"Cut?" echoed Ralph, gaping a little. "You mean surgery? Yes."
"My mot'er, she break her arm," the girl explained. "I set it myself.
I know that. After that I have to go away. She take off the--what do
you call the sticks--?" She illustrated.
"Splints," put in Ralph.
"Yes, she take off the splints too soon, and try to work, and when I
come home her arm is all crooked. All the time it grows more
crookeder. She is so scare' she is sick. Can you fix it?" she asked
anxiously.
"Surely!" said Ralph. "The arm must be broken again and reset."
"Broken again?" the girl said, with an alarmed look. "That hurt her
bad. She not let you do that, I think. Can you put her to sleep?"
"Anæsthetic? Certainly!" said Ralph. "Where did you learn about
anæsthetics?" he asked curiously.
"I have work in Prince George and Winnipeg three years," she said. "I
know about a hospital."
"I'll come and take a look at your mother," Ralph said. In his manner
there was still something of a doctor's condescension to an humble
patient. "Where do you live?"
She paused before replying, and looked at him with a certain
apprehensiveness. "North," she said slowly. "Seven days' journey from
Gisborne portage."
He was effectually startled out of his superior attitude. "Seven
days!" he cried. "How on earth do you expect me to do that!"
"I take you in my canoe," she said. "You back here three weeks or one
month."
When he recovered from his first surprise the comic aspect of it struck
him: to travel a month to see one sick Indian! "Well, I'm----" he
began, but the look in her eyes arrested the participle. "A month!" he
cried.
She was sensitive to ridicule; a proud, sullen look came over her face.
"I pay you," she said quickly. "I pay what you want."
Ralph laughed indulgently. "I'm afraid you don't realize what it's
worth," he said. "A month of a doctor's time! It would be cheap at
three hundred dollars."
"I don't want you cheap," she said, with the air of a princess. "I pay
more."
Ralph looked at the absurd hat she wore, and struggled with his
laughter. She was beautiful, she was amazing, but she _was_ comic.
"What am I up against?" he thought. Aloud, he said in a friendly way:
"It's a lot of money. Tell me something about yourself and your
people. What is your name? Where will you get so much money?"
But his laughter had angered her; her face expressed only a sullen
blank. She did not answer.
"What is your name?" Ralph repeated. "You must answer my questions,
you know."
"I tell you what I like," she said scornfully.
Ralph was irritated. "Do you expect me to start on a wild-goose chase
into the wilderness without knowing what I'm letting myself in for?" he
said sharply.
"I pay you before you go," she said, with her princess air.
It did not help to soothe him. "Hang the pay!" he cried. "I'm not for
sale. I don't go in for a thing unless I'm satisfied it's straight!"
She was not in the least intimidated by his raised voice. "You only
got to do doctor's work," she said coldly.
Ralph stared at her, confused and nonplussed by the variety of emotions
she excited in him. Her beauty aroused him, her indifference piqued
him, and her inscrutability provoked his curiosity to the highest
degree. Obstinacy in another always had the effect of awakening the
same quality in Ralph. He said coldly: "It sounds queer to me. I'm
not interested."
Clearly she still clung to the idea that it was a question of payment
with him. His glances of scornful amusement at her clothes had not
escaped her woman's perceptions. "You think I poor," she said. "You
think I got nothing. I got plenty."
"I don't care what you've got," said Ralph. "Deal with me openly, and
I'll meet you halfway."
Her hand went to the bosom of her dress and closed around something
that was hidden there. "If I show you something, you promise not to
tell?" she said, with sudden earnestness. "You shake hands and promise
not to tell?"
More mystery! Curiosity waxed great in Ralph's breast and struggled
with his irritation. "Hang these people!" he thought. "You never can
tell what they're up to!" To her he said unwillingly: "If it's
straight I promise not to tell."
"It is straight," she said proudly.
They shook hands on it. She drew a little bag of moosehide from her
dress, and untied the thong that bound its mouth. Attentively watching
Ralph's face to observe the effect on him, she suddenly turned the bag
upside down over his desk, and a little flood of coarse yellow sand
poured out upon it with a soft swish. There could be no mistaking the
cleanness and the shine of it.
Ralph sprang up. "Gold!" he cried, amazed.
"It is yours," she said, with a little smile. "I give you more if you
make my mot'er's arm straight."
"Where did you get it?" Ralph asked sharply.
"I dig it myself," she said. "Do you think I steal it?"
Ralph continued to stare at the yellow stuff as if it had hypnotized
him.
"Better put it away," suggested the girl. "Somebody come, maybe. To
see gold make white men crazy."
He swept it up handful by handful, and poured it back into the little
bag. There was a magic in the feel of the bright, sharp grains and in
the extraordinary weight of it that caused a red flag to be run up in
his cheeks, and his eyes to shine. He judged from the weight of the
little bag that he had in his hand already double the fee he had asked.