Returning afoot from the bedside of Long John Wise at Run-by-Guess--and
from many a bedside and wretched hearth by the way--the doctor and I
strapped our packs aback and heartily set out from the Hudson's Bay
Company's post at Bread-and-Water Bay in the dawn of the day before
Christmas: being then three weeks gone from our harbour, and, thinking
to reach it next day. We were to chance hospitality for the night; and
this must be (they told us) at the cottage of a man of the name of Jonas
Jutt, which is at Topmast Tickle. There was a lusty old wind scampering
down the coast, with many a sportive whirl and whoop, flinging the snow
about in vast delight--a big, rollicking winter's wind, blowing straight
out of the north, at the pitch of half a gale. With this abeam we made
brave progress; but yet 'twas late at night when we floundered down the
gully called Long-an'-Deep, where the drifts were overhead and each must
rescue the other from sudden misfortune: a warm glimmer of light in
Jonas Jutt's kitchen window to guide and hearten us.
The doctor beat the door with his fist. "Open, open!" cried he, still
furiously knocking. "Good Lord! will you never open?"
So gruff was the voice, so big and commanding--and so sudden was the
outcry--and so late was the night and wild the wind and far away the
little cottage--that the three little Jutts, who then (as it turned out)
sat expectant at the kitchen fire, must all at once have huddled close;
and I fancy that Sammy blinked no longer at the crack in the stove, but
slipped from his chair and limped to his sister, whose hand he clutched.
"We'll freeze, I tell you!" shouted the doctor. "Open the---- Ha! Thank
you," in a mollified way, as Skipper Jonas opened the door; and then,
most engagingly: "May we come in?"
"An' welcome, zur," said the hearty Jonas, "whoever you be! 'Tis gettin'
t' be a wild night."
"Thank you. Yes--a wild night. Glad to catch sight of your light from
the top of the hill. We'll leave the racquets here. Straight ahead?
Thank you. I see the glow of a fire."
We entered.
"Hello!" cried the doctor, stopping short. "What's this? Kids? Good!
Three of them. Ha! How are you?"
The manner of asking the question was most indignant, not to say
threatening; and a gasp and heavy frown accompanied it. By this I knew
that the doctor was about to make sport for Martha and Jimmie and Sammy
Jutt (as their names turned out to be): which often he did for children
by pretending to be in a great rage; and invariably they found it
delicious entertainment, for however fiercely he blustered, his eyes
twinkled most merrily all the time, so that one was irresistibly moved
to chuckle with delight at the sight of them, no matter how suddenly or
how terribly he drew down his brows.
"I like kids," said he, with a smack of the lips. "I eat 'em!"
Gurgles of delight escaped from the little Jutts--and each turned to the
other: the eyes of all dancing.
"And how are _you_?" the doctor demanded.
His fierce little glance was indubitably directed at little Sammy, as
though, God save us! the lad had no right to be anything _but_ well, and
ought to be, and should be, birched on the instant if he had the
temerity to admit the smallest ache or pain from the crown of his head
to the soles of his feet. But Sammy looked frankly into the flashing
eyes, grinned, chuckled audibly, and lisped that he was better.
"Better?" growled the doctor, searching Sammy's white face and skinny
body as though for evidence to the contrary. "I'll attend to _you_!"
Thereupon Skipper Jonas took us to the shed, where we laid off our packs
and were brushed clean of snow; and by that time Matilda Jutt, the
mother of Martha and Jimmie and Sammy, had spread the table with the
best she had--little enough, God knows! being but bread and tea--and was
smiling beyond. Presently there was nothing left of the bread and tea;
and then we drew up to the fire, where the little Jutts still sat,
regarding us with great interest. And I observed that Martha Jutt held a
letter in her hand: whereupon I divined precisely what our arrival had
interrupted, for I was Labrador born, and knew well enough what went on
in the kitchens of our land of a Christmas Eve.
"And now, my girl," said the doctor, "what's what?"
By this extraordinary question--delivered, as it was, in a manner that
called imperatively for an answer--Martha Jutt was quite nonplussed: as
the doctor had intended she should be.
"What's what?" repeated the doctor.
Quite startled, Martha lifted the letter from her lap. "He's not comin',
zur," she gasped, for lack of something better.
"You're disappointed, I see," said the doctor. "So he's not coming?"
"No, zur--not this year."
"That's too bad. But you mustn't mind it, you know--not for an instant.
What's the matter with him?"
"He've broke his leg, zur."
"What!" cried the doctor, restored of a sudden to his natural manner.
"Poor fellow! How did he come to do that?"
"Catchin' one o' they wild deer, zur."
"Catching a deer!" the doctor exclaimed. "A most extraordinary thing. He
was a fool to try it. How long ago?"
"Sure, it can't be more than half an hour; for he've----"
The doctor jumped up. "Where is he?" he demanded, with professional
eagerness. "It can't be far. Davy, I must get to him at once. I must
attend to that leg. Where is he?"
"Narth Pole, zur," whispered Sammy.
"Oh-h-h!" cried the doctor; and he sat down again, and pursed his lips,
and winked at Sammy in a way most peculiar. "I _see_!"
"Ay, zur," Jimmie rattled, eagerly. "We're fair disappointed that he's
not----"
"Ha!" the doctor interrupted. "I see. Hum! Well, now!" And having thus
incoherently exclaimed for a little, the light in his eyes growing
merrier all the time, he most unaccountably worked himself into a great
rage: whereby I knew that the little Jutts were in some way to be
mightily amused. "The lazy rascal!" he shouted, jumping out of his
chair, and beginning to stamp the room, frowning terribly. "The fat,
idle, blundering dunderhead! Did they send you that message? Did they,
now? Tell me, did they? Give me that letter!" He snatched the letter
from Martha's lap. "Sammy," he demanded, "where did this letter come
from?"
"Narth Pole, zur!"
Jonas Jutt blushed--and Matilda threw her apron over her head to hide
her confusion.
"And _how_ did it come?"
"Out o' the stove, zur."
The doctor opened the letter, and paused to slap it angrily, from time
to time, as he read it.
_North poll_