Mr. Black undressed the thin, still-unconscious lad, wrapped him in a warm blanket (his feet, Mrs. Crane said, were like lumps of ice), and tucked him into bed.
"If we were in town," declared Mrs. Crane, "I'd send for the doctor."
"Just what I'm going to do, as soon as Dave turns up. I'll go to his wigwam now—perhaps he's back. Too bad there isn't any medicine——"
"But there is," said Mrs. Crane. "Mrs. Tucker sent a bottle to Bettie to be used in case her fever should return. She sent a tonic, too, but neither bottle has been opened. If you think it's safe——"
"Good for Mrs. Tucker! Give that boy a dose of the fever medicine—he certainly needs that. Now for Dave—I'd like to get him started for Lakeville at once."
Dave, however, was not to be found. His ways were strange and mysterious; he had an inconvenient habit of disappearing without warning for hours at a stretch. No one would see him go. He would set out, ostensibly for his wigwam; but if Mr. Black followed him to that habitation, as he sometimes did, no sign would he find of Dave. This time, the canoe was gone, also, and, of course, Dave's dog.
"He hasn't shown up," said Mr. Black, returning from the wigwam. "I suppose he rose at daybreak and took to the lake; for his canoe isn't in the river. And here I am paying him to bring water and wood for us and help with the boats."
"Paying him!" gasped Mrs. Crane, "when he lived on your land for four years without paying rent? Peter!"
"Well," returned Mr. Black, "it's only a dollar a day. Perhaps that isn't enough—I'll raise his wages!"
"But that poor boy——"