Grit A-Plenty Part 32

Suddenly he stopped, and holding his clenched fist out at arm's length watched it closely.

"As steady as ever it was!" he said at length. "Perhaps I can do it!

If only I haven't lost my skill! If only I could forget those years and that horrible failure."

For a little he stood silent, beads of perspiration on his forehead.

"I can't do it," he said at length, and turning slowly retraced his steps toward The Jug.

He stopped again, however, as the cabin came into view, and for a long time stood deep in thought.

"But I _must_ do it--there's no other way!" he finally exclaimed with determination. And, turning his back on The Jug, he strode rapidly away toward Break Cove.

It was nearly four hours later when Doctor Joe reappeared at The Jug, with a packet under his arm.

"We were missin' you," greeted Thomas, as Doctor Joe entered the cabin. "Set in and have supper with Margaret. She's kept un on th'

stove for you, and she's waited t' eat with you."

"It's kind of you, but can you wait a little, Margaret? There's something I must say to your father before I eat," and there was a new, strong note in Doctor Joe's voice.

"Oh, yes," agreed Margaret cheerfully, "I'm in no hurry."

"Thomas," said Doctor Joe, looking straight into Thomas's face and plunging immediately into the matter, "Jamie's eyes have reached a point where they must be operated upon at once or he will be beyond human help. I know you're resigned to this, but I'm not. So long as there is the possibility of saving his sight we must do what there is to do. Thomas, _I_ shall operate on them, with your consent. I have fetched my instruments from Break Cove."

"Can--can _you_ do un then?" and Thomas's face brightened with fresh hope.

"There is none but me to do it, and we cannot see the lad go blind without an effort to save his eyes. Thomas, do you believe in me?"

There was pathetic pleading in Doctor Joe's voice.

"Believe in you! There's nary a man I believes in more!" and Doctor Joe knew that Thomas was sincere.

"Thank you, Thomas," said Doctor Joe, a quaver in his voice. "That means more to me than you will ever understand. But I must tell you about myself, for I want you to know all about me before I operate upon Jamie's eyes, and when you have heard what I have to say you may not wish to trust me.

"I was once a skilful eye surgeon in New York," he began, after a moment's silence, "and I performed many difficult operations. The one ambition of my life was to be known as the greatest eye surgeon in my country, and my ambition was finally realized.

"But I had become addicted to liquor, which I first took to stimulate me when I was very tired, and to steady my nerves, usually on occasions when I had denied myself proper rest, or when weary from overwork. At length there came a time when I could not do without it, and I always fortified myself with a dose before beginning an operation. Sometimes in the midst of long operations it would lose its stimulating effect to such an extent that my hand would become uncertain and unsteady. One day, because of this, I ruined a patient's sight.

"That was the last operation I ever performed. I turned my patients over to a young surgeon who had a.s.sisted me, and he is the great doctor I hoped might operate on Jamie's eyes, for he has taken the place I once held.

"I made a desperate effort to break myself of the liquor habit, but I soon discovered this to be impossible so long as I remained where liquor could be had. It had broken my will and power of resistance, and shattered my nerves to such an extent that I could not again trust myself with the surgeon's knife. The desire for liquor had become a disease with me, as it is with many a man, and in its presence I was irresponsible. Liquor, you know, is a poisonous drug, just as opium is, and the man who becomes addicted to its use is to be pitied.

"There was but one cure for me, and that was to go where it was not to be had. So in desperation I came north to The Labrador, and left the mail boat at Fort Pelican, where I bought the old boat which I was sailing up the bay when you hailed me that day eight years ago. Do you remember, Thomas, how nervous and restless I was?"

"Aye, you were a bit shaky, and we were sayin' you had been sick,"

admitted Thomas.

"I _was_ sick then. If you had not taken me in, a stranger of whom you knew nothing, and had not helped me with your friends.h.i.+p, I should have returned to New York and ruin. I felt that if I could remain until the freeze-up came that year, and the mail boat stopped running, I would have my longings conquered before another summer came around.

G.o.d knows how hard it was, even then, for me to stay. More than once that fall I said to myself of a night, 'I can't stand it any longer! I must go!' But each morning you held me with kindness, and your st.u.r.dy, wholesome life, and each morning I resolved to stay, whatever my suffering might be.

"And so it came to pa.s.s that you cured me by reaching out to me a helping hand when I needed it, and so I have remained on The Labrador year after year, until I am cured of my old thirst and no longer feel a desire for liquor. I shall never regain my old position as the greatest eye surgeon in my country, Thomas, but, thank G.o.d, I am more than that. I am a sane, strong man again, and after all, man is the greatest thing G.o.d ever created."

Doctor Joe, his face beaming, held out his clenched fist, as he had done before in the forest.

"See!" he exclaimed. "There's no shake to that! I've a man's steady nerve, because you cured me, Thomas Angus, by making it possible for me to live as a clean man should."

"'Tis wonderful steady!" said Thomas, quite astonished and moved by Doctor Joe's story.

"And now that you've heard who I am, and what I've been," and there was an anxious look in Doctor Joe's face, "are you willing to trust Jamie's sight with me, Tom? Any doctor might fail, and my hand might not work true, and if I fail, or if I make a mistake, Jamie will never see again. But on the other hand, unless something is done, and done at once, Jamie will surely go blind."

"Doctor Joe," said Thomas in a strangely husky voice, "I'd rather have you do th' cuttin' than the other doctor, _what_ever. I knows what you says is right, and you'll do un better than any other doctor could because you're fond of Jamie and he's fond of you, and you're my friend. Whatever comes of un will be th' Almighty's will, and if Jamie goes blind after th' cuttin' I'll never be complainin'."

"Oh, Doctor Joe!" said Margaret, who had been listening, fascinated by Doctor Joe's story, and whose eyes were moist with tears, "we all trusts you! We trusts you more than we trusts anybody else in the world!"

And Doctor Joe's emotions nearly got the better of him when Jamie came over and put his hand in his.

"To-morrow, then," said Doctor Joe, "we'll operate. Jamie, are you afraid to have me cut the mist away?"

"No," said Jamie stoutly, "I'd never be afraid t' have _you_ cut un away."

"But you _have_ got grit, now!" exclaimed Doctor Joe.

And so, with much hope and much foreboding, Jamie was prepared for the operation the following morning, and he was as brave as ever a little lad could be when, quite una.s.sisted, he climbed upon the operating table which Doctor Joe had improvised.

Then Thomas, under Doctor Joe's direction, applied the ether, while Doctor Joe watched its effect, and quickly Jamie pa.s.sed into unconsciousness.

Deftly, and with a feather-like touch, Doctor Joe with a delicate instrument made a triangular incision upon the membrane which covered the white of one of Jamie's eyes, and turning the membrane back removed a minute b.u.t.ton-shaped piece from the exposed eyeball.

Immediately this was done a fluid began to drain through the slight opening, and Doctor Joe spread the membrane back into place.

The other eye was treated in similar manner, and the eyes quickly bandaged by Doctor Joe. And then the unconscious Jamie was gently lifted into Thomas's bunk, which Margaret had prepared for him.

Not a word had been spoken during all this time save by Doctor Joe, as he issued sharp, crisp directions to Thomas or Margaret. And now, when he looked up, there was a new alert enthusiasm in his face--a something they had never seen there before.

"We never can tell the result," said he, "until the bandage is removed, but I never operated more skilfully. Sometimes it doesn't cure, but it is the only thing to be done in such cases, and we'll hope we have succeeded."

They were still standing by the side of Jamie's bed when the door opened, and David, turning to see who was entering, cried, excitedly:

"Jake! 'Tis Jake! Here's Jake!"

And sure enough it was Indian Jake, with the bags of furs, and when he beheld David and Andy he stood staring at them quite as though they were not boys at all, but ghosts.

Thomas and all greeted Indian Jake as cordially as they could have done had there never been a suspicion of his honesty, and he was contrite and sorry enough that his delay had caused them pain and worry.

"When I thought the lads had perished," said he, "I knew that I'd have t' get out of th' country on snowshoes, so I could haul my load on a flatsled, for I never could have managed the boat over the portage without help, and I started right off. The break-up caught me at the mouth of th' Nascaupee, where I stopped t' hunt bear. Then I waited till th' Injuns came along with canoes yesterday, and gave me a pa.s.sage down."

Then he handed David and Andy the furs over the loss of which they had spent so many unhappy days, and opening his own bag of furs he drew forth the better of the two silver foxes, and shaking the pelt well, as he had done in the tilt, held it up for admiration, and when all had marveled at its beauty strode over to the bed of the unconscious Jamie, and laid it upon the blanket.

"It's for the little lad," said he. "Tom, when I heard Uncle Ben tellin' you not t' trust me, and you said you'd promised me th' trail, and a man's word was a man's word, I said t' myself, th' best skin I get this winter goes t' th' little lad that's goin' blind,' and there it is. I didn't tell th' lads because I wanted t' surprise 'em. I like t' surprise folks. It makes me feel good, somehow, inside. I always tries t' be honest, Tom. When I left th' country before with my furs it was because I had word my mother was sick, and I had t' have th' furs t' help her. She died last winter, and then I came back t'

th' Bay t' pay my debts."