Part 22 (1/2)

But one not uncommon in life, and finally inevitable,” continued the old philosopher, only the ghastly hue of his mask-like face giving token of the agony he was enduring.

Then Shock came to him.

”Let me carry you,” he said. ”It will give you less pain, I am sure.”

”Well, it can hardly give more.”

”Put your arms about my neck. There. Now don't try to help yourself.”

”Most sound advice. I surrender,” said the old man, his philosophic tone in striking contrast to his ghastly face. ”But one most difficult to accept.”

Gently, easily, as if he had been a child, Shock lifted him from the buckboard, carried him into the house and laid him upon his bed. The old man was faint with his pain.

”Thank you, sir--that was distinctly easier. You are--a mighty man.

Perault! I think--I--”

His voice faded away into silence and his head fell back. The girl sprang forward with a cry of fear, but Shock was before her.

”The brandy, Perault! Quick!” he said. ”Don't fear, Miss Mowbray, he will soon be all right.”

The girl glanced into Shock's face and at once grew calm again. Soon, under the stimulus of the brandy, the old man revived.

”Ah!” he said, drawing a long breath and looking with a faint apologetic smile at the anxious faces about, ”pardon my alarming you. I am getting old. The long drive and the somewhat severe pain weakened me, I fear.”

”Indeed, you have no need to apologise. It is more than I could have stood,” said Shock in genuine admiration.

”Thank you,” said the old man. ”Now we shall get into blankets. I have the greatest faith in blankets, sir; the greatest faith. I have rolled myself in wet blankets in mid-winter when suffering from a severe cold, and have come forth perfectly recovered. You remember the Elk Valley, Perault?”

”Oui, for sure. I say dat tam ole boss blam-fool. Hees cough! cough!

ver' bad. Nex' mornin', by gar! he's all right.”

”And will be again soon, Perault, my boy, by the help of these same blankets,” said the old man confidently. ”But how to negotiate the business is the question now.”

”Let me try, sir. I have had some little experience in helping men with broken bones and the like,” said Shock.

”You're at least ent.i.tled to confidence, Mr. Macgregor,” replied the Old Prospector. ”Faith is the reflection of experience. I resign myself into your hands.”

In half an hour, with Perault's a.s.sistance, Shock had the old man between heated blankets, exhausted with pain, but resting comfortably.

”Mr. Macgregor,” said the old man, taking Shock by the hand, ”I have found that life sooner or later brings opportunity to discharge every obligation. Such an opportunity I shall eagerly await.”

”I have done no more than any man should,” replied Shock simply. ”And I am only glad to have had the chance.”

”Chance!” echoed the Old Prospector. ”I have found that we make our chances, sir. But now you will require lodging. I regret I cannot offer you hospitality. Perault, go down to the Stopping Place, present my compliments to Carroll and ask him to give Mr. Macgregor the best accommodation he has. The best is none too good. And, Perault, we shall need another pony and a new outfit. In a few days we must be on the move again. See Carroll about these things and report. Meantime, Mr.

Macgregor, you will remain with us to tea.”

”Carroll!” exclaimed Perault in a tone of disgust. ”Dat man no good 'tall. I get you one pony cheap. Dat Carroll he's one beeg tief.”

The little Frenchman's eyes glittered with hate.