I observed Alick, while we were seated round our fire in the wigwam, shivering several times, while he looked unusually pale.
“I am afraid you’re ill,” I said.
“Oh, it is nothing; I shall be better after supper and some sleep,” he answered. “My plunge into the cold water was somewhat trying, perhaps; and I wish I had followed your advice, and dried my clothes at once.”
I begged him to put on my coat, and to cover himself up with one of the deerskins, which was not required for Martin, while his clothes were more effectually dried. To this he at last consented, and we hung them up on the side of the fire opposite to that where Martin lay, so as not to deprive him of the warmth.
On going out into the open air, we were sensible of the great difference of temperature which existed inside the hut and outside. We found it necessary to keep the entrance open, instead of closing it with a piece of bark which we had prepared for the purpose.
Alick’s clothes were soon quite dry, when, having put them on, he stretched himself on the bed we had prepared for him. As he did so, I saw him again shiver violently several times. This made me more than ever apprehensive that he had received a chill. He confessed, indeed, that his head ached terribly, and that he felt sometimes extremely hot, and then very cold. Even a mugful of hot soup, which we got him to swallow, did not seem to do him any good; and as he was now unable to attend to Martin, I took his place.
The next morning, as I feared, though Martin was slightly better, Alick was very ill and utterly unfit to proceed on the voyage. We at once made up our minds to remain where we were for that day, or perhaps for longer if necessary. Alick, though very weak, was perfectly conscious.
“Don’t lose time,” he whispered to me; “but do you and Robin go out and try and shoot some game. If our voyage is delayed we may be running short of provisions. Pat will remain with Martin and me, for as he is no shot, he would only be throwing the ammunition away.”
Pat, who was not vain of his powers as a sportsman, readily consented to this.
“Shure, I’ll be afther taking good care of the jintleman,” he said. “If a bear or a wolf comes this way, faith, he’ll be sorry for it to the end of his days.”