Random Quote
"Here's my theory about meetings and life; the three things you can't fake are erections, competence and creativity. That's why meetings become toxic they put uncreative people in a situation in which they have to be something they can never be. And the more effort they put into concealing their inabilities, the more toxic the meeting becomes. One of the most common creativity-faking tactics is when someone puts their hands in prayer position and conceals their mouth while they nod at you and say, 'Mmmmmm. Interesting.' If pressed, they'll add, 'I'll have to get back to you on that.' Then they don't say anything else."
More: Business quotes
Follow us on Twitter
Never miss a good book again! Follow Read Print on Twitter
Chapter VIII. The Pilot's Grip - Page 2
-
Recommend to friends -
Rate it:
"Let's put up the horses," I suggested. "They won't want us for half an hour."
When we came in, the room had been set in order, the tea-kettle was singing, the bedclothes straightened out, and Moore had just finished washing the blood stains from Bruce's arms and neck.
"Just in time," he said. "I didn't like to tackle these," pointing to the bandages.
All night long Moore soothed and tended the sick man, now singing softly to him, and again beguiling him with tales that meant nothing, but that had a strange power to quiet the nervous restlessness, due partly to the pain of the wounded arm and partly to the nerve-wrecking from his months of dissipation. The Duke seemed uncomfortable enough. He spoke to Bruce once or twice, but the only answer was a groan or curse with an increase of restlessness.
"He'll have a close squeak," said The Duke. The carelessness of the tone was a little overdone, but The Pilot was stirred up by it.
"He has not been fortunate in his friends," he said, looking straight into his eyes.
"A man ought to know himself when the pace is too swift," said The Duke, a little more quickly than was his wont.
"You might have done anything with him. Why didn't you help him?" Moore's tones were stern and very steady, and he never moved his eyes from the other man's face, but the only reply he got was a shrug of the shoulders.
When the gray of the morning was coming in at the window The Duke rose up, gave himself, a little shake, and said:
"I am not of any service here. I shall come back in the evening."
He went and stood for a few moments looking down upon the hot, fevered face; then, turning to me, he asked:
"What do you think?"
"Can't say! The bromide is holding him down just now. His blood is bad for that wound."
"Can I get anything?" I knew him well enough to recognize the anxiety under his indifferent manner.
"The Fort doctor ought to be got."
He nodded and went out.
"Have breakfast?" called out Moore from the door.
"I shall get some at the Fort, thanks. They won't take any hurt from me there," he said, smiling his cynical smile.
Moore opened his eyes in surprise.
"What's that for?" he asked me.
"Well, he is rather cut up, and you rather rubbed it into him, you know," I said, for I thought Moore a little hard.
"Did I say anything untrue?"
"Well, not untrue, perhaps; but truth is like medicine--not always good to take." At which Moore was silent till his patient needed him again.
It was a weary day. The intense pain from the
Do you like this chapter?
If you're writing a Ralph Connor essay and need some advice,
post your Ralph Connor essay question on our
Facebook page where fellow bookworms are always glad to help!
