The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail [83]
days. And that reminds me--" she hurried to the pantry and returned with the teapot--"you must be cold, Superintendent. Ah, this terrible cold! A hot cup of tea will be just the thing. It will take only five minutes--and it is better than punch, though perhaps you men do not think so." She laughed somewhat wildly.
"Why, Mrs. Cameron," said the Superintendent in a shocked, bantering voice, "how can you imagine we should be guilty of such heresy--in this prohibition country, too?"
"Oh, I know you men," replied Mandy. "We keep some Scotch in the house--beside the laudanum. Some people can't take tea, you know," she added with an uncertain smile, struggling to regain control of herself. "But all the same, I am a nurse, and I know that after exposure tea is better."
"Ah, well," replied the Superintendent, "I bow to your experience," making a brave attempt to meet her mood and declining to note her unusual excitement.
In the specified five minutes the tea was ready.
"I could quite accept your tea-drinking theory, Mrs. Cameron," said Inspector Dickson, "if--if, mark you--I should always get such tea as this. But I don't believe Jerry here would agree."
Jerry, who had just entered, stood waiting explanation.
"Mrs. Cameron has just been upholding the virtue of a good cup of tea, Jerry, over a hot Scotch after a cold ride. Now what's your unbiased opinion?"
A slight grin wrinkled the cracks in Jerry's leather-skin face.
"Hot whisky--good for fun--for cold no good. Whisky good for sleep--for long trail no good."
"Thank you, Jerry," cried Mandy enthusiastically.
"Oh, that's all right, Jerry," said the Inspector, joining in the general laugh that followed, "but I don't think Miss Moira here would agree with you in regard to the merits of her national beverage."
"Oh, I am not so sure," cried the young lady, entering into the mood of the others. "Of course, I am Scotch and naturally stand up for my country and for its customs, but, to be strictly honest, I remember hearing my brother say that Scotch was bad training for football."
"Good again!" cried Mandy. "You see, when anything serious is on, the wisest people cut out the Scotch, as the boys say."
"You are quite right, Mrs. Cameron," said the Superintendent, becoming grave. "On the long trail and in the bitter cold we drop the Scotch and bank on tea. As for whisky, the Lord knows it gives the Police enough trouble in this country. If it were not for the whisky half our work would be cut out. But tell me, how is Mr. Cameron?" he added, as he handed back his cup for another supply of tea.
"Done up, or more nearly done up than ever I have seen him, or than I ever want to see him again." Mandy paused abruptly, handed him his cup of tea, passed into the pantry and for some moments did not appear again.
"Oh, it was terrible to see him," said Moira, clasping her hands and speaking in an eager, excited voice. "He came, poor boy, stumbling toward the door. He had to leave his horse, you know, some miles away. Through the window we saw him coming along--and we did not know him--he staggered as if--as if--actually as if he were drunk." Her laugh was almost hysterical. "And he could not find the latch--and when we opened the door his eyes were--oh!--so terrible!--wild--and bloodshot--and blind! Oh, I cannot tell you about it!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking and her tears falling fast. "And he could hardly speak to us. We had to cut off his snow-shoes--and his gauntlets and his clothes were like iron. He could not sit down--he just--just--lay on the floor--till--my sister--" Here the girl's sobs interrupted her story.
"Great Heavens!" cried the Superintendent. "What a mercy he reached home!"
The Inspector had risen and came round to Moira's side.
"Don't try to tell me any more," he said in a husky voice, patting her gently on the shoulder. "He is here with us, safe, poor chap. My God!" he cried in an undertone, "what he must have gone through!"
At this point Mandy returned and took her place again quietly
"Why, Mrs. Cameron," said the Superintendent in a shocked, bantering voice, "how can you imagine we should be guilty of such heresy--in this prohibition country, too?"
"Oh, I know you men," replied Mandy. "We keep some Scotch in the house--beside the laudanum. Some people can't take tea, you know," she added with an uncertain smile, struggling to regain control of herself. "But all the same, I am a nurse, and I know that after exposure tea is better."
"Ah, well," replied the Superintendent, "I bow to your experience," making a brave attempt to meet her mood and declining to note her unusual excitement.
In the specified five minutes the tea was ready.
"I could quite accept your tea-drinking theory, Mrs. Cameron," said Inspector Dickson, "if--if, mark you--I should always get such tea as this. But I don't believe Jerry here would agree."
Jerry, who had just entered, stood waiting explanation.
"Mrs. Cameron has just been upholding the virtue of a good cup of tea, Jerry, over a hot Scotch after a cold ride. Now what's your unbiased opinion?"
A slight grin wrinkled the cracks in Jerry's leather-skin face.
"Hot whisky--good for fun--for cold no good. Whisky good for sleep--for long trail no good."
"Thank you, Jerry," cried Mandy enthusiastically.
"Oh, that's all right, Jerry," said the Inspector, joining in the general laugh that followed, "but I don't think Miss Moira here would agree with you in regard to the merits of her national beverage."
"Oh, I am not so sure," cried the young lady, entering into the mood of the others. "Of course, I am Scotch and naturally stand up for my country and for its customs, but, to be strictly honest, I remember hearing my brother say that Scotch was bad training for football."
"Good again!" cried Mandy. "You see, when anything serious is on, the wisest people cut out the Scotch, as the boys say."
"You are quite right, Mrs. Cameron," said the Superintendent, becoming grave. "On the long trail and in the bitter cold we drop the Scotch and bank on tea. As for whisky, the Lord knows it gives the Police enough trouble in this country. If it were not for the whisky half our work would be cut out. But tell me, how is Mr. Cameron?" he added, as he handed back his cup for another supply of tea.
"Done up, or more nearly done up than ever I have seen him, or than I ever want to see him again." Mandy paused abruptly, handed him his cup of tea, passed into the pantry and for some moments did not appear again.
"Oh, it was terrible to see him," said Moira, clasping her hands and speaking in an eager, excited voice. "He came, poor boy, stumbling toward the door. He had to leave his horse, you know, some miles away. Through the window we saw him coming along--and we did not know him--he staggered as if--as if--actually as if he were drunk." Her laugh was almost hysterical. "And he could not find the latch--and when we opened the door his eyes were--oh!--so terrible!--wild--and bloodshot--and blind! Oh, I cannot tell you about it!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking and her tears falling fast. "And he could hardly speak to us. We had to cut off his snow-shoes--and his gauntlets and his clothes were like iron. He could not sit down--he just--just--lay on the floor--till--my sister--" Here the girl's sobs interrupted her story.
"Great Heavens!" cried the Superintendent. "What a mercy he reached home!"
The Inspector had risen and came round to Moira's side.
"Don't try to tell me any more," he said in a husky voice, patting her gently on the shoulder. "He is here with us, safe, poor chap. My God!" he cried in an undertone, "what he must have gone through!"
At this point Mandy returned and took her place again quietly