Chapter Seven.
Solitude.
On the day of his encounter with the bear, Jack Robinson sent Rollo up to the fort to fetch down all the men except O’Donel, in order that the fishery might be carried on with vigour.
Of course it is unnecessary to inform the reader that Jack speedily recovered from the effects of his adventure. It would be absurd to suppose that anything of an ordinary nature could kill or even do much damage to our hero. Beyond five deep punctures on his back and five on his breast, besides a bite in the shoulder, Jack had received no damage, and was able to return on foot to Fort Desolation a few days after the event.
On arriving, he found his man, Teddy O’Donel, sitting over the kitchen fire in the last stage of an attack of deep depression and home sickness. Jack’s sudden appearance wrought an instantaneous cure.
“Ah!” said he, grasping his master’s hand and wringing it warmly; “it’s a blessed sight for sore eyes! Sure I’ve bin all but dead, sur, since ye wint away.”
“You’ve not been ill, have you?” said Jack, looking somewhat earnestly in the man’s face.
“Ill? No, not i’ the body, if that’s what ye mane, but I’ve been awful bad i’ the mind. It’s the intellect as kills men more nor the body. The sowl is what does it all.” (Here Teddy passed his hand across his forehead and looked haggard.) “Ah! Mr Robinson, it’s myself as’ll niver do to live alone. I do belave that all the ghosts as iver lived have come and took up there abode in this kitchen.”
“Nonsense!” said Jack, sitting down on a stool beside the fire and filling his pipe; “you’re too superstitious.”