When Mr. Stanton and Mr. Bradford went up to the hut that afternoon, they found that Lem had been as good as his word. All the old bones and feathers, bits of rusty iron, half-burnt sticks, and ashes, had been picked up, and put out of sight. Lem had even made a poor broom out of some dry birch twigs and a stick, and with this he had tried to sweep off the broad slab of rock on which the house stood. It was not half done, to be sure; Lem was not used to sweeping, or to making things tidy; but he thought he had made the place very fine for his new friends, and they did not fail to praise and admire. Moreover, Lem had washed his face, for the first time perhaps in many weeks or months; and, although he had left his cheeks all streaked and channelled, it was at least an attempt at something better, and, so far, even this was promising.
Dolly was awake, but quite wild, and talked in a rambling way of silver cups and angels, of gardens and music, of the Ice Glen and the dark, dark night. Her fever was very high, and her poor head rolled from side to side; but, in spite of her restlessness, she could not move hand or foot, for the terrible pains which racked her and made her cry out on the slightest motion.
"She's awful sick, aint she?" said Lem, as he stood beside the two gentlemen, and saw with what grave faces they watched his sister.
"She is very sick, Lem," said Mr. Bradford; "too sick to be left here alone with you. I must go and see if I can find some one to come and take care of her to-night;" and, after saying a few words in French to his brother-in-law, Mr. Bradford walked away.
Mr. Stanton stayed behind. He had brought with him the upper half of an old window-sash which he had begged from Mr. Porter, a hammer, and some large nails; and he now told Lem they must go to work again, and he would tell the promised story as they worked. The sash was too large for the square hole in the side of the house which served for a window; but Mr. Stanton made it answer for the time, hanging it by strips of leather, nailed at one end to the sash, at the other to the boards above the window. This now served the purpose, since it could be raised or let down as might be needed. Then the crazy door was taken down, and hung anew on its two hinges; and, as the old latch was quite worn out and useless, Mr. Stanton fashioned a wooden button by which it might be fastened.
Meanwhile he told in low tones, that Dolly might not be disturbed, the story of a famous tiger hunt. Lem listened eagerly,—listened with ears, eyes, and mouth, if such a thing could be; for the two latter were so wide open that he seemed to be drinking in the tale by these as well as by the proper channel. But Mr. Stanton soon found he was not to be depended upon for work. Accustomed to an idle, lazy life, Lem could not fix his attention and employ his hands at the same time. If Mr. Stanton reminded him of his work, he would hammer or cut away for one moment; the next his hands would be clasping his knees in an ecstasy of delight and wonder at the strange but true tale he was listening to.
The gentleman let it pass, however. Lem's help was not of much account at the best; and his object just now was to gain a hold on the boy, and interest him. Teaching, advice, or reproof might come by and by, when he had made Lem feel he meant to be a friend to him.
Nevertheless, Lem had not the least idea that he had not done his own share of the work; and when the door and make-shift window were both in their places he exclaimed,—
"We did fix it up fustrate; didn't we mister?"