The Forge in the Forest: Being the Narrative of the Acadian Ranger, Jean de Mer, Seigneur de Briart; and How He Crossed the Black Abbé; and of His Adventures in a Strange FellowshipRoberts, Charles G. D., Sir
History
The Forge in the Forest: Being the Narrative of the Acadian Ranger, Jean de Mer, Seigneur de Briart; and How He Crossed the Black Abbé; and of His Adventures in a Strange Fellowship
Roberts, Charles G. D., Sir
Acadians -- Fiction; Canada -- History -- To 1763 (New France) -- Fiction; Historical fiction
He answered faintly in the same tongue. "I go from Malpic," said he,
"to the Shubenacadie, with messages. I shot a buck, on the rock there,
and he fell into the gully. As I was getting him out I fell in myself,
and the carcass on top of me. I know no more till I open my eyes, and
my mouth is hard, and kind friends are giving me water. Then I sleep
again, for I feel all safe," and with a grateful smile his eyes closed
wearily. He was fast asleep again, before I could ask any more
questions.
"Come away," I whispered to Mizpah, "till we talk about this." She
came, but first, with a tender thoughtfulness, she leaned her musket
against a tree, with his own beside it, so that if he should wake while
we were gone he should at once see the two weapons, and know that he
was not deserted.
When we were out of earshot, I turned and looked into her eyes.
"What is to be done with him?" I asked.
"We must stay and take care of him," said she, steadily, "till he can
take care of himself."
"And Philip?" I questioned.
She burst into tears, flung herself down, and buried her face in her
hands. After sobbing violently for some minutes she grew calm, dashed
her tears away, and looked at me in a kind of despair.
"The poor boy cannot be left to die here alone," she said, in a shaken
voice. "It is perfectly plain what we must do. Oh, God, take care of
my poor lonely little one." And again she covered her eyes. I took
one of her hands in mine, and pressed it firmly.
"If there is justice in Heaven, he will," I cried passionately. "And
he will; I know he will. I think there never was a nobler woman than
you, my comrade."
"You do not know me," she answered, in a low voice; and rising, she
returned to the sick boy's side.
Seeing that we were here for some days, or perchance a week, I raised
two hasty shelters of brush and poles. That night the patient wandered
in his mind, but in the morning the fever had left him, and
thenceforward he mended swiftly. His gratitude and his docility were
touching, and his eyes followed Mizpah as would the eyes of a faithful
dog. I think his insight penetrated her disguise, so that from the
first he knew her for a woman; but his native delicacy kept him from
betraying his knowledge. As far as I could see, there were no bones
broken, and I guessed that in a week at furthest he would be able to
resume his journey without risk.
For three days I troubled him not with further questions, Mizpah having
so decreed. She said that questioning would hinder his recovery; but I
think she feared what questioning might disclose. At last, as we
finished supper, of which he had well partaken, he rose feebly but with
determination, took a few tottering paces, and then came back to his
couch, where he lay with gleaming eyes of satisfaction.
"I walk now pretty soon," said he. "Not keep kind friends here much
longer. Which way you going when you stopped to take care of Indian
boy?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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