For several days Laurence hung between life and death, but the constant and watchful care of his new friends was blessed with success; and once more he opened his eyes, and was able to understand and reply to what was said to him. As soon as he was considered out of danger, old Michael regained his usual manner. Though he expressed his gratitude to his hosts in his rough, blunt way, he uttered no expression which showed that he believed that aught of thanks were due to the Giver of all good for his son’s recovery. With his ordinary firm tread he stalked into the room where Laurence lay.
“I am glad to see thee coming round, boy,” he said. “Food and quiet is all that is now required to fit thee for work again. Dost not long to be once more wandering through the forest, or trapping by the side of the broad stream? I am already weary, as I knew I should, of this dull life, and must away to look after our traps and such of our peltries as may have escaped the claws of the cunning wolverines.”
“Stay for me but a few days, and I shall be ready to go with you, father,” said the boy, trying to raise himself up.
“Nay, nay, boy; but you’re not yet strong enough for travelling. The snow lies thickly on the ground, and the winter’s wind whistles keenly through the forest and across the plain. Stay a while with your good friends here, and I’ll come back for thee, and then we will hie away to lead the free life we have enjoyed so long.” Old Michael spoke in a more subdued tone than usual.
“You speak truth, father, when you say our friends are kind; if it were not for you I should not wish to leave them. Sometimes, when Mrs Ramsay and her little daughter have been tending me, my thoughts have been carried back to the days when I was a young child, or else to some pleasant dreams which have visited me in my sleep.”
“Speak not again of those times, Laurence,” exclaimed the old trapper in an angry tone. “They are mere foolish fancies of the brain. You are still weak and ill, but you will soon recover,” he added in a more gentle voice. “And when I come for you, promise me that you will be ready to go forth once more to be my companion in the free wilds.”
“Yes, father, yes; I promise, whenever you come and summon me away, I will go with you.”
“Farewell, then, boy,” said the old trapper, taking his son’s hand. “We will look forward to the time when we may enjoy our free roving life together again.”
On the entrance of Mrs Ramsay and Jeanie, who came with some nourishing food for Laurence, the old trapper silently left the room. When, a short time afterwards, Mrs Ramsay inquired for him, she found that he had quitted the fort, leaving behind him his bales of peltries, with the exception of the white wolf-skin.
“He has taken it to trade with the Indians,” observed the factor. “He knows that they value it more than we do.”