He stopped for a moment upon the step and listened. There was not a sound from within. Was the place empty, or had some one heard him coming and was waiting, in stealthy quiet, until he should enter? What was that, a sigh perhaps, more like a stifled moan? Without further hesitation he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
CHAPTER VIII
A NIGHT’S LODGING
It had been the intense darkness of the night outside that had made the cabin window look bright, for the room into which Hugh came was lit only by a dying fire. Close to the hearth a big chair had been drawn and in this some one was sitting, some one who whispered and muttered to himself and stirred uneasily but did not look round. Nicholas ran to him and began licking the thin hand that hung limply over the arm of the chair. A lantern stood on the table, but it had evidently burned out. A canvas pack, half-emptied, with its blankets trailing out upon the floor, lay on a bench. It was quite evident that, besides the man in the chair, there was no one in the cabin.
Hugh went over to him, but still he did not look up. The boy touched the hand that Nicholas was licking and found it burning with fever. The man was very thin; he had on the rough clothes that every one wears in the woods, but he was fair-skinned and as unlike Half-Breed Jake and his companions as it was possible to be. It needed no very long reflection to make it clear to Hugh that this was John Edmonds.
Although it was quite true that Hugh did not know very much of the woodcraft and that, at milking Hulda, he had come very near to being a flat failure, there were still some crises to which he was equal, for he was not a country doctor’s son for nothing. He had helped his father more than once in emergencies very like this one, so that he was not long at a loss what to do. John Edmonds must certainly be got to bed, but one look at the bunks against the walls and the filthy rags that lay piled upon them, assured Hugh that the floor was infinitely preferable. He unpacked his own blankets, gathered up those that lay on the bench and made a bed upon the rough board flooring. It required almost unbelievable effort to arouse John Edmonds and move him, helplessly weak as he was, to the improvised couch. Hugh did not stop to rekindle the lantern, but flung more wood upon the fire and by its light went about the task of getting his patient partly undressed and of making him more comfortable.
During these ministrations, poor Nicholas, not realizing that his share of usefulness was over, contrived to make himself continually in the way. He seemed at least ten sizes too big for the tiny cabin and to have the idea that the best thing he could do was to keep as near to Edmonds as possible. Hugh pushed him out of the way a score of times, stumbled over him in the half dark and felt, every time he stood still for a moment, that cold nose pushed into his hand as though the big dog were begging him to do his best. At last the worried creature subsided, and lay down at the sufferer’s feet, with his chin on his paws and his dark eyes still following Hugh wherever he went. The boy tried everything he knew and, finally, kneeling beside his patient on the floor, was rewarded by seeing the uneasy stupor pass into something like natural slumber. He waited a long time to assure himself that Edmonds’ breathing was easier and quieter and that he really slept. Then he got up stiffly, mended the fire once more and began to explore the resources of the little cabin.
In a store-shed behind the one room he found an open window, through which Nicholas had evidently made his way when he had set out on his own expedition. He also discovered a can of oil, with which he filled the lantern so that it could be lit again. The yellow light, falling upon the table, showed him something that he had not seen before, a note scrawled hastily in pencil on brown paper.
“John,” it ran, “I have gone for help, but not to Oscar Dansk, because I promised you I would not. I have gone to the Indian village at Two Rivers and will try to send some one into Rudolm for a doctor. I will be back before a great many hours. Dick.”
With the letter still in his hand, Hugh sat down beside the fire to try to think the matter out. It was evident that the two Edmonds had taken shelter from the storm in the Pirate’s cabin and that John had become so ill that his younger brother, in alarm, had gone for aid. Their plight must have been desperate indeed for Dick to leave his brother alone in such a place. But why should he have gone so far when just across the ravine help was to be had? Why did he speak of a promise? It was very hard to understand!