CHAPTER IX.
OUT OF CLOUDS, SUNSHINE.
Great was the joy of the men at finding Johnston alive and still able tospeak, and at once their united strength was applied to extricating himfrom his painful position. The poor horse, utterly unable to helphimself, had long ago given up the vain struggle, and in a state ofpitiful exhaustion and fright was lying where he first fell, the snow allabout him being torn up in a way that showed how furious had been hisstruggles. Johnston had by dint of heroic exertion managed to withdrawhis leg a little from underneath the heavy jumper; but he could not freehimself altogether, so that had the wolves found out how completely bothhorse and man were in their power, they would have made short work ofboth. Fortunately, by vigorous shouting and wild waving of his arms, theforeman had been able to keep the cowardly creatures at bay long enoughto allow the rescuing party to reach him. But he could not have kept upmany minutes more, and if strength and voice had entirely forsaken himthe dreadful end would soon have followed.
Handling the injured man with a tenderness and care one would hardly havelooked for in such rough fellows, the lumbermen after no small exertiongot him up out of the gully and laid him upon the sleigh in the road.Then the horse was released from the jumper, and, being coaxed to hisfeet, led down the gully to where the sides were not so steep and hecould scramble up, while the jumper itself was left behind to berecovered when they had more time to spare.
Before they started off for the shanty one of the men had the curiosityto cross the gully and examine the bridge where it broke, in order tofind out the cause of the accident. When he returned there was a strangeexpression on his face, which added to the curiosity of the others whowere awaiting his report.
"Both stringers are sawed near through!" he exclaimed. "And it's not beendone long, either. Must have been done to-day, for the sawdust's lyinground still."
The men looked at one another in amazement and horror. The stringerssawed through! What scoundrel could have done such a thing? Who was themurderous traitor in their camp? Then to the quickest-witted of them camethe thought of Damase's dire threat and consuming jealousy.
"I know who did it," he cried. "There's only one man in the camp villainenough to do it. It was that hound Damase, as sure as I stand here!"
Instantly the others saw the matter in the same light. Damase had done itbeyond a doubt, hoping thereby to have the revenge for which his savageheart thirsted. Ill would it have gone with him could the men have laidhands on him at that moment. They were just in the mood to have inflictedsuch punishment as would probably have put the wretch in a worse plightthan his intended victim, and many and fervent were their vows ofvengeance, expressed in language rather the reverse of polite. Strictalmost to severity as Johnston was in his management of the camp, themajority of the men, including all the best elements, regarded him withdeep respect, if not affection; and that Damase Deschenaux should make sodastardly an attempt upon his life aroused in them a storm of indignantwrath which would not soon be allayed.
They succeeded in making the sufferer quite comfortable upon the sleigh;but they had to go very slowly on the return journey to the shanty, bothto make it easy for Johnston, and because the men had to walk now thatthe sleigh was occupied. So soon as they came in sight, Frank ran to meetthem, calling out eagerly,--
"Is he all right? Have you got him?"
"We've got him, Frank, safe enough," replied the driver of the sleigh."But we wasn't a minute too soon, I can tell you. I guess you must havesent your wolves off to him when you'd done with them."
"Were the wolves at you, sir?" exclaimed Frank, bending over the foreman,and looking anxiously into his face.
Johnston had fallen into a sort of doze or stupor but the stopping of thesleigh and Frank's anxious voice aroused him, and he opened his eyes witha smile that told plainly how dear to him the boy had become.
"They weren't quite at me, Frank, but they soon would have been if themen hadn't come along," he replied.
With exceeding tenderness the big helpless man was lifted from the sleighand placed in his own bunk in the corner. The whole shanty was awake toreceive him, a glorious fire roared and crackled upon the hearth, and thepleasant fragrance of fresh-brewed tea filled the room. So soon as theforeman's outer garments had been removed, Frank brought him a pannikinof the lumberman's pet beverage, and he drank it eagerly, saying that itwas all the medicine he needed. Beyond making him as comfortable aspossible, nothing further could be done for him, and in a little whilethe shantymen were all asleep again as soundly as though there had beenno disturbance of their slumbers. Frank wanted to sit up with Johnston;but the foreman would not hear of it, and, anyway, thoroughly sincere aswas his offer, he never could have carried it out, for he was very wearyhimself and ready to drop asleep at the first chance.
Of Damase there was no sign. Some of the men had noticed him quittingwork earlier than usual in the afternoon, and when he did not appear atsupper-time had thought he was gone off hunting, which he loved to dowhenever he got the opportunity. Whether or not he would have theassurance to return to the shanty would depend upon whether he had waitedin ambush to see the result of his villany; for if he had done so, andhad witnessed the at least partial failure of his plot, there was littlechance of his being seen again.
The next morning a careful examination of Johnston showed that, while nobones were broken, his right leg had been very badly twisted and strainedalmost to dislocation, and he had been internally injured to an extentthat could be determined only by a doctor. It was decided to send amessage for the nearest doctor, and meanwhile to do everything possiblefor the sufferer in the way of bandages and liniments that the simpleshanty outfit afforded. By general understanding Frank assumed the dutiesof nurse; and it was not long before life at the camp settled down intoits accustomed routine, Johnston having appointed the most experiencedand reliable of the gang its foreman during his confinement. In due timethe doctor came, examined his patient, made everybody glad by announcingthat none of the injuries were serious, and that they required only timeand attention for their cure, wrote out full directions for Frank tofollow, and then, congratulating Johnston upon his good fortune in havingso devoted and intelligent a nurse, set off again on the long drive tohis distant home with the pleasant consciousness of having done his dutyand earned a good fee.
The weeks that followed were the happiest Frank spent that winter. Hisduties as nurse were not onerous, and he enjoyed very much the importancewith which they invested him. So long as his patient was well lookedafter, he was free to come and go according to his inclinations, and thethoughtful foreman saw to it that he spent at least half the day in theopen air, often sending him with messages to the men working far off inthe woods. Frank always carried his rifle with him on these tramps, andfrequently brought back with him a brace of hares or partridges, which,having had the benefit of Baptiste's skill, were greatly relished byJohnston, who found his appetite for the plain fare of the shanty muchdulled by his confinement.
As the days slipped by the foreman began to open his heart to his youngcompanion and to tell him much about his boyhood, which deeply interestedFrank. Living a frontier life, he had his full share of adventure inhunting, lumbering, and prospecting for limits, and many an hour wasspent reviewing the past. One evening while they were thus talkingtogether Johnston became silent and fell into a sort of reverie, fromwhich he presently roused himself, and looking very earnestly intoFrank's face, asked him,--
"Have you always been a Christian, Frank?"
The question came so unexpectedly and was so direct that Frank was quitetaken aback, and being slow to answer, the foreman, as if fearing he hadbeen too abrupt, went on to say,--
"The reason I asked was because you seem to enjoy so much reading yourBible and saying your prayers that I thought you must have had those goodhabits a long time."
Frank had now fully recovered himself, and with a blush that greatlybecame him, answered modestly,--
"I have always loved
God. Mother taught me how good and kind he is assoon as I was old enough to understand; and the older I get the more Iwant to love him and to try to do what is right."
A look of ineffable tenderness came into Johnston's dark eyes while theboy was speaking. Then his face darkened, and giving vent to a heavysigh, he passed his hand over his eyes as though to put away some painfulrecollection. After a moment's silence, he said,--
"My mother loved her Bible, and wanted me to love it too. But I was awild, headstrong chap, and didn't take kindly to the notion of beingreligious, and I'm afraid I cost her many a tear. God bless her! I wonderdoes she ever up there think of her son down here, and wonder if he's anybetter than he was when she had to leave him to look after himself."
Not knowing just what to say, Frank made no reply, but his face glowedwith sympathetic interest; and after another pause the foreman went on,--
"I've been thinking a great deal lately, Frank, and it's been all yourdoing. Seeing you so particular about your religion, and not lettinganything stop you from saying your prayers and reading your Bible justas you would at home, has made me feel dreadfully ashamed of myself, andI've been wanting to have a talk with you about it. Would you mindreading your Bible to me? I haven't been inside a church for many a year,and I guess I'd be none the worse of a little Bible-reading."
Frank could not restrain an exclamation of delight. Would he mind? Hadnot this very thing been on his conscience for weeks past? Had he notbeen hoping and praying for a good opportunity to propose it himself, andonly kept back because of his fear lest the foreman should think thisoffer presumptuous?
"I shall be very glad indeed to read my Bible to you, sir," he answeredeagerly. "I've been wanting to ask if I mightn't do it, but was afraidthat perhaps you would not like it."
"Well, Frank, to be honest with you, I'd a good deal rather have you readto me than read it for myself," said Johnston; "because you must know it'most by heart, and I've forgotten what little I did know once."
The reading began that night, and thenceforward was never missed whilethe two were at Camp Kippewa. Young as Frank was, he had learned fromhis parents and at the Sunday school a great deal about the Book ofbooks, and especially about the life of Christ, so that to Johnston heseemed almost a marvel of knowledge. It was beautiful to see the bigman's simplicity as he sat at the feet, so to speak, of a mere boy, andlearned anew from him the sublime and precious gospel truths that theindifference and neglect of more than forty years had buried in dimobscurity; and Frank found an ever-increasing pleasure in repeating thecomments and explanations that he had heard from the dear lips at home.Even to his young eyes it was clear that the foreman was thoroughly inearnest, and would not stop short of a full surrender of himself to theMaster he had so long refused to acknowledge. Above all things, he was athorough man, and therefore this would take time, for he would insistupon knowing every step of the way; but once well started; no power onearth or beneath would be permitted to bar his progress to the very end.
And this great end was achieved before he left his bunk to resume hiswork. He lay down there bruised and crippled and godless; but lie arosehealed and strengthened and a new man in Christ Jesus! If Frank was proudof his big convert, who can blame him? But for his coming to the camp,Johnston might have remained as he was, caring for none of those thingswhich touched his eternal interests; but now through the influence of hisexample, aided by favouring circumstances, he had been led to theMaster's feet.
But Damase--what of Damase? There is not much to tell. Whether or not hewas watching when the bridge fell, and how he spent that night, no oneever knew. The next morning he was seen at the depot, where he explainedhis presence by saying that the foreman had "bounced" him, and that hewas going back to his native town. Beyond this, nothing further was everheard of him.
The Young Woodsman; Or, Life in the Forests of Canada Page 9