Other formats

    TEI XML file   ePub eBook file  

Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

Uncles Three

Chapter XIII — The Rescue of Uncle Stephen

page 149

Chapter XIII
The Rescue of Uncle Stephen

Look!" cried Jan. "Look!" We pressed our noses against the window, watching the man whom Jock thought he had shot demolishing beef and potatoes with a very lively appetite.

It was Mr McPherson. There was no doubt about it, and we were so relieved that Jan giggled again and Jock gasped weakly. Unfortunately he fell against the pane and made such a noise that Mrs McPherson looked up and caught sight of us. She came out, swept us with a look, and held the door open for us to pass through.

"I was expecting you," she said, grimly.

We accepted her invitation—we had no choice in the matter—and, feeling rather like a band of prisoners, trooped into the kitchen. Even Jan did not laugh now—her merriment had suddenly dried up. Mrs McPherson surveyed us as we stood in a dejected heap, our eyes on Mr McPherson, who seemed to be enjoying his dinner.

"You left something behind you, down by the river," she said to Jock.

Fascinated, we watched her. Without another page 150word she stalked to the corner, and returned with Rob's gun. She held it out to Jock.

"You'll be wanting it again," she said.

She pushed it toward him, and Jock stood looking at it, without speaking. Then suddenly his lips quivered. Jock is small for his age, and he looked such a little boy that even Mrs McPherson softened. Mr McPherson put down his knife and fork.

"I was mending the fence down by the river," he said, deliberately, "when some one fired, and a bullet went whizzing past. Missed me so nearly that I jabbed my hand with my knife."

He held up a bandaged hand, and we gazed at him, wide-eyed.

"Then that," said Jan, in a tense voice, "was the blood."

It all came out then, and really and truly I believe there is good in every one. We were all somewhat afraid of Mr McPherson, but he proved so kind and sympathetic that I have liked him ever since. He even made light of his wound.

"It's only a scratch. We won't say anything about it," he remarked, with a twinkle. "You'll not go shooting again, Jock? "

"I won't ever touch a gun," Jock promised, fervently.

Even Mrs McPherson forgave him, and feeling quite light-hearted we made our way down to the page 151river once more. It was such a relief to find that nothing terrible had happened after all. Jan was rather quiet, but Jock skipped and ran over the tussocks and gathered cups and saucers and packed them in the baskets.

"I was standing just over there," he said. "That bunch of manuka must have hidden Mr McPherson, and I didn't see him, and shot, and——"

"It's all right now," Jan said, soothingly. "You must forget all about it now. It's a wonder you didn't see him, but the manuka is pretty thick. Why—why—what——"

"What's the matter?" I asked.

Suddenly Jan sprang into the air, and began waving frantically.

"There's some one on the island," she cried. "In the stream with the broom-bushes—over there, do you see? He's waving to us, and I do believe it's Uncle Stephen."

"It is Uncle Stephen," I cried. "I'm sure it's Uncle Stephen. But what's he waiting for? Why doesn't he ride over? "

I looked at Jan. Jan looked at me. We both looked at Jock. And then we grasped what had happened.

Jock had shot at a rabbit, missed Mr McPherson, and wounded Uncle Stephen.

page 152

At last Jan spoke.

"There's one thing," she said, hopefully. "He's waving, so he's still alive." She paused, and a light came into her eyes. "We must save him," she cried. "We must get him off that island at once."

"How?" I asked weakly, while Jock, who had collapsed like a pricked balloon, looked up with frightened eyes.

"We'll ride over. You catch old Nell. She's over there, nibbling at the tent. I'll take Paweka. We'll probably need some bandages. He may be faint from loss of blood. Give me your handkerchiefs."

We gave them up willingly. At least Jock hadn't one, and Jan looked doubtful when she saw mine. Well, she need not have been so particular; her own was not speckless either. She tore them into strips, wound them into a business-like roll, and put them in the pocket of her jumper.

"Now I'll get Paweka. Jock, you help Ngaire with old Nell."

Old Nell is a high horse—far too high for my liking, but with some help from Jock I managed to climb her precipitous sides and reached the summit safely. Jan came up on Paweka.

"Are you ready?" she asked. "It's all right, Uncle Stephen. We're coming!"

page 153

She put her hand to her lips, and shouted the encouraging message. It was growing late, but we could still see Uncle Stephen, and he waved to us again. Jock stood on the bank, and watched us as we prepared to take the ford. He looked so small and alone and terrified, and he had so much on his conscience—Mr McPherson who wasn't shot, and Uncle Stephen who was—that my heart ached. He looked hopefully at Jan.

"What'll I do?" he asked.

"You?" asked Jan. She paused, and her eyes grew soft." You'll—we'll probably have to bathe his forehead with water. Damp your handkerchief —no, you haven't got one. Tear a piece out of the sleeve of your shirt, Jock."

There were no half measures about Jan. We left Jock struggling with the sleeve of his ranger shirt, and rode away to the rescue. The stream, which divided the island from the mainland, was a narrow one, which was fortunate, as my heart was in my mouth all the time. Even as it was, the water was swift; Uncle Stephen could never have crossed it on foot. We saw him waiting for us, and galloped up the island toward him. Just before we reached him Jan turned to me.

"Don't excite him," she advised. "Just treat him in an ordinary way. Talk as if it were nothing to get your arm blown off. Probably his humerus is shattered."

page 154

"Oh!" I cried, horrified, and not feeling at all soothing.

"Remember," whispered Jan. "Hullo, Uncle Stephen!"

Uncle Stephen came toward us. He looked a little pale, and held his arm stiffly, but he was quite able to speak to us when we appeared. Jan was very helpful; she took matters into her own hands.

"Some idiot, rabbit-shooting, grazed my arm." Uncle explained. "Gave me a bit of a shock, knocked me off my horse, in fact, and before I could reach him he was off over the river. I'll ride Paweka. I suppose you two can manage old Nell."

"It's all right, dear," Jan said, soothingly. "Leave it to us. We'll have you safely home in no time."

"It's all right," I quavered, though the sight of Uncle with a streak of blood on his sleeve made me feel queer.

Uncle looked at us in surprise. He would have mounted Paweka straight away, but Jan would not let him. She told me afterward that she knew she must be careful. The first aid books all said "Treat for shock," and Jan had passed ninety per cent in first aid. So she "treated for shock." She was very calm.

"You must ride old Nell, Uncle dear," she said.

page 155

"She's quiet. Ngaire and I can hang on to Paweka. But first, shall I see to your arm? And how do you feel, Uncle? I'll hold you up if you like. Lean on me, dear."

Uncle looked at her, and there was a queer expression on his face, and the wrinkles round his eyes grew more pronounced. But he became suddenly much weaker.

"Thank you, Jan. That's right, Ngaire. Thank you. Yes, Jan, I believe I can manage all right. That is a very good idea—that's much better— but was it really necessary?"

Jan had manufactured a rough sling out of my jumper. I liked that jumper too; it was cream with a scarlet collar. Uncle looked quite rakish with it hanging round his neck. We went across the river again, Jan lending a supporting arm. Jock stood on the bank and watched us, and when we appeared proffered a piece of wet grey flannel. Uncle looked at it dubiously.

"It's to bathe your forehead," Jock explained.

"Thank you," Uncle Stephen said.

Jock gulped.

"I shot you," he cried. "I—didn't mean to. I went to shoot a rabbit, and missed Mr McPherson, and I must have hit you. I didn't mean to."

Jan is right—Uncle Stephen is a dear. The laugh which had been hiding away back in his eyes found its way to the corners of his mouth, page 156and he smiled, very kindly. He held out his uninjured arm, and Jock caught his hand.

"I want some one to steady me when we're riding up to the house," Uncle said. "Jump up, will you, Jock?"

One moment Jock looked at Uncle, and then with a cry he sprang on to the horse, and we set off for the house. We made quite an imposing procession, Jan, like Stonewall Jackson, marching ahead. Miss Owen and Mr Smythe, who had delayed their departure, left their tennis, and came running up with Uncle Dan and Kathie. Mrs McPherson caught sight of us through a window, and rushed out. Maggie and Mary, Billy, the cowboy, and two collie pups, brought up the rear.

"Bless me! What's happened?" Uncle John cried, hurrying out. "What have those children been doing now, Stephen? "

"Uncle Stephen has been wounded," Jan said gravely, motioning Uncle John back. "I'll help you down, Uncle Stephen. Uncle John, have you any stimulant? He may need a little. Mrs McPherson, we shall need some hot water. Is the kettle on?"

Uncle John gasped; Uncle Dan chuckled; Mrs McPherson nearly fell over in surprise; and Jan, with Uncle Stephen leaning on her, made her way to the house. We followed at a respect-page 157ful distance. Uncle Stephen sank weakly into a chair in the dining-room. He did not speak, and his lips quivered.

"How did it all happen? Is it serious? Bless my soul! What is it all about?" Uncle John demanded testily.

"Just a slight accident. I got stranded on the river-bed, and Jan and Ngaire rescued me," Uncle answered at last. "It's only a scratch. It will be all right in the morning."

"I'll bandage it for you," Jan said, in a business-like way.

Uncle turned pale.

"Mrs McPherson——" he began.

"I'd love to. It's quite easy. I know how— I learned at school."

Uncle Stephen shook his head.

"Mrs McPherson would not like it. She would be offended if we overlooked her altogether. You have managed splendidly, Jan, and I'm very grateful. But we must not forget Mrs McPherson."

Jan sighed, but she saw the wisdom of Uncle's remarks. Mrs McPherson was not a woman to be lightly passed over.

"I'll tell her how to bandage, though," she said, hopefully.

Mrs McPherson, however, would not listen to her, and—well, to tell the truth, she ordered us out of the room, and, since a discussion would page 158have been too exciting for Uncle, we obeyed her.

"But I hope Uncle won't be the sufferer," Jan said darkly. "Mrs McPherson is putting on that bandage quite incorrectly. I've a good mind to go back and tell her so."

"I would," I advised, laughing.

Uncle would not retire to bed either, though Jan strongly recommended it. He insisted upon sitting up to dinner, and eating exciting food, like roast duck, when Jan advised gruel. He seemed tired, and looked older and greyer than usual, but his eyes were smiling when he looked at us. He declared that our presence of mind had saved his life, which, of course, was gratifying.

"I was just making up my mind to spend the night—and perhaps eternity—on the island, when they appeared with Paweka, and took me off," Uncle said.

He talked to Jock for a long time that evening, and Jock told us afterward that he was never going to shoot again.

"Uncle Stephen doesn't, and I don't mean to," he said. "There are men all over the world who study animals and wild things, and never kill them. Mr Somerset is one of them, Uncle says, and I'm going to be like him."

I was surprised. I was astonished to hear anything good of Patrick Wayne Somerset. I had page 159always thought he was rather a "stick-you-on-the-end-of-a-pin" sort of man. I did not know he was one of the other kind, who loved the wild things of the hills and woods. I had one of my streaks of liking for him.

That evening I slipped out of my bed, put on my dressing-gown, and went out on the veranda, as Pipi and I often did on hot nights. It was very beautiful there in the stillness, with the dew falling on the hot earth, drawing the sweetness of the flowers, like prayers, into the air. The roses showed pale faces in the darkness; one little soft-leaved thing brushed against my face like a kiss as I passed. I climbed into my perch in the jasmine, and it was not till then that I realized that I was not alone. Uncle John and Uncle Stephen were sitting in the deck-chairs. I heard Uncle John's voice.

"The young rascal. It was lucky for him that he didn't have me to deal with. And Jan rescued you with Ngaire to help her?"

He was laughing as he spoke; he seemed to be enjoying some joke. Suddenly I remembered the twinkle in Uncle Stephen's eyes, the weakness which had overtaken him on the island, the way he had suffered us to lead him home in triumph.

"They enjoyed it so. I hadn't the heart to enlighten them. I could not tell them that the wound was only a scratch, and I felt none the page 160worse for it. They were building such hopes on my immediate collapse and permanent disablement. But I drew the line at first aid from Jan," added Uncle, with a laugh.

"I wonder," said Uncle John, slowly, "how Jan will grow up? She is so unexpected, rather like a cyclone at times. I never know what she is going to shatter next."

"Jan will turn out all right," Uncle Stephen said, and I knew his eyes held the old half-smiling, half-sad look. "She has character and humour, and she is still at the hoydenish age. One of these days she will grow up unexpectedly—and may that day be far off," finished Uncle, fervently.

"It's bound to be unexpected," chuckled Uncle John. "Now Ngaire—"

Then suddenly I realized I was eavesdropping. I slipped down from the creepers, and ran as quickly and as quietly as I could back to bed.

But I should like to have heard what they said about me.