The Second Chance

by Nellie L. McClung

  CHAPTER XXXII

  ANOTHER NEIGHBOUR

  How fair a lot to fill Is left for each man still!

  _----Robert Browning._

  THE early days of March were bright and warm and full of the promiseof spring. Mouse ears came out on the willows that bordered theriver, and a bunch of them was proudly carried to Libby Anne by JimmyWatson, who declared that he had heard a meadowlark. One evening,too, as she lay in her tent, Libby Anne had heard the honking of wildgeese going north, and the bright March sun that came through thecanvas each day cheered her wonderfully. Libby Anne always believedthat Bud would come home in the spring--he would surely come to seethe big brown tumbling flood go down the Souris valley. Nobody couldstay away from home in the spring, when the hens are cackling in thesun-shiny yard, and water trickling down the furrows, and every daymay be the day the first crocus comes. Bud would surely come then,and she would get all better, and she and her mother would go toGrandma's, and so Libby Anne beguiled her days and nights withpleasing fancies as she waited for the spring.

  But although the snow had left the fields in black patches and thesun was bright and warm, the anemones delayed their coming and theice remained solid and tight in the Souris.

  One day, instead of the dazzling sunshine, there were lead-grayclouds, and a whistling wind came down the valley, piercing cold,carrying with it sharp little hurrying snowflakes.

  Up to this time Libby Anne had made good progress, but with thechange in the weather came a change in her. Almost without warningshe developed pleurisy.

  The doctor's face was white with pain when he told her mother themeaning of the flushed cheeks and laboured breathing. She had beendoing so well, too, and seemed in a fair way to win against therelentless foe, but now, restlessly tossing on her pillow, with adeadly catch in her breathing, what chance had such a frail littlespar of weathering the angry billows?

  When the doctor went back to his office he saw Sandy Braden passingand called him in. He told him of the new danger that threatenedLibby Anne.

  "What can we do, Clay?" he cried, when the doctor had finished. "Isthere anyone that can give her a better chance than you? How aboutthat Scotch doctor, MacTavish? Isn't he pretty good? Can't we gethim?"

  "He's too busy, I'm afraid. I don't think he ever leaves the city,"Dr. Clay replied. "He's the best I know, if we could only gethim--though perhaps we will not need him. I'll watch the case, and ifthere is any chance of an operation being necessary we can wire him."

  The next day Dr. Clay wired for the famous specialist, and in a fewhours the answer came back that Dr. MacTavish could not leave thecity. Dr. Clay had gone back to Libby Anne's bedside before themessage came, and so it was to Sandy Braden that it was delivered.

  It took Sandy Braden an hour to write his reply, and the wiring of itcost him four dollars, but it really was a marvel in its way--it wasa wonderful production from a literary standpoint, and it wasmarvellous in its effect, for it caused Dr. John MacTavish, late ofGlasgow, Scotland, to change his mind. He was just about to leave hishouse to deliver an address before the Medical Association when this,the longest telegram he had ever received, was handed to him. He readit through carefully, looked out at the gathering snowstorm, shruggedhis shoulders, read it again, this time aloud, then telephoned hisregrets to the Medical Association.

  The storm, which had been threatening for several days, was at itsheight when the train, four hours late, came hoarsely blowing downthe long grade into Millford. Sandy Braden was waiting on thestorm-swept platform for the doctor, and took him at once to hishotel, where a hot supper was waiting for him.

  When the doctor had finished his supper he was in a much betterhumour, which, however, speedily vanished when his host informed himthat the patient was in the country, and that they would drive out atonce.

  "I won't go," declared Dr. MacTavish bluntly. "I won't go out in ablizzard like this for anyone. It's fifteen degrees below zero and aterrific wind blowing, and the night as black as ink. I won't go,that's all there is about it."

  "Now look here, Doctor MacTavish," Sandy Braden said, persuasively,"I know it's a dreadful night but I have the best team in thiscountry, and I know every inch of the road. I'll get you there!"

  "I won't go," said the doctor, in exactly the same tone as before.

  "And besides," Sandy Braden went on, other man had not spoken, "thelittle girl is ill, an operation is necessary, and the doctor iscounting on you. It is now we need you, and you must come. Think ofthe poor mother--this little kid is all she has"----

  "I know all that, and I'm sorry for her, and for you, too, but Iwon't go a step in this storm. Don't waste your breath. Don't youknow you can't move a Scotchman? I know my own business best."

  Sandy Braden controlled himself by an effort.

  "Doctor MacTavish," he said, "we are wasting, time, and that littlegirl may be gone before we get there. I suppose you are used to thiskind of thing, but, mind you, it means a lot to us, and this littlegirl is not going to die if human power can save her. Will fivehundred dollars bring you? If money is any use to you say what youwant and I'll give it to you." He was shaking with the intensity ofhis emotion.

  Dr. MacTavish turned on him with dignity--he was thoroughlyexasperated now.

  "See here," he said brusquely, "I don't want your money--it's not amatter of money--I won't go out in this storm. Money won't buy me tofreeze myself. Didn't I tell you I'm Scotch and canny?" he added,half apologetically.

  Sandy Braden's eyes flamed with sudden anger.

  He took a heavy fur coat from a peg in the hall. "Put that on," hecommanded. "We will start in about two minutes. The horses are at thedoor."

  The doctor indignantly protested. Without a word Sandy Braden seizedhis arm with an iron grip and bundled him into the coat, none toogently.

  "You are Scotch, are you?" he said, looking the doctor straight inthe eye, while he still kept a grip of his shoulder. "Well, I'mIrish, and we're the people who hit first and explain afterward." Heopened the door and pushed the doctor ahead of him out into theraging storm.

  The best team in the Braden stable was at the door, impatientlytossing their heads and pawing the snowy ground, ready to measuretheir mettle with the storm.

  "Get in," Sandy Braden commanded, and without another word Dr.MacTavish got into the cutter, while one of the men who had beenholding the horses came and tucked the robes around him.

  Sandy Braden jumped in beside him, took up the reins, and with an"All right, boys, let them go"--they were off!

  All evening Doctor Clay stayed beside Libby Anne's bedside, soothingher restless tossing and carefully watching every symptom. Her feverwas steadily mounting, and she complained of a pain in her side. Mr.Donald, who like everyone else in the household had been since herillness her devoted slave, came once and stood at the foot of thebed. Libby Anne looked up, knew him, and smiled faintly.

  Dr. Clay had not mentioned to Mrs. Cavers the coming of the greatcity doctor, for since the storm had risen to such violence he hadgiven up all hope of seeing him; for no one, he thought, could driveagainst such a blinding blizzard, even if the train did get through,which was doubtful.

  The tent was banked high with snow all round, but the terrific windloosened the tent ropes partially, and the canvas swayed and belliedin the storm. At the entrance, where the path came in between twohigh banks, the snow sifted in drearily, making a little white moundon the floor, like a new grave.

  Through the roar of the storm came at intervals the old dog'smournful cry. The lamp on the table, turned low though it was,flickered in the draft, and the storm mourned incessantly in the pipeof the Klondike heater. Through all the other sounds came the rapidbreathing of the little girl as she battled bravely with the outgoingtide. Martha and Mrs. Cavers sat on the lounge opposite the bed.

  The opening of the tent door let in a sudden gust of wind and snowthat caused the lamp to flicker uncertainly. A man in a snowy furcoat entered and hastily slipped off his outer garments. Mrs. Ca
versdid not look up. Martha turned the lamp higher.

  Dr. Clay, looking up, gave an exclamation of delight.

  "Doctor MacTavish, you're a brick!" he cried, springing to his feet."I was afraid you wouldn't come."

  The great man, warming his hands over the stove, made no reply,except to shrug his shoulders--he was looking intently at the littlegirl's face. Then he shook hands with Dr. Clay gravely and askedabout the case. After hearing all that Dr. Clay had to tell him, withan imperative gesture he signified that Mrs. Cavers and Martha wereto leave the tent. But something in Mrs. Cavers's despairing facerevealed to him the stricken mother. He touched her gently on the armand said, in that rolling Scotch voice that has comforted many,"We'll do what we can for the bairn."

  The two women found their way with difficulty into the house, holdingtight to each other as they struggled through the storm. How did thisgreat city doctor get here? Who brought him? Who would brave thisterrible storm? were the questions they asked each other. They openedthe kitchen door again and again to see if there was any trace of thedriver who had brought the doctor, but the square of light from thekitchen door revealed only the driving storm as it swept past.

  Down in the shelter of the barn Sandy Braden unhitched his steaminghorses. With the help of his lantern he found a place for them in thestable. All night long, as he waited for the dawn, there was onethought in his brain as he paced up and down between the two rows ofhorses, or as he looked out of the stable door at the little mistypatch, of light that now and then flashed out through the storm, oneagonizing, burning thought that caused the perspiration to run downhis face and more than once forced him to his knees in an agony ofprayer. And the burden of his heart's cry was that the little girlmight live.

  Before daybreak the storm died away, and only the snowdrifts, packedhard and high, gave evidence of the night's fury. Sandy Braden stolequietly up to the tent and looked in, the beating of his own heartnearly choking him. Dr. MacTavish slept on the lounge, the peacefulsleep of a child, or of a man who has done good work. Beside the bedsat Dr. Clay, watching, alert, hopeful. From the tent door where hestood he could see the little white face on the pillow and he knewfrom the way the child breathed that she was sleeping easily. Theeastern wall of the tent was rosy with the dawn. Then he went back tothe stable, hitched up his team, and drove home in the sparklingsunshine.

  Dr. MacTavish woke up soon after, and Dr. Clay went into the house totell Mrs. Cavers. She had spent the long night by the kitchen firelistening to the raging of the storm, Martha close beside her inwordless sympathy, and when Dr. Clay came in with, the good news thatthe operation was over, and the great man believed that Libby Annewould live, she was almost hysterical with joy.

  "Can I go and see her, doctor?" she cried. "I must go and thank himfor coming. Wasn't it splendid of him to come this dreadful night?"

  "Come on, Mrs. Cavers," he said, his beaming.

  "Oh, my dear woman, don't thank me for coming," the doctor said,laughing, when in broken phrases she tried to tell him what she felt."Never did a man come more against his will than I. But I had nochoice in the matter when that big giant got hold of me. He coaxed meat first"--laughing at the recollection--"then tried to bribe me--Iforget what fabulous sum he offered me--half of his kingdom, I think.I mind he asked me if money were any use to me, but I stuck it outthat I wouldn't come until he said he'd break every bone in my body,or words to that effect. So, my dear lady, your good man deserves allthe credit--he simply bundled me up and brought me. I believe heswore at me, but I'm not sure."

  Mrs. Cavers stared at him uncomprehendingly.

  "Say, Clay," the doctor went on gaily, "there was a glint in thatman's eye last night that made me decide to risk the storm, thoughI'm not fond of a blizzard. I believe he would have struck me. Whereis he now? I like him. I want to shake hands with him."

  Mrs. Cavers sank on the lounge, white and trembling.

  Dr. Clay saw the mistake the other man was making and hastened to sethim right.

  "Do you mean to tell me, Clay, that that man who brought me here isnot the little girl's father? Well, then, who in the world is he?"

  "His name is Sandy Braden," Dr. Clay replied, "and he is--just aneighbour."

  "Well, then," the doctor cried in astonishment, "let me tell you,madam"--turning to Mrs. Cavers--"you have one good neighbour."

  Much to the doctor's surprise, Mrs. Cavers buried her face in herhands, while her shoulders shook with sobs. After a few minutes sheraised her head, and looking the doctor in the face, said brokenly:

  "Doctor MacTavish, you are right about that, but I have not only onegood neighbour; I have many."

  Then she stood up and laid her hand on the young doctor's arm."Dr. Clay," she said, "tell Sandy Braden I have only one word forhim"--her eyes grew misty again, and her voice tremulous--"only oneword, and that is, May God bless him--always."