Scattered about in picturesque but hopeless confusion were long ranges of pole frames for drying fish, many little log-houses mounted on stilts and looking like dove-cots, the use of which Phil could not imagine, fish-traps, boats, sledges, and everywhere dozens of yelping, prowling, fighting, or sleeping dogs. Besides these things Phil could see what appeared to be the black chimney-stack of some kind of a mill.
Suddenly a flag was run to the top of a tall pole on top of the bluff, and as the Stars and Stripes streamed out bravely in the cold wind a rattling volley of musketry rang forth its loud note of welcome from the Indian village. To this Phil responded by a vigorous salute from the Chimo’s whistle. Then, so utterly weary from overwork, excitement, and loss of sleep that merely to move required a strong effort of will, he left the pilot-house and went below. He found Serge at the captain’s bedside administering a bowl of broth and telling the sick man of the events of the night.
As Phil entered, Gerald Hamer’s eyes rested on him with such an expression of gratitude as the former will never forget. “I thank you two boys,” he said, weakly, “more than I can ever tell. To you I owe not only my life, but whatever it holds of value, and—” Here his voice failed him, and Serge bade him not to attempt another word.
“No, indeed,” added Phil, “for you don’t owe us one cent’s worth of thanks, Mr. Hamer. To the end of our lives we shall always be in your debt, and in bringing you up the river to this point we have used your boat to bring ourselves as well. So—well, that’s all there is to it, anyway; and now if you will only hurry up and get well we shall appreciate that more than all the thanks in the world.”
Then Serge left, and Phil, slipping into his vacated chair, almost instantly fell into a sleep so profound that it is doubtful if a boiler explosion or an earthquake could have aroused him.
An hour or so later he was in the midst of a very perplexing dream, in which he seemed to be recovering from an illness, and the old family physician at his bedside kept changing into a young woman. While in the form of an old man he said, “Yes, there are the two captains, both evidently sound asleep, and no wonder. This is Captain Hamer, who would have died long ago but for the devoted care of the two lads, and this is Captain Ryder, who brought the boat up the river in the face of all obstacles.”
Then, presto! the old doctor changed into a young woman, who said, “Poor boy, I don’t wonder that he has fallen asleep, and I only hope he isn’t in for a spell of illness. He certainly appears feverish.”
With this a soft hand was laid on Phil’s forehead, and he opened his eyes to find his dream so far a reality that there actually was a young woman bending over him, and wearing an expression of anxiety on her pleasant face. Behind her stood the missionary.
She stepped back as she saw that Phil was awake, and the poor boy, recalling vividly his dishevelled appearance, struggled to his feet with a crimson face.
“I didn’t know you were going to bring ladies to see us,” he said in a reproachful tone to his companion of the night. “In fact, I didn’t know there was a lady within a thousand miles of here. I’m sure you didn’t mention the fact. You only said you were going to fetch the doctor.”