Part 10 (1/2)

”Now, Hal, you have the whole story,” he continued. ”You were wounded and fainted from loss of blood. A fellow pa.s.senger, who happens to be a doctor, has already examined and dressed the shoulder, and reports most favorably. A week will see you up and about, so he says, for the bullet was of very small caliber.”

”What? A week in bed, Mr. Brindle!” exclaimed Hal, aghast. ”Why, I am fit to get up now. See here, I feel quite myself again.”

He struggled to his feet, but next moment he was glad to sit down again, and was forced, though much against his inclination, to confess that he was shaken. However, with his old dogged determination, he resolved not to give way, and not to submit to being put ignominiously to bed.

”I am a bit groggy,” he admitted. ”My legs don't seem quite to belong to me; but it's only a temporary matter. Thank you, I will have another sip.”

The tumbler was raised to his lips, and he drank deeply, for the loss of blood had induced a violent thirst.

”There you see for yourself how fit you are,” said Mr. Brindle. ”And now, as the thieves have escaped, and your wound has been seen to, you will lie down and sleep till morning.”

There was no gainsaying this direct order, for Mr. Brindle waited to see that Hal lay full length on the bunk. Then he left the section, and entered his own. As for Hal, though badly shaken, he suffered little pain. The injured shoulder felt numbed, but nothing more. After lying awake for half an hour, thinking over the little adventure through which he had pa.s.sed, he, too, dozed off, and finally sank into a deep sleep, from which he was awakened by the opening of his door.

”Breakfast in half an hour,” said Mr. Brindle, putting his head into the compartment. ”How goes it with you this morning, old boy?”

”I feel quite myself,” said Hal briskly, sitting up in his bunk. Then, to demonstrate the truth of his words, he stood up. ”Yes,” he continued, ”I feel ever so much stronger than I did last night. I suppose the excitement and the shock had unnerved me, but now I am perfectly steady.”

”That's good, Hal, and I am glad to see you making an effort. After all, there is no reason why a bullet wound in the shoulder should lay you up.

Last night, as you say, the shock and suddenness of the injury had upset you, and no doubt you felt the rapid loss of blood. A few hours' sleep have made that good, so that you will quickly mend. I have no fear of the wound going wrong, for it was skillfully treated from the first.

Now, let me lend a hand, and help to put your clothes on.”

Half an hour later, with his left arm in a sling, and his empty sleeve pinned to the coat, arm in arm with Mr. Brindle, Hal entered the breakfast saloon, where they took their places at one of the many small tables. Numbers of other pa.s.sengers were already there, and they looked at our hero with curiosity and admiration.

An hour later the engine steamed into a large station, and the pa.s.sengers descended from the cars.

”Just look out for the youngsters, Hal,” said Mr. Brindle. ”They'll be coming to meet their dad.”

”Youngsters? Your youngsters?” asked Hal, in surprise; for Mr. Brindle had never mentioned that he was married and had a family.

”Why, mine to be sure! There's Dora, the dearest blue-eyed girl that ever breathed; and Gerald, the biggest and most mischievous monkey that ever wore clothes. You'll know them at once. Ah, there they are, or I am mistaken.”

”Hallo! There you are, dad!” cried the boy, a st.u.r.dy young fellow of some sixteen years. ”Hi! Come along, Dora! Here he is, looking as fat and jolly as possible.”

Breathless, and with hat tossed to the back of his head, the lad rushed at Mr. Brindle and embraced him, a graceful and pretty girl, looking charming and dainty in a white frock, following suit quickly.

”There, there, how glad I am to see you both again, my dears!” exclaimed Mr. Brindle. ”Both of you looking as well as ever too. But I am forgetting my duties. Dora--Gerald--come here and let me introduce you a very great friend, who is to be my overseer. Steady now, shake hands gently, for he has been in the wars. Hal, my dear boy, let me present you to my dear children.”

Each in turn shook Hal heartily by the hand, Dora looking sympathetically, and, at first, somewhat shyly at him; while Gerald, boy-like, took good stock of the new overseer, not fearing to look well into his face.

”What has happened to your arm, Mr. Marchant? What war have you been in?

And are you very much hurt?” Dora asked these questions in rapid succession.

”Dora,” said her father, ”this young gentleman was shot by a ruffian who attempted to steal my bag. He has risked his life for me, and he is helpless. I place him in your charge. You have had some experience of nursing and will do your best. Now, let us get to the carriage.”

Dora was a young lady about whom there was no nonsense. Here was a fellow-being who was obviously suffering; somehow he had come by his injury in protecting her father. That was enough for any daughter. For his sake she would look after Hal. So she marched our hero from the platform, chuckling secretly at the blush which had now changed his cheeks from dullest white to brilliant red. They stepped into the comfortable carriage, and at a crack of the whip, the team of mules set forward at a hand-gallop.

What thoughts were Hal's as he was driven to his new home? It seemed like a dream, for, a few weeks back, he was an orphan, with few friends.

Then he had decided to start to America, where he would be entirely unknown. But what had happened? Friends seemed to have risen up on every side. Yes, it was good fortune. At least, that was what he thought as his eyes wandered from Mr. Brindle and Gerald to Dora. Never before had Hal taken notice of any girl.