|
Jack Green did not die.
Every morning for a fortnight Constable
Cameron felt it to be his duty to make enquiry--the Sergeant, it
may be added--performing the same duty with equal diligence in the
afternoon, and every day the balance, which trembled evenly for
some time between hope and fear, continued to dip more and more
decidedly toward the former. "He's going to live, I believe," said Dr. Martin one day. "And he
owes it to the nurse." The doctor's devotion to and admiration for
Nurse Haley began to appear to Cameron unnecessarily pronounced.
"She simply would not let him go!" continued the doctor. "She
nursed him, sang to him her old 'Come all ye' songs and Methodist
hymns, she spun him barnyard yarns and orchard idyls, and always
'continued in our next,' till the chap simply couldn't croak for wanting to hear the next." At times Cameron caught through the tent walls snatches of those
songs and yarns and idyls, at times he caught momentary glimpses of
the bright young girl who was pouring the vigour of her life into
the lad fighting for his own, but these snatches and glimpses only
exasperated him. There was no opportunity for any lengthened and
undisturbed converse, for on the one hand the hospital service was
exacting beyond the strength of doctor and nurses, and on the other
there was serious trouble for Superintendent Strong and his men in
the camps along the line, for a general strike had been declared in
all the camps and no one knew at what minute it might flare up into
a fierce riot. It was indeed exasperating to Cameron. The relations between
himself and Nurse Haley were unsatisfactory, entirely unsatisfactory.
It was clearly his duty--indeed he owed it to her and to himself--
to arrive at some understanding, to establish their relations upon a
proper and reasonable basis. He was at very considerable pains to
make it clear, not only to the Sergeant, but to the cheerful little
nurse and to the doctor as well, that as her oldest friend in the
country it was incumbent upon him to exercise a sort of kindly
protectorate over Nurse Haley. In this it is to be feared he was
only partially successful. The Sergeant was obviously and gloomily
incredulous of the purity of his motives, the little nurse arched
her eyebrows and smiled in a most annoying manner, while the doctor
pendulated between good-humoured tolerance and mild sarcasm. It
added not a little to Cameron's mental disquiet that he was quite
unable to understand himself; indeed, through these days he was
engaged in conducting a bit of psychological research, with his own
mind as laboratory and his mental phenomena as the materia for his
investigation. It was a most difficult and delicate study and one
demanding both leisure and calm--and Cameron had neither. The brief
minutes he could snatch from Her Majesty's service were necessarily
given to his friends in the hospital and as to the philosophic calm
necessary to research work, a glimpse through the door of Nurse
Haley's golden head bending over a sick man's cot, a snatch of song
in the deep mellow tones of her voice, a touch of her strong firm
hand, a quiet steady look from her deep, deep eyes--any one of these
was sufficient to scatter all his philosophic determinings to the
winds and leave his soul a chaos of confused emotions. Small wonder, then, that twenty times a day he cursed the luck that
had transferred him from the comparatively peaceful environment of
the Police Post at Fort Macleod to the maddening whirl of
conflicting desires and duties attendant upon the Service in the
railroad construction camps. A letter from his friend Inspector
Dickson accentuated the contrast. "Great doings, my boy," wrote the Inspector, evidently under the
spell of overmastering excitement. We have Little Thunder again
in the toils, this time to stay, and we owe this capture to your
friend Raven. A week ago Mr. Raven coolly walked into the Fort and
asked for the Superintendent. I was down at stables at the time.
As he was coming out I ran into him and immediately shouted 'Hands
up!' "'Ah, Mr. Inspector,' said my gentleman, as cool as ice, 'delighted
to see you again.' "'Stand where you are!' I said, and knowing my man and determined
to take no chances, I ordered two constables to arrest him. At
this the Superintendent appeared. "'Ah, Inspector,' he said, 'there is evidently some mistake here.'
"'There is no mistake, Superintendent,' I replied. 'I know this
man. He is wanted on a serious charge.' "'Kindly step this way, Mr. Raven,' said the Superintendent, 'and
you, Inspector. I have something of importance to say to you.' "And, by Jove, it was important. Little Thunder had broken his
pledge to Raven to quit the rebellion business and had perfected a
plan for a simultaneous rising of Blackfeet, Bloods, Piegans, and
Sarcees next month. Raven had stumbled upon this and had
deliberately put himself in the power of the Police to bring this
information. 'I am not quite prepared,' he said, 'to hand over
this country to a lot of bally half-breeds and bloody savages.'
Together the Superintendent and he had perfected a plan for the
capture of the heads of the conspiracy. "'As to that little matter of which you were thinking, Inspector
Dickson,' said my Chief, 'I think if you remember, we have no
definite charge laid against Mr. Raven, who has given us, by the
way, very valuable information upon which we must immediately act.
We are also to have Mr. Raven's assistance.' "Well, we had a glorious hunt, and by Jove, that man Raven is a
wonder. He brought us right to the bunch, walked in on them, cool
and quiet, pulled two guns and held them till we all got in place.
There will be no rebellion among these tribes this year, I am
confident." And though it does not appear in the records it is none the less
true that to the influence of Missionary Macdougall among the
Stonies and to the vigilance of the North West Mounted Police was
it due that during the Rebellion of '85 Canada was spared the
unspeakable horrors of an Indian war. It was this letter that deepened the shadow upon Cameron's face and
sharpened the edge on his voice as he looked in upon his hospital
friends one bright winter morning. "You are quite unbearable!" said the little nurse after she had
listened to his grumbling for a few minutes. "And you are spoiling
us all." "Spoiling you all?" "Yes, especially me, and--Nurse Haley." "Nurse Haley?" "Yes. You are disturbing her peace of mind." "Disturbing her? Me?" A certain satisfaction crept into Cameron's voice. Nothing is so
calculated to restore the poise of the male mind as a consciousness
of power to disturb the equilibrium of one of the imperious sex. "And you must not do it!" continued the little nurse. "She has far
too much to bear now." "And haven't I been just telling you that?" said Cameron savagely.
"She never gets off. Night and day she is on the job. I tell
you,
I won't--it should not be allowed." Cameron was conscious of a
fine glow of fraternal interest in this young girl. "For instance,
a day like this! Look at these white mountains, and that glorious
sky, and this wonderful air, and not a breath of wind! What a day
for a walk! It would do her--it would do you all a world of good." "Wait!" cried the little nurse, who had been on duty all night.
"I'll tell her what you say." Apparently it took some telling, for it was a full precious quarter
of an hour before they appeared again. "There, now, you see the effect of your authority. She would not
budge for me, but--well--there she is! Look at her!" There was no need for this injunction. Cameron's eyes were already
fastened upon her. And she was worth any man's while to look at in
her tramping costume of toque and blanket coat. Tall, she looked,
beside the little nurse, lithe and strong, her close-fitting Hudson
Bay blanket coat revealing the swelling lines of her budding
womanhood. The dainty white toque perched upon the masses of gold-brown hair accentuated the girlish freshness of her face. At the
nurse's words she turned her eyes upon Cameron and upon her face,
pale with long night watches, a faint red appeared. But her eyes
were quiet and steady and kind; too quiet and too kind for Cameron,
who was looking for other signals. There was no sign of disturbance
in that face. "Come on!" he said impatiently. "We have only one hour."
"Oh, what a glorious day!" cried Nurse Haley, drawing a deep breath
and striding out like a man to keep pace with Cameron. "And how
good of you to spare me the time!" "I have been trying to get you alone for the last two weeks," said
Cameron. "Two weeks?" "Yes, for a month! I wanted to talk to you." "To talk with me? About what?" "About--well--about everything--about yourself." "Me?" "Yes. I don't understand you. You have changed so
tremendously." "Oh," exclaimed the girl, "I am so glad you have noticed that!
Have I changed much?" "Much? I should say so! I find myself wondering if you are the
Mandy I used to know at all." "Oh," she exclaimed, "I am so glad! You see, I needed to change so
much." "But how has it happened?" exclaimed Cameron. "It is a miracle to
me." "How a miracle?" For a few moments they walked on in silence, the tote road leading
them into the forest. After a time the nurse said softly, "It was you who began it." "I?" "Yes, you--and then the nurse. Oh, I can never repay her! The
day
that you left--that was a dreadful day. The world was all black.
I could not have lived, I think, many days like that. I had to go
into town and I couldn't help going to her. Oh, how good she was
to me that day! how good! She understood, she understood at once.
She made me come for a week to her, and then for altogether. That
was the beginning; then I began to see how foolish I had been." "Foolish?" "Yes, wildly foolish! I was like a mad thing, but I did not know
then, and I could not help it." "Help what?" "Oh, everything! But the nurse showed me--she showed me--" "Showed you?" "Showed me how to take care of myself--to take care of my body--of
my dress--of my hair. Oh, I remember well," she said with a bright
little laugh, "I remember that hair-dresser. Then the doctor came
and gave me books and made me read and study--and then I began to
see. Oh, it was like a fire--a burning fire within me. And the
doctor was good to me, so very patient, till I began to love my
profession; to love it at first for myself, and then for others. How good they all were to me those days!--the nurses in the
hospital, the doctors, the students--everyone seemed to be kind;
but above them all my own nurse here and my own doctor."
In hurried eager speech she poured forth her heart as if anxious to
finish her tale--her voice, her eyes, her face all eloquent of the
intense emotion that filled her soul. "It is wonderful!" said Cameron. "Yes," she replied, "wonderful indeed! And I wanted to see you and
have you see me," she continued, still hurrying her speech, "for I
could not bear that you should remember me as I was those dreadful
days; and I am so glad that you--you--are pleased!" The appeal in
her voice and in her eyes roused in Cameron an overwhelming tide of
passion. "Pleased!" he cried. "Pleased! Great Heavens, Mandy! You
are
wonderful! Don't you know that?" "No," she said thoughtfully; "but," she drew a long breath, "I like
to hear you say it. That is all I want. You see I owe it all
to
you." The face she turned to him so innocently happy might have
been a child's. "Mandy," cried Cameron, stopping short in his walk, "you--I--!"
That frank childlike look in her eyes checked his hot words. But
there was no need for words; his eyes spoke for his faltering lips.
A look of fear leaped to her eyes, a flow of red blood to her
cheeks; then she stood, white, trembling and silent. "I am tired, I think," she said after a moment's silence, "we will
go back." "Yes, you are tired," said Cameron angrily. "You are tired to
death. Mandy, you need some one to take care of you. I wish
you
would let me." They were now walking back toward the town. "They are all good to me; they are all kind to me." Her voice was
quiet and steady. She had gained control of herself again.
"Why,
even John the Chinaman," she added with a laugh, "spoils me. Oh,
no harm can come to me--I have no fear!" "But," said Cameron, "I--I want to take care of you, Mandy. I want
the right to take care of you, always." "I know, I know," she said kindly. "You are so good; you were
always so good; but I need no one." Cameron glanced at the lithe, strong, upright figure striding along
beside him with easy grace; and the truth came to him in swift and
painful revelation. "You are right," he said as if to himself. "You need no one, and
you don't need me." "But," she cried eagerly, "it was good of you all the same." "Good!" he said impatiently. "Good! Nonsense! I tell
you, Mandy,
I want you, I want you. Do you understand? I want to marry
you." "Oh, don't say that!" she cried, stopping short, her voice
disturbed, but kindly, gentle and strong. "Don't say that," she
repeated, "for, of course, that is impossible." "Impossible!" he exclaimed angrily.
"Yes," she said, her voice still quiet and steady, "quite
impossible. But I love you for saying it, oh--," she suddenly
caught her breath. "Oh, I love you for saying it." Then
pointing
up the road she cried, "Look! Some one for you, I am sure." A
horseman was galloping swiftly towards them. "Oh hang it all!" said Cameron. "What the deuce does he want now?" "We must talk this out again, Mandy," he said.
"No, no!" she cried, "never again. Please don't, ever again; I
could not bear it. But I shall always remember, and--I am so
glad." As she spoke, her hands, with her old motion, went to her
heart. "Oh the deuce take it!" said Cameron as the Sergeant flung his
horse back on his heels at their side. "What does he want?" "Constable Cameron," said the Sergeant in a voice of sharp command,
"there's a row on. Constable Scott has been very badly handled in
trying to make an arrest. You are to report at once for duty." "All right, Sir," said Cameron, "I shall return immediately." The Sergeant wheeled and was gone. "You must go!" cried Mandy, quick fear springing into her eyes. "Yes," said Cameron, "at once. Come, I shall take you home." "No, never mind me!" she cried. "Go! Go! I can take care
of
myself. I shall follow." Her voice rang out strong and clear;
she
was herself once more. "You are the right sort, Mandy," cried Cameron, taking her hand.
"Good bye!" "Good bye!" she replied, her face suddenly pale and her lips
beginning to quiver. "I shall always remember--I--shall--always
be glad for--what you said today." Cameron stood looking at her for a moment somewhat uncertainly,
then,
"Good bye!" he said abruptly, and, turning, went at the double
towards his quarters. The strikers had indeed broken loose, supported by the ruffianly
horde of camp followers who were egging them on to violence and
destruction of property. At present they were wild with triumph
over the fact that they had rescued one of their leaders, big Joe
Coyle, from Constable Scott. It was an exceedingly dangerous
situation, for the riot might easily spread from camp to camp.
Bruised and bloody, Constable Scott reported to Superintendent
Strong lying upon his sick bed. "Sergeant," said the Superintendent, "take Constables Cameron and
Scott, arrest that man at once and bring him here!" In the village they found between eight hundred and a thousand men,
many of them crazed with bad whiskey, some armed with knives and
some with guns, and all ready for blood. Big Joe Coyle they found
in the saloon. Pushing his way through, the Sergeant seized his
man by the collar. "Come along, I want you!" he said, dragging him to the open door. "Shut that there door, Hep!" drawled a man with a goatee and a
moustache dyed glossy black. "All right, Bill!" shouted the man called Hep, springing to the
door; but before he could make it Cameron had him by the collar. "Hold on, Hep!" he said, "not so fast." For answer Hep struck hard at him and the crowd of men threw
themselves at Cameron and between him and the door. Constable
Scott, who also had his hand upon the prisoner, drew his revolver
and looked towards the Sergeant who was struggling in the grasp of
three or four ruffians. "No!" shouted the Sergeant above the uproar. "Don't shoot--we have
no orders! Let him go!" "Go on!" he said savagely, giving his prisoner a final shake. "We
will come back for you." There was a loud chorus of derisive cheers. The crowd opened and
allowed the Sergeant and constables to pass out. Taking his place
at the saloon door with Constable Scott, the Sergeant sent Cameron
to report and ask for further orders. "Ask if we have orders to shoot," said the Sergeant. Cameron found the Superintendent hardly able to lift his head and
made his report. "The saloon is filled with men who oppose the arrest, Sir. What
are your orders?" "My orders are, Bring that man here, and at once!" "Have we instructions to shoot?" "Shoot!" cried the Superintendent, lifting himself on his elbow.
"Bring that man if you have to shoot every man in the saloon!" "Very well, Sir, we will bring him," said Cameron, departing on a
run. At the door of the saloon he found the Sergeant and Constable white
hot under the jeers and taunts of the half drunken gang gathered
about them. "What are the orders, Constable Cameron?" enquired the Sergeant in
a loud voice. "The orders are, Shoot every man in the saloon if necessary!"
shouted Cameron. "Revolvers!" commanded the Sergeant. "Constable Cameron, hold the
door! Constable Scott, follow me!" At the door stood the man named Hep, evidently keeping guard.
"Want in?" he said with a grin. For answer, Cameron gripped his collar, with one fierce jerk lifted
him clear out of the door to the platform, and then, putting his
body into it, heaved him with a mighty swing far into the crowd
below, bringing two or three men to the ground with the impact of
his body. "Come here, man!" cried Cameron again, seizing a second man who
stood near the door and flinging him clear off the platform after
the unlucky Hep. Speedily the crowd about the door gave back, and before they were
aware the Sergeant and Constable Scott appeared with big Joe Coyle
between them. "Take him!" said the Sergeant to Cameron. Cameron seized him by the collar. "Come here!" he said, and, clearing the platform in a spring, he
brought his prisoner in a heap with him. "Get up!" he roared at
him, jerking him to his feet as if he had been a child. "Let him go!" shouted the man with the goatee, named Bill, rushing
up. "Take that, then," said Cameron, giving him a swift half-arm jab on
the jaw, "and I'll come back for you again," he added, as the man
fell back into the arms of his friends. "Forward!" said the Sergeant, falling in with Constable Scott
behind Cameron and facing the crowd with drawn revolvers. The
swift fierceness of the attack seemed to paralyse the senses of the
crowd. "Come on, boys!" yelled the goatee man, bloody and savage with
Cameron's blow. "Don't let the blank blank blank rattle you like a
lot of blank blank chickens. Come on!" At once rose a roar from eight hundred throats like nothing human
in its sound, and the crowd began to press close upon the Police.
But the revolvers had an ugly appearance to those in front looking
into their little black throats.
"Aw, come on!" yelled a man half drunk, running with a lurch upon
the Sergeant. "Crack!" went the Sergeant's revolver, and the man dropped with a
bullet through his shoulder. "Next man," shouted the Sergeant, "I shall kill!"
The crowd gave back and gathered round the wounded man. A stream
lay in the path of the Police, crossed by a little bridge. "Hurry!" said the Sergeant, "let's make the bridge before they come
again." But before they could make the bridge the crowd had
recovered from their momentary panic and, with wild oaths and yells
and brandishing knives and guns, came on with a rush, led by
goatee Bill. Already the prisoner was half way across the bridge, the Sergeant
and the constable guarding the entrance, when above the din was
heard a roar as of some animal enraged. Looking beyond the Police
the crowd beheld a fearsome sight. It was the Superintendent
himself, hatless, and with uniform in disarray, a sword in one
hand, a revolver in the other. Across the bridge he came like a
tornado and, standing at the entrance, roared, "Listen to me, you dogs! The first man who sets foot on this
bridge I shall shoot dead, so help me God!" His towering form, his ferocious appearance and his well-known
reputation for utter fearlessness made the crowd pause and, before
they could make up their minds to attack that resolute little
company headed by their dread commander, the prisoner was safe over
the bridge and well up the hill toward the guard room. Half way
up the hill the Superintendent met Cameron returning from the
disposition of his prisoner. "There's another man down there, Sir, needs looking after," he
said. "Better let them cool off, Cameron," said the Superintendent. "I promised I'd go for him, Sir," said Cameron, his face all ablaze
for battle. "Then go for him," said the Superintendent. "Let a couple of you
go along--but I am done--just now." "We will see you up the hill, Sir," said the Sergeant. "Come on, Scott!" said Cameron, setting off for the village once
more. The crowd had returned from the bridge and the leaders had already
sought their favourite resort, the saloon. Straight to the door
marched Cameron, followed by Scott. Close to the counter stood
goatee Bill, loudly orating, and violently urging the breaking in
of the guard room and the release of the prisoner. "In my country," he yelled, "we'd have that feller out in about six
minutes in spite of all the blank blank Police in this blank
country. THEY ain't no good. They're scairt to death." At this point Cameron walked in upon him and laid a compelling grip
upon his collar. Instantly Bill reached for his gun, but Cameron,
swiftly shifting his grip to his arm, wrenched him sharply about
and struck him one blow on the ear. As if held by a hinge, the
head fell over on one side and the man slithered to the floor. "Out of the way!" shouted Cameron, dragging his man with him, but
just as he reached the door a heavy glass came singing through the
air and caught him on the head. For a moment he staggered, caught
hold of the lintel and held himself steady. "Here, Scott," he cried, "put the bracelets on him." With revolver drawn Constable Scott sprang to his side. "Come out!" he said to the goatee man, slipping the handcuffs over
his wrists, while Cameron, still clinging to the lintel, was
fighting back the faintness that was overpowering him. Seeing his
plight, Hep sprang toward him, eager for revenge, but Cameron
covering him with his gun held him in check and, with a supreme
effort getting command of himself, again stepped towards Hep. "Now, then," he said between his clenched teeth, "will you come?"
So terrible were his voice and look that Hep's courage wilted. "I'll come, Colonel, I'll come," he said quickly. "Come then," said Cameron, reaching for him and bringing him
forward with a savage jerk. In three minutes from the time the attack was made both men,
thoroughly subdued and handcuffed, were marched off in charge of
the constables. "Hurry, Scott," said Cameron in a low voice to his comrade. "I am
nearly in." With all possible speed they hustled their prisoners along over the
bridge and up the hill. At the hospital door, as they passed, Dr.
Martin appeared. "Hello, Cameron!" he cried. "Got him, eh?" Great Caesar, man,
what's up?" he added as Cameron, turning his head, revealed a face
and neck bathed in blood. "You are white as a ghost." "Get me a drink, old chap. I am nearly in," said Cameron in a
faint voice. "Come into my tent here," said the doctor. "Got to see these prisoners safe first," said Cameron, swaying on
his feet. "Come in, you idiot!" cried the doctor. "Go in, Cameron," said Constable Scott. "I'll take care of 'em all
right," he added, drawing his gun. "No," said Cameron, still with his hand on goatee Bill's collar.
"I'll see them safe first," saying which he swayed drunkenly about
and, but for Bill's support, would have fallen. "Go on!" said Bill good-naturedly. "Don't mind me. I'm good
now."
"Come!" said the doctor, supporting him into the tent. "Forward!" commanded Constable Scott, and marched his prisoners
before him up the hill. The wound on Cameron's head was a ghastly affair, full six inches
long, and went to the bone. "Rather ugly," said the doctor, feeling round the wound. "Nurse!"
he called. "Nurse!" The little nurse came running in.
"Some
water and a sponge!" There was a cry behind her--low, long, pitiful. "Oh, what is this?" With a swift movement Nurse Haley was beside
the doctor's bed. Cameron, who had been lying with his eyes closed
and was ghastly white from loss of blood, opened his eyes and
smiled up into the face above him. "I feel fine--now," he said and closed his eyes again. "Let me do that," said Nurse Haley with a kind of jealous
fierceness, taking the sponge and basin from the little nurse. Examination revealed nothing more serious, however, than a deep
scalp wound and a slight concussion. "He will be fit enough in a couple of days," said the doctor when
the wound was dressed. Then, pale and haggard as if with long watching, Nurse Haley went
to her room there to fight out her lonely fight while Cameron
slept. The day passed in quiet, the little nurse on guard, and the doctor
looking in every half hour upon his patient. As evening fell
Cameron woke and demanded Nurse Haley. The doctor felt his pulse. "Send her in!" he said and left the tent. The rays of the sun setting far down the Pass shone through the
walls and filled the tent with a soft radiance. Into this radiance
she came, her face pale as of one who has come through conflict,
and serene as of one who has conquered, pale and strong and alight,
not with the radiance of the setting sun, but with light of a soul
that has made the ancient sacrifice of self-effacing love. "You want me?" she said, her voice low and sweet, but for all her
brave serenity tremulous. "Yes," said Cameron, holding out his arms. "I want you; I want
YOU, Mandy." "Oh," cried the girl, while her hands fluttered to her heart,
"don't ask me to go through it again. I am so weak." She stood
like a frightened bird poised for flight. "Come," he said, "I want you." "You want me? You said you wanted to take care of me," she breathed. "I was a fool, Mandy; a conceited fool! Now I know what I want--I
want--just YOU. Come." Again he lifted his arms.
"Oh, it cannot be," she breathed as if to herself. "Are you sure--
sure? I could not bear it if you were not sure." "Come, dear love," he cried, "with all my heart and soul and body I
want you--I want only YOU." For a single moment longer she stood, her soul searching his
through her wonderful eyes. Then with a little sigh she sank into
his arms. "Oh, my darling," she whispered, wreathing her strong young arms
around his neck and laying her cheek close to his, "my darling, I
thought I had given you up, but how could I have done it?" At the hospital door the doctor was on guard. A massive figure
loomed in the doorway. "Hello, Superintendent Strong, what on earth are you doing out of
bed?" "Where is he?" said the Superintendent abruptly. "Who?" "Corporal Cameron." "CORPORAL Cameron? Constable Cameron is--" "Corporal Cameron, I said. I have just had Constable Scott's
report and felt I must see him at once." "Come in, Superintendent! Sit down! I shall enquire if he is
resting. Nurse! Nurse! Enquire if Corporal Cameron can
be seen." The little nurse tip-toed into the doctor's tent, lifted the
curtain, took one glance and drew swiftly back. This is what her
eyes looked upon. A girl's form kneeling by the bed, golden hair
mingling with black upon the pillow, two strong arms holding her
close and hers wreathed in answering embrace. "Mr. Cameron I am afraid," she reported, "cannot be seen. He is--I
think--he is--engaged." "Ah!" said the doctor. "Well," said the Superintendent, "just tell Corporal Cameron for me
that I am particularly well pleased with his bearing to-day, and
that I hope he will be very soon fit for duty." "Certainly, Superintendent. Now let me help you up the hill."
"Never mind, here's the Sergeant. Good evening! Very fine
thing!
Very fine thing indeed! I see rapid promotion in his profession
for that young man." "Inspector, eh?" said the doctor. "Yes, Sir, I should without hesitation recommend him and should be
only too pleased to have him as Inspector in my command." It was not, however, as Inspector that Corporal Cameron served
under the gallant Superintendent, but in another equally honourable
capacity did they ride away together one bright April morning a few
weeks later, on duty for their Queen and country. But that is
another story. "That message ought to be delivered, nurse," said the doctor
thoughtfully. "But not at once," replied the nurse. "It is important," urged the doctor. "Yes, but--there are other things." "Ah! Other things?" "Yes, equally--pressing," said the nurse with an undeniably joyous
laugh. The doctor looked at her a moment. "Ah, nurse," he said in a shocked tone, "how often have I deprecated
your tendency to--" "I don't care one bit!" laughed the nurse saucily. "The message ought to be delivered," insisted the doctor firmly as
he moved toward the tent door. "Well, deliver it then. But wait!" The little nurse ran in
before
him and called "Nu-u-u-r-s-e Ha-l-ey!" "All right!" called Cameron from the inside. "Come in!" "Go on then," said the little nurse to the doctor, "you wanted to." "A message from the Superintendent," said the doctor, lifting the
curtain and passing in. "Don't move, Mandy," said Cameron. "Never mind him." "No, don't, I beg," said the doctor, ignoring what he saw. "A
message, an urgent message for--Corporal Cameron!" "CORPORAL Cameron?" echoed Nurse Haley. "He distinctly said and repeated it--Corporal Cameron. And the
Corporal is to report for duty as speedily as possible." "He can't go," said Mandy, standing up very straight with a light
in her eyes that the doctor had not seen since that tragic night
nearly two years before. "Can't, eh?" said the doctor. "But the Superintendent says
Corporal Cameron is--" "Corporal Cameron can't go!" "You--" "Yes, I forbid it." "The Corporal is--?" "Yes," she said proudly, "the Corporal is mine." "Then," said the doctor emphatically, "of all the lucky chaps it
has been my fortune to meet, by all the gods the luckiest of them
is this same Corporal Cameron!" And Cameron, drawing down to him again the girl standing so
straight and proud beside him, looked up at his friend and said: "Yes, old chap, the luckiest man in all the world is that same
Corporal Cameron." |
