“Do take the brandy, at least,” he urged; “and then I won’t talk to you any more till the boat comes back. You must take it. You’re in an ague-fit now.”
Dick was, indeed, trembling violently.
But, more to relieve himself from importunity, it would seem, than for any other reason, he lifted his head, swallowed the draught that was offered him, and sank back again.
His friend leaned over him one instant, his breast, strongly heaving, and full of pity, against Dick’s shoulder, his rough, tender cheek laid to Dick’s wet hair.
The poor boy turned at that, threw his arms around Captain Cary’s neck, drew him down, and held him close, as a drowning man might hold a plank. “O captain, captain!” he whispered, “I’ve got an awful blow!”
When the sailor went out into the air again, all the Indians had retired into their wigwams, except Malie, and her father and mother. The child, wide awake, and full of excitement, was swinging herself by the bough of a tree, half her motion lost sight of in the dark pine shadow, half floating out into the light. Now and then, she stretched her foot, and struck the earth with it. When the stranger appeared and looked her way, she began to chatter like a squirrel, and, lifting her feet, scrambled into the tree, and disappeared among its branches.
Mr. and Mrs. Nicola crouched by the fire, and sulkily ignored the intruder. When he approached and stood by her side, the woman did not turn her head, but tossed a strip of
birch-bark into the coals, and watched it while it writhed, blackened, turned red, shrivelled, and disappeared.
“I wonder if she would like to serve me that way?” he questioned inwardly; and said aloud, “I am going up to meet my man at the ship, and come back with him. It may save a little time, and I don’t like to keep you up any longer than I must.”
The man uttered a low-toned guttural word, the woman nodded her head in reply, but neither took any notice of Captain Cary.