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But presently Maigan, that had laid his head in her lap and was looking at her pitifully, as if he had been begging her to help the man he loved, rose suddenly and dashed to the door, barking. It proved to be Papineau and his wife, who was very breathless. The man came in, looked at Hugo and rushed out again.
Men of the wilderness learn to speak to their dogs, or even to think out aloud, when no living thing chances to be near. It answers to the inherited need of speech, to an instinct so long inbred in man that he must needs, at times, hear the sound of a voice, even if it be but his own, or go crazy. Maigan wagged his tail and gobbled up the food.
His face was set hard, in an expression she could not fathom. "Really, I think I could walk," said the girl again. "There there's no reason you should work so hard for me. And and you look terribly tired." "Oh, no!" he disclaimed, hastily. "I I could pull you all by myself if well, it's only a short distance away now, and Maigan is doing nearly all the work, anyway.
After he had put on his snowshoes again and hitched up Maigan to the toboggan he disappeared into the darkness. For an instant Madge listened, but she heard no sound. Everything was still outside, but for the rare crackings of ice and timber. Seeking her chair again she leaned forward now with her elbows resting on her knees and her face held in the hollow of her hands.
He could have ridden on it, most of the way, but wanted to keep Maigan fresh for the trip to Carcajou, for the trunk would have to go also. The light sled was nothing for the dog to pull, of course, and sometimes he dashed ahead so that his pace became too great for his master. Then he would stop and sit down in his traces, to wait until he was overtaken.
She was glad indeed that he had recognized and praised her, and then his voice had never expressed the slightest sign of reproach. She was happy that he had found comfort in her presence beside his couch and and had been able to smile at her. Madge opened the door to let Maigan out. The air was full of feathery masses of snow blown from treetops.
Then silence came again, but for the hurried breathing of the sick man and the occasional sighs of Maigan, who refused food offered to him. Madge forced herself to eat a little, dimly realizing that for a time there might be need of all her strength.
That thing on his shoulder must be a mere scratch, he tried to persuade himself, in spite of the sharp pangs it gave him. Manlike he grew more obstinate as his strength began to fail, and pulled harder, with the sweat now running down his clammy forehead and freezing on his face. Maigan, also, was bending hard to his task, and they went along steadily and rapidly.
"I'll I'll be all right to-morrow, sure surest thing you know, and and I'll take you down myself, with old old Maigan." "Please hurry back to your house and tell your mother to come over as soon as she can," Madge told the child. "Perhaps your father could go. I didn't think of it at first." "Now you spik' lak' you know someting," said the girl, with refreshing frankness. "I 'urry all right.
He had opened the door to let Maigan go out, and when the dog returned after a good roll in the snow Hugo swept his breakfast of rolled oats and bread into a pan and fed it to his companion. "You're certainly not going hungry because my own grub doesn't taste right, old boy," he commented.
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