the shed, Angelique."
He went out and the housekeeper followed with the lantern, not needed
in the moonlight, but possibly of use at the fallen cow-house.
They were long gone. The stranger dozed, waked, ate, and dozed again.
Margot, accustomed to early hours, also slept and soundly, till a
fearful shriek roused her. Her patient was wildly kicking and striking
at some hideous monster which had settled on his chest and would not
be displaced.
"He's killing me! Help--help! Oh-a-ah!"