CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
AN ANXIOUS TIME.
The Mackhai did not return home till the next morning, and his firstinquiry was why had not a doctor been fetched.
He nodded with satisfaction at the answer he received.
Tavish and Grant had sat up all night with their young master, and Maxhad been to them at least a dozen times, for a consultation to be heldat daybreak, and for Tavish to agree that something must be done.
The result had been that he and Long Shon had taken the boat beforesunrise, and gone off to Port Staffey, where Grant knew a medical man tobe staying for a holiday, and to fish.
For poor Kenneth was quite delirious, and about midday, after going outon the terrace to scan the offing eagerly for signs of the boat, TheMackhai went back into the house, and up to his son's room, to hear theinjured lad talking at random, and a hoarse sob escaped from thefather's lips.
"My poor boy!" he groaned; "and am I to lose you? Well, better so,perhaps--better than to live a beggar, ready to curse your weak fatherfor the ruin he has brought--Hah! how came you here?"
His voice had changed from a soft, appealing tone to one full of angryannoyance, as he saw Max slowly rise up from the other side of the bed,where he had been seated, hidden by the curtain.
"I came to sit with poor Kenneth, sir. I beg your pardon. I'll gonow."
"If you please," said The Mackhai coldly, and there was a bitterlyfierce look of dislike in his eyes, as he crossed toward the door andthrew it open for Max to pass out; but the next moment he had closed ithastily, and he held out his hand.
Max looked at him wonderingly.
"I beg your pardon, Mr Blande," said The Mackhai, in a low voice, fullof courteous apology. "I am in trouble, and hardly know what I havebeen saying."
He pointed as he spoke toward the bed, and then his countenance worked,and he wrung the boy's hand warmly, as Max caught his, and whispered inbroken tones,--
"Oh, sir, you don't think he is so very bad?"
"I hope not, my lad, I hope not. Thank you, thank you. No, no, don'tgo. You are Kenneth's visitor and friend."
"But do pray tell me what you think of him," whispered Max excitedly.
"I cannot say. We shall have the doctor here soon."
"I should like to stay and hear what he says, sir; and then--perhaps--Iought not to--I shall be--intruding--I ought to go away."
"No, no," said The Mackhai hastily; "certainly not. My boy would notwish you to leave him--that is, if you wish to stay."
"May I?" cried Max, with such intense earnestness that his host lookedat him wonderingly.
"I beg you will stay, Mr Blande," he said; "and let's hope that he willbe better soon. By the way, I hope you will forget what you heard mesay."
Just then Kenneth turned uneasily upon his pillow, muttering quickly thewhile. Now he seemed to be talking to his dogs, now his words were aconfused babbling, and then the occupants of the darkened room startedas he burst into a fit of laughter, and said merrily,--
"No, no, Scoody; it's too bad! Poor old Max!"
Max felt the blood rise to his cheeks and gradually pale away; and then,for quite two hours, father and visitor sat watching, the monotony ofthe vigil being broken by an occasional walk to a window, whichcommanded the sea, and at last Max was able to announce that the boatwas in sight.
"Thank heaven!" muttered The Mackhai.
They had to wait for a full half-hour, though, before they could besatisfied that there was a third person in the boat--all doubt being setat rest by The Mackhai fetching his binocular, whose general use was fordeerstalking, but by whose help he was able to see that the third partyin the boat was a stern-looking, dark, middle-aged man, who might verywell be the doctor.
The doctor it was, and, after a careful examination, he confirmedTavish's declaration.
"Oh no, my dear sir, I don't think it is as bad as that. The boy hasconcussion of the brain, and he is a great deal hurt beside; but he isyoung and vigorous, and I think I may venture to say that we'll pull himthrough. It would have killed you or me, but he is a boy accustomedevidently to a rough life."
The Mackhai wrung his hand: he could not speak for a few minutes, andthe doctor left him to go back to the bedside to replace the coverlidKenneth had tossed off, but The Mackhai noted that the doctor was toolate, for Max was performing this little office, and the father observedthat the lad gently laid his hand upon his son's brow.
"Of course you will stay and dine, Mr--?"
"Curzon," said the doctor, smiling.
"Mr Curzon; and then see my boy again before you go?"
"My dear sir, I shall be very glad to do so; but I think, under thecircumstances, I ought to stay the night."
"Will you?" cried The Mackhai eagerly.
"With pleasure. I am down here fishing, and one place is the same to meas another. If I can serve you, I shall only be too glad."
"My good sir," cried The Mackhai, "you are taking a load off my mind!Pray, pray stay, and if you care to fish, my river and loch are at yourservice,--tackle, boats, keepers, everything,--while they are mine," headded to himself.
"Then," said the doctor, smiling, "I am your private medical attendantfor the next week; and to-morrow, if you will send your boat for mytraps from the hotel at Staffey--"
"Yes, to-night," said The Mackhai hastily; and he left the room,thankful for the ray of light which had come into his darkening life,but hurrying back, to find Kenneth holding tightly by Max's hand as hekept on talking, while the doctor was letting a few drops fall from alittle bottle he had brought, into a glass of water.
"There," he said, "we'll get him to take that, and I think we shall getsome sleep afterwards. To-morrow we must hope for better things."
But the morrow came, and the hope was not fulfilled. Kenneth Mackhai,in spite of his youth and strength, was dangerously ill, and thedoctor's face wore an anxious look.
"I have ordered my men to have everything ready for you, Mr Curzon,"said The Mackhai, with enforced calmness; and Max darted an angry glanceon the man who could think of sport at a time like that.
"What, to fish, Mr Mackhai?" said the doctor quickly. "No, thank you;I'll wait till I can go more at ease."
"Thank you," said The Mackhai, in a husky voice; and Max darted now agrateful look. "But pray speak plainly to me: you think my poor boyvery bad?"
"Yes, sir, very bad indeed; but, please God, we'll pull him through."
The Mackhai drew a long and painful breath, and, as Max looked towardshim, he thought he had never seen so sad a countenance before.
He stole out on tip-toe, for it seemed to him that he was not wantedthere; but, as he reached the landing, The Mackhai touched him on theshoulder:
"Come back soon," he whispered. "Kenneth seems more restful while youare here."
Max nodded silently, and hurried down to talk for a few moments withTavish and Scoodrach of the patient's state. Then he hurried back,thinking, as he went up to Kenneth's room, that it must be months sincehe came, and he wondered how it was that he could feel so much at home.