“I have a cold, I suppose,” she replied. “My head aches—and I think Mick is crazy. But I’ll go to bed,—just to keep him quiet. Don’t worry.”
She went up to her room. Mick got Tom and Gaspard each by an elbow.
“Diptherie at Tinder Brook,” he whispered harshly. “That why Gabe Peters’ squaw run ’way with pappoose. He don’t have it but he bring it here, I guess. Cathie gettin’ sick, anyhow. Guess she need doctor pretty darn quick.”
Gaspard Javet groaned. He had been so happy of late—or had his happiness been only a dream? He sat down heavily in the nearest chair. Tom Akerley paled but did not flinch. He looked steadily at the old Maliseet and in a steady voice said,
“It may not be anything more than a cold, Mick. I’ll get a doctor immediately—but you don’t think she is seriously ill, now, do you?”
“Dunno. Take too darn much chance a’ready, anyhow. Where you get a doctor quick, hey? No doctor at B’ilin’ Pot. Go way out to Millbrow an’ find one darn poor doctor maybe. Take a’mighty long time anyhow—an’ maybe we don’t find him.”
Tom opened the door and looked up at the sky. It was a fine night. He aroused Gaspard and sent him up to Catherine to consult her in the matter of treatment for her own cold. Then, with two lanterns, he and Mick Otter went out to the big barn. Tom set to work immediately. Mick visited the mother and baby. He found Gabe Peters there and devoted a few minutes to telling all three what he thought of them. He was particularly severe with the squaw, because of her secretive behavior. Then he returned to the work-shop and assisted Tom for three hours.
Tom was the first of the household to wake next morning. The first thing he did was to go out and look at the weather. There was not a breath of wind. The dawn of a fine spring day was breaking in silver and gold along the wooded east. He woke Gaspard then, lit the fire and dressed. Gaspard went up to Catherine’s room and found her sleeping—but she tossed and moaned in her sleep. Her face was flushed.
Tom opened the doors of his work-shop wide and fell to work by the level morning light. Mick Otter cooked the breakfast. Gaspard looked after Catherine, who drank a little weak tea and complained of a sore throat.
Breakfast was eaten in ten minutes. Mick fed the three unwelcome guests and locked them in their quarters. Then Tom, Mick and Gaspard worked like beavers for two hours; and by the end of that time the ’plane squatted wide-winged before the barn, like a wounded goose of gigantic proportions. The three wheeled it to the top of the oldest and levelest meadow.