Grit A-Plenty. Dillon Wallace
great doctor cures un, I’ll go to Seal Lake some time and hunt, too.”
“We’ll do our best, now,” assured David, “an’ we’ll get th’ fur, never fear.”
“That we will,” said Andy, squaring his shoulders.
“Pop says you’ll have t’ keep plenty o’ grit,” warned Jamie.
“We’ll keep plenty o’ grit,” said Andy.
“And a stout heart, like a man’s,” added Jamie.
“And we’ll keep our hearts stout like a man’s,” said Andy proudly.
It was to be a long time before the family should be together again, and Margaret had the dinner table set close to Thomas’s bunk. Doctor Joe had shot a great fat goose the day before—the first of the season—and Margaret cooked it for their Sunday dinner. Then there was bread and tea, and a fine big tart of bake-apple berries. And a cozy feast they had, with the fire in the big stove crackling merrily, for it was raw and cold outside. And though Thomas must needs lie flat upon his back he enjoyed the feast as well as any of them, for Margaret attended to that, in her gentle, thoughtful way.
When dinner was cleared away Doctor Joe told them stories, and at Margaret’s request sang for them, and when he sang some hymns they all joined with him—even Thomas, with a great bellowing voice. It was a day to be remembered, and David and Andy were to think of it often in the months to come, as they wearily tramped silent white trails, or sat of evenings in lonely tilts.
It was after candlelight, and they were at tea, that evening, when suddenly the door opened and in walked Uncle Ben Rudder and Hiram Muggs. Uncle Ben led Hiram directly to Thomas’s bed, and Thomas greeted them warmly.
“Good gracious! Good gracious!” exclaimed Uncle Ben. “To think, now, that Thomas Angus went and broke his leg! Dear eyes!”
“’Twas a sorry mishap,” sympathized Hiram, a wiry, active little man of few words.
“Aye,” agreed Thomas, “but it might ha’ been worse. I were thinkin’ how hard ’twould ha’ been when the children were little, or a season when th’ fishin’ were poor, and I were in debt with nothin’ ahead for th’ winter.”
“H-m-m-m,” grunted Uncle Ben. “I suppose nothin’s so bad it couldn’t be worse, but bad’s bad enough for all that. Good gracious, yes!”
“Well,” said Thomas, “we have t’ take things as they come, good or bad, and th’ best way, t’ my thinkin’, is t’ take un without complaint. But set in now, and have tea.”
When tea was cleared away, and Indian Jake and Hiram and Doctor Joe were smoking their pipes comfortably at the other end of the room, Uncle Ben seated himself by Thomas’s bed and asked:
“How about th’ huntin’, Tom? I says to myself, when Davy tells me you broke your leg, ‘Tom’ll need some one, now, t’ hunt his trail on shares. Good gracious, yes!’ and so I speaks t’ Hiram, and Hiram says he’ll hunt un, and here Hiram is, ready t’ go.”
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