A COLLISION
Jack turned aside as quickly and as far as he dared, but the machine
struck the side of the wagon, ripped off a wheel, and disappeared into
the gloom. The children were thrown violently to the floor of the wagon,
and Desiré against the side; but Jack managed to keep his seat. The
horses stopped instantly, and stood quiet like the intelligent,
well-mannered animals that they were. To the accompaniment of René’s
cries, Jack got his little family out of the tilting wagon and took stock
of their injuries. Priscilla had a bad nosebleed, and Desiré a bruised
arm. René was only badly frightened, and Jack himself entirely uninjured.
“We certainly can be very thankful,” breathed Desiré with relief, after
first aid had been given.
“We certainly can,” agreed Jack fervently, going to examine the condition
of the wagon; “we were very lucky.”
“What can we do with it?” inquired Desiré.
“Fortunately we’re not very far from Lunenburg,” he replied, “and I
suppose I can get it fixed there; but it will mean quite a delay, I
imagine. If the fog would only lift so that we could see something.”
“Why not stay right here until it does?” proposed Desiré.
“Should you be afraid to stay here with the children while I walked to
town?” began Jack. “It would save time if I could get the work started
today—”
“Not afraid for us, Jack; but for you. Something might hit you. Suppose
another automobile should come along!” She shuddered.
“Well, then we’ll try to get the wagon just off the road, and make
ourselves as comfortable as we can until the fog is gone.”
With much difficulty, and many pauses for rest, they succeeded in getting
the wagon off the road.
It was a tiresome afternoon, and seemed many hours longer than it really
was. Just about six o’clock the grey blanket was whisked away as suddenly
as if someone had picked it up, and the land was flooded with late
afternoon sunshine. On one side of them were fields with groups of trees
here and there; on the other, a wide beach.
“Why not camp in this field?” asked Desiré, as the children darted across
to play in the sand. “If we’re going to be held up for a day or two, this
is probably as good a place as any.”
Jack agreed. So after charging the children not to go into the water,
they set about making a permanent camp. It was too late to go to town
that night, but early the next morning Jack took the broken wheel and
started out.
“I can have it the day after tomorrow,” he announced upon his return,
which Desiré assured him was “not so bad.”
The two days passed very pleasantly. Twice a day, much to René’s delight,
they all went in bathing. Playing in the sand became almost as much of a
joy to the older ones as to the children, and they laid out wonderful
towns across the beach. In the middle of the day, when it was too hot
near the water, they spent their time in the grove, and made friends with
the squirrels who were busy laying in their stores for the winter. The
little creatures got so tame that they would venture into the very laps
of the invaders of their domain.
“Now for the road again!” cried Jack, on the evening of the second day,
as he put the new wheel on the wagon. “We’ll go to bed early, and get
started as soon as it is light.”
Just after daybreak, he came to the wagon where Desiré was collecting
supplies for their breakfast.
“Dissy,” he said, “Dolly is very sick!”
“Sick! Oh, Jack, what _shall_ we do!” cried Desiré in dismay.
Difficulties did seem to be coming too thick and fast.
“I’ve made her as comfortable as I can, but I don’t know what to do next.
I’ll have to go to town for help. Give me a sandwich to eat on the way—I
can’t wait for breakfast. You and the children keep away from her until I
get back.”
In a few minutes Jack disappeared down the road leading to Lunenburg,
puzzling over the finding of a pan half filled with bran mash which he
had discovered near Dolly. Since he could not arrive at a satisfactory
explanation, he wisely decided to keep the discovery to himself.
Desiré gave the children their breakfast, and sent them out on the sand,
she herself remaining where she could watch them and keep an eye on the
wagon. It seemed hours after Jack had gone when up the road she could see
the broad bulk of a team of oxen plodding slowly toward her. As they came
closer, she saw that they were pulling one of the flat wooden wagons used
for hauling stone. On the boards sat Jack and another man; the driver was
walking at the animals’ heads. Jack got off and came hurriedly toward
her, after directing the driver to the end of the field where the sick
horse lay.
“The doctor thinks he’ll have to take Dolly to his place; so they brought
an ox team along,” he explained. Then before Desiré had time to reply, he
dashed off to join the other two men.
Half an hour later poor Dolly, reclining on the ox cart, was ready for
her ride to Lunenburg.
“I think she will get well; but not right off. She must have ate
something very bad,” said Dr. Myers, a stout German, mopping his brow
with a big blue handkerchief. “You come see me—say—next day after
tomorrow; then I maybe can tell you how long.” He ran clumsily down the
road to join his patient.
Jack sat down beside Desiré, and for a long moment they looked at each
other without speaking. The children, who had left their play to become
spectators of the moving, had returned to the beach at Desiré’s
direction, and were now so busy constructing a sea wall that they were
oblivious to all else.
“What next, Jack?” asked Desiré at last, laying her hand over his.