The Choir Invisible

Several days had slipped by.

At John's request they had moved his bed across the doorway of his cabin;

and stretched there, he could see the sun spring every morning out the

dimpled emerald ocean of the wilderness; and the moon follow at night,

silvering the soft ripples of the multitudinous leaves lapping the shores of

silence: days when the inner noises of life sounded like storms; nights when

everything within him lay as still as memory.

His wounds had behaved well from the out-set. When he had put forth all his

frenzied despairing strength to throttle the cougar, it had let go its hold

only to sink its fangs more deeply into his flesh, thus increasing the

laceration; and there was also much laceration of the hand. But the rich

blood flowing in him was the purest; and among a people who for a quarter of

a century had been used to the treatment of wounds, there prevailed a rough

but genuine skill that stood him in good stead.

To these hardy fighting

folk, as to him, it was a scratch and he would have liked to go on with his

teaching. Warned of the danger of inflammation, however, he took to his bed;

and according to our own nervous standards which seem to have intensified

pain for us beyond the comprehension of our forefathers, he was sick and a

great sufferer.

Those long cool, sweet, brilliant days! Those long still, lonely, silvery

nights! His cabin stood near the crest of the hill that ran along the

southern edge of the settlement; and propped on his bed, he could look down

into the wide valley--into the town. The frame of his door became the frame

of many a living picture. Under a big shady tree at the creek-side, he could

see some of his children playing or fishing: their shouts and laughter were

borne to his ear; he could recognize their shrill voices--those always

masterful voices of boys at their games. Sometimes these little figures were

framed timidly just outside the door--the girls with small wilted posies,

the boys with inquiries. But there was no disguising the dread they all felt

that he might soon be well: he had felt himself once; he did not blame them.

Wee Jennie even came up with her slate one day and asked him to set her a

sum in multiplication; he did so; but he knew that she would rub it out as

soon as she could get out of sight, and he laughed quietly to himself at

this tiny casuist, who was trying so hard to deceive them both.

Two or three times, now out in the sunlight, now under the shadow of the

trees, he saw an old white horse go slowly along the distant road; and a

pink skirt and a huge white bonnet--two or three times; but he watched for

it a thousand times till his eyes grew weary.