“Yes, the fight is over,” replied the Highlander, sternly, “but it has cost us much. Our house is on fire and Reuben is—”
He did not finish the sentence. Indeed, there was no occasion to do so, for, while he spoke, the men advanced who bore Reuben’s all but lifeless body.
Loo did not scream or utter a word, but her white face and compressed lips told their own tale as she walked by her bridegroom’s side into the hall which had been so gaily fitted up, but was now a blackened and partially burned room.
While the hunter’s wound was being examined every one, save the pastor and the women, was sent from the hall to aid in extinguishing the fire, which had been nearly subdued. MacFearsome was somewhat expert as an amateur doctor, and so was the Reverend William Tucker. Their united opinion was that the hunter’s case was a very grave one. They did all that could be done to stop the bleeding and sustain the strength of the wounded man, whose consciousness returned after a short time.
“Is it all over with me, father?” asked Reuben, in a faint voice, addressing The MacFearsome for the first time by that endearing title.
“I fear it is, my son,” replied the Chief. “You know it is not my habit to mince matters at any time, and I don’t think you are such a baby as to fear death when it is sent to you. However, I will not say that your case is hopeless till I have tried my medicine on you—so keep up your heart, Reuben.”
“Father,” said Reuben, “will you allow me to be alone with Loo, for a little?”
“Certainly, my dear boy, but you must have your medicine first.”
Reuben replied with a smile and a nod.
After taking the physic he was left alone with Loo. For some time neither could speak. At last Loo said, “Oh, Reuben dear! you are not going to die?”