Part 32 (2/2)

Certainly I have had a good mother.”

”And I, too,” said the boy, in a husky voice.

So the three kneeled together in Ike's shack, each wondering how it had come about that it should seem so natural and easy for him to be in that att.i.tude.

In a voice steady and controlled Shock made his prayer. Humility and grat.i.tude for all that had been done for him in his life, an overwhelming sense of need for the life demanded in this G.o.d-forgetting country, and a great love and compa.s.sion for the two men with whom he had so strangely been brought into such close relation swelled in his heart and vibrated through his prayer.

Ike's face never lost its impa.s.sive gravity. Whatever may have been his feelings, he gave no sign of emotion. But the lad that kneeled on the other side of Shock pressed his face down hard into his hands, while his frame shook with choking, silent sobs. All that was holiest and tenderest in his past came crowding in upon him, in sad and terrible contrast to his present.

Immediately after the prayer Shock slipped out of the shack.

”I say, boss,” said Ike, as he poked the fire, ”he's a winner, aint he?

Guess he hits the sky all right, when he gets onto his knees. By the livin' Gimmini! when that feller gits a-goin' he raises considerable of a promotion.”

”Commotion, Ikey,” said The Kid gently. ”Yes, I believe he hits the sky--and he says he needs a Keeper.”

”Well,” said Ike solemnly, ”I have a lingerin' suspicion that you're correct, but if he needs a Keeper, what about us?”

XIII

THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON

Dr. Burton was never quite clear as to how he had found himself in the early morning on the Loon Lake trail, with a man whom he had never seen before, nor how, after he had discovered himself in that position, he had been persuaded to continue his journey, much less to take up with such enthusiasm the treatment of the cases to which he had been summoned by that same stranger. Indeed, he did not come to a clear consciousness of his sayings and doings until he found himself seated at a most comfortable breakfast in the house of the Old Prospector, with this same strange gentleman sitting opposite him. Even then, before reaching a solution of the problem as to how he had arrived at that particular place and in that particular company, to his amazement he found himself interested in the discussion of the cases on hand.

With the Old Prospector he had little difficulty. Inflammatory rheumatism, with a complication of pneumonia; in itself not necessarily fatal, or even dangerous, but with a man of the Old Prospector's age and habits of life this complication might any moment become serious.

He left some medicine, ordered nouris.h.i.+ng food, perfect rest and quiet, and was about to depart.

”How soon shall I be up, doctor?” enquired the Old Prospector.

”I wouldn't worry.”

”A week?”

”A week! If you are on your legs in a month you may be thankful.”

”Doctor,” said the Old Prospector in a tone of quiet resolution, ”it is vitally important that. I should be on my journey sooner than a month.

My business admits of no delay.”

”Well,” said the doctor in his courteous, gentle tone, ”if you move you will likely die.”

”I shall certainly die if I do not.”

For once the Old Prospector broke through his wonted philosophic calm.

His voice trembled, and his eyes glittered in his excitement.

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