CHAPTER VIII.—A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE.
He was a tall and athletic-looking man, perhaps thirty years old, with a ruddy, good-humoured face, an honest pair of blue eyes, and a curling yellow beard. He wore a sealskin cap which came down over his ears, sealskin gloves which reached up above his coat-sleeves nearly to his elbows, a pea-jacket, and rubber top-boots. His beard, his eyebrows, and so much of his hair as was exposed, were dense with frozen snow, and from his moustache depended a series of icicles, like tusks, where his breath had condensed and congealed.
“I believe I have to thank you for saving my life,” I began, in such voice as I could muster, and I noticed that my utterance was thick, like that of a drunken man. “A very little more and I had been done for.”
“Yes, you were in rather a nasty box,” he admitted. “But all's well that ends well; and you're safe enough now. When I heard you calling, I thought it was a child, your voice was so thin and faint.”
“It's highly fortunate for me that you heard me at all. I had given myself up for lost. What a storm this is!”
“Yes; glorious, isn't it? It's the grandest spectacle I've ever seen. I tell you, sir, it's well for us that Nature should occasionally show us her sharp claw; otherwise we'd get to considering her a quite tame domestic pet, which she's not by any means. She's man's hereditary foe; there stands a perpetual feud between her and us, a vendetta handed down from father to son, from generation to generation. It's only by the exercise of an eternal vigilance and industry that we manage to subsist in spite of her. She's constantly striving, one way or another, to exterminate us: freeze us out, roast us out, starve us out—I know not what all. Here we are, huddled together upon this bleak, mysterious planet, parasites upon its surface, like mould on cheese, sheltering ourselves in fortresses of straw—wondering whence we came, why we're here, whither we're bound, and what the fun of the whole thing is—while she whirls us through her dark immensities, and seeks hourly to shake us off; which is rather unmannerly of her, seeing it was she herself who brought us here. Life which she gives us with one hand, she withholds with the other. She begrudges what she lavishes. Oh, it is strange, it is magnificent; it's some grand paradoxical farce, which we haven't wit enough to see the point of. Still, there's an exhilaration in the conflict, unequal though it is. She's sure to win in the end; she plays with us like a cat with a mouse, amused at our desperate antics, but confident of her power to administer a quietus when they begin to pall; yet there's a pleasure, somehow, in the struggle. They say, you know, the fox enjoys being hunted. To-day she's in a particularly frolicsome mood, and puts vim into her buffets. For my part, I'm grateful to her. She'll laugh best, because she'll laugh last; but she can't prevent my relishing my laugh meanwhile. I have not lived in vain, who have lived to experience this storm. Isn't it stimulating? I vow, it makes a man feel like a boy.”
I had stood shivering, teeth chattering, while he delivered himself of this extraordinary harangue. Now, “That would depend somewhat upon the age and the physique of the man,” I stammered.
“Why, yes, true enough. Your observation is altogether apposite and just. But for me, I declare, it is like wine. Which way do you go?”
“I go east and south—to my home, which is in Riverview Road, if you know where that is. But to tell you the truth, I doubt my ability to go at all. I'm pretty badly used up. I think I shall ask to be taken in at one of these neighbouring houses.”
“As you like it. But I know where River-view Road is; in fact I'm bound in that direction myself, being curious to see how the storm affects the Yellow Snake. It must be a sight for the gods—the writhing and the lashing of the reptile river under such a wind. If you please we'll march together. I suspect, with my assistance, you'll be able to arrive.”
“You've already saved my life, and now you offer to see me safely home. I shall owe you a heavy debt. But I could never consent to take you out of your way.”
“As I've already had the honour to intimate, that's precisely what you won't do. I was bound for the riverside—upon my word. Come on.”
And the next thing I knew, my robust interlocutor had again lifted me from my feet, and was trudging off towards Myrtle Avenue, bearing me like a child in his arms—which, of course, was altogether too ignominious a position for me to occupy without protest.
“Oh, this is needless. I beg of you to put me down. Really, I can't submit to this. Let me walk at your side, and lean upon your arm, and I shall do very well.”
“My dear sir,” he rejoined, “permit me to observe—and I beseech you not to resent the observation as personal—that if ever a mortal man was completely tuckered out, you are. You've lost your wind, and your legs are as shaky as if you had the palsy. Pardon my austere frankness—the circumstances compel it. You couldn't get as far as the corner yonder to save your neck. You are, to employ the politest of modern languages, hors de combat. You are ansgespielt, you are non compos corporis—that is to say, in pure Americanese, you are busted. Now, so far as I am concerned, on the contrary, I don't mind carrying you any more than I would a baby. At the outside you don't weigh ten stone; and what's the like of that to a fellow of my horse-power? Lie still, and I sha'n't know you're there. Lie still and rest, recover your breath, and be yourself again.”
“But the thing is too ridiculous. I can't in dignity consent to it, I entreat you to put me down.”
I attempted to release myself, but his arms were like bands of iron.
“There, there—resign yourself! I prithee, wriggle not,” he said. “I shall put you down presently—when the time is ripe. And as for your dignity, remember the device of Cæsar: Esée quant videri. This, sir, is an occasion for choosing between appearances and a very grim reality. I can understand that, other things equal, you wouldn't care to have the world see us in our present situation; but console yourself with the reflection that the storm answers every purpose of a dose of fern-seed, and renders us beautifully invisible. Anyhow, I take it, your dignity isn't as precious to you as your health; and I will go bail for this, that if you tried to foot it another hundred yards, you'd pay for your temerity with a fit of sickness. Consider, furthermore, that I am old enough to be your son. Let me play a son's part for the nonce, and carry you home.”
“Well, I have no right to quarrel with you,” I answered; “but you place me under an obligation which I shall never be able to discharge. It will bear as heavily upon my conscience as I now weigh upon your muscles.”
“Then it will cause you mighty slight annoyance. To tell you the truth, it's a jolly good lark for me. It's an added excitement, a most interesting adventure; and it will provide a capital chapter for the winter's tale that I shall have to tell. But a truce to talk. Let's waste no further breath in that way. You lie still there and meditate. I'll devote my energies to the business of getting on.”
So for a good while we forbore speech. At length, “Now, then,” he announced, “here's Riverview Road. Our toilsome journey's o'er; and, all our perils past, in harbour safe at last we rest. What would you more?—What's your number?”
“Sixty-three, the fourth house from the corner.”
“Well, here you are on your own doorstep.—There!”
He set me upon my feet.
“And now, sir,” he concluded, “trusting that you may suffer no ill effects from your experience, I will wish you farewell. Farewell, a long farewell. This is a life made up of partings. Again, farewell.”
“Farewell by no manner of means,” I hastily retorted. “You must come in. You must do me the honour of entering my house, and allowing me to offer you some refreshment. And besides, if, as you said, you are anxious to watch the play of the storm upon the river, you could possess no better coigne of vantage than one of my back windows.”
“Such an inducement, sir, is superfluous. Your invitation in itself would be quite irresistible. For, aside from the pleasure I derive from your society, and the instruction from your conversation, I will confidentially admit to you that I shall be glad to thaw out my nose.”
I opened the door with my latch-key, and preceded him into my study.