Upon being reassured she tried to lie down again, at Mrs. Papineau’s urging, but sleep refused to come. Indeed, she felt greatly 267 rested. And then she began to feel very hungry and had a meal of bread and tea, with a few dried prunes. It was not a very fine repast, but Madge was amazed to see what a lot she could eat. When she rose from the table she felt conscious that in some way she had gained strength, in spite of her weariness. After this she renewed the dressings again, taking the greatest pains with them. It was getting dark when Mrs. Papineau left her, utterly indifferent to the howling of wolves on the distant ridges. She had offered to remain but Madge knew that her presence was needed at home, owing to the little ones. Moreover, the girl was getting accustomed to her weird surroundings.
In the faithful Maigan there was a protector. Besides, she still counted among the living; she was engaged in work that called for and brought out all her womanhood. In spite of her fears for the man the longing for his recovery was becoming mingled with a vague confidence, with the idea of a possibility that something might happen that would gradually develop in some sort of promise for a future that would not be all sorrow and toil. It was perhaps simply a temporary forgetfulness of self when confronted with what was a greater and stronger interest. The girl 268 Madge had become less important when compared to the dying man. She was merely an instrument wherewith destiny helped to shape certain indefinite ends. Her own turn had not yet come, and her personality was submerged in a simple acquiescence in plans and decrees she could not understand.
It appeared that the dreariness of the long hours had lessened. The imminent threat of the day before was no longer so vivid and racking, for the man kept on breathing with fair ease, and his pulse was perhaps a little stronger. She was wondering why Stefan had not returned as he had promised, when the now familiar sound of dogs and sled fell again on her ears. To her joy and surprise she found that it was the doctor, returning with the Swede.
“Managed to get away after all,” explained the former. “It’s the devil’s own thing to think there’s a chap somewhere that a fellow might perhaps help, and then be obliged to let him go because others are calling for you. Women are desperately fond of asking their husbands if they would save them or their mothers first, in case of need. It’s the deuce and all of a question to answer. But we fellows who practice on the edge of the wilderness 269 are all the time confronted by beastly questions of that sort. How is he?”
“I really think he’s better,” she hastened to inform him, and described how the sick man had spoken and been quite lucid for some moments. Dr. Starr went in and stopped at the side of the bunk, looking down with his chin resting on his hand.
To Madge he had seemed to be a man of few words, rather stern in his manner and apt, as she thought, to view humanity from a very materialistic point of view. His recent speech was the longest she had heard from him. In a somewhat cynical vein he had referred to some hard problems the lone practitioner has to solve at times.
“At any rate, he seems to be holding his own,” he finally admitted. “I can’t see that he is a bit worse. It seems to me that you’re a pretty capable nurse. Some brains and lots of good strong will.”
He looked away from her as he talked and began to rub his hands together.
“Tell you what,” he said, turning again to her. “This night might be the decisive one, and I think I’ll stick it out here again. I’ll catch the freight back in the morning, as I did to-day. We’ll have a look at the wound now, and see how those drains are working. 270 Did you follow my orders? But I think I needn’t ask. Put more water on the stove, Stefan.”
Madge had been holding the lamp for him, and when the doctor passed his hand over Hugo’s forehead the eyes opened and the man blinked. Also there seemed to be a relaxing of the tense, hollow-cheeked face.