Perhaps, too, Jamie was becoming accustomed to the mist, as one will, in time, become accustomed to anything. Perhaps the abounding hope of youth helped him—and with Jamie it was the hope that one day he would see as well as ever he had—for was not the great doctor to work a wonderful cure—when summer came again? Jamie’s faith never wavered. He entertained no doubt that David and Andy and Indian Jake would meet with success, and bring back with them the furs necessary to meet the expense of the journey to New York. He never failed to ask for this in his prayers. Oh, that the faith of childhood, simple, abiding, unquestioning, might never be shattered! What a blessed consolation is faith! What a bulwark of strength in time of need!
Jamie often asked Margaret to describe the mountains to him as she saw them from the cabin windows. It was a vast satisfaction to have the assurance that they were still there, big and brave and strong, standing guard over the world beyond the Bay. And sometimes he would ask her to watch for the moment when the light from the setting sun tipped their highest peaks with glory, and tell him when God reached down to kiss the world good night.
“Now that leg!” announced Doctor Joe one day. “We’ll take the splints off and see what it looks like.”
“I’m wonderful glad t’ have un took off,” said Thomas, his face brightening visibly.
Doctor Joe laughed, as he went to work, and presently the bandages and splints were removed, and he surveyed the leg.
“I never saw a better job!” he exclaimed. “Straight and fine! It won’t be long, Thomas, till you’ll forget you ever had a broken leg!”
“She feels strange,” remarked Thomas.
“Does she, now?” laughed Doctor Joe.
“Aye, she does that! She pricks and hurts, and she wasn’t hurtin’ a bit when th’ lashin’s were on,” said Thomas.
“That’ll soon pass away. It’s the blood circulating,” Doctor Joe explained.