“I can’t think how the Red Indians bear things so.”
His uncle lifted him gently into bed, and told him that he would soon feel easy now.
“Have you told mother?” asked Hugh.
“Yes; we sent to her directly.”
“How long did it take?” asked Hugh.
“You have been out of bed only a few minutes—seven or eight, perhaps.”
“Oh, uncle, you don’t mean really?”
“Really: but we know they seemed like hours to you. Now, your mother will bring you some tea. When you have had that, you will go to sleep: so I shall wish you good-night now.”
“When will you come again?”
“Very often, till you come to me. Not a word more now. Good-night.”