The Winds of Chance eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 494 pages of information about The Winds of Chance.

The Winds of Chance eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 494 pages of information about The Winds of Chance.

And the manner in which he had allowed her to learn all the truth about herself—­bit by bit as her resistance grew—­his sympathy, his repression, his support!  He had to know just how far to go; he had spared her every possible heartache, he had never permitted her to suffer a moment of trepidation as to herself.  No.  Her first conscious feeling, now that she recalled it, had been one of implicit, unreasoning faith in him.  That confidence had increased with every hour; dismay, despair, the wish to die had given place to resignation, then to hope, and now to a brave self-confidence.  Rouletta knew that her deliverance had been miraculous and that this man, this total stranger, out of the goodness of his heart, had given her back her life.  She never ceased pondering over it.

She was now sitting motionless, comb and brush in hand, when ’Poleon came into the tent for a second time and aroused her from her abstraction.  She hastily completed her toilette, and was sitting curled up on her bed when the aroma of boiling coffee and the sound of frying steak brought her to her feet.  With a noisy clatter she enthusiastically arranged the breakfast dishes.

“How wonderful it is to have an appetite in the morning!” said she; then:  “This is the last time you’re going to cook.  You may chop the wood and build the fires, but I shall attend to the rest.  I’m quite able.”

“Bien!” The pilot smiled his agreement.  “Everybody mus’ work to be happy—­even dose dog.  Wat you t’ink?  Dey loaf so long dey begin fight, jus’ lak’ people.”  He chuckled.  “Pretty queeck we hitch her up de sled an’ go fly to Dyea.  You goin’ henjoy dat, ma soeur.  Mebbe we meet dose cheechako’ comin’ in an’ dey holler:  ’Hallo, Frenchy!  How’s t’ing’ in Dawson?’ an’ we say:  ‘Pouf!  We don’ care ‘bout Dawson; we goin’ home.’”

“Home!” Rouletta paused momentarily in her task.

“Sure!  Now—­voila,!  Breakfas’ she’s serve in de baggage-car.  “With a flourish he poured the coffee, saying, “Let’s see if you so hongry lak you pretend, or if I’m goin’ keep you in bed some more.”

Rouletta’s appetite was all—­yes, more—­than she had declared it to be.  The liberality with which she helped herself to oatmeal, her lavish use of the sugar—­spoon, and her determined attack upon the can of “Carnation” satisfied any lingering doubts in Doret’s mind.  Her predatory interest in the appetizing contents of the frying-pan—­she eyed it with the greedy hopefulness of a healthy urchin—­also was eloquent of a complete recovery and brought a thrill of pride to her benefactor.

“Gosh!  I mak’ bad nurse for hospital,” he grinned.  “You eat him out of house an’ lot.”  He finished his meal, then looked on until Rouletta leaned back with regretful satisfaction; thereupon he broke out: 

“Wal, I got more s’prise for you.”

“You—­you can’t surprise a toad, and—­I feel just like one.  Isn’t food good?”

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
The Winds of Chance from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.