Having sent this message, and finding there was a very good physician at the Y, he sent him at once to the camp, to remain there until the surgeons should arrive, doing meantime all in his power to relieve the sufferers. Then giving orders for one of the company’s men to take his horse, and replace it with a fresh one, Morton returned to the station to await Van Dorn’s reply.
At the house, Jack was being cared for by Mike and one of the older miners, who had had considerable experience in nursing, Houston doing everything which his crippled condition and the intense pain he was suffering, would permit.
On the arrival of the physician from the Y, he first visited Jack, and leaving directions to be carried out for his temporary relief, next attended to the setting of Houston’s arm and the dressing of his wounds. The operation required some time, but at last it was completed, and Houston returned to Jack’s room.
The room had been darkened, and in accordance with the physician’s directions, Jack’s beard had been shaven and his hair closely cut, to relieve his head as much as possible. His breathing was more natural, but he lay quiet and motionless as before.
As Houston approached the bed in the dim light, he scarcely recognized his friend, so great was the change in his appearance, but as he drew nearer, he started visibly. Something in the smooth face and closely clipped head seemed wonderfully familiar, and carried him back to the days when he had first entered his uncle’s home. Bending over him for an instant, he scanned the features more closely. It was enough! The face with its patrician features carved in such perfect beauty, though lined by sorrow, was the face of his cousin,––his boyish hero and ideal.
With a quick, dry sob, Houston turned from the bedside, more deeply moved than any of his associates had ever seen him.
“Great God!” he exclaimed, in low tones, “it is Guy Cameron! my cousin Guy!” and bending over the unconscious form once more, while the great tears coursed slowly down his face, he murmured:
“Guy, dear old fellow, and you have known me all this time! God grant this has not come too late!”
With a low cry, Lyle had sprung to Houston’s side, while Leslie and Ned Rutherford followed, and the others looked on in mute wonder and astonishment. Her quick ear had caught the name.
“What name did you say?” she cried eagerly, “Did you say Guy Cameron? Is Jack––my Jack––is he my mother’s brother?”