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"But there's no use worrying any more about it. It ain't in reason that she's got any people up here, six hundred miles from the shack of a white man that 'd own a little beauty like her. She's mine. I found her. She's mine to keep." He sat down at the table, and MacVeigh sat down opposite him, smiling sympathetically into Pelliter's eyes. "I know you want her want her bad, Pelly," he said.
The wilderness would bear memory of her so long as he was a part of it; and now, as he came nearer to Churchill, he knew that he would always be a part of it. Three weeks after he had left Couchée's cabin he came into Fort Churchill. A month had changed him so that the factor did not recognize him at first. The inspector in charge stared at him twice, and then cried, "My God, is it you, MacVeigh?"
But he was none the less a good doctor and a wise one. Waterman's physician confirmed the diagnosis. It would be very unwise to move Miss MacVeigh. "But she can't stay here," said Dalton. "Why not?" "She can't be made comfortable." Dalton surveyed the Flippin sitting-room critically. He was aware that Mr. Flippin was in the doorway, and that Mrs. Flippin and Mary could not fail to catch his words.
"Perhaps the same birds will tell us what has happened down on the Nelson House trail, Jean," she retorted. "Pouf! Jan Thoreau doesn't give the snap of his small finger for the MacVeigh girl!" Jean replied, warm in defense of his friend. "She is pretty," laughed Melisse, "and I have just learned that is why men like to like them, I mean." Jean strutted before her like a peacock.
Outside the door there was a small sledge, and after he had bundled himself in his traveling-clothes he dragged the pack to the sledge, and behind the pack tied on a bundle of firewood, a lantern, blankets, and oil. After he had done this he wrote a few lines to MacVeigh and pinned the paper to the door.
But he was none the less a good doctor and a wise one. Waterman's physician confirmed the diagnosis. It would be very unwise to move Miss MacVeigh. "But she can't stay here," said Dalton. "Why not?" "She can't be made comfortable." Dalton surveyed the Flippin sitting-room critically. He was aware that Mr. Flippin was in the doorway, and that Mrs. Flippin and Mary could not fail to catch his words.
She was long-limbed, slender, with heavy burned-gold hair, a skin which was pale gold after a July by the sea. The mauve of her dress and hat emphasized the gold of hair and skin. Some one had said that Madge MacVeigh at the end of a summer gave the effect of a statue cast in new bronze. Dalton in the early days of their friendship had called her his "Golden Girl." The name had stuck to her.
She had sent back his pendant without a word, and there was no telling how she was taking it. If the thing were ever renewed and his mind dwelt daringly on that possibility, explanations would be easy but he couldn't make explanation if she saw him first in a car with another woman. It was thus that Madge, arriving on the noon train, found Kemp waiting for her. Kemp was very fond of Miss MacVeigh.
Flippin entered just then with a tall pitcher of lemonade and a plate of delicate cakes. "I think Miss MacVeigh is looking mighty fine," she said, "don't you, Major?" He would not have dared to tell how fine she looked to him. He limped across the room with the plate of cakes, and poured lemonade into a glass for Madge. Her eyes followed his strong soldierly figure.
She's as fresh and sweet," his voice caught. "Oh, hang Dalton," he said, "I hate the whole tribe of them " Kemp came back to say that Oscar Waterman would be down at once. He insisted that Miss MacVeigh should be brought up to Hamilton Hill. "He must talk with the doctor." "He is bringing a doctor of his own. One who came down for Mrs. Waterman." Randy picked up his hat. "I'm going home.
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