A NEW FRIEND
The night race with the wolves began a new phase of life for Ranald, for in that hour he gained a friend such as it falls to few lads to have. Mrs. Murray's high courage in the bush, her skill in the sick-room, and that fine spiritual air she carried with her made for her a place in his imagination where men set their divinities. The hero and the saint in her stirred his poetic and fervent soul and set it aglow with a feeling near to adoration. To Mrs. Murray also the events of that night set forth Ranald in a new light. In the shy, awkward, almost sullen lad there had suddenly been revealed in those moments of peril the cool, daring man, full of resource and capable of self-sacrifice. Her heart went out toward him, and she set herself to win his confidence and to establish a firm friendship with him; but this was no easy matter.
Macdonald Dubh and his son, living a half-savage life in their lonely back clearing, were regarded by their neighbors with a certain degree of distrust and fear. They were not like other people. They seldom mingled in the social festivities of the community, and consequently were more or less excluded from friendship and free intercourse with their neighbors. Ranald, shy, proud, and sensitive, felt this exclusion, and in return kept himself aloof even from the boys, and especially from the girls, of his own age. His attendance at school was of a fragmentary and spasmodic nature, and he never really came to be on friendly terms with his fellow-pupils. His one friend was Don Cameron, whom the boys called "Wobbles," from his gait in running, whose father's farm backed that of Macdonald Dubh. And though Don was a year older, he gave to Ranald a homage almost amounting to worship, for in all those qualities that go to establish leadership among boys, Ranald was easily first. In the sport that called for speed, courage, and endurance Ranald was chief of all. Fleet of foot, there was no runner from the Twelfth to the Twentieth that could keep him in sight, and when he stood up to fight, the mere blaze of his eyes often won him victory before a blow was struck. To Don, Ranald opened his heart more than to any one else; all others he kept at a distance.
It was in vain that Mrs. Murray, in her daily visits to Macdonald Dubh, sought to find out Ranald and to come to speech with him.
Aunt Kirsty never knew where he was, and to her calls, long and loud, from the back door and from the front, no response ever came.
It was Hughie Murray who finally brought Ranald once more into touch with the minister's wife.
They had come one early morning, Hughie with Fido "hitched" in a sled driving over the "crust" on the snow banks by the roadside, and his mother on the pony, to make their call upon the sick man.
As they drew near the house they heard a sound of hammering.
"That's Ranald, mother!" exclaimed Hughie. "Let me go and find him. I don't want to go in.""Be sure you don't go far away, then, Hughie; you know we must hurry home to-day"; and Hughie faithfully promised. But alas for Hughie's promises! when his mother came out of the house with Kirsty, he was within neither sight nor hearing.
"They will just be at the camp," said Kirsty.
"The camp?"
"Aye, the sugaring camp down yonder in the sugar bush. It is not far off from the wood road. I will be going with you.""Not at all, Kirsty," said the minister's wife. "I think I know where it is, and I can go home that way quite well. Besides, Iwant to see Ranald." She did not say she would rather see him alone.
"Indeed, he is the quare lad, and he is worse since coming back from the shanties." Kirsty was evidently much worried about Ranald.
"Never mind," said the minister's wife, kindly; "we must just be patient. Ranald is going on fast toward manhood, and he can be held only by the heart.""Aye," said Kirsty, with a sigh, "I doubt his father will never be able any more to take a strap to him.""Yes," said Mrs. Murray, smiling, "I'm afraid he is far beyond that.""Beyond it!" exclaimed Kirsty, astonished at such a doctrine.
"Indeed, and his father and his uncle would be getting it then, when they were as beeg as they will ever be, and much the better were they for it.""I don't think it would do for Ranald," said the minister's wife, smiling again as she said good by to Kirsty. Then she took her way down the wood road into the bush. She found the camp road easily, and after a quarter of an hour's ride, she heard the sound of an ax, and soon came upon the sugar camp. Ranald was putting the finishing touches to a little shanty of cedar poles and interwoven balsam brush, and Hughie was looking on in admiration and blissful delight.
"Why, that's beautiful," said Mrs. Murray; "I should like to live in a house like that myself.""Oh, mother!" shouted Hughie, "isn't it splendid? Ranald and Don are going to live in it all the sugaring time, and Ranald wants me to come, too. Mayn't I, mother? Aw, do let me."The mother looked down upon the eager face, smiled, and shook her head. "What about the night, Hughie?" she said. "It will be very dark in the woods here, and very cold, too. Ranald and Don are big boys and strong, but I'm afraid my little boy would not be very comfortable sleeping outside.""Oh, mother, we'll be inside, and it'll be awful warm--and oh, you might let me!" Hughie's tears were restrained only by the shame of weeping before his hero, Ranald.
"Well, we will see what your father says when he comes home.""Oh, mother, he will just say 'no' right off, and--"A shadow crossed his mother's face, but she only answered quietly, "Never mind just now, Hughie; we will think of it. Besides," she added, "I don't know how much Ranald wants to be bothered with a wee boy like you."Ranald gave her a quick, shy glance and answered:
"He will be no trouble, Mrs. Murray"; and then, noticing Hughie's imploring face, he ventured to add, "and indeed, I hope you will let him come. I will take good care of him."Mrs. Murray hesitated.
"Oh, mother!" cried Hughie, seeing her hesitation, "just one night;I won't be a bit afraid."
