The poor woman, his wife, he said, was taken in labour that
morning, and was very bad. Hearing there was a doctor staying at the
home station, he had come down to see if he could come to their
assistance.
"I'll go, of course," said the Doctor; "but let me get something to eat
first. Is anybody with her?"
"Yes, a woman was with her; had been staying with them some days."
"I hope you can find the way in the dark," said the Doctor, "for I can
tell you I can't."
"No fear, sir," said the man; "there's a track all the way, and the
moon's full. If it wasn't for the fog it would be as bright as day."
He took a hasty meal, and started. They went at a foot's pace, for the
shepherd was on foot. The track was easily seen, and although it was
exceedingly cold, the Doctor, being well wrapped up, contrived, with
incessant smoking, to be moderately comfortable. All external objects
being a blank, he soon turned to his companion to see what he could get
out of him.
"What part of the country are you from, my friend?"
"Fra' the Isle of Skye," the man answered. "I'm one of the Macdonalds
of Skye."
"That's a very ancient family, is it not?" said the Doctor at a
venture, knowing he could not go wrong with a Highlander.
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