THE SEARCH FOR AN ANTIDOTE--CAN RORY BE DEAD?--SETH TO THE RESCUE--SETH
AS DOCTOR AND NURSE.
"I reckon," said Seth to himself, "that there'll be just about light
enough to find 'em. Good thing now that the moon is full, for they do
say that gathered under the full moon their virtue is increased
fourfold, and what is more, old Seth believes it. Hullo! it strikes me
Rory is in luck. Here they grow as large as life, and twice as
natural."
They were a deal bigger than Seth at all events. Tall and graceful
stems with an immensity of leaf, probably a plant belonging to the
_Solanaceae_ family.
"I won't spare you," continued this curious Yankee trapper.
Nor did he. He quite filled his arms with both stems and leaves, and
hastened back to the glade where lay poor Rory, to all appearance dead,
and surrounded by his sorrowing friends.
"Clear the course," cried Seth, "for once in a way, gentlemen; Seth will
save the boy if there be a save in him. Carry him along to the lake.
Gently with him."
There was little need of the latter precaution. McBain, hoping against
hope, took him up in his arms as tenderly as if he had been a child, and
apparently with as much ease, and carried him after Seth to the Great
Snow Lake. Here he was laid softly down, and the trapper proceeded in
the most masterly manner to bathe and rinse Rory's terrible wounds. The
white milky juice from the fleshy stem of the curious plant was then
dropped into them, and they were carefully covered over with bruised
leaves.
"There is little else we can do now," said Seth, "but set us down to
watch."
"And pray," murmured McBain. Then he said aloud, "I do not doubt your
skill, friend Seth, but here I fear there is more to contend with than
mortal power can hope to cope with. The poor boy is dead."
For well-nigh an hour they sat beside him; gloaming had deepened into
night, and a fire had been lighted which brought forth Rembrandtine
shadows from the woods, and cast its beams far over the broad lake,
until they were swallowed up in the darkness. An hour, and yet no signs
of returning life--a whole hour, and they still seemed to look on poor
Rory as on the face of the dead.
But see! can they be mistaken? Did not his lips move? They did, and
now they move again. A sigh is breathed, and presently one faint word
is ejaculated.