"Will you just go on being patient, Dick?" she said at last. "I know it is hard—and you have been wonderfully good. Try not to get impatient yet."
"I can stick it all right if I know I'm going to get better," Dick said. "And you say I am, mother."
She met his eyes.
"I believe you are, Dick—with God's help."
"Well, that's all right—mother-est," he said; and he took her hand and carried it to his cheek. So they stayed together while darkness crept into the room. She would have stirred once to switch on the light, but he said, "Ah, don't go away," and she drew closer to him. Through the open windows the kind stars looked down in pity as her lips moved, praying.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE LONG TRAIL.
It was a queer procession that moved away from Narrung homestead in the early morning. A great motor ambulance, with a bed for Dick that was a marvel of cushions and springs, went first, his mother and a nurse with him. Mr. Lester and the second nurse followed in another car that had come up from Perth; and, last of all, Mr. Warner, in his own motor, with Merle's little white face beside him. For Merle had got her wish—not because it was hers, but because of Dick's few words. "If Dick wants Merle, or my house, or every penny I have in the world, he has only got to say so," Mr. Warner had said. "If she's in the way, or whenever Dick is tired of her, you can consign her to her grandmother in Perth." He looked at Merle as if she were a bale of goods. If the words stung her she made no sign.
Both the cars were piled high with baggage. Where possible they would stay in towns on the way, but since Dick's fatigue might demand that they should stop at any moment, there were tents to be carried, food, cooking utensils—all that was necessary for his comfort. The driver of the ambulance was a skilled man, trained to steer his great car so gently as to avoid the slightest jolt, if the roads were reasonably good—and there were favourable reports of the condition of the tracks. The Westown doctor had arrived the night before on his motor cycle to see his patient start; he helped to carry him out, with the nurses, when it was time to go.
Dick was a little flushed with excitement, and his eyes very bright. He smiled at the people who thronged round to say good-bye to him, and his weak hand had a special pat for Bobby—Bobby, who wailed because he was going, and refused to be comforted. The doctor and nurses hurried the farewells; their patient must not have any more fatigue than was necessary. Indeed, the doctor heaved a sigh of relief when he was safely in the ambulance, and it moved slowly away down the paddock.