Kindred of the Dust

  XVIII

  It had been Donald McKaye's intention to go up to the logging-camp onthe first log-train leaving for the woods at seven o'clock on Mondaymorning, but the news of Dirty Dan's plight caused him to change hisplans. Strangely enough, his interview with his father, instead ofcausing him the keenest mental distress, had been productive of apeculiar sense of peace. The frank, sympathetic, and temperate mannerin which the old laird had discussed his affair had conduced toproduce this feeling. He passed a restful night, as his fatherobserved when the pair met at the breakfast-table.

  "Well, how do you feel this morning, son?" the old man queried kindly.

  "Considerably better than I did before our talk last night, sir,"Donald answered.

  "I haven't, slept," old Hector continued calmly, "although I expect tohave a little nap during the day. Just about daylight a comfortingthought stole over me."

  "I'm glad to hear it, dad."

  "I've decided to repose faith in Nan, having none at all in you. Ifshe truly loves you, she'll die before she'll hurt you."

  "Perhaps it may be a comfort to you to know that she has so expressedherself to me."

  "Bless her poor heart for that! However, she told me practically thesame thing."

  He scooped his eggs into the egg-cup and salted and peppered thembefore he spoke again. Then:

  "We'll not discuss this matter further. All I ask is that you'llconfine your visits to the Sawdust Pile to the dark of the moon; Itrust to your natural desire to promote my peace of mind to see to itthat no word of your--affair reaches your mother and sisters. They'llnot handle you with the tact you've had from me."

  "I can well believe that, sir. Thank you. I shall exercise the utmostdeference to your desires consistent with an unfaltering adherence tomy own code."

  There it was again--more respectful defiance! Had he not, during thelong, distressing hours of the night, wisely decided to leave hisson's case in the hands of God and Nan Brent, The Laird would haveflown into a passion at that. He compromised by saying nothing, andthe meal was finished in silence.

  After breakfast, Donald went down to the hospital to visit Dirty Dan.O'Leary was still alive, but very close to death; he had lost so muchblood that he was in a state of coma.

  "He's only alive because he's a fighter, Mr. McKaye," the doctorinformed Donald. "If I can induce some good healthy man to consent toa transfusion of blood, I think it would buck Dan up considerably."

  "I'm your man," Donald informed him. It had occurred to him that DirtyDan had given his blood for the House of McKaye; therefore, the leasthe could do was to make a partial payment on the debt.

  The doctor, knowing nothing of the reason for Dirty Dan's predicament,was properly amazed.

  "You--the boss--desire to do this?" he replied.

  "We can get one of this wild rascal's comrades--"

  "That wild rascal is my comrade, doctor. I'm more or less fond ofDan." He had removed his coat and was already rolling up his sleeve."I'm half Gael," he continued smilingly, "and, you know, we must notadulterate Dirty Dan's blood any more than is absolutely necessary.Consider the complications that might ensue if you gave Dan aninfusion of blood from a healthy Italian. The very first fight heengaged in after leaving this hospital, he'd use a knife instead ofnature's weapons. Get busy!"

  But the doctor would take no liberties with the life-blood of the heirof Tyee until he had telephoned to The Laird.

  "My son is the captain of his own soul," old Hector answered promptly."You just see that you do your job well; don't hurt the boy or weakenhim too greatly."

  An hour after the operation, father and son sat beside Dirty Dan'sbed. Presently, the ivory-tinted eyelids flickered slightly, whereatold Hector winked sagely at his son. Then Dirty Dan's whiskered upperlip twisted humorously, and he whispered audibly:

  "Ye young divil! Oh-ho, ye young vagabond! Faith, if The Laird knewwhat ye're up to this night, he'd--break yer--back--in two halves!"

  Hector McKaye glanced apprehensively about, but the nurse had left theroom. He bent over Dirty Dan.

  "Shut up!" he commanded. "Don't tell everything you know!"

  O'Leary promptly opened his eyes and gazed upon The Laird in profoundpuzzlement.

  DONALD BOWED HIS HEAD. "I CAN'T GIVE HER UP, FATHER."]

  "Wild horrses couldn't dhrag it out o' me," he protested. "Ask me noquestions an' I'll tell ye no lies."

  He subsided into unconsciousness again. The doctor entered and felt ofhis pulse.

  "On the up-grade," he announced. "He'll do."

  "Dan will obey the voice of authority, even in his delirium," TheLaird whispered to his son, when they found themselves alone with thepatient once more. "I'll stay here until he wakes up rational, andsilence him if, in the mean time, he babbles. Run along home, lad."

  At noon, Dirty Dan awoke with the light of reason and belligerency inhis eyes, whereupon The Laird questioned him, and developed a stubbornreticence which comforted the former to such a degree that he decidedto follow his son home to The Dreamerie.