But here his thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Papineau, who insisted on inspecting his wound again and made a wry face when she looked at it.
“I beg you pardon for to tell de truth, Monsieur Hugo,” she said, “but I tink you one beeg fool man for come here to-day. I tink maybe you get bad seek wid dat h’arm. You stay ’ere to-day an’ for de night. I make you a bed in dis room on de floor, by Jacques an’ Baptiste an’ Pierre. My man Philippe ’e come to-morrow, maybe to-night, an’ I send heem to Carcajou so he telegraph to de docteur for see you, eh?”
“You’re awfully good, Mrs. Papineau,” answered the young man, with the obstinacy of his kind. “I’m perfectly sure I’ll be all 180 right to-morrow, or the next day at the most. And I’ll come back and see how Miss Nelson is getting on. I think I’ll move now so I’ll say good-by. I’m a lot better now. I suppose it’s on account of that stuff you made me drink; it was bad enough to be fine medicine. I hope the rest will do you some good also, Miss Nelson. You’re looking a lot better than yesterday.”
Mrs. Papineau first thought of preventing his exit by main force but felt compelled to let him have his way. She lacked the courage of her convictions and allowed him to depart, with his dog running ahead with the toboggan. She peered at him through one of the small panes and saw that he was walking fairly easily.
“Maybe heem be all right soon,” she confided hopefully to Madge, while she mixed dough in a pan. “But heem one beeg fool man all de same.”
“I––I can hardly believe that,” objected the girl. “Why do you think so?”
“All mans is beeg fools ven dey is ’urted or seek, my dear. Dey don’t know nodings ’ow to tak’ care for heemselves. Dey don’t never haf sense dat vay. Alvays tink dey so strong noding happen, ever. But just same Hugo Ennis one mighty fine man, I say dat sure. I 181 rather de ole cow die as anyting ’appen to heem.”
Without interrupting her work, and later as she toiled, at her washtub, the good woman launched forth in lengthy praise of Hugo. From her conversation it appeared that he had helped one or two fellows with small sums of money and good advice. In the autumn he had fished out an Indian who had upset his boat while netting whitefish in rough weather, on the lake, and every one knew that Stefan’s life had been saved by him. At any rate the Swede said so, for Hugo never liked much to speak of such things. And then he was a steady fellow, a hard worker, good at the traps and not afraid of work of any kind. And then he was friendly to everybody. Had Madge noticed how gentle he was with the little children? That was always a sign of a good man.
“Yes, mees,” she concluded. “Some time I tink heem de bes’ man as ever lif. Heem Hugo not even ’urt one dog, or anyting.”
So he wouldn’t hurt even a dog! Madge repeated these words to herself. Then why had he played such a sorry joke on a woman who had never injured him? She wondered whether he would be sorry, afterwards, if––if he ever chanced to learn what had become 182 of her––after everything was all over. It might be that he had just been a big fool, as the Canadian woman had called him, and never reflected on the possible consequences of his action. But then he should have had the manhood to acknowledge his fault and beg her pardon, instead of resorting at once to clumsy lies and pretending utter ignorance. In many ways such conduct seemed inconsistent with the man, now that she had had further opportunity of seeing him. And then there was no doubt that he looked very ill. She was really very sorry for her share in that accident, and yet––and yet men had been shot dead for smaller offenses than he had meted out to her. He might have been killed, of course, and her quickened imagination caused her to see him stretched stark upon the floor of that little cabin, on those rough boards that smelled of resiny things. And then people would have come and she would have been accused of his murder, of course. It would have been her weapon that had done it, and they would have found motive enough for the deed in the story she would have been compelled to relate. They wouldn’t have believed in any accident. And then, instead of being able to end everything in some air hole of Roaring River, she would have been 183 dragged to some jail to eke out her days in a prison, if she had not been hanged.