She had washed herself in mountain streams,
and did not know what basins and sponges were for. So it was of
no use to point to the objects I wanted.
I propped myself up in bed and studied the dictionary, and,
having some idea of the pronunciation of Latin languages, I
essayed to call for warm water and various other necessary
articles needed around a sick bed. Sometimes I succeeded in
getting an idea through her impervious brain, but more often she
would stand dazed and immovable and I would let the dictionary
drop from my tired hands and fall back upon the pillow in a sweat
of exhaustion. Then Bowen would be called in, and with the help
of some perfunctory language and gestures on his part, this
silent creature of the mountains would seem to wake up and try to
understand.
And so I worried through those dreadful days - and the nights! Ah!
we had better not describe them. The poor wild thing slept the
sleep of death and could not hear my loudest calls nor desperate
shouts.
So Jack attached a cord to her pillow, and I would tug and tug at
that and pull the pillow from under her head. It was of no avail.
She slept peacefully on, and it seemed to me, as I lay there
staring at her, that not even Gabriel's trump would ever arouse
her.
