Billy Topsail, M.D.

"I wisht you had!" said Jonathan.

Billy Topsail got to windward of Jonathan to speak his mind in the old man's ear. It seemed to Billy that Toby's case was hopeless. The lad would freeze. There was no help for it. And the sooner his suffering was over – the better.

"Let un die," Billy pleaded.

Jonathan shook his head and flashed at Billy. Yet Billy had spoken kindness and plain wisdom. But Jonathan was in a rage with him. Billy heard his icicles rattle. And Jonathan glared in wrath through the white fringe of his brows.

"Go to!" he exclaimed.

"My pants is froze stiff!" said Toby in amazement. "That's comical! I can't move me legs." And then he whimpered with pain and misery and fear. "I'll freeze stiff!" said he. "I'll die!"

It was coming fast.

"You can't save un," Billy insisted, in Jonathan's ear. "He'll freeze afore dark. Let un go."

"I'll never give up," Jonathan protested.

"I'm awful mis'able, gran'pa," said Toby. "What'll I do now?"

"Ah, have mercy!" Billy begged. "Let un slip away quick an' be gone."

Jonathan peered around.

"Mus' be some dead men, Billy," said he, "lyin' around here somewheres."

Dead men enough in the drifts!

"More than a hundred," said Archie. "I counted a hundred and nine through the day."

"I'll find one," said Jonathan.

"No time, Jonathan."

"They're lyin' handy. I fell over Jack Brace somewheres near here."

"Night's closin'," said Billy.

"No time t' lose," Jonathan agreed.

"Speed then!" Billy exclaimed. "He'll freeze fast afore you find one."

"Guard the lad," said Jonathan. "I'll not be long. Try his temper. He'll fight if you tease un."

With that, then, old Jonathan Farr ran off to dig a dead man from the drifts. The boys could not see him in the snow. All this while the wind was biting and pushing and choking them still – the snow was mixed with the first dusk. Toby was shivering then – cowering from the wind, head down. And he was dull. His head nodded. He swayed in the wind – caught his feet; and he jerked himself awake – and nodded and swayed again. Billy Topsail thought it a pity and a wrong to rouse him. Yet both boys turned to keep him warm.

Toby must have the life kept in him, they thought, until his grandfather got back. And they cuffed him and teased him until his temper was hot, poor lad, and he fought them in a passion – stumbling at them, hampered by his frozen clothes, and striking at them with his stiff arms and icy fists.

Jonathan came then.

"I can't find no dead men," he panted. It was hard for him to breast the wind. He was gasping with haste and fear. "I've hunted," said he, "an' I can't find no dead men."

"They're lyin' thick hereabouts," said Billy.

"They're all covered up. I can't find un."

"Did you kick the drifts?" Archie asked. "We've strayed wide," said Jonathan. "I can't find no dead men. An' I can't walk well no more."

"Watch the lad," said Billy. "I'll try my hand."

Toby was lying down. Jonathan caught him up from the ice and held him in his arms.

"Quick!" he cried. "He've fell asleep. Ah, he's freezin'!"

It was coming dark fast. There was no time to waste in the gale that was blowing. The frost was putting Toby to sleep. Billy sped. He searched the drifts like a dog for a dead man. And soon he had luck. He found Long Jerry Cuff, of Providence Arm, a chunk of ice, poor man! – lying in a cuddle, arms folded and knees drawn up, like a child snuggled in bed. Long Jerry had been in the water, soaked to the skin, and he was solid and useless. And then Billy came on a face and a fur cap in a drift of snow. It was George Hunt, of Bullet Bight, with whom Billy had once sailed, in fishing weather, to Thumb-and-Finger of the Labrador.

Long Jerry was lying flat on his back with his arms flung out and his legs spread. And he was frozen fast to the floe. Billy could not budge him. No. Billy caught him by the head and lifted – he was stiff as a plank; and Billy failed. And Billy took him by the foot and pried a leg loose – and ripped at it with all his might; and again he failed. Solid as stone! They must all have been solid like that. And then Billy knew that it was no use to try any more – that they could not strip the clothes from a dead man if they had a dead man to strip.

And then he went disconsolate to Jonathan.

CHAPTER XLI

In Which a Dead Man is Made to Order for Little Toby Farr

"Couldn't you find none?" cried Jonathan.

"Yes."

"Where is he?"

"No use, Jonathan. He's froze fast t' the ice. I couldn't budge un."

"We'll all – "

Billy shook his head.

"No use, Jonathan," he said again. "He's hard as stone. We couldn't strip un."

Jonathan said nothing to that. He was in a muse. Presently he looked up.

Then he said:

"It don't matter."

"How's Toby?" Billy asked.

Toby was on his feet.

"I'm all right," he answered for himself. "Isn't I doin' pretty well for me, gran'pa?"