Part 11

They fell silent again, save for the water lapping gently against their poor place of refuge. Unbearable pains were beginning to torment 'Possum; her feet, from standing on the narrow mast, were swollen and agonizingly painful, and pains like red-hot wires shot up her legs. Sometimes she let herself go into the water altogether, holding to the boat; but she was too weak to cling for long, and soon she was forced to climb back to her place of torture. Her father no longer spoke. She could see him dimly, leaning forward astride of the boat, and breathing heavily.

Somehow the hour dragged by, and again the low throb came across the lake. 'Possum strained her eyes. At first the gloom was too thick to pierce, but presently she made out a dull glow from the steamer's lights, and could see the red gleam of the lantern at her mast. 'Possum cried to her father.

"Dad! It's the Sale boat. Yell!"

O'Connor grunted heavily, half asleep, and utterly exhausted. She could get nothing more from him; and as the steamer drew nearer, she left the half-conscious man alone and uttered cry upon cry for help. Nearer and nearer yet the gleaming lights rushed upon her. She spent all her strength in a last cry, which ended in a sob as the steamer passed on.

"They've gone!" she gasped. "Well, we're done, anyhow!"

A bell clanged sharply, and with it a shout.

"Coo-ee! Who's there?"

She screamed in answer. The steamer was slackening speed, coming round in a half-circle; she could hear each clang of her telegraph. Voices came loudly.

"Who's there?"

"Any one in trouble?"

"Want help?"

But 'Possum had no words. She could only utter broken cries, that grew fainter and fainter. Her feet were slipping from the mast: she clung to the side of the boat with nerveless fingers that slipped and clawed for a fresh hold, and slipped again. Then, very dimly, it seemed, she heard the clash of oars in rowlocks, and a deep voice close to her. And then--nothing more.

She woke in a little cabin. There was a faint light. Her feet and legs were full of pain, but she was wrapped in blankets, and even the pain could not keep her from feeling gloriously warm and comfortable. A kind-faced woman came forward.

"Where's 'Dad?" 'Possum asked feebly.

"He's all right--asleep in a cabin."

"Where am I?"

"You're in the ladies' cabin on the _Omeo_," said the woman. "And I'm the stewardess, and we're tied up at Cuninghame, and you're not to worry about anything, you poor child. Drink this."

'Possum did not know what it was: but it was hot and pleasant and soothing, and the woman's kind voice was like music. There did not seem anything to worry about; she might as well go to sleep--and did so.

*CHAPTER XIII*

*AMATEUR SURGERY*

"Aileen! Aileen! Are you there?"

It was very early on a hot December morning. Tom Macleod came up the yard hurriedly. His wife appeared at the back door, broom in hand.

"What is it, Tom?"

"It's a poor beggar of a scrub-cutter," Tom said hurriedly. "You know there are two men working up the Lake? Well, one has just been down to borrow a pony. He says his mate has broken his leg--the limb of a tree fell on him: and he's gone to bring him in here: we're the nearest people. I say, you studied first aid, didn't you?"

Aileen's heart turned to water.

"I did--but it's ages ago," she said. "And I have never had any practical experience. I would be afraid to touch him."

"Well, something ought to be done," Tom said, obviously disappointed. "Don't you remember anything about it?"

Aileen racked her memory.

"I could try, of course," she said slowly. "But I should be terrified of making it worse."

"I think any sort of bandaging is better than leaving it altogether," said Tom. "Let's try, at all events. It's the lower part of the leg that's broken."

"That's easier than the thigh, at all events. Come on. I'll leave you to chop out splints while I run for an old sheet for bandages." She ran towards the wood-heap, but paused on the way to pick up an old paling. "That will do, I think," she said, and knitted her brows, striving to think of long-forgotten instructions. "I can't be perfectly certain of the lengths, but if you will cut it here--and here--it should be about right."

She came back in a few moments, and together they tore and rolled bandages swiftly.

"It's the worst of luck that the motor has gone wrong, and I can't take the poor chap down in the launch," Tom said. "It would have been such easy travelling. Now we'll have to lay him flat in the buggy, and you know what the jolting of that road is."

Aileen thought a moment.

"There's a better way than letting him lie down," she said. "I read of it the other day. You lash a padded board, stretching across from the seat to the splashboard, and let the patient sit up in the ordinary way--the good leg hanging down, and the broken one strapped to the board. The paper said the patient would hardly feel a jolt."

"Well, I know the lying-down position is simply torture, so we'll try your way," Tom said. "With luck, we may catch the Bairnsdale boat with him--it doesn't go until nine, and it's only seven o'clock now. I hope they won't be long. The fellow who came in said he could manage to get him here on the pony, so I thought it was better for me to wait and get things ready here. I'll fix that board, if you will find something to pad it. Is Garth up?"

"He's in his bath, I think."

"You might tell him to hurry and run the horses up as soon as he's dressed. I'll get the buggy out. I expect the poor beggar will want some nourishment--and a drink."

"We'll give him brandy before I touch the leg; and I have some strong soup I can 'hot up' for him to take afterwards."

"That's good," Tom said approvingly. "If time is short, you could drive him in, couldn't you? and I'd ride ahead and try to hold the steamer back. I'm sure the captain would wait, under the circumstances."

"Splendid idea! I'm certain he would wait. But perhaps we won't need to," Aileen said. "I'll go and get everything ready, and fix up some breakfast for Garth."

"Get something to eat yourself," Tom called after her. She shook her head, smiling, as she hurried in: breakfast for herself was the last thing to be thought of. But Tom came after her with long strides.

"Be sensible, dear," he said. "It may be an ugly job; and you don't want to turn faint or have unsteady hands, for the poor chap's sake."

"That's true," Aileen admitted. "Aren't you sensible! Well, I will eat something." She smiled into his eyes, and was gone.

Garth, half-dressed, went flying down the paddock, and was soon urging the horses up the hill, with shrill shouts, to the stockyard. In a few minutes the buggy was ready, with the padded board in position. Just as Tom tied up the horses Roany whinneyed; and turning, he saw Jane, led by the scrub-cutter, coming up the hill, the injured man riding. A "Coo-ee!" brought Aileen hurrying out. She ran to the gate.

The patient was little more than a boy. He was crouched on the pony, leaning forward: one hand steadying himself on Jane's withers, the other under his knee, supporting the broken leg. As he saw Aileen his white face twisted into a smile, and he freed the hand under his knee that he might lift his hat. The leg sagged downwards. A cry broke from her.

"Oh, please, don't! Take care of your leg!"

The effort was almost the finishing touch to the long agony of the ride. The boy went forward helplessly, and, abandoning Jane, Tom and his mate lifted him off and laid him on the grass under the quince-tree. A little colour came back to his lips, and he gasped, "Sorry!" Tom slipped a hand under his head, holding brandy to his lips.

"Cow of a trip!" said the other scrub-cutter. "Had to carry him downhill and across the creek on me back, an' you know what the scrub is there! I fell twice with him. Mighty good luck the bone ain't through the skin, but it ain't. It's broke in two places, though."

Aileen was on her knees on the grass, feeling the leg gently. Before, she had been sick with nervousness; but in the presence of the boy's agony, every thought but one fled from her--to help him. She was perfectly cool.

"I'm afraid I've got to hurt you," she said. "I'll be as quick as I can."

She ran her hands up and down the leg, feeling, with an involuntary shudder, the bones grate under the skin, She must get it straight, she knew. Gently, but firmly, she pulled it into position. Once she heard him gasp, but her hands did not falter. It was straight at last, and she signed to Tom. "Hold it--just like that."

She laid the splints in position, and bandaged them tightly, forgotten deftness coming back to her. Round and round the firm hands went steadily, until the leg, swathed like a mummy, stuck out stiffly before her. Then she sat back on her heels.

"That's all I can do," she said, finding her lips stiff and dry. The voice was not like her own. "Look carefully, Tom, and tell me if you think it is straight."

"As far as I can see--perfectly," Tom said, peering at the leg.

"I guess it's straight," said the patient cheerfully, "'cause it don't hurt now, hardly a bit. An' it was a fair caution before you touched it. Where'd you learn how, mum?"

But Aileen had no power to answer. She found herself suddenly shuddering, and drenched in perspiration. Tom put his hand on her shoulders, and made her drink a little brandy.

"Oh, I was so afraid!" she whispered, "so dreadfully afraid! Are you sure it's straight?"

"It must be," he said gently, "or he wouldn't be out of pain. Pull yourself together, dear--remember we haven't much time. And he must have the soup."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm all right, Tom; don't worry. Will you two get him into the buggy while I bring the soup?" She hurried away.

When she came back, with the steaming cup in her hand, the patient was sitting up in the buggy, wearing a wide smile, while Tom strapped the leg to the board above the knee and at the foot. Garth stood sentry-fashion at the horse's head, his eyes shining with excitement.

"By Jove, that's good!" said the broken-legged one, tasting the soup. "And I'd hardly know me ol' laig was broke, I'm that comfortable. You're a great doctor, ain't you now, Mrs. Macleod?"

"I hope I didn't hurt you much," she said, smiling at him faintly. She was still trembling.

"Not you. That ol' pony hurt like fury, an' it was a fair caution when Bill fell down with me. Twice, he did; Bill's a great hand at fallin'." He grinned at Bill.

"Thank y'r lucky stars I was big enough to carry y'r great carcase," said that worthy, not at all abashed. "Might as well be decently grateful: I can tell you, you ain't no luxury to carry!"

"Finished?" Tom asked, handing the empty cup to Garth. "Get the place tidy, son; mother's going to drive in. We'll be back soon." He helped Aileen to the driver's seat, handing her the reins. "You haven't too much time. I'll go ahead and try to hold the boat. Jump up behind"--to the mate. "I'll leave the gates open as I go, and you can shut them." He swung himself upon the pony, and trotted down the hill.

It was with a shiver of dread that Aileen felt the first severe jolt as they jogged over the rough paddock track. She glanced anxiously at her patient.

"Did that hurt you much?"

"'Ardly felt it," said he. "This dodge of yours is the best ever I see. Every one else puts a man full length on a mattress, an' crikey! don't it hurt! Every little jolt'll make a man howl. But this is like bein' in an armchair, and the jolts don't seem to worry you at all." They bumped heavily over a tussock, and his calmness bore out the truth of his words.

She was thankful for it, for there was no time to waste. Her patient, smoking and chattering, was apparently indifferent as to whether he caught the steamer. "I don't reckon any ol' doctor is goin' to make a better job of this laig than you done," he said, carelessly. But to Aileen it was unthinkable that they should not catch it. She had no belief in her own ability to set a broken leg properly. That the boy should be cheerful, and almost out of pain, was a kind of pleasant miracle, but she could not realize that her unskilled hands could possibly have caused it. She would not have been surprised if, at any moment, he had broken down again in shivering agony. The dread lest she should have made some mistake almost choked her--how could she ever face him in the future if the leg she had doctored were crooked, or shorter than the other? He was such a boy! She could not bear to think that he might be crippled, and because of her.

"I say!" said the patient, suddenly alert. "There's a snake! Do stop, Mrs. Macleod, and let Bill kill the brute."

"Not for fifty snakes!" said Aileen firmly. She brought down the whip with emphasis on Roany's back. The snake, a big brown one, slid away into a patch of bracken.

"I don't believe in letting snakes go," said the patient severely. "You never can tell where it's going to turn up again. It's like leavin' poison lyin' about loose where there's kids. You wouldn't like your own kid to meet that chap if he was runnin' about in the scrub, not thinkin'."

Aileen had a feeling of having been put in the corner by a small boy.

"I know," she said meekly. "And I truly would not leave it, if we had time. But this is a lonely part, and there are no children--and it is very important to get you to a doctor quickly. If we miss the boat, you know, it means waiting a whole day."

"Ah, doctors!" said the boy scornfully. "I knew one once in South Gippsland where a chap broke his laig, same as me, and some one set it, and got him pretty right for the time bein'. They took him home an' wired for a doctor to a place ten mile away, tellin' him what was the matter, so's he'd bring the proper fixin's. He come along after a bit, took off the setting an' looked at the laig, an' said it was set all right, an' he'd left the splints an' things at the hotel, an' he must go an' get them. So he left that laig with nothin' on it but a blanket, an' went off; an' he didn't come back for seven hours!"

"But why?"

"Why? 'Cause he was playin' billiards an' havin' a good time. That's why. They sent ever so many messages to him, an' the poor chap lay there, with his laig swellin' something cruel. Then the doctor come back at last, an' if you'll believe me he'd never brought a thing with him! He took them old bandages an' rough bits of wood they'd used for splints--the things he'd taken off an' chucked aside in the morning--an' put 'em on the laig again: all dirty, they was, from bein' against his ol' workin' pants."

"But why did he not bring the proper things?"

"Nobody never knew. He didn't, anyhow. When that laig was set first, by the chap as did it in the Bush, it was as straight and comft'ble as anything could be. But when that beautiful doctor done it, it wasn't straight. He put on the things quite loose and careless. The man's mate was there, an' said so, an' the doctor flared up like & packet of crackers. 'Do you think I don't know me business?' says he. 'I'm blooming well sure you don't,' says the mate."

"What did he say to that?" Aileen asked.

"Not a thing. You couldn't insult him--he hadn't no decent pride. He just finished tyin' up the poor bloke's laig, an' went off, sayin' he'd come back in three days an' look at him. But the chap suffered very bitter in his heel all night, an' next morning his foot was stickin' out turned half-ways round. They sent five mile into the Bush for the man that had set it first, to come an' straighten it an' set it again."

"Did he?"

"No, he had sense. He said he couldn't take the responsibility of touching it. So they packed the poor chap an' his laig up on a stretcher, with the laig just as the doctor had left it, an' sent him up to the Melbourne Hospital. They said it was the laughin'-stock of the whole place--they asked was it a doctor as had done it, or a goanna?"

"I never heard of such a thing!" Aileen breathed. "Did he--was he lame afterwards?"

"Well, he wasn't, but it was luck. And it was ages before he was better, an' him out of work all the time. So that's why I ain't in any hurry to get to any ol' doctors. Me laig's comft'ble now, an' I'd like it to stay so."

"But all doctors aren't like that, thank goodness," Aileen said. "I know one who saved my boy's life. And when he comes into a house where there is sickness, you feel as if he had suddenly shouldered all your troubles."

"Oh, I suppose there's good and bad in all trades!" her patient admitted handsomely. "Only that fool Englishman in South Gippsland was the only one I ever met very intimate, so to speak. But I've heard they're good in Bairnsdale."

"I know they are," Aileen assured him. "And there's a big, comfortable hospital where you'll be splendidly looked after. You see, it's all very well now, when you haven't had time to get tired; but you will be glad enough to be in bed after a while."

"I s'pose I will; but I never was in bed a day in me life," he said ruefully. "Oh, well, if I'm fool enough to let a limb hit me, I got to pay for it."

They were approaching the outskirts of the township. Scattered houses came in view, and the roar of the surf grew plainer as they drew near to the narrow lagoon that lies between Cuninghame and the sand hummocks of the Ninety Mile Beach. Above it came three long discordant hoots.

"My word, that's the steamer!" said the man at the back. "Can you get a bit more out of that ol' pony, mum?"

Aileen was already plying the whip, much to Roany's disgust. He shook his head angrily from side to side, and finally broke into a lurching canter. Tom came in view, riding to meet them.

"Hurry all you can!" he said briefly. "The captain has kept the steamer almost as long as he dares; you see, he carries the mail from some places. I'll tell him you're coming."

They turned into the esplanade, and rocked down past the houses and the stores. Near the wharf a knot of people waited, gazing curiously at them. The paddle-steamer was at the wharf, smoke pouring from her funnel. Aileen could see the tall figure of the captain leaning over the railing. He shouted something she could not hear. She pulled up near the wharf, with a sigh of relief.

There were plenty of willing hands to help to carry the patient to the steamer. The captain had offered his cabin, but the boy begged to be left on deck.

"I'll be inside four walls long enough, I expect," he said. "Let's stop out here." So they propped him up where he could look across the lake, with his bandaged leg sticking stiffly out in front of him. He looked at it with a wry smile.

"A nice object, you are!" he said. He held out his hand to Aileen. "Thanks, Mrs. Macleod. If I've ever the luck to be able to do a good turn for you, I'll do it."

"But you would do that if you'd never hurt your leg," she said, laughing. "I think all Gippslanders are ready to do good turns! Take care of yourself, and good luck!" She turned to his mate. "You'll let us know how he gets on?"

"My word, yes," said Bill. He also shook hands vigorously. "Great bit of luck we struck you, mum, anyhow!"

The steamer gave an agonized hoot, and Tom and Aileen sought the wharf hurriedly. They stood, watching, while the big, top-heavy-looking, boat moved slowly out from the wharf, with great churnings of her paddles, and set off down the lagoon towards the lake opening out ahead. Aileen suddenly realized that she was very tired.

"And the washing-up not done!" she said. "It's very bad management to begin the day with such dissipation! Come home, Tom."

"Right-oh!" Tom answered. "I'll lead Jane, and come with you in the buggy." He helped her in, and they jogged back along the esplanade. "Are you very done up, my girl?"

"Oh, a little bit tired," she said. "I think it's more from fear than anything else."

"Well, you had no reason to be afraid," he said. "Your job was all right. I was proud of you! But it wasn't an easy thing to tackle. However, none of us need worry now when we break an odd limb or two: all we have to do is to get as comfortable as possible, light a pipe, and wait for you!"

"If you dare----!" said his wife, laughing.

"Why not? But apart from joking, Aileen, our 'Possum has been having adventures. They told me about it when I was waiting for you at the wharf." He told her the story of the wrecked boat.

"And where is she now?" Aileen asked anxiously. "Is she ill?"

"Her feet and legs are pretty painful, they said. But she wouldn't see a doctor, or stay in Cuninghame; and her father was better, so he took her home yesterday."

"I must go over and see if I can do anything," Aileen said decidedly.

"Well, I thought you'd like to. But are you fit for it, dear?"

"I shall be quite all right, especially when I have some tea!" she said. "Tea is the one thing my soul craves for."

"I'll brew the largest teapot in the house directly we get home," Tom said. "And you will just keep quiet and take things easy. You won't need to do any cooking, will you?"

"I should like to take a basket of things over to the O'Connors," she said. "But I won't do much, really, Tom. I'll starve my poor family on 'Possum's account!"

"If I believed that you would, I'd be contented," he said. "But I know you better. When shall we go over?"

"Oh, after dinner. We'll take Garth--the poor man has had a horrid morning."

Garth did not consider that he had had a horrid morning at all. It was not every day that the thrilling excitement of a broken leg came his way; and later, he had found enormous satisfaction in dusting and tidying the house, and in spurring Horrors to amazing efforts in the kitchen. The housework was done by the time the buggy drew up at the back gate--if the corners were not above reproach, Aileen knew better than to look at them. She looked instead at her little son's glowing face, and kissed him, with moist eyes; and Tom's deep "Well done, old man!" sent Garth into the seventh heaven.

There was a big basket stowed in the back of the buggy when they set off early in the afternoon: such things as might relieve the anxieties of a crippled housekeeper and of a cook of twelve. A big piece of cooked mutton; a crisp, brown loaf of soda bread, and a bundle of scones tied up in a fresh, white cloth; a big cake of the kind that invites hungry people to cut and come again, and, in a special corner, a glass of jelly and a sponge cake, warm yet, and light and puffy: things to tempt an invalid.

"Won't it be 'strordinary to see 'Possum in bed?" Garth chattered. "Do you think she has dungaree nighties, mother?"

O'Connor's farm lay two miles away, in a dark valley between hills covered with gum trees. There was no gate leading into it: only heavy slip-rails, fitting into rusty horse shoes nailed to posts on either side. Like their own farm, it had scarcely any homestead track: they bumped over tussocks and rough ground, and wriggled a tortuous way round logs and clumps of scrub. 'Possum and her father nearly always rode; and the children walked two miles across the paddocks to the little Bush school. There were few wheel-marks on O'Connor's land.

Little Joe was playing on the wood-heap near the door as the Macleods drove up. He greeted Garth with a grin of joy, and Garth's father and mother with shy pleasure.

"How is 'Possum, Joe?" asked Aileen, descending. "Is she asleep?"

"'Poss? Asleep? Gwacious, no!" said 'Possum's brother, in amazement. "She's feeding the calf. Come on down to the shed."