The chief ran back at once. “Are you all right, my friend?”
“How is the boy?” John asked.
Chief Mangu reached out and pulled the boy to him. “He was not hurt. You threw yourself into the lion’s jaws.”
“Couldn’t let Rentai get hurt. He’s too good a man for that,” John Winslow said, then he gasped and said, “Would you mind holding on to this? I don’t think I can—”
Chief Mangu quickly reached forward and held the belt that was keeping John alive. He saw Winslow’s eyes flicker and then the body went limp. He began calling out orders, shouting at the top of his lungs.
****
Annie was sewing a rip in one of her dresses when Jeb suddenly appeared. “Annie, it’s John. He’s been hurt.” Dropping the cloth and needle, Annie leaped forward. She ran out the door following Jeb. They saw the procession coming and instantly noted that four of the warriors were carrying a litter made of hides.
Rushing forward she looked and saw John white as paste, his eyes closed. His entire side was covered in blood, and the chief was holding on to a tourniquet.
“John,” Annie cried. She looked up at the chief and said, “Is he dead?”
The chief looked at her with compassion. “No, but he may die. He is badly torn.”
“We’ve got to get Doctor Burns,” Jeb cried. “I’ll go to Mombasa.”
“No,” the chief said, “you are too slow. We will send our fastest runner.”
He barked out commands, and a rather short, wiry Masai named Polesi listened carefully and then sprang into action. He disappeared from the village at a dead run, and the chief looked down at the pale face of John Winslow. “I think it is his time to die. He is a brave man.” Grief and sorrow were in his voice, and he looked at Annie, saying, “He saved my son’s life. It is like your Jesus who died for another, is it not?”
Annie could not answer. Fear came up into her throat and she looked at Jeb. “He can’t die, Jeb,” she whispered.
“No, God won’t let him do that. Come. Let’s move him into your hut. That’s the best place. We’ll do what we can until your uncle comes.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Dark Valley
“How is he?”
Annie looked up from where she was sitting on a hand-built chair beside the cot where John lay. Jeb had come in so silently she had not heard him. “Not any better.”
Jeb chewed on his lower lip and thrust his hands behind his back. “Why doesn’t Doctor Burns hurry up?” he grated through clenched teeth.
Annie could not answer. It had been two days since the runner had left. Chief Mangu had assured them that the runner would arrive within fifteen hours, but getting the doctor back was another thing.
“He may be out on his visits to the outlying villages,” Annie said wearily. Her eyes were gritty with sleep, her lips were dry, and a sour taste lay in her mouth. She got up and stretched her back and looked down at John Winslow. “His fever is going up again.”
“If we only had something to give him!”
“Well, we don’t have anything, so we’ll have to keep him bathed with water-soaked cloths.”
“All right. I’ll be sure there’s plenty of water as cool as we can get it.”
Jeb left and Annie sat down beside the bed. Her mind cried out for sleep, for she had slept only in snatches since John had been brought in. She and Jeb took turns, but even when she was lying on her cot, she was in an agony of prayer. Somehow through all of this she had learned that her love for him was for one Christian to another. Still she thought of his parents at home and his brother and knew that they would be devastated if this wandering one died in a hut in Africa.
She put her hand on John’s forehead and his eyes fluttered. He licked his lips and stared at her. His eyes were sunken back in his head, and he tried to sit up and involuntarily grunted with pain. He looked down at his arm that was bound up, and it was as if the arm belonged to someone else.
“Be still, John. You must drink some water.”
Quickly she poured water into a cup and held his head up. His flesh was burning like fire. He gasped at the water thirstily, and then she lay his head back. “Uncle David’s on his way. He’ll be here soon.”
John looked at her. His eyes were yellowish, and his lips were cracked and parched. It was as if the fever burned any fluids that he drank instantly. Looking at his arm, he closed his eyes. “Don’t let them take off my arm, Annie.”
Annie wet a cloth and put it on his forehead. “John, they may have to. The arm was terribly torn.”
“Don’t let them take off the arm. I’d rather die.”
Annie did not argue, but she purposed in her heart that if she had anything to do with the decision, she would rather save John’s life. A man with one arm can do fine things that a dead man cannot.
Jeb came back soon with a calabash full of cool water. The two stripped off the sheet and began applying the cool, damp cloths to the fevered body. This went on for over an hour, and finally he said wearily, “I think he’s all right now. The fever’s going down. I’ll sit by him a while. You go get some sleep.”
Annie shook her head. “I can’t sleep. I’ll just sit out on the porch.”
She left and went out and stood under the moonlight. When she looked up she saw the moon was clear and sharp and perfectly round. She could see the pebbled and pimpled surfaces roughly spotted by the clash of meteorites eons ago she had heard Jeb mention one time on a walk.
For a long time she sat there letting her mind drift, but always it returned to two people, John Winslow and Jeanine Quintana. Winslow appeared to be the most grievously wounded, for his physical condition was bad. But Annie prayed no less for Jeanine. She knew that spiritual problems are worse than physical problems. And John and Jeanine needed spiritual touches in their lives.
She felt the tread of a step as Jeb came to sit down beside her. He heaved a sigh and shook his head.
“I’m afraid for him, Annie. He’s very sick.”
“I know. How do we have more faith?”
“I don’t know, but I know you can’t work up faith,” Jeb answered. He thought for a while, then said, “I read a cynic once who said faith is believing what you know ain’t so.”
“Well, I think that’s the truth,” Annie said. She leaned over against Jeb and held on to his arm. She was so weary that she felt like she might fall over. “Faith is always believing something that’s not so. God calls those things that are not as though they are. You remember what he said to Abraham?”
“I remember.”
“He said you’ll have a son. He was in his nineties when that promise came, and his wife had been barren. So Abraham had to believe what couldn’t be true.”
The two sat there for a time, and the moon crept slowly up into the sky. They watched as small clouds drifted across, hiding the face of the silver disk temporarily. They sat in the half light of the moon, and finally when the cloud disappeared, Jeb said, “I love you, Annie. I have for a long time.”
Annie Rogers knew that something was happening. She could not put a date on it nor a time, but she knew that at some point in the recent past she had begun to realize that Jeb Winslow was more than just a good friend. It was all entwined with the idea of her girlhood infatuation for John Winslow. Slowly she had come to realize that what a girl of fifteen might feel had little in common with what a woman in her twenties could feel for a man. She now knew that Jeb was a fine man. For years he had been faithful and endured her infatuation for a man who he knew was not right for her. She felt his warmth as she leaned against him and said, “Do you really love me, Jeb?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll have to be patient with me, Jeb. I’ve been confused for a long time.”
Jeb suddenly freed his arm and put it around her. With his free hand he turned her face toward his. “You’re the dearest thing in my life except for God himself, Annie. I don’t know if you could ever learn to love me half as much as I love
you, but I’ll be faithful to you, and I want to marry you.”
Annie saw the honesty in his fine eyes. Her lips trembled and suddenly he bent and kissed her. His lips remained on hers, and unlike other caresses, she felt this was a holy confirmation. He was strong and masculine, and the embrace was something she had yearned for, and now it had come. She clung to him and salty tears fell down her cheeks. When he lifted his head they touched her lips. She removed a handkerchief, wiped her face, then whispered, “I think I love you, Jeb. Can you wait until I’m sure?”
Exultation ran along Jeb Winslow’s nerves. It was something he had never expected to hear. He pulled her up against his side and held her hand. “I can wait,” he said gently.
****
The runner reached Mombasa, but he had difficulty at first finding the mission station. It took him almost half a day, and finally when he stood before Barney Winslow, he poured out his story. “Mother Annie says tell doctor that white hunter is badly hurt.”
“How was he hurt?” Barney Winslow demanded.
“By a lion. She says send help.”
Instantly Barney sprang into action. He informed Andrew of what had happened and set out immediately to find David Burns. Unfortunately it was David and Ruth’s day at a distant village, but that did not stop Barney Winslow. He told his wife, Katie, “I’m going to find David, and I’m going to take him to the village myself if I have to.”
“Tie him hand and foot if you have to. We must do all we can for John.”
“I’m leaving you to pray while I go,” Barney said. The two embraced, and when he stepped back, he said, “I’ve got to tell Jeanine.”
He went at once to Jeanine’s hotel. When he knocked at the door she opened it. “Bad news, Jeanine,” he said.
“What is it? Is it Annie?”
“No. It’s John. He’s been clawed by a lion. I’m not sure he’ll live.”
To Jeanine it was like being struck by some powerful fist in the stomach. She had never once thought of anything happening to John Winslow. She stood there, the blood draining from her face, and suddenly her knees felt weak.
“Here,” Barney said quickly. “Sit down, Jeanine. I know it’s a blow for you.”
Jeanine allowed him to help her sit down on the bed, then she whispered, “Tell me.” She listened as Barney told what little he knew, then said, “I’ve got to leave right away. David is at a village that’s located pretty far out. I’ll have to find him and then get him there as quick as I can.”
“I’m going with you, Barney.”
“You can’t do a thing. You just stay here and wait.”
“No. I’m going.”
“You’ll slow me down,” Barney said.
“If I slow you down, run off and leave me. Give me ten minutes.”
Barney was going to argue, but one look at the tense face of the woman before him stopped him. He said, “He means a lot to you, then.”
Jeanine did not know how to answer. “I think he does,” she said finally. “But I didn’t know it. Wait down in the lobby. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
****
When they reached the village, Jeanine was exhausted. Barney and David Burns were accustomed to hard treks. When Barney and Jeanine had found him, David had agreed at once to come to the village to treat John. He had left Ruth to care for the ill in the village in which they had been working. They had made long, hard marches each day, and each night Jeanine had fallen to sleep in utter exhaustion. She had been awakened each morning by Barney, who said, “Can you go on, Jeanine?” She had blindly crawled out of her blankets, washed her face, and endured the hardship. More than once Barney had urged her to wait behind or at least to allow him to let the bearers carry her. Stubbornly she had said, “No. Don’t lose a minute.”
Now they were in sight of the village and Jeanine felt her heart beating hard. Would he be dead? was the question that had come to her many times and came to her now.
The smoke in the village slowly spiraled upward, and as they entered, the first person they met was Jeb Winslow. Instantly Barney spoke. “Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Take me to him,” David said.
As David and Jeb turned and hurried toward the house, Barney turned to see Jeanine, who was standing there as if she had no strength. She had lost weight and there were circles under her eyes. “Come along, Jeanine. Let the doctor look at John. You sit over here. I’ll get you some fresh water and something to eat.”
“No. I can’t eat anything.”
“I’m the doctor, you’re the patient. I’ll make you some tea.”
By the time Barney had made tea over a quick fire that one of the Masai women had built and Jeanine had drunk it, her color had come back. “I’m afraid of what David will say.”
“Jeanine, never take counsel of your fears,” Barney said quietly. “I know it looks bad, but nothing is too difficult for God.” He sat quietly beside her, then reached over and took her hand. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “I’ve had a feeling about John Winslow for some time. Since I’ve first known him, I felt that God had a work to do in him. I don’t think He’s going to let him die until it’s done.”
The two sat there until finally David Burns and Jeb came outside closely followed by Annie. As the three walked over, Jeanine tried to read the expression on Burns’ face. Annie came over and slipped her arm around her.
“I’m glad you’ve come back,” she whispered.
“How is he?”
David looked at Jeanine and spoke to her. “He’s alive, Jeanine.”
“Will he live?” Jeanine blurted out.
“That’s in God’s hands,” David said. “I’ve done about all I can do. I can sit beside him, but you can do that as well.”
“Will you stay, David?” Jeanine asked, and there was a plea in her voice.
“I’ll stay as long as you need me,” Burns said gently. “Now, why don’t you go in and see your friend.”
As Jeanine left, David turned with a question in his eyes. “I don’t get those two, Barney. What are they? From what I’ve heard about Jeanine Quintana, she doesn’t get too upset about other people’s problems.”
Barney shook his head. “I think this time she has. You know one man died for her saving her from the Titanic.”
“I’ve heard about that. Must give her a funny feeling. But this one isn’t dying for her.”
“I don’t think it matters,” Annie said. “I think she loves him, and he did save her life once from hyenas. Did you know that, Uncle David?”
“No I didn’t. It would be rough having two men that saved you die, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t think she could stand it,” Annie said. She put her arm through Jeb’s and said, “Come on. Let’s go pray for them. That’s all we can do now.”
****
The lives of the people with white skins within the Masai village were completely taken up with the welfare of John Winslow. David Burns stayed for two days and then finally said, “Miss Quintana, I would stay, but there are others who need me rather desperately. I need to get back and help Ruth. But I won’t leave unless you say so.”
Jeanine Quintana had changed indeed! Her lips trembled and fear came to her, but then she said in as strong a voice as she could muster, “You have to care for others. You’ve done well to stay with us this long, and we’re all grateful to you.”
David said haltingly, “I’ve seen men hurt worse recover. If he endures the infection and the high fevers don’t kill him, he’ll be all right.”
“What about . . . his arm?” Jeanine asked, her voice quavering.
“It may be stiff, but I patched it together as well as I could. He won’t lose it, though. The main thing now is to keep the fever down. Try to get him to eat. Good nursing saves more people than good doctoring, I think sometimes.”
“Good-bye, David. I hope to see you again soon. And we’re very grateful.”
As David packed his kit and got ready to lea
ve, he was joined by Barney. “Are you going back with me, Barney?”
“No. I’ll stay here and see how things come along. Thanks, David.”
“I wish I could be more encouraging, but it could go either way. I’ve seen it so many times.”
“He’s a strong man, if that means anything.”
“It means a lot. Has he turned to the Lord yet?”
Barney hesitated. “I think he has. He’s gotten away from the Lord, but I’ve seen something in him recently that’s given me hope for his return.”
“Well, Ruth and I will keep praying.” David shook hands with Barney, turned, and spoke to his guide.
The two left at a quick pace and Barney wandered through the village. There was nothing really to do, but he felt inclined to stay and see after Jeanine. He went by the house of the chief and saw his wife standing there. “God be with you,” he said in the Maa language.
“And God be with you.” The chief’s wife smiled slightly and said soberly, “How is the white hunter?”
“He is still very sick, but we hope that God will make him well.”
“You believe that God can do that?”
As always, Barney never missed a chance to spread the Gospel. He stood there talking easily in very simple terms about the goodness of God. He quoted several verses but, of course, the woman didn’t know the Bible was the Word of God. Still she examined him with vigilant eyes.
Finally she said, “Do you think it was God who saved my son or the white hunter?”
“Both.”
“How can that be?”
“I think God loves your son and wanted him to live. So I think He used John, the white hunter, as a means of saving him.”
“He is a brave man. Not even some Masai warriors would leap into the jaw of a lion without even a knife.” Admiration shaded her tone and she shook her head. “My husband thinks he is brave enough to be a Masai.”
Barney smiled. “That’s a high compliment indeed.”
The White Hunter Page 33