Gaut Gurley; Or, the Trappers of Umbagog: A Tale of Border LifeThompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
General
Gaut Gurley; Or, the Trappers of Umbagog: A Tale of Border Life
Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Maine -- Fiction; Trappers -- Fiction
at these symptoms, she felt his pulse, and at once discovered that he was
in a high fever, supervening from his wounds, and caused, or much
aggravated, doubtless, by the jostling of the boat on his way hither.
Starting back, as if some unexpected calamity had suddenly fallen upon her,
she stood some minutes absorbed in earnest self-consultation. What should
she do? She could not, dare not, even were it daytime, leave him to go
miles away for her father, or others, for aid or advice. No; she must stay
by him. And, having seen the alleviating effects of cold water in fevers
and inflammations, and knowing that there were no other remedies within
reach, she at once decided on its application. Accordingly, with her cup of
water at her side, and a piece of soft, clean moss in her hand, she began
sponging his face, neck, and the flesh around his wounds; and repeating
this process at short intervals, she continued the tender assiduities, with
only occasional snatches of repose, till the welcome morning light broke
over the forest. She then rose, and, with a miniature camp-kettle found
among her patient's effects, prepared some gruel from the pounded parched
corn which she had brought with her. This he mechanically took from her
hand, when aroused for the purpose, but immediately relapsed again into the
same state of unconsciousness and stupor in which he had lain through the
night. Through the day and night that followed, but little variation was
discernible in his condition, and as little was made in his treatment, by
his fair, anxious nurse. Through the next day and night it was still the
same; but towards night, on the third day after his attack, he began to
show signs of amendment, and before dark his fever had entirely subsided.
Perceiving this, the rejoiced maiden prepared him some more stimulating
nourishment, in the shape of broth made from jerked venison. Having
partaken freely of this, he then, with a whispered "_I am much better,
Fluella_," sank back on his couch, and was soon buried in a sweet and
tranquil slumber. Having carefully adjusted his blanket around him, and
added her own shawl to the covering, and being now once more relieved of
her most pressing fears for his fate, the exhausted girl laid down on her
own rude couch, and, before she was aware, fell into a slumber so deep and
absorbing that she never once awoke till the sun was peering over the
eastern mountains the next morning. Her first waking glance was directed to
the couch of the invalid. It was empty. Starting to her feet, with a
countenance almost wild with concern, she hurriedly ran her eye through the
forest around her; when, with a suppressed exclamation of joyful surprise,
she soon caught sight of his form, slowly making his way back from a short
walk, which he had, on awakening, an hour before, found himself able to
take, along a smooth and level path on the bank of the river.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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