CHAPTER XXX
IN THE DUGOUT
Three arduous and anxious days followed the ending of the strike, andeach of the occupants of Mason's dugout felt the strain of them in hisor her own particular way. Next to the strike itself, Dave's wound wasthe most serious consideration. He was the leader, the rudder of hisship; his was the controlling brain; and he was a most exasperatingpatient. His wound was bad enough, though not dangerous. It would beweeks before the use of his left arm was restored to him; but he had away of forgetting this, of forgetting that he had lost a great quantityof blood, until weakness prostrated him and roused him to a peevishperversity.
Betty was his self-appointed nurse. Tom Chepstow might examine hiswound and consider his condition, but it was Betty who dressed hiswound, Betty who prepared his food and ministered to his lightestneeds. From the moment of his return to the dugout she took charge ofhim. She consulted no one, she asked for no help. For the time, atleast, he was her possession, he was hers to lavish all the fulness ofher great love upon, a love that had something almost maternal in itswonderful protective instinct.
Mason was busy with the work of reorganization. His was the practicalhand and head while Dave was on his sick-bed. From daylight to longafter dark he took no rest. Dave's counsel guided him to an extent, butmuch had to be done without any consultation with the master of themills. Provisioning the camp was a problem not easily solved. It wassimple enough to order up food from Malkern, but there would be atleast a week's delay before its arrival. Finally, he surmounted thisdifficulty, through the return of Lieberstein, who had fled to thewoods with his cash-box and a supply of provisions, at the first signof trouble. Now he had returned to save what he could from the wreck.The Jew needed assistance to recover his looted property--what remainedof it. The overseer gave him that assistance, and at the same timearranged that all provisions so recovered should be redistributed (at aprice) as rations to the men. Thus the delay in the arrival of suppliesfrom Malkern was tided over. But though he availed himself of thismeans of getting over his difficulty he was fully determined to rid thecamp, at the earliest opportunity, of so treacherous a rascal asLieberstein.
In two days the work of restoration was in full swing. The burned storeand shanties were run up with all a lumberman's rapidity and disregardfor finish. Time was the thing that mattered. And so wonderfully didMason drive and cajole his men, that on the third day the gangs oncemore marched out into the woods. Once again the forests echoed with thehiss of saw, the ringing clang of smiting axe, the crash of fallingtrees, the harsh voices of the woodsmen, and the hundred and one soundsof bustling activity which belong to a lumber camp in full work.
That day was a pleasant one for the occupants of the dugout. It was awonderful work Mason had done. They all knew and appreciated hisdevotion to his wounded employer, and though none spoke of it, wheneverhe appeared in their midst their appreciation of him showed in theirmanner. Betty was very gentle and kindly. She saw that he wanted fornothing in the way of the comforts which the dugout could provide.
Tom Chepstow was far too busy with his sick to give attention toanything else. His hands were very full, and his was a task that showedso little result. Dave, for the most part, saw everything that wasgoing on about him, and had a full estimate of all that was being donein his interests by the devoted little band, and, absurdly enough, theeffect upon him was to stir him to greater irritability.
It was evening, and the slanting sunlight shone in through one of thewindows. It was a narrow beam of light, but its effect was sufficientlycheering. No dugout is a haven of brightness, and just now this oneneeded all that could help to lift the shadow of sickness and disasterthat pervaded it.
Betty was preparing supper, and Dave, lying on his stretcher, his vastbulk only half concealed by the blanket thrown over him, was watchingthe girl with eyes that fed hungrily upon the swift, graceful movementsof her pretty figure, the play of expression upon her sweet, sun-tannedface, the intentness, the whole-hearted concentration in her steady,serious eyes as she went about her work.
Now and again she glanced over at his rough bed, but he seemed to beasleep every time she turned in his direction. The result was anadditional care in her work. She made no noise lest she should wakenhim. Presently she stooped and pushed a log into the fire-box of thecook-stove. The cinders fell with a clatter, and she glanced roundapprehensively. Her movement was so sudden that Dave's wide-open eyeshad no time to shut. In a moment she was all contrition at herclumsiness.
"I'm so sorry, Dave," she exclaimed. "I did so hope you'd sleep on tillsupper. It's half an hour yet."
"I haven't been sleeping at all."
"Why, I----"
He smiled and shook his head, and his smile delighted the girl. It wasthe first she had seen in him since his arrival in the camp. Hisimpatience at being kept to his bed was perhaps dying out. She hadalways heard that the most active and impatient always becamereconciled to bed in the end.
"Yes, I did it on purpose," Dave said, still smiling. "You see I wantedto think. You'd have talked if I hadn't. I----"
"Oh, Dave!"
Betty's reproach had something very like resentment in it. She turnedabruptly to the boiler of stew and tasted its contents, while the manchuckled softly.
But she turned round on him again almost immediately.
"Why are you laughing?" she demanded quickly.
But he did not seem inclined to enlighten her.
"Half an hour to supper?" he said musingly. "Tom'll be in directly--andMason."
Betty was still looking at him with her cooking spoon poised as it hadbeen when she tasted the stew.
"Yes," she said, "they'll be in directly. I've only just got to makethe tea." She dropped the spoon upon the table and replaced the lid ofthe boiler. Then she came over to his bedside. "What did you meansaying I should have talked?" she asked, only now there was a smilingresponse to the smile still lurking in the gray depths of the man'seyes. Dave drew a long sigh of resignation.
"Well, y'see, Betty, if I'd laid here with my eyes open, staring aboutthe room, at you, at the roof, at the window for a whole heap of time,you'd have said to yourself, 'Dave's suffering sure. He can't sleep.He's miserable, unhappy.' You'd have said all those things, and withall your kind little heart, you'd have set to work to cheer me up--sameas you'd no doubt have done for that strike-leader fellow you shippedover to the sick camp to make room for me. Well, I just didn't wantthat kind of cheering. I was thinking--thinking mighty hard--figgeringhow best to make a broken-winged--er--owl fly without waiting for thewing to mend. Y'see, thinking's mostly all I can do just now, and Ineed to do such a mighty heap to keep me from getting mad and breakingthings. Y'see every hour, as I lie here, I kind of seem to be storingup steam like a locomotive, and sometimes I feel--feel as if I wasgoing to bust. Being sick makes me hate things." His smiling protestwas yet perfectly serious. The girl understood. A moment later he wenton. "Half an hour to supper?" he said, as though suddenly reaching adecision that had cost him much thought. "Well, just sit right down onthis stretcher, and I'm going to talk you tired. I'm sick, so you can'trefuse."
The man's eyes still smiled, but the seriousness of his manner hadincreased. Nor was Betty slow to observe it. She gladly seated herselfon the edge of the stretcher, and without the least embarrassment,without the least self-consciousness, her soft eyes rested on therugged face of her patient. She was glad that he wanted to talk--and toher, and she promptly took him up in his own tone.
"Well, I've got to listen, I s'pose," she said, with a bright smile."As you say, you're sick. You might have added that I am your nurse."
"Yes, I s'pose you are. It seems funny me needing a nurse. I s'pose Ido need one?"
Betty nodded; her eyes were bright with an emotion that the man's wordshad all unconsciously stirred. This man, so strong for himself, sostrong to help others--this man, on whom all who came into contact withhim leaned as upon some staunch, unfailing support--this man, soinvincible, so masterful, so
eager in the battle where the odds wereagainst him, needed a nurse! A great pity, a great sympathy, went outto him. Then a feeling of joy and gratitude at the thought that she washis nurse succeeded it. She--she alone had the right to wait upon him.But her face expressed none of these feelings when she replied. Shenodded gravely.
"Yes, you need a nurse, you poor old Dave. Just for once you're goingto give others a chance of being to you what you have always been tothem. It breaks my heart to see you on a sickbed; but, Dave, you cannever know the joy, the happiness it gives me to be--your nurse. All mylife it has been the other way. All my life you have been my wisecounselor, my ever-ready loyal friend; now, in ever so small a degree,you have to lean on me. Don't be perverse, Dave. Let me help you all Ican. Don't begrudge me so small a happiness. But you said you weregoing to talk me tired, and I'm doing it all." She laughed lightly, butit was a laugh to hide her real feelings.
The man's uninjured arm reached out, and his great hand rested heavilyon one of hers. The pressure of his fingers, intended to be gentle, wascrushing. His action meant so much. No words could have thanked hermore truly than that hand pressure. Betty's face grew warm withdelight; and she turned her eyes toward the stove as though to see thatall was well with her cooking.
"They're cutting to-day?" Dave's eyes were turned upon the window. Thesunlight was dying out now, and the gray dusk was stealing upon theroom. Betty understood the longing in the man's heart.
"Yes, they're cutting."
He stirred uneasily.
"My shoulder is mending fast," he said a moment later. And the girl sawhis drift.
She shook her head.
"It's mending, but it won't be well--for weeks," she said.
"It's got to be," he said, with tense emphasis, after a long pause. Hisvoice was low, but thrilling with the purpose of a mind that would notbend to the weakness of his body.
"You must be patient, Dave dear," the girl said, with thepersuasiveness of a mother for her child.
For a moment the man's brows drew together in a frown and his lipscompressed.
"Betty, Betty, I can't be patient," he suddenly burst out. "I know I'mall wrong; but I can't be patient. You know what all this means. I'mnot going to attempt to tell you. You understand it all. I cannot liehere a day longer. Even now I seem to hear the saws and axes at work. Iseem to see the men moving through the forests. I seem to hear Mason'sorders in the dead calm of the woods. With the first logs that aretravoyed to the river I must leave here and get back to Malkern. Thereis work to be done, and from now on it will be man's work. It will bemore than a fight against time. It will be a battle against almostincalculable odds, a battle in which all is against us. Betty, you aremy nurse, and as you hope to see me through with this broken shoulder,so you must not attempt to alter my decision. I know you. You want tosee me fit and well. Before all things you desire that. You willunderstand me when I say that, before all things, I must see the workthrough. My bodily comfort must not be considered; and as my friend, asmy nurse, you must not hinder me. I must leave here to-night."
The man had lifted himself to a half-sitting posture in his excitement,and the girl watched him with anxious eyes. Now she reached out, andone hand gently pressed him back to his pillow. As he had said, sheunderstood; and when she spoke, her words were the words he wished tohear. They soothed him at once.
"Yes, Dave. If you must return, it shall be as you say."
He caught her hand and held it, crushing its small round flesh in thehollow of his great palm. It was his gratitude, his gratitude for herunderstanding and sympathy. His eyes met hers. And in that momentsomething else stirred in him. The pressure tightened upon herunresisting hand. The blood mounted to her head. It seemed tointoxicate her. It was a moment of such ecstasy as she had dreamed ofin a vague sort of way--a moment when the pure woman spirit in her wasexalted to such a throne of spiritual light as is beyond the dream ofhuman imagination.
In the man, too, was a change. There was something looking out of hiseyes which seemed to have banished his last thought of that lifelongdesire for the success of his labors, something which left him no roomfor anything else, something which had for its inception all the humanpassionate desire of his tremendous soul. His gray eyes glowed with aliving fire; they deepened; a flush of hot blood surged over his ruggedfeatures, lighting them out of their plainness. His temples throbbedvisibly, and the vast sinews shivered with the fire that swept throughhis body.
In a daze Betty understood the change. Her heart leaped out to him,yielding all her love, all that was hers to give. It cried aloud herjoy in the passion of those moments, but her lips were silent. She hadgazed into heaven for one brief instant, then her eyes dropped before avision she dared no longer to look upon.
"Betty!"
The man had lifted to his elbow again. A torrent of passionate wordsrushed to his lips. But they remained unspoken. His heavy tongue wasincapable of giving them expression. He halted. That one feverishexclamation was all that came, for his tongue clave in his mouth. Butin that one word was the avowal of such a love as rarely falls to thelot of woman. It was the man's whole being that spoke.
Betty's hand twisted from his grasp. She sprang to her feet and turnedto the door.
"It's Bob Mason," she said, in a voice that was almost an awed whisper,as she rushed to the cook-stove.
The camp-boss strode heavily into the room. There was a light in hiseyes that usually would have gladdened the master of the mills. Now,however, Dave's thoughts were far from the matters of the camp.
"We've travoyed a hundred to the river bank!" the lumberman exclaimedin a tone of triumph. "The work's begun!"
It was Betty who answered him. Hers was the ready sympathy, the heartto understand for others equally with herself. She turned with a smileof welcome, of pride in his pride.
"Bob, you're a gem!" she cried, holding out a hand of kindliness to him.
And Dave's tardy words followed immediately with characteristicsincerity.
"Thanks, Bob," he said, in his deep tones.
"It's all right, boss, they're working by flare to-night, an' they'regoing on till ten o'clock."
Dave nodded. His thoughts had once more turned into the smooth channelof his affairs. Betty was serving out supper.
A few moments later, weary and depressed, the parson came in for hissupper. His report was much the same as usual. Progress--all hispatients were progressing, but it was slow work, for the recent battlehad added to the number of his patients.
There was very little talk until supper was over. Then it began asMason was preparing to depart again to his work. Dave spoke of hisdecision without any preamble.
"Say, folks, I'm going back to Malkern to-night," he said, with asmiling glance of humor at his friends in anticipation of the storm ofprotest he knew his announcement would bring upon himself.
Mason was on his feet in an instant.
"You can't do it, boss!" he exclaimed. "You----"
"No you don't, Dave, old friend," broke in Chepstow, with a shake ofhis head. "You'll stay right here till I say 'go.'"
Dave's smile broadened, and his eyes sought Betty's.
"Well, Betty?" he demanded.
But Betty understood.
"I have nothing to say," she replied quietly.
Dave promptly turned again to the parson. His smile had gone again.
"I've got to go, Tom," he said. "My work's done here, but it hasn'tbegun yet in Malkern. Do you get my meaning? Until the cutting began uphere I was not needed down there. Now it is different. There is no onein Malkern to head things. Dawson and Odd are good men, but they areonly my--foremen. It is imperative that I go, and--to-night."
"But look here, boss, it can't be done," cried Mason, with a sort ofhopeless earnestness. "You aren't fit to move yet. The journeydown--you'd never stand it. Besides----"
"Yes, besides, who's to take you down? How are you going?" Chepstowbroke in sharply. He meant to clinch the matter once for all.
Dave's manner r
eturned to the peevishness of his invalid state.
"There's the buckboard," he said sharply.
"Can you drive it?" demanded the parson with equal sharpness. "I can'ttake you down. I can't leave the sick. Mason is needed here. Well?"
"Don't worry. I'm driving myself," Dave said soberly.
Chepstow sprang to his feet and waved his pipe in the air in his angryimpatience.
"You're mad! You drive? Hang it, man, you couldn't drive a team offleas. Get up! Get up from that stretcher now, and see how much drivingyou could do. See here, Dave, I absolutely forbid you to attempt anysuch thing."
Dave raised himself upon his elbow. His steady eyes had something of anangry smile in them.
"See here, Tom," he said, imitating the other's manner. "You can talktill you're black in the face. I'm going down to-night. Mason's goingto hook the buckboard up for me and fetch Truscott along. I'll have totake him down too. It's no use in your kicking, Tom," he went on, asthe parson opened his lips for further protest, "I'm going." He turnedagain to Mason. "I'll need the buckboard and team in an hour. Guessyou'll see to it, boy. An' say, just set food for the two of us in it,and half a sack of oats for the horses----"
"One moment, Bob," interrupted Betty. She had been merely an interestedlistener to the discussion, sitting at the far end of the supper table.Now she came over to Dave's bedside. "You'd best put in food forthree." Then she looked down at Dave, smiling reassurance. From him sheturned to her uncle with a laughing glance. "Trust you men to argue andwrangle over things that can be settled without the least difficulty.Dave here must get down to Malkern. I understand the importance of hispresence there. Very well, he must go. Therefore it's only a questionhow he can get there with the least possible danger to himself. It'splain Bob can't go down. He must see the work through here. You, uncle,must also stay. It is your duty to the sick. We cannot send any of themen. They are all needed. Well, I'm going to drive him down. We'll makehim comfortable in the carryall, and Truscott can share thedriving-seat with me--carefully secured to prevent him getting away.There you are. I will be responsible for Dave's welfare. You need notbe anxious."
She turned with such a look of confident affection upon the sick man,that, for the moment, no one had a word of protest to offer. It wasDave who spoke first. He took her hand in his and nodded his great headat her.
"Thanks, little Betty," he said. "I shall be perfectly safe in yourcharge."
And his words were ample reward to the woman who loved him. It was hisacknowledgment of his dependence upon her.
After that there was discussion, argument, protest for nearly half anhour. But Dave and Betty held to their decision, and, at last, TomChepstow gave way to them. Then it was that Mason went off to makepreparations. The parson went to assist him, and Betty and Dave wereonce more alone.
Betty let her uncle go and then lit the lamp. For some moments no wordwas spoken between the sick man and his nurse. The girl cleared thesupper things and put a kettle on the stove. Then, while watching forit to boil, she was about to pack up her few belongings for thejourney. But she changed her mind. Instead she came back to the tableand faced the stretcher on which the sick man was lying.
"Dave," she said, in a low voice, "will you promise me something?"
Dave turned his face toward her.
"Anything," he said, in all seriousness.
The girl waited. She was gauging the meaning of his reply. In anybodyelse that answer could not have been taken seriously. In him it mightbe different.
"It's a big thing," she said doubtfully.
"It don't matter, little girl, I just mean it."
She came slowly over to his side.
"Do you remember, I once got you to teach me the business of the mill?I wanted to learn then so I could help some one. I want to help someone now. But it's a different 'some one' this time. Do you understand?I--I haven't forgotten a single thing I learned from you. Will you letme help you? You cannot do all now. Not until your arm is better." Shedropped upon her knees at his bedside. "Dave, don't refuse me. Youshall just give your orders to me. I will see they are carried out.We--you and I together--will run your mills to the success that I knowis going to be yours. Don't say no, Dave--dear."
The man had turned to her. He was looking into the depths of thefearless brown eyes before him. He had no intention of refusing her,but he was looking, looking deep down into the beautiful, woman's heartthat was beating within her bosom.
"I'll not refuse you, Betty. I only thank God Almighty for such alittle friend."