My mother is taken dangerously ill—Dio and I set off to Fort Hamilton—Boxer disobedient—End of our first day’s journey—An agreeable addition to our supper—Cat-fish—My dog on the watch—A midnight interruption—Overtaken by the snow—A trying day’s march—We are at length able to camp—Strong inclination to sleep—Boxer keeps watch—The red-skins near—Our horses and rifles stolen—We suffer from hunger—We continue our way on foot—Sleep in a hollow tree—Pursued by wolves—We kill one of the pack—Saved by our dog and a buffalo carcase—Worn out—Camp.
Hitherto our community had enjoyed the most uninterrupted good health, no accidents had even occurred requiring more surgical skill than my father or uncle were able to afford. In this we were especially fortunate, for we knew of no doctor nearer than Fort Hamilton, and we could scarcely expect him to come in any ordinary case of illness. At length our dear mother began to ail, and her pale cheek and sunken eye showed that she was suffering greatly. One evening, towards the end of the year, the trees being already stripped of their leaves, Lily came to me.
“Our dear mother is, I fear, very, very ill,” she said; “I don’t think that your father is aware how serious her case is, and unless we can get a doctor to prescribe for her, I am afraid that she will die. I should be sorry to frighten you unnecessarily, Mike, but I am sure it is of the greatest importance that a medical man should see her without delay.”
“I am ready to set off this moment, and I will endeavour to bring back a doctor at all costs,” I answered.
“Do go, Mike,” she said; “and yet I fear that you may encounter dangers on the way, the journey is long, and the Indians are less peaceably disposed, it is reported, than they have been of late, but I pray that God will protect you, and I am sure that He will, when you are performing an act of duty.”
“Neither difficulties nor dangers shall prevent me from going, and I feel as you do, that it is most important our mother should have medical assistance. I am the fittest person to go, and I shall have no fears, knowing that you, dear Lily, are praying for me.”
“Remember too, Mike, that God will hear my prayers, and grant them too, as He has promised,” exclaimed Lily; “what an encouragement it is to know that He does hear faithful prayer, and never fails to attend to it.”
As may be supposed, this was not the whole of our conversation. When my father came in, I broke the subject to him; not wishing to alarm him more than necessary about my mother’s health, at the same time anxious to obtain his permission for going. He at first hesitated, as I expected that he would do, being more aware even than Lily was of the difficulties of such a journey at that season of the year, when at any time a snow-storm might come on and cover the ground many feet in depth. At last, however, when I told him what Lily had said, he consented. I had intended to go alone, trusting to my rifle for support, should I require more provisions than I could carry on my horse. As soon as I announced my intention of starting, Dio entreated that he might accompany me.
“I will keep up wid you, Massa Mike, however fast you may hab to go. Watch at night when you camp, and will remain by you while I have life, should you be attacked by Indians or grizzlies. Do let me go?” exclaimed the faithful fellow.
“I only hesitated, Dio, lest you might suffer from the weather, should the winter begin before we can get back,” I answered.