“The ring Hugo, the trapper, gave me to keep. Oh, I hope it is safe.”
“There, now, you must not worry, Mr. Norris,” Marion replied. “Just keep still, and I shall get you something to eat. You are very weak yet. The doctor should be here soon.”
“What doctor?”
“Dr. Rainsford, from Kynox. He should arrive at any minute now.”
“Who went for him?”
“A friend of yours, Hugo, the trapper.”
“He did!”
Marion at length left the room and soon returned bringing some rich broth she had in readiness. She placed the cup on a small table by the bed.
“Drink this,” she quietly ordered. “You must be hungry.”
“I suppose I am,” the missionary replied as he complied with her request. “It is good of you to wait upon me. I am not used to such attention, and it seems strange.”
“You will have to get used to it, then, Mr. Norris. I am your nurse, and am in the habit of being obeyed.”
The missionary smiled as he sipped the broth, and toyed with the spoon in the cup. He was very weak, and the effect of speaking and moving exhausted him. This Marion saw, and she turned to leave him, when he touched her gently on the arm.
“Don’t go yet,” he said. “I want to ask you a question. I am weak, I know, but tell me, have the Indians come back yet?”
“Not yet,” was the reluctant reply.
“You think they are coming, then?” There was a note of intense eagerness in the old man’s voice.
