CHAPTER III
_In Which Little Jimmie Grimm Goes Lame and His Mother Discovers the Whereabouts of a Cure_
Little Jimmie Grimm was then ten years old. He had been an active,merry lad, before the night of the assault of Tog and the twowolves--inclined to scamper and shout, given to pranks of a kindlysort. His affectionate, light-hearted disposition had made him thelight of his mother's eyes, and of his father's, too, for, childthough he was, lonely Jim Grimm found him a comforting companion. Buthe was now taken with what the folk of Buccaneer Cove called"rheumatiz o' the knee." There were days when he walked in comfort;but there were also times when he fell to the ground in a sudden agonyand had to be carried home. There were weeks when he could not walk atall. He was not now so merry as he had been. He was more affectionate;but his eyes did not flash in the old way, nor were his cheeks so fatand rosy. Jim Grimm and the lad's mother greatly desired to have himcured.
"'Twould be like old times," Jim Grimm said once, when Jimmie was putto bed, "if Jimmie was only well."
"I'm afeared," the mother sighed, "that he'll never be well again."
"For fear you're right, mum," said Jim Grimm, "we must make him happyevery hour he's with us. Hush, mother! Don't cry, or I'll be cryin',too!"
Nobody connected Jimmie Grimm's affliction with the savage teeth ofTog.
* * * * *
It was Jimmie's mother who discovered the whereabouts of a cure.Hook's Kurepain was the thing to do it! Who could deny the virtues ofthat "healing balm"? They were set forth in print, in type both largeand small, on a creased and dirty remnant of the _Montreal WeeklyGlobe and Family Messenger_, which had providentially strayed intothat far port of the Labrador. Who could dispute the works of "theinvaluable discovery"? Was it not a positive cure for bruises,sprains, chilblains, cracked hands, stiffness of the joints,contraction of the muscles, numbness of the limbs, neuralgia,rheumatism, pains in the chest, warts, frost bites, sore throat,quinsy, croup, and various other ills? Was it not an excellent hairrestorer, as well? If it had cured millions (and apparently it had),why shouldn't it cure little Jimmie Grimm? So Jimmie's mother longedwith her whole heart for a bottle of the "boon to sufferinghumanity."
"I've found something, Jim Grimm," said she, a teasing twinkle in hereye, when, that night, Jimmie's father came in from the snowywilderness, where he had made the round of his fox traps.
"Have you, now?" he asked, curiously. "What is it?"
"'Tis something," said she, "t' make you glad."
"Come, tell me!" he cried, his eyes shining.
"I've heard you say," she went on, smiling softly, "that you'd bewillin' t' give anything t' find it. I've heard you say that----"
"'Tis a silver fox!"
"I've heard you say," she continued, shaking her head, "'Oh,' I'veheard you say, 'if I could _only_ find it I'd be happy.'"
"Tell me!" he coaxed. "Please tell me!"
She laid a hand on his shoulder. The remnant of the _Montreal WeeklyGlobe and Family Messenger_ she held behind her.
"'Tis a cure for Jimmie," said she.
"No!" he cried, incredulous; but there was yet the ring of hope in hisvoice. "Have you, now?"
"Hook's Kurepain," said she, "never failed yet."
"'Tis wonderful!" said Jim Grimm.
She spread the newspaper on the table and placed her finger at thatpoint of the list where the cure of rheumatism was promised.
"Read that," said she, "an' you'll find 'tis all true."
Jim Grimm's eye ran up to the top of the page. His wife waited, asmile on her lips. She was anticipating a profound impression.
"'Beauty has wonderful charms,'" Jim Grimm read. "'Few men canwithstand the witchcraft of a lovely face. All hearts are won----'"
"No, no!" the mother interrupted, hastily. "That's the marvellousOriental Beautifier. I been readin' that, too. But 'tis not that. 'Tislower down. Beginnin', 'At last the universal remedy of Biblicaltimes.' Is you got it yet?"
"Ay, sure!"
And thereupon Jim Grimm of Buccaneer Cove discovered that a legion ofrelieved and rejuvenated rheumatics had without remuneration orconstraint sung the virtues of the Kurepain and the praises of Hook.Poor ignorant Jim Grimm did not for a moment doubt the existence ofthe Well-Known Traveller, the Family Doctor, the Minister of theGospel, the Champion of the World. He was ready to admit that the curehad been found.
"I'm willin' t' believe," said he, solemnly, the while gazing veryearnestly into his wife's eyes, "that 'twould do Jimmie a world o'good."
"Read on," said she.
"'It costs money to make the Kurepain,'" Jim read, aloud. "'It is nota sugar-and-water remedy. It is a _cure_, manufactured at _greatexpense_. Good medicines come _high_. But the peerless Kurepain is_cheap_ when compared with the worthless substitutes now on the marketand sold for just as good. Our price is five dollars a bottle; threebottles guaranteed to cure.'"
Jim Grimm stopped dead. He looked up. His wife steadily returned hisglance. The Labrador dweller is a poor man--a very poor man. Rarelydoes a dollar of hard cash slip into his hand. And this was hard cash.Five dollars a bottle! Five dollars for that which was neither foodnor clothing!
"'Tis fearful!" he sighed.
"But read on," said she.
"'In order to introduce the Kurepain into this locality, we have setaside _one thousand bottles_ of this _incomparable_ medicine. Thatnumber, _and no more_, we will dispose of at four dollars a bottle. Donot make a mistake. When the supply is exhausted, the price will_rise_ to eight dollars a bottle, owing to a scarcity of one of theingredients. We honestly advise you, if you are in pain or suffering,to take advantage of this _rare_ opportunity. A word to the wise issufficient. Order to-day.'"
"'Tis a great bargain, Jim," the mother whispered.
"Ay," Jim answered, dubiously.
His wife patted his hand. "When Jimmie's cured," she went on, "hecould help you with the traps, an'----"
"'Tis not for _that_ I wants un cured," Jim Grimm flashed. "I'mwillin' an' able for me labour. 'Tis not for that. I'm just thinkin'all the time about seein' him run about like he used to. That's what_I_ wants."
"Doesn't you think, Jim, that we could manage it--if we triedwonderful hard?"
"'Tis accordin' t' what fur I traps, mum, afore the ice goes an' thesteamer comes. I'm hopin' we'll have enough left over t' buy thecure."
"You're a good father, Jim," the mother said, at last. "I knows you'lldo for the best. Leave us wait until the spring time comes."
"Ay," he agreed; "an' we'll say nar a word t' little Jimmie."
They laid hold on the hope in Hook's Kurepain. Life was brighter,then. They looked forward to the cure. The old merry, scamperingJimmie, with his shouts and laughter and gambols and pranks, was toreturn to them. When, as the winter dragged along, Jim Grimm broughthome the fox skins from the wilderness, Jimmie fondled them, andpassed upon their quality, as to colour and size and fur. Jim Grimmand his wife exchanged smiles. Jimmie did not know that upon thequality and number of the skins, which he delighted to stroke and pat,depended his cure. Let the winter pass! Let the ice move out from thecoast! Let the steamer come for the letters! Let her go and returnagain! _Then_ Jimmie should know.
"We'll be able t' have _one_ bottle, whatever," said the mother.
"'Twill be more than that, mum," Jim Grimm answered, confidently. "Wewants our Jimmie cured."