Part 75 (1/2)

”Rather hard on a chap when he has been so particular,” grumbled Esau.

”Well, it was my doing, so I mustn't mind.”

He was still grumbling when our host re-entered with something in a cup which he gave me a little at a time, so that I should not have to move, and soon after he had left me my eyelids grew heavy, and I fell into a deep sleep, which lasted till it was growing dark, and I could only just make out Esau's head as he sat watching by my bed.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

IN THE SPRING.

Ask anybody what is the most delicious thing in life, and see what he or she will say. I do not believe any one will tell you what I do now. It is to have been dangerously ill, to be brought down very weak, to be getting better, and then to be carried or led out to sit in the suns.h.i.+ne of some bright genial morning.

Ah! that long breath of sweet life-inspiring air--those trees--those flowers--the blue sky--the bark of that dog--those kindly words of inquiry--that all-round feeling of joy and delight at being out there once more; the sensation which will bring the weak tears in your eyes for the simple reason that you are so happy. Yes, it is a pleasant thing to have been very ill, if only for the sake of the thankful sensation that comes the first time you go out once more in the bright suns.h.i.+ne.

How delightful it was, and what a long weary dream of misery I had pa.s.sed through! I hardly knew even then how bad I had been. When I spoke to Esau he used to screw his face up full of wrinkles, and shake his head, while Mr Raydon was as reticent.

”Never mind that,” he would say; ”you are better now.”

I learned later though, that for several months he had been in great doubt of my recovery. My wound would not heal, consequent upon a ragged fragment of the rifle-bullet remaining beneath a bone, and when at last it did come away, I was weak in the extreme, and, as Esau said, ”You couldn't get a doctor when you liked out there.”

So there I lay all through the long dark days of the winter, listening sometimes to the howling of the winds from the mountains, then to the beat and rush of the rain, and then at my worst time wondering why everything was so quiet, and learning from Esau that we were snowed up deeply.

I remember that he used to talk rapturously about the beauty of the scene around, with the great pine-trees loaded down with snow, and the sun in the clear blue sky, making the crystals of ice glitter till his eyes ached.

”And you won't get up and come and have a look,” he said. ”You are a fellow.”

”Yes, I am a fellow,” I replied. ”Don't bother me, Esau. I want to go to sleep.”

”But you're always going to sleep,” he cried; ”and so much sleep can't be good for you.”

All the same I pa.s.sed through that long winter, and it seemed as if I never should be strong again.

But, as the old country folk say, ”Never's a long day”; and as the earth began to waken from its lone sleep, so did I, and at last I was dressed to sit by the bonny log fire Esau kept up as if he meant to roast me.

There came a day when I sat with my window open, listening to the roar of the river, thinking and ready to ask myself whether it had all been a dream. Then another day, when the sun was s.h.i.+ning, and the scent of the pines came to where I sat; and at last in the spring-time I was to go out for the first time. I had to lean on patient, constant Esau, and use a stick to get to where a chair had been set for me at the foot of a great Douglas pine, where the moss was golden green, and the barberry leaves bright with a purply bronze. The river ran foaming and splas.h.i.+ng before me at the bottom of a slope, looking milky and dirty, but down the rocks close by tumbled and sparkled one of the many tiny streams, and this was clear as crystal, and the brook flashed like diamonds in the bright suns.h.i.+ne.

There was a great scarlet blanket thrown over the chair, ready to be drawn round me as soon as I had taken my seat; and as soon as Esau had safely piloted me there, looking serious as a judge all the time, he suddenly seemed to go mad, for he cut a curious caper, threw his cap high up in the air, and shouted ”Hurrah.”

”There,” he cried, as I lay back smiling and content, ”you just say you ain't getting well, and I'll pitch into you.”

”I'm not going to say it,” I said. ”Oh, Esau, I do feel so weak, but so happy and well. I say though, don't shoot me again.”

Esau's countenance changed. All the pleasure faded out, and he turned his back, and began walking slowly away.

”Esau,” I said, ”don't go.”

”I must,” he said, stopping short, but without trying to face me. ”Got to fetch your stoo. He said it was the best physic you could take.”

”But, Esau, I don't want it now; I'm sorry I said that.”

”So am I; sooner ha' shot myself hundreds o' times. Wish I had shot myself dead instead, and then you wouldn't be able to jump on me.”