It was then seen that the dead whiteness, as of a corpse, had spread from the foot up the calf.
"He is going to have a paralytic stroke, that is it," said Pete. "You, Samuel, must ride for a doctor to-morrow morning, not that he can do much good, if what I think be the case."
On the second day the old man persisted in his determination to rise. He was deaf to all remonstrance, he would get up and go about, as far as he was able. But his ability was small. In the evening, as the sun went down, he was sitting crouched over the fire. The family had finished supper, and all had left the room except his wife, who was removing the dishes, when she heard a gasping and struggling by the fire, and, turning her head, saw her husband writhing on his stool, clinging to it with his hands, with his left leg out, his mouth foaming, and he was snorting with terror or pain.
She ran to him at once.
"Jacob, what is it?"
"He is at me again! Beat him off with the broom!" he screamed. "Keep him away. He is wrapping the white flag round my knee."
Pete and the others ran in, and raised their father, who was falling out of his seat, and conveyed him to bed.
It was now seen that his knee had become hard and stiff, his calf was as if frozen; the whiteness had extended upwards to the knee.
Next day a surgeon arrived. He examined the old man, and expressed his conviction that he had a stroke. But it was a paralytic attack of an unusual character, as it had in no way affected his speech or his left arm and hand. He recommended hot fomentations.
Still the farmer would not be confined to bed; he insisted on being dressed and assisted into the kitchen.