Part 33 (1/2)
”Well, well,” said the doctor soothingly, noting these symptoms, ”wait a week or so. Follow the directions carefully, and we shall see.”
”I shall wait a week, doctor, but no longer. In ten days I shall be on the trail.”
”Well, well,” repeated the doctor, looking keenly into the old man's face, ”we won't worry about it for a week.”
”No; for a week I am content.”
Leaving the Old Prospector's shack Shock conducted the doctor to the little room at the back of the Stopping Place where little Patsy lay.
At the door they were met by the mother, vociferous with lamentations, prayers, blessings, and entreaties. Within the room, seated beside the bed, was Carroll, gloomy and taciturn.
The doctor drew back the blind and let in the morning light. It showed poor little Patsy, pale and wasted, his angelic face surrounded with a golden aureole of yellow curls that floated across the white pillow.
The doctor was startled and moved.
”What is this?” he cried. ”What is the matter?”
”Just an accident, doctor,” said Mrs. Carroll volubly. ”It was a blow he got.”
”I struck him wid a chair,” said Carroll bitterly.
”Whisht, now, darlin'. You're not to be blamin' yourself at all, at all. Sure, you didn't mane to do it. And what's a bit of discoosion between men? The little Patsy, the brave little heart that he is, run in to help his dad, so he did!” And Mrs. Carroll continued with a description which became more and more incoherent and more and more broken with sobs and tears.
”It's a wonder he didn't kill him,” said the doctor.
”Arrah, ye may say it. But they do be tellin' me that his riverence there beyant, he stood in under the blow. G.o.d bless his sowl! It's a hairo he is--a hairo!”
She ran toward Shock as if to embrace him, but Shock, who had come to know her ways, avoided her, dodging behind the doctor.
”Not at all,” he said. ”Any man would have done the same.”
”Now, G.o.d pardon your riverence for the lie ye've told.”
”But how did YOU get into the row?” asked the doctor, turning to Shock.
”And ye may ask,” interrupted Mrs. Carroll. ”It's all av that squirmin'
little worm of a Frenchman. May the divil fly away wid him! I'm not sayin' but Carroll there is quick with his tongue, and betimes with his hands, too--the high spirit that he has! but sure, it's a tinder heart he carries inside av him if they'd lave him be.”
Meantime the doctor had been proceeding with his examination.
”He has lain a week like this, eh?”
”Yes, a week, with never a move till him, and niver a look out av his lovely eyes.”
”But he takes his nourishment, does he?”
”Yes, once in a while a cup of milk with a wee drap av whisky intill it, doctor.”
The doctor nodded.
”Won't hurt him. Not too much, mind. A teaspoonful in a large cup.”