ack, to the lakes, and then from Martin's
to "Harri'tstown," where he knew a surgeon of repute from a great city
was spending his vacation. It was touch-and-go with Harry before Scott
and Dr. Drake got back. Sary had dosed him with venison-broth, hot and
greasy, weak whiskey and water, and a little milk (only a little), for
their cow was old and pastured chiefly on leaves and twigs, and she only
came back to the shanty when she liked or needed to come, so their milk
supply was uncertain, and Sary dared not leave her patient long enough
to row to the end of Tupper's Lake, where the nearest cow was kept. But
youth has a power of recovery that defies circumstance, and Dr. Drake
was very skilful. Long weeks went by, and the green woods of July had
brightened and faded into October's dim splendor before Harry McAlister
could be carried up the river and over to Bartlett's, where his mother
had been called to meet him. She was a widow, and he her only child;
and, though she was rather silly and altogether unpractical, she had a
tender, generous heart, and was ready to do anything possible for Scott
and Sarah Peck to show her gratitude for their kindness to her boy. She
did not consult Harry at all. He had lost much blood from his accident
and recovered strength slowly. She kept everything like thought or
trouble out of his way as far as she could, and when the family
physician found her heart was set on taking him to Florida for the
winter, because he looked pale and her grandmother's aunt had died of
consumption, Dr. Peet, like a wise man, rubbed his hands together,
bowed, and assured her it would be the very thing. But something must be
done for the Pecks before she went away. It occurred to her how
difficult it must be for them to row everywhere in a small boat. A horse
would be much better. Even if the roads were not good they could ride,
Sarah behind Scott. And so useful in farming, too. Her mind was made up
at once. She dispatched a check for three hundred dollars to Peter Haas,
her old coachman, who had bought a farm in Vermont with his savings, and
retired, with the cook for his wife, into the private life of a farmer.
Mrs. McAlister had much faith in Peter's knowledge of horses and his
honesty. She wrote him to buy a strong, steady animal, and convey it to
Scott Peck, either sending him word to come up to Bartlett's after it,
or taking it down the river; but, at any rate, to make sure he had it.
If the check would not p