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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34948-8.txt b/34948-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0e7c86 --- /dev/null +++ b/34948-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13101 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of King Spruce, A Novel, by Holman Day + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: King Spruce, A Novel + +Author: Holman Day + +Release Date: January 13, 2011 [EBook #34948] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KING SPRUCE, A NOVEL *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, D Alexander and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + KING SPRUCE + + A NOVEL + + BY + + HOLMAN DAY + + AUTHOR OF + + "SQUIRE PHIN" "UP IN MAINE" + "KIN O' KTAADN" ETC. + + ILLUSTRATED BY + E. ROSCOE SHRADER + + NEW YORK AND LONDON + HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + + + + + Copyright, 1908, by HARPER & BROTHERS. + + _All rights reserved._ + + Published April, 1908. + + + + +[Illustration: "'I KNOW YOUR HEART'" [_See p. 289_] + + + + + TO + + A. B. D. + + MY COMRADE OF + TRAIL AND CAMP + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAP. PAGE + + I. UP IN "CASTLE CUT 'EM" 1 + II. THE HEIRESS OF "OAKLANDS" 17 + III. THE MAKING OF A "CHANEY MAN" 27 + IV. THE BOSS OF THE "BUSTERS" 35 + V. DURING THE PUGWASH HANG-UP 55 + VI. AS FOUGHT BEFORE THE "IT-'LL-GIT-YE CLUB" 62 + VII. ON MISERY GORE 78 + VIII. THE TORCH, AND THE LIGHTING OF IT 92 + IX. BY ORDER OF PULASKI D. BRITT 104 + X. "LADDER" LANE'S SOIRÉE 114 + XI. IN THE BARONY OF "STUMPAGE JOHN" 127 + XII. THE CODE OF LARRIGAN-LAND 142 + XIII. THE RED THROAT OF POGEY 153 + XIV. THE MESSAGE OF "PROPHET ELI" 164 + XV. BETWEEN TWO ON JERUSALEM 174 + XVI. IN THE PATH OF THE BIG WIND 181 + XVII. THE AFFAIR AT DURFY'S CAMP 198 + XVIII. THE OLD SOUBUNGO TRAIL 217 + XIX. THE HOME-MAKERS OF ENCHANTED 230 + XX. THE HA'NT OF THE UMCOLCUS 241 + XXI. THE MAN WHO CAME FROM NOWHERE 256 + XXII. THE HOSTAGE OF THE GREAT WHITE SILENCE 270 + XXIII. IN THE MATTER OF JOHN BARRETT'S DAUGHTER 278 + XXIV. THE CHEESE RIND THAT NEEDED SHARP TEETH 293 + XXV. SHARPENING TEETH ON PULASKI BRITT'S WHETSTONE 303 + XXVI. THE DEVIL OF THE HEMPEN STRANDS 312 + XXVII. THE "CANNED THUNDER" OF CASTONIA 324 + XXVIII. "'TWAS DONE BY TOMMY THUNDER" 341 + XXIX. THE PARADE PAST RODBURD IDE'S PLATFORM 352 + XXX. THE PACT WITH KING SPRUCE 361 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + "'I KNOW YOUR HEART'" _Frontispiece_ + + "WADE STOOD ABOVE THE FALLEN FOE" _Facing p._ 70 + + "WRITHING AT HIS BONDS, HIS CONTORTED FACE + TOWARDS THE RED FLAMES GALLOPING UP THE + VALLEY" " 172 + + "'WHAT I SAY ON THIS RIVER GOES!'" " 334 + + + + +NOTE + + +When the trees have been cut and trimmed in the winter's work in the +woods the logs are hauled in great loads to be piled at "landing-places" +on the frozen streams, so that the spring floods will move them. Most of +the streams have a succession of dams. On the spring drive the logs are +floated to the dams, and then the gates are raised and the logs are +"sluiced" through with a head of water behind them to carry them +down-stream. Thus the drive is lifted along in sections from one dam to +another. It will be seen that Pulaski D. Britt's series of dams on +Jerusalem constituted a valuable holding, and enabled him to control the +water and leave the logs of rivals stranded if he wished. The collection +of water and quick work in "sluicing" are most important, for the +streams give down only about so much water in the spring. + +When a load of logs is suddenly set free from the cable holding it back +on a steep descent, as in Chapter XXVI., it is said to be "sluiced." + +When there is a jam of entangled logs as they are swept down-stream, if +it is impossible to find and pry loose the "key-log," it is sometimes +necessary to blow up the restraining logs with dynamite. + +When the floating logs are caught upon rocks, and the men are prying +them loose, they are said to be "carding" the ledges. + +A "jill-poke," a pet aversion of drivers, is a log with one end lodged +on the bank and the other thrust out into the stream. + +The "cant-dog" is illustrated on the cover of the book. + +The "peavy" is the Maine name for a slightly different variety of +"cant-dog," which takes its title from its maker in Old Town. + +The "pick-pole" is an ashen pole ten to twelve feet long, shod with an +iron point with a screw-tip, which enables a driver to pull a log +towards him or to push it away. + + + + +KING SPRUCE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +UP IN "CASTLE CUT 'EM" + + "Oh, the road to 'Castle Cut 'Em' is mostly all uphill. + You can dance along all cheerful to the sing-song of a mill; + King Cole he wanted fiddles, and so does old King Spruce, + But it's only gashin'-fiddles that he finds of any use. + + "Oh, come along, good lumbermen, oh, come along I say! + Come up to 'Castle Cut 'Em,' and pull your wads and pay. + King Cole he liked his bitters, and so does old King Spruce, + But the only kind he hankers for is old spondulix-juice." + + --From song by Larry Gorman, "Woods Poet." + + +The young man on his way to "Castle Cut 'Em" was a clean-cut picture of +self-reliant youth. But he was not walking as one who goes to a welcome +task. He saw two men ahead of him who walked with as little display of +eagerness; men whose shoulders were stooped and whose hands swung +listlessly as do hands that are astonished at finding themselves idle. + +A row of mills that squatted along the bank of the canal sent after them +a medley of howls from band-saws and circulars. The young man, with the +memory of his college classics sufficiently fresh to make him fanciful, +found suggestion of chained monsters in the aspect of those shrieking +mills, with slip-openings like huge mouths. + +That same imagery invested the big building on the hill with attributes +that were not reassuring. But he went on up the street in the sunshine, +his eyes on the broad backs of the plodders ahead. + +King Spruce was in official session. + +Men who were big, men who were brawny, yet meek and apologetic, were +daily climbing the hill or waiting in the big building to have word +with the Honorable John Davis Barrett, who was King Spruce's high +chamberlain. Dwight Wade found half a dozen ahead of him when he came +into the general office. They sat, balancing their hats on their knees, +and each face wore the anxious expectancy that characterized those who +waited to see John Barrett. + +Wade had lived long enough in Stillwater to know the type of men who +came to the throne-room of King Spruce in midsummer. These were stumpage +buyers from the north woods, down to make another season's contract with +the lord of a million acres of timber land. Their faces were brown, +their hands were knotted, and when one, in his turn, went into the inner +office he moved awkwardly across the level tiles, as though he missed +the familiar inequalities of the forest's floor. + +The others droned on with their subdued mumble about saw-logs, sleeper +contracts, and "popple" peeling. The young man who had just entered was +so plainly not of themselves or their interests that they paid no +attention to him. + +This was the first time Wade had been inside the doors of "Castle Cut +'Em," the name the humorists of Stillwater had given the dominating +block on the main street of the little city. The up-country men, with +the bitterness of experience, and moved by somewhat fantastic +imaginings, said it was "King Spruce's castle." + +In the north woods one heard men talk of King Spruce as though this +potentate were a real and vital personality. To be sure, his power was +real, and power is the principal manifestation of the tyrant who is +incarnate. Invisibility usually makes the tyranny more potent. King +Spruce, vast association of timber interests, was visible only through +the affairs of his court administered by his officers to whom power had +been delegated. And, viewed by what he exacted and performed, King +Spruce lived and reigned--still lives and reigns. + +Wade, not wholly at ease in the presence, for he had come with a +petition like the others, gazed about the reception-room of the Umcolcus +Lumbering and Log-driving Association, the incorporators' more decorous +title for King Spruce. It occurred to him that the wall-adornments +were not reassuring. A brightly polished circular-saw hung between two +windows. It was crossed by two axes, and a double-handled saw was the +base for this suggestive coat of arms. The framed photographs displayed +loaded log-sleds and piles of logs heaped at landings and similar +portraiture of destruction in the woods. Everything seemed to accentuate +the dominion of the edge of steel. The other wall-decorations were the +heads of moose and deer, further suggestion of slaughter in the forest. +A stuffed porcupine on the mantel above the great fireplace mutely +suggested that the timber-owners would brook no rivalry in their +campaign against the forest; they had asked the State to offer a bounty +for the slaughter of this tree-girdler, and a card propped against the +"quill-pig" instructed the reader that the State had already spent more +than fifty thousand dollars in bounties. + +The deification of the cutting-edge appealed to Wade's abundant fancy. +He had noticed, when he came past the windows of the lumber company's +outfitting store on the first floor of the building, that the window +displays consisted mostly of cutting tools. + +When the door of the inner office opened and one of those big and +awkward giants came out, Wade discovered that King Spruce had evidently +placed in the hands of the Honorable John Davis Barrett something sharp +with which to slash human feelings, also. The man's face was flushed and +his teeth were set down over his lower lip with manifest effort to dam +back language. + +"Didn't he renew?" inquired one of the waiting group, solicitously. + +"He turned me down!" muttered the other, scarcely releasing the clutch +on his lip. "I've wondered sometimes why 'Stumpage John' hasn't been +over his own timber lands in all these years. If he has backed many out +of that office feelin' like I do, I reckon there's a good reason why he +doesn't trust himself up in the woods." He struck his soft hat across +his palm. He did not raise his voice. But the venom in his tone was +convincing. "By God, I'd relish bein' the man that mistook him for a +bear!" + +"Give any good reason for not renewin'?" asked a man whose face showed +his anxiety for himself. + +"Any one who has been over my operation on Lunksoos," declared the +lumberman, answering the question in his own way--"any fair man knows I +haven't devilled: I've left short stumps and I 'ain't topped off under +eight inches, though you all know that their damnable scale-system puts +a man to the bad when he's square on tops. But I 'ain't left tops to rot +on the ground. I've been square!" + +Wade did not understand clearly, but the sincerity of the man's distress +appealed to him. + +One of the little group darted an uneasy look towards the door of the +inner office. It was closed tightly. But for all that he spoke in a +husky whisper. + +"It must be that you didn't fix with What's-his-name last spring--I +heard you and he had trouble." + +The angry operator dared to speak now. He looked towards the door as +though he hoped his voice would penetrate to King Spruce's throne-room. + +"Trouble!" he cried. "Who wouldn't have trouble? I made up my mind I had +divided my profits with John Barrett's blackmailin' thieves of agents +for the last time. I lumbered square. And the agent was mad because I +wasn't crooked and didn't have hush-money for him. And he spiked me with +John Barrett; but you fellows, and all the rest that are willin' to +whack up and steal in company, will get your contracts all right. And +I'm froze out, with camps all built and five thousand dollars' worth of +supplies in my depot-camp." + +"Hold on!" protested several of the men, in chorus, crowding close to +this dangerous tale-teller. "You ain't tryin' to sluice the rest of us, +are you, just because you've gone to work and got your own load busted +on the ramdown?" + +"I'd like to see the whole infernal game of graft, gamble, and +woods-gashin' showed up. Let John Barrett go up and look at his woods +and he'll see what you are doin' to 'em--you and his agents! And the man +that lumbers square, and remembers that there are folks comin' after us +that will need trees, gets what I've just got!" He shook his crumpled +hat in their faces. "And I'm just good and ripe for trouble, and a lot +of it." + +"Here, you let me talk with you," interposed a man who had said nothing +before, and he took the recalcitrant by the arm, led him away to a +corner, and they entered into earnest conference. At the end of it the +destructionist drove his hat on with a smack of his big palm and strode +out, sullen but plainly convinced. + +The other man returned to the group and spoke cautiously low, but in +that big, bare room with its resonant emptiness even whispers travelled +far. + +"I'll take a double contract and sublet to him," he explained. "Barrett +won't know, and after this Dave will come back into line and handle the +agent. I reckon he's got well converted from honesty in a lumberin' +deal. It's what we're up against, gents, in this business; the patterns +are handed to us and we've got to cut our conduct accordin' to other +men's measurements. Barrett gets _his_ first; the agent gets _his_; we +get what we can squeeze out of a narrow margin--and the woods get hell." + +A man came out of the inner office stroking the folds of a stumpage +permit preparatory to stuffing it into his wallet, and the peacemaker +departed promptly, for it was now his turn to pay his respects to King +Spruce. + +In what he had seen and what he had heard, Dwight Wade found food for +thought. The men so manifestly had accepted the stranger as some one +utterly removed from comprehension of their affairs or interest in their +talk that they had not been discreet. It occurred to him that his own +present business with John Barrett would be decidedly furthered were he +to utilize that indiscretion. + +This thought occurred to him not because he intended for one instant to +use his information, but because he saw now that his business with John +Barrett was more to John Barrett's personal advantage than that +gentleman realized. This knowledge gave him more confidence. He was +proposing something to the Honorable John Barrett that the latter, for +his own good, ought to be pressed into accepting. + +The earlier reflection which had made him uneasy, that a millionaire +timber baron would not listen patiently to suggestions about his own +business offered by the principal of the Stillwater high-school, had +now been modified by circumstances. Even that lurking fear, that awe of +John Barrett which he had his peculiar and private reason for feeling +and hiding, was not quite so nerve-racking. + +Barrett left it to his clients to manage the order of precedence in the +outer office. It was only necessary for the awaiting suppliant to note +his place between those already there and those who came in after him; +and Wade was prompt to accept his turn. + +He knew the Honorable John Barrett. As mayor that gentleman had +distributed the diplomas at the June graduation. And Mr. Barrett, after +one first, sharp, scowling glance over his nose-glasses, hooking his +chin to one side as he gazed, rose and greeted the young man cordially. + +Then he wheeled his chair away from his desk to the window and sat down +where he could feel the breeze. + +Looking past him Wade saw the Stillwater saw-mills. There were five of +them in a row along the canal. Each had a slip-opening in the end and it +yawned wide like a mouth that stretched for prey. + +The two windows pinched together in each gable gave to the end of the +building likeness to a hideous face. From his seat Wade heard the +screech of the band-saws. The sounds came out of those open mouths. The +dripping logs went up the slips and into those mouths, like morsels +sliding along a slavering tongue. Mingled with the fierce scream of the +band-saws there were the wailings of the lath and clapboard saws. In +that medley of sound the imagination heard monster and victims mingling +howl of triumph and despairing cry. + +The breeze that ruffled the awnings stirred the thin, gray hair of John +Barrett, brought fresh scents of sawdust and sweeter fragrance of +seasoning lumber. And fainter yet came the whiff of resinous balsam +from the vast fields of logs that crowded the booms. + +With that picture backing him in the frame of the open window--mutilated +trees, and mills yowling in chorus, and with the scent of the riven logs +bathing him--the timber baron politely waited for the young man to +speak. He had put off the brusqueness of his business demeanor, for it +had not occurred to him that the principal of the Stillwater high school +could have any financial errand. He played a little tattoo with his +eye-glasses' rim upon the second button of his frock-coat. One touch of +sunshine on Barrett's cheek showed up striated markings and the faint +purpling that indulgence paints upon the skin. The way in which the +shoulders were set back under the tightly buttoned frock-coat, the +flashing of the keen eyes, and even the cock of the bristly gray +mustache that crossed the face in a straight line showed that John +Barrett had enjoyed the best that life had to offer him. + +"I'll make my errand a short one, Mr. Barrett," began Wade, "for I see +that others are waiting." + +"They're only men who want to buy something," said the baron, +reassuringly--"men who have come, the whole of them, with the same growl +and whine. It's a relief to be rid of them for a few moments." + +Frankly showing that he welcomed the respite, and serenely indifferent +to those who waited, he brought a box of cigars from the desk, and the +young man accepted one nervously. + +"I think I have noticed you about the city since your school closed," +Mr. Barrett proceeded. And without special interest he asked, whirling +his chair and gazing out of the window at the mills: "How do you happen +to be staying here in Stillwater this summer? I supposed pedagogues in +vacation-time ran away from their schools as fast as they could." + +If John Barrett had not been staring at the mills he would have seen the +flush that blazed on the young man's cheeks at this sudden, blunt demand +for the reasons why he stayed in town. + +"If I had a home I should probably go there," answered Wade; "but my +parents died while I was in college--and--and high-school principals do +not usually find summer resorts and European trips agreeing with the +size of their purses." + +"Probably not," assented the millionaire, calmly. A sudden recollection +seemed to strike him. "Say, speaking of college--you're the Burton +centre, aren't you--or you were? I was there a year ago when Burton +clinched the championship. I liked your game! I meant to have said as +much to you, but I didn't get a chance, for you know what the push is on +a ball-ground. I'm a Burton man, you know. I never miss a game. I'm glad +to have such a chap as you at the head of our school. These pale fellows +with specs aren't my style!" + +He turned and ran an approving gaze over Wade's six feet of sturdy young +manhood. With his keen eye for lines that revealed breeding and +training, Barrett usually turned once to look after a handsome woman and +twice to stare at a blooded horse. Men interested him, too--men who +appealed to his sportsman sense. This young man, with the glamour of the +football victories still upon him, was a particularly attractive object +at that moment. He stared into Wade's flushed face, evidently accepting +the color as the signal that gratified pride had set upon the cheeks. + +"You'll weigh in at about one hundred and eighty-five," commented the +millionaire. It seemed to Wade that his tone was that of a judge +appraising the points of a race-horse, and for an instant he resented +the fact that Barrett was sizing him less as a man than as a gladiator. +"Old Dame Nature put you up solid, Mr. Wade, and gave you the face to go +with the rest. I wish I were as young--and as free!" He gave another +look at the mills and scowled when he heard the mumble of men's voices +in the outer room. "When a man is past sixty, money doesn't buy the +things for him that he really wants." It was the familiar cant of the +man rich enough to affect disdain for money, and Wade was not impressed. + +"I'd like to take my daughter across the big pond this summer," the land +baron grumbled, discontentedly, "but I never was tied down so in my +life. I am directing-manager of the Umcolcus Association, and I've got +all my own lands to handle besides, and with matters in the lumbering +business as they are just now there are some things that you can't +delegate to agents, Mr. Wade." + +This man, confiding his troubles, did not seem the ogre he had been +painted. + +The young man had flushed still more deeply at mention of Barrett's +daughter, but Barrett was again looking at his squalling mills. + +The pause seemed a fair opportunity for the errand. The mention of +agents revived the recollection that he was proposing something to John +Barrett's advantage. + +"Mr. Barrett, you know it is pretty hard for any one to live in +Stillwater and not take an interest in the lumbering business. I'll +confess that I've taken such interest myself. A few of my older boys +have asked me to secure books on the science of forestry and help them +study it." + +"A man would have pretty hard work to convince me that it is a science," +broke in Barrett, with some contempt. "As near as I can find out, it's +mostly guesswork, and poor guesswork at that." + +"Well, the fact remains," hastened Wade, a little nettled by the +curtness that had succeeded the timber baron's rather sentimental +courtesy, "my boys have been studying forestry, and I have been keeping +a bit ahead of them and helping them as I could. Now they need a little +practical experience. But they are boys who are working their way +through school, and as I had to do the same thing I'm taking an especial +interest in them. They have been in your mills two summers." + +"Why isn't it a good place for them to stay?" demanded Barrett. "They're +learning a side of forestry there that amounts to something." + +"The side that they want to learn is the side of the standing trees," +persisted Wade, patiently. "I thought I could talk it over with you a +little better than they. I hoped that such a large owner of timber land +had begun to take interest in forestry and would, for experiment's sake, +put these young men upon a section of timber land this summer and let +them work up a map and a report that you could use as a basis for later +comparison, if nothing else." + +"What do you mean, that I'm going to hire them to do it--pay them +money?" demanded the timber baron, fixing upon the young man that stare +that always disconcerted petitioners. At that moment Wade realized why +those men whom he had seen waiting in the outer office were gazing at +the door of the inner room with such anxiety. + +"The young men will be performing a real service, for they will plot a +square mile and--" + +"If there's any pay to it, I'd rather pay them to keep off my lands," +broke in Barrett. "Forestry--" + +He in turn was interrupted. The man who came in entered with manifest +belief in his right to interrupt. + +"Forestry!" he cried, taking the word off Barrett's lips--"forestry is +getting your men into the woods, getting grub to 'em, hiring bosses that +can whale spryness into human jill-pokes, and can get the logs down to +Pea Cove sortin'-boom before the drought strikes. That's forestry! +That's my kind. It's the kind I've made my money on. It's the kind John +Barrett made his on. What are you doin', John--hirin' a perfesser?" The +new arrival asked this in a tone and with a glance up and down Wade that +left no doubt as to his opinion of "perfessers." "Are you one of these +newfangled fellers that's been studyin' in a book how to make trees +grow?" he demanded. + +Wade had only a limited acquaintance with the notables of the State, but +he knew this man. He had seen him in Stillwater frequently, and his +down-river office was in "Castle Cut 'Em." He was the Honorable Pulaski +D. Britt. He had acquired that title--mostly for newspaper use--by +serving many years in the State senate from Umcolcus County. + +Wade gazed at the puffy red face, the bristle of gray beard, the hard +little eyes--pupils of dull gray set in yellow eyeballs--and remembered +the stories he had heard about this man who yelped his words with canine +abruptness of utterance, who waved his big, hairy hands about his head +as he talked, and with every gesture, every glance, every word revealed +himself as a driver of men, grown arrogant and cruel by possession of +power. + +"Mr. Britt is executive officer for the lumber company in the north +country," explained Barrett, dryly. "We are all associated more or less +closely, though many of our holdings are separate. We think it is quite +essential to confer together when undertaking any important step." His +satiric dwelling on the word "important" was exasperating. "This young +gentleman is the principal of our high-school, Pulaski, and he wants me +to put a bunch of high-school boys in my woods as foresters--and pay 'em +for it. You came in just as I was going to give him my opinion. But it +may be more proper for you to do it, for you are the woods executive, +and are better posted on conditions up there than I am." His drawled +irony was biting. + +The Honorable John Barrett enjoyed sport of all kinds, including +badger-baiting. Now he leaned back in his swivel-chair with the air of a +man about to enjoy the spectacle of a lively affair. But Wade, glancing +from Barrett to Britt, was in no humor to be the butt of the +millionaire. + +"I don't think I care to listen to Mr. Britt's opinions," he said, +rising hastily. + +"Why? Don't you think I know what I'm talking about?" demanded the +lumberman. He had missed the point of Barrett's satire, being himself a +man of the bludgeon instead of the rapier. + +"I'm quite sure you know, Mr. Britt," said the young man, bowing to +Barrett and starting away. + +"I've hired more men than any ten operators on the Umcolcus, put 'em all +together," declared Britt, following him, "and I'd ought to know +something about whether a man is worth anything on a job or not. And +rather than have any one of those squirt-gun foresters cuttin' and +caliperin' over my lands, I'd--" + +Wade shut the door behind him, strode through the outer office, and +hurried down-stairs, his face very red and his teeth shut very tight. +He realized that he had left the presence of King Spruce in most +discourteous haste, but the look in John Barrett's eyes when he had +leaned back and "sicked on" that old railer of the rasping voice had +been too much for Wade's nerves. To be made an object of ridicule by +_her_ father was bitter, with the bitterness of banished hope that had +sprung into blossom for just one encouraging moment. + +When he came out into the sunlight he threw down the fat cigar--plump +with a suggestion of the rich man's opulence--and ground it under his +heel. In the anxiety of his intimate hopes, in the first cordiality of +their interview, it had seemed as though the millionaire had chosen to +meet him upon that common level of gentle society where consideration of +money is banished. Now, in the passion of his disappointment, Wade +realized that he had served merely as a diversion, as a prize pup or a +game-cock would have served, had either been brought to "Castle Cut 'Em" +for inspection. + +Walking--seeking the open country and the comforting breath of the +flowers--away from that sickly scent of the sawdust, his cheeks burned +when he remembered that at first he had fearfully, yet hopefully, +believed that John Barrett knew the secret that he and Elva Barrett were +keeping. + +Hastening away from his humiliation, he confessed to himself that in +his optimism of love he had been dreaming a beautiful but particularly +foolish dream; but having realized the blessed hope that had once +seemed so visionary--having won Elva Barrett's love--the winning of +even John Barrett had not seemed an impossible task. The millionaire's +frank greeting had held a warmth that Wade had grasped at as vague +encouragement. But now the clairvoyancy of his sensitiveness enabled him +to understand John Barrett's nature and his own pitiful position in that +great affair of the heart; he had not dared to look at that affair too +closely till now. + +So he hurried on, seeking the open country, obsessed by the strange +fancy that there was something in his soul that he wanted to take out +and scrutinize, alone, away from curious eyes. + +The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had watched that hasty exit with sudden +ire that promptly changed to amusement. He turned slowly and gazed at +the timber baron with that amusement plainly showing--amusement spiced +with a bit of malice. The reverse of Britt's hard character as bully +and tyrant was an insatiate curiosity as to the little affairs of the +people he knew and a desire to retail those matters in gossip when he +could wound feelings or stir mischief. If one with a gift of prophecy +had told him that his next words would mark the beginning of the crisis +of his life, Pulaski Britt would have professed his profane incredulity +in his own vigorous fashion. All that he said was, "Well, John, your +girl has picked out quite a rugged-lookin' feller, even if he ain't much +inclined to listen to good advice on forestry." + +Confirmed gossips are like connoisseurs of cheese: the stuff they relish +must be stout. It gratified Britt to see that he had "jumped" his +friend. + +"I didn't know but you had him in here to sign partnership papers," +Britt continued, helping himself to a cigar. "I wouldn't blame you much +for annexin' him. You need a chap of his size to go in on your lands and +straighten out your bushwhackin' thieves with a club, seein' that you +don't go yourself. As for me, I don't need to delegate clubbers; I can +attend to it myself. It's the way I take exercise." + +"Look here, Pulaski," Barrett replied, angrily, "a joke is all right +between friends, but hitching up my daughter Elva's name with a beggar +of a school-master isn't humorous." + +Britt gnawed off the end of the cigar, and spat the fragment of tobacco +into a far corner. + +"Then if you don't see any humor in it, why don't you stop the +courtin'?" + +"There isn't any courting." + +"I say there is, and if the girl's mother was alive, or you 'tending out +at home as sharp as you ought to, your family would have had a stir-up +long ago. If you ain't quite ready for a son-in-law, and don't want that +young man, you'd better grab in and issue a family bulletin to that +effect." + +"Damn such foolishness! I don't believe it," stormed Barrett, pulling +his chair back to the desk; "but if you knew it, why didn't you say +something before?" + +"Oh, I'm no gossip," returned Britt, serenely. "I've got something to do +besides watch courtin' scrapes. But I don't have to watch this one in +_your_ family. I know it's on." + +Barrett hooked his glasses on his nose with an angry gesture, and began +to fuss with the papers on his desk. But in spite of his professed +scepticism and his suspicion of Pulaski Britt's ingenuousness, it was +plain that his mind was not on the papers. + +He whirled away suddenly and faced Britt. That gentleman was pulling +packets of other papers from his pocket. + +"Look here, Britt, about this lying scandal that seems to be snaking +around, seeing that it has come to your ears, I--" + +"What I'm here for is to go over these drivin' tolls so that they can be +passed on to the book-keepers," announced Mr. Britt, with a fine and +brisk business air. He had shot his shaft of gossip, had "jumped" his +man, and the affair of John Barrett's daughter had no further interest +for him. "You go ahead and run your family affairs to suit yourself. As +to these things you are runnin' with me, let's get at 'em." + +In this manner, unwittingly, did Pulaski D. Britt light the fuse that +connected with his own magazine; in this fashion, too, did he turn his +back upon it. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE HEIRESS OF "OAKLANDS" + + "Pete Lebree had money and land, Paul of Olamon had none, + Only his peavy and driving pole, his birch canoe and his gun. + But to Paul Nicola, lithe and tall, son of a Tarratine, + Had gone the heart of the governor's child, Molly the island's + queen." + + --_Old Town Ballads._ + + +The coachman usually drove into town from the "Oaklands" to bring John +Barrett home from his office, for Barrett liked the spirited rush of his +blooded horses. + +But when his daughter occasionally anticipated the coachman, he resigned +himself to a ride in her phaeton with only a sleepy pony to draw them. + +Once more absorbed in his affairs, after the departure of Pulaski Britt, +Barrett had forgotten the unpleasant morsel of gossip that Britt had +brought to spice his interview. + +But a familiar trilling call that came up to him stirred that unpleasant +thing in his mind. When Barrett walked to the window and signalled to +her that he had heard and would come, his expression was not exactly +that of the fond father who welcomes his only child. It was not the +expression that the bright face peering from under the phaeton's parasol +invited. And as he wore his look of uneasiness and discontent when he +took his seat beside her, her face became grave also. + +"Is it the business or the politics, father?" she asked, solicitously. +"I'm jealous of both if they take away the smiles and bring the tired +lines. If it's business, let's make believe we've got money enough. +Haven't we--for only us two? If it's politics--well, when I'm a +governor's daughter I'll be only an unhappy slave to the women, and you +a servant of the men." + +But he did not respond to her rallying. + +"I can't get away from work this summer, Elva," he said, with something +of the curtness of his business tone. "I mean I can't get away to go +with you." + +"But I don't want you to go anywhere, father," protested the girl. + +She was so earnest that he glanced sidewise at her. His air was that of +one who is trying a subtle test. + +"I feel that I must go north for a visit to my timber lands," he went +on; "I have not been over them for years. I've had pretty good proof +that I am being robbed by men I trusted. I propose to go up there and +make a few wholesome examples." + +He was accustomed to talk his business affairs with her. She always +received them with a grave understanding that pleased him. Her dark eyes +now met him frankly and interestedly. Looking at her as he did, with his +strange thrill of suspicion that another man wanted her and that she +loved the man, he saw that his daughter was beautiful, with the +brilliancy of type that transcends prettiness. He realized that she had +the wit and spirit which make beauty potent, and her eyes and bearing +showed poise and self-reliance. Such was John Barrett's appraisal, and +John Barrett's business was to appraise humankind. But perhaps he did +not fully realize that she was a woman with a woman's heart. + +The pony was ambling along lazily under the elms, and the reflective +lord of lands was silent awhile, glancing at his daughter occasionally +from the corner of his eye. He noted, with fresh interest, that she had +greeting for all she met--as gracious a word for the tattered man from +the mill as for the youth who slowed his automobile to speak to her. + +"These gossips have misunderstood her graciousness," he mused, the +thought giving him comfort. + +But he was still grimly intent upon his trial of her. + +"Because I cannot go with you, and because I shall be away in the woods, +Elva," he said, after a time, "I am going to send you to the shore with +the Dustins." + +There was sudden fire in her dark eyes. + +"I do not care to go anywhere with the Dustins," she said, with +decision. "I do not care to go anywhere at all this summer. Father!" +There was a volume of protest in the intonation of the word. She had the +bluntness of his business air when she was aroused. "I would be blind +and a fool not to understand why you are so determined to throw me in +with the Dustins. You want me to marry that bland and blessed son and +heir. But I'll not do any such thing." + +"You are jumping at conclusions, Elva," he returned, feeling that he +himself had suddenly become the hunted. + +"I've got enough of your wit, father, to know what's in a barrel when +there's a knot-hole for me to peep through." + +"Now that you have brought up the subject, what reason is there for your +not wanting to marry Weston Dustin? He's--" + +"I know all about him," she interrupted. "There is no earthly need for +you and me to get into a snarl of words about him, dadah! He isn't the +man I want for a husband; and when John Barrett's only daughter tells +him that with all her heart and soul, I don't believe John Barrett is +going to argue the question or ask for further reasons or give any +orders." + +He bridled in turn. + +"But I'm going to tell you, for my part, that I want you to marry Weston +Dustin! It has been my wish for a long time, though I have not wanted to +hurry you." + +She urged on the pony, as though anxious to end a _tête-à-tête_ that was +becoming embarrassing. + +"It might be well to save our discussion of Mr. Dustin until that +impetuous suitor has shown that he wants to marry me," she remarked, +with a little acid in her tone. + +"He has come to me like a gentleman, told me what he wants, and asked my +permission," stated Mr. Barrett. + +"Following a strictly business rule characteristic of Mr. Dustin--'Will +you marry your timber lands to my saw-mill, Mr. John Barrett, one +daughter thrown in?'" + +"At least he didn't come sneaking around by the back door!" cried her +father, jarred out of his earlier determination to probe the matter +craftily. + +"Intimating thereby that I have an affair of the heart with the iceman +or the grocery boy?" she inquired, tartly. + +She was looking full at him now with all the Barrett resoluteness +shining in her eyes. And he, with only the vague and malicious +promptings of Pulaski Britt for his credentials, had not the courage to +make the charge that was on his tongue, for his heart rejected it now +that he was looking into her face. + +"In the old times stern parents married off daughters as they would +dispose of farm stock," she said, whipping her pony with a little +unnecessary vigor. "But I had never learned that the custom had obtained +in the Barrett family. Therefore, father, we will talk about something +more profitable than Mr. Dustin." + +Outside the city, in the valley where the road curved to enter the gates +of "Oaklands," they met Dwight Wade returning, chastened by +self-communion. + +Barrett did not look at the young man. He kept his eyes on his +daughter's face as she returned Wade's bow. He saw what he feared. The +fires of indignation quickly left the dark eyes. There was the softness +of a caress in her gaze. Love displayed his crimson flag on her cheeks. +She spoke in answer to Wade's salutation, and even cast one shy look +after him when he had passed. When she took her eyes from him she found +her father's hard gaze fronting her. + +"Do you know that fellow?" he demanded, brusquely. + +"Yes," she said, her composure not yet regained; "when he was a student +at Burton and I was at the academy I met him often at receptions." + +"What is that academy, a sort of matrimonial bureau?" His tone was +rough. + +"It is not a nunnery," she retorted, with spirit. "The ordinary rules of +society govern there as they do here in Stillwater." + +"Elva," he said, emotion in his tones, "since your mother died you have +been mistress of the house and of your own actions, mostly. Has that +fellow there been calling on you?" + +"He has called on me, certainly. Many of my school friends have called. +Since he has been principal of the high-school I have invited him to +'Oaklands.'" + +"You needn't invite him again. I do not want him to call on you." + +"For what reason, father?" She was looking straight ahead now, and her +voice was even with the evenness of contemplated rebellion. + +"As your father, I am not obliged to give reasons for all my commands." + +"You are obliged to give me a reason when you deny a young gentleman of +good standing in this city our house. An unreasonable order like that +reflects on my character or my judgment. I am the mistress of our home, +as well as your daughter." + +"It's making gossip," he floundered, dimly feeling the unwisdom of +quoting Pulaski Britt. + +"Who is gossiping, and what is the gossip?" she insisted. + +"I don't care to go into the matter," he declared, desperately. "If the +young man is nothing to you except an acquaintance, and I have reasons +of my own for not wanting him to call at my house, I expect you to do as +I say, seeing that his exclusion will not mean any sacrifice for you." + +He was dealing craftily. She knew it, and resented it. + +"I do not propose to sacrifice any of my friends for a whim, father. If +your reasons have anything to do with my personal side of this matter, I +must have them. If they are purely your own and do not concern me, I +must consider them your whim, unless you convince me to the contrary, +and I shall not be governed in my choice of friends. That may sound +rebellious, but a father should not provoke a daughter to rebellion. You +ought to know me too well for that." + +They were at the house, and he threw himself out of the phaeton and +tramped in without reply. During their supper he preserved a resentful +silence, and at the end went up-stairs to his den to think over the +whole matter. It had suddenly assumed a seriousness that puzzled and +frightened him. He had been routed in the first encounter. He resolved +to make sure of his ground and his facts--and win. + +Usually he did not notice who came or who went at his house. The still +waters of his confidence in his daughter had never been troubled until +the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had breathed upon them. + +This evening, when he heard a caller announced, he tiptoed to the head +of the stairs and listened. + +It was Dwight Wade, and at sight of him his pride took alarm, his anger +flared. After the afternoon's exasperating talk, this seemed like open +and insulting contempt for his authority. It was as though the man were +plotting with a disobedient daughter to flout him as a father. His +purpose of calm thought was swept away by an unreasoning wrath. +Muttering venomous oaths, he stamped down the stairs, whose carpet made +his approach stealthy, though he did not intend it, and he came upon the +two as Wade, his great love spurred by the day's opposition, despondent +in the present, fearing for the future, reached out his longing arms and +took her to his heart. + +They faced him as he stood and glowered upon them, a pathetic pair, +clinging to each other. + +"You sneaking thief!" roared Barrett. + +The girl did not draw away. Wade felt her trembling hands seeking his, +and he pressed them and kept her in the circle of his arm. + +"I don't care to advertise this," Barrett went on, choking with his +rage, "but there's just one way to treat you, you thief, and that's to +have you kicked out of the house. Elva, up-stairs with you!" + +She gently put away her lover's arm, but she remained beside him, strong +in her woman's courage. + +"I have always been proud of my father as a gentleman," she said. "It +hurts my faith to have you say such things under your own roof." + +"That pup has come under my roof to steal," raged the millionaire, "and +he's got to take the consequences. Don't you read me my duty, girl!" + +Even Barrett in his wrath had to acknowledge that simple manliness has +potency against pride of wealth. Wade took two steps towards him, the +instinctive movement of the male that protects his mate. + +"Mr. Barrett," he said, gravely, "give me credit for honest intentions. +If it is a fault to love your daughter with all my heart and soul, I +have committed that fault. For me it's a privilege--an honor that you +can't prevent." + +"What! I can't regulate my own daughter's marriage, you young hound?" + +"You misunderstand me, Mr. Barrett. You cannot prevent me from loving +her, even though I may never see nor speak to her again." + +And Elva, blushing, tremulous, yet determined, looked straight in her +father's eyes, saying, "And I love him." + +Barrett realized that his anger was making a sorry figure compared with +this young man's resolute calmness. With an effort he held himself in +check. + +"We won't argue the love side of this thing," he said, grimly. "I +haven't any notion of doing that with a nineteen-year-old girl and a +pauper. But I want to inform you, young man, that the marriage of John +Barrett's only child and heir is a matter for my judgment to control. +I'm taking it for granted that you are not sneak enough to run away with +her, even if you have stolen her affections." + +The millionaire understood his man. He had calculated the effect of the +sneer. He knew how New England pride may be spurred to conquer passion. + +"These are wicked insults, sir," said the young man, his face rigid and +pale, "but I don't deserve them." + +"I tell you here before my daughter that I have plans for her future +that you shall not interfere with. This is no country school-ma'am, down +on your plane of life--this is Elva Barrett, of 'Oaklands,' a girl who +has temporarily lost her good sense, but who is nevertheless my daughter +and my heiress. She will remember that in a little while. Take yourself +out of the way, young man!" + +The girl's eyes blazed. Her face was transfigured with grief and love. +She was about to speak, but Wade hastened to her and took her hand. + +"Good-night, Elva." + +She understood him. His eyes and the quiver in his voice spoke to her +heart. She clung to his hands when he would have withdrawn them. The +look she gave her father checked that gentleman's contemptuous +mutterings. + +"I am ashamed of my father, Mr. Wade," she said, passionately. "I offer +you the apologies of our home." + +"Say, look here!" snarled Barrett, this scornful rebelliousness putting +his wits to flight, "if that's the way you feel about me, put on your +hat and go with him. I'll be d--d if I don't mean it! Go and starve." + +He realized the folly of his outburst as he returned their gaze. But he +persisted in his puerile attack. + +"Oh, you don't want her that way, do you?" he sneered. "You want her to +bring the dollars that go along with her!" + +Then Wade forgot himself. + +He wrested one hand from the gentle clasp that entreated him, and would +have struck the mouth that uttered the wretched insult. The girl +prevented an act that would have been an enormity. She caught his wrist, +and when his arm relaxed he did not dare, at first, to look at her. Then +he gave her one quick stare of horror and looked at his hand, dazed and +ashamed. + +Barrett, strangely enough, was jarred back to equanimity by the threat +of that blow. He folded his arms, drew himself up, and stood there, the +outraged master of the mansion restored to command, silent, cold, rigid, +his whole attitude of indignant reproach more effective than all the +curses in Satan's lexicon. + +Talk could not help that distressing situation. The young man's white +lips tried to frame the words "I apologize," but even in his anguish the +grim humor of this reciprocation of apology rose before his dizzy +consciousness. + +"Good-night!" he gasped. + +Then he left her and went into the hall, John Barrett close on his +heels. The millionaire watched him take his hat, followed him out upon +the broad porch, and halted him at the edge of the steps. + +"Mr. Wade," he said, "you'd rather resign your position than be kicked +out, I presume?" + +"You mean that it is your wish that I should go away from Stillwater?" + +"That is exactly what I mean. You resign, or I will have your +resignation demanded by the school board." + +"I think my school relations are entirely my own business," retorted the +young man, fighting back his mounting wrath. + +"I'll make it mine, and have you kicked out of this town like a cur." + +Wade remembered at that instant the face of the man whom he had seen +leave John Barrett's office that morning. He recollected his words--"I'd +relish bein' the man that mistook him for a bear!" He knew now how that +man felt. And feeling the lust of killing rise in his own soul for the +first time, he clinched his fists, set his teeth, and strode away into +the night. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE MAKING OF A "CHANEY MAN" + + "We're bound for the choppin's at Chamberlain Lake, + And we're lookin' for trouble and suthin' to take. + We reckon we'll manage this end of the train, + And we'll leave a red streak up the centre of Maine." + + --Murphy's "Come-all-ye." + + +A company of reserves posted in a thicket, after valiantly withstanding +the hammering of a battery, were suddenly routed by wasps. They broke +and ran like the veriest knaves. + +Dwight Wade had determined to face John Barrett's battery of +persecution. But at the end of a week he realized that the little city +of Stillwater was looking askance at him. He knew that gossip attended +his steps and stood ever at his shoulders, as one from the tail of the +eye sees shadowy visions and, turning suddenly, finds them gone. + +That John Barrett would deliberately start stories in which his +daughter's affairs were concerned seemed incredible to the lover who, +for the sake of her fair fame and her peace of mind, had resolved to +make fetish of duty, realizing even better than she herself that Elva +Barrett's sense of justice would weigh well her duties as daughter +before she could be won to the duties of wife. + +Yet Wade could hardly tell why he determined to stay in Stillwater. He +wanted to console himself with the belief that a sudden departure would +give gossip the proof it wanted. For gossip, as he caught its vague +whispers, said that John Barrett had kicked--actually and violently +kicked--the principal of the Stillwater high-school out of his mansion. +Wade did not like to think that Barrett, by himself or a servant, +started that story. Yet the thought made Wade suspect that the +bitterness of the night at "Oaklands" still rankled, and that he was +remaining in Stillwater for the sake of defying John Barrett, and was +not simply crucifying his spirit for the sake of the peace of John +Barrett's daughter. + +For he confessed that his stay there would be martyrdom. He had resolved +that he would not try to see her; that would only mean grief for her and +humiliation for him. He was proud of his love for Elva Barrett, in spite +of her father's contempt and insults. He found no reproach for himself +because he had loved her and had told her so. But for the rôle of a +Lochinvar his New England nature had no taste. He realized, without +arguing the question with himself, that Elva Barrett was not to be won +by the impetuous folly that demanded blind sacrifice of name and +position and father and friends. + +There was no cowardice in this realization. It was rather a pathetic +sacrifice on the part of simple loyalty and a love that was absolute +devotion. In deciding to remain in Stillwater he kept his love alight +like a flame before a shrine. But beyond his daily work and the +unflinching purpose of his great love he could not see his way. + +It was because his way was so obscure that the wasps found him an easier +victim. + +He heard the buzzings at street corners as he passed. There were stings +of glances and of half-heard words. + +Like the pastor of a church in a small place, the principal of +a high-school is one in whom the community feels a sense of +proprietorship, with full right to canvass his goings and comings +and liberty to circumscribe and control. For is he not the one that +should "set example"? + +The wasps would not accept his silent surrender. They suspected +something hidden, and their imaginings saw the worst. They buzzed more +busily every day. That they would not allow him the peace and the +pathetic liberty of renunciation drove Wade frantic. With all the +courage of his conscience, he still faced John Barrett's battery. But +the wasps he could not face. + +And he fled. In the end it was nothing but that--he was put to flight! +The people of Stillwater accepted it as flight, for he placed his +resignation in the hands of the school board barely a week before the +date for the opening of the autumn term. And on the train on which he +fled was the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt, still unconscious that the word +of gossip he had dropped was the match that lighted a fuse, and that the +fuse was briskly burning. + +Above the rumble of the starting car-wheels Wade heard the mills of +Stillwater screaming their farewell taunt at him. + +Then the Honorable Pulaski Britt came and sat down in his seat, penning +him next to the window. + +"Yes, sir," said Britt, with keen memory as to where he had left off in +his previous conversation and with dogged determination to have his say +out, "a man that reads a book written by a perfesser that don't know the +difference between a ramdown and a dose of catnip tea, and then thinks +he understands forestry of the kind that there's a dollar in, needs to +have his head examined for hollows. Do you find anything in them books +about how to get the best figgers on dressed beef?--and when you are +buyin' it in fifty-ton lots for a dozen camps a half a cent on a pound +means something! Is there anything about hirin' men and makin' 'em stay +and work, gettin' cooks and saw-filers that know their business, chasin' +thieves away from depot-camps, keepin' crews from losin' half the +tools? Forestry! Making trees grow! Gawd-amighty, young man, Nature will +attend to the tree-growin'. That's all Nature has got to do. She was +doin' it before we got here, and doin' it well, and do you reckon we +have any right to set up and tell Nature her business? I've got +something else to think of besides tellin' Nature how to run her end. +I'd like to know how to grow men instead of trees. My Jerusalem boss, +MacLeod, writes me he has been two weeks getting together his hundred +men for that operation. He'll meet me at the Umcolcus junction, up the +line here a hundred miles. And I've been tryin' most of that time to get +hold of the right sort of a 'chaney man.'" + +Wade, in his resentment at Britt's intrusion on his thoughts, was in no +mood for philological research, but sudden and rather idle curiosity +impelled him to ask what a "chaney man" was. + +"Why, a clerk--a camp clerk, time-keeper, wangan store overseer, supply +accountant, and all that," snapped Britt, with small patience for the +young man's ignorance. + +At that instant it came more plainly to Wade that he was a fugitive. +When he had left Elva Barrett behind he had let go the strongest cable +of hope. A day before--the day after--his manly spirit probably would +not have allowed him to become a clerk for Pulaski Britt. This day the +impetuous desire to hide in the woods, to escape the wasps of humanity, +to be in some place where sneers and false pity and taunt could not +reach him--that desire was coined into performance. + +"Wouldn't I fit into a job of that sort, Mr. Britt?" he asked, blurting +the question. And when the lumberman stared at him with as much +astonishment as Pulaski Britt ever allowed himself to display, Wade +added, "I have given up school-teaching because--well, I want to get +into the woods for my health!" + +"It will be healthy, all right, but it won't be dude work," said Britt. +"You'll have to hump 'round on snow-shoes or a jumper to five camps. +Board and thirty-five a month! What's the particular ailment with you?" +he demanded, rather suspiciously. "You look rugged enough." + +The young man did not reply, and the Honorable Pulaski stared at him, +his eyes narrowing shrewdly. Mr. Britt had no very delicate notions of +repressing an idea when it occurred to him "Say, look here, young man," +he cried, "I reckon I understand! The Barrett girl, hey? And John got +after you! Well, he can make it hot for any one he takes a niff at." + +"Can't I have that job, Mr. Britt, without a general discussion of my +affairs?" asked Wade, with temper. + +"You're hired!" There was the click of business in Britt's tone, but his +gossip's nature showed itself in the somewhat humorous drawl in which he +added: "I'm glad to know that it's only love that ails you. Outside of +that, you strike me as bein' a pretty rugged chap, and it's rugged chaps +we're lookin' for in 'Britt's Busters.' If it's only love that ails you, +I reckon we won't have any trouble about sendin' you out cured in the +spring." + +But noting the glitter in Wade's eyes, Mr. Britt chuckled amiably and +took himself off down the car to talk business with a man. + +During the long ride to Umcolcus Junction, Wade sat revelling in the +bitterness of his thoughts. He was not disturbed because he had given up +his school. There was a relief in escaping from meddlesome backbiters. +The school had been only a means to an end: it afforded revenue to +attain certain cherished professional plans that loomed large in Wade's +prospects. Money earned honorably in any other fashion would count for +as much. But the fact remained that he was fleeing, was hiding. Britt's +rough and somewhat contemptuous proprietorship, so instantly displayed, +wounded his pride. When he had passed the station to which he had +purchased his ticket before he met Britt, he offered more pay to the +conductor. He had seen Britt talking with the conductor a moment before, +brandishing a hairy hand in his direction. + +"It's all settled by Mr. Britt," the train officer stated, passing on. +"You're one of his men, he says." + +He growled under his breath as he accepted that label--"One of Britt's +men." + +There were one hundred more waiting for them at Umcolcus Junction, where +they changed to the spur line that ran north. + +Most of the men were in a state of social inebriety. A few fighters +were sitting apart on their dunnage-bags, nursing bruises and grudges. +Mindful of the State law that forbade the wearing of calked boots on +board a railroad train, the men who owned only that sort of footgear +were in their stocking feet. They carried their boots strung about +their necks by lacings. Many were bareheaded, having thrown away their +hats in their enthusiasm. Wade was not in a frame of mind to see any +picturesqueness in that frowsy crowd. He was one of them; he walked +dutifully behind his master, the Honorable Pulaski Britt. + +A little man, with neck wattled blue and red with queer suggestion of +a turkey's characteristics, lurched out of a group and came at Pulaski +Britt with a meek and watery smile of welcome. His knees doubled with +a drunkard's limpness, and he had to run to keep from falling. Britt +evidently did not propose to serve as dock for this human derelict. He +stepped to one side with an oath, and the man made a dizzy whirl and +dove headforemost under the train on the main track, and at that moment +the train started. The man rolled over twice, and lay, serenely +indifferent to death, on the outer rail. + + * * * * * + +After it was all over Wade sourly told himself that he acted as he did +simply to avoid witnessing a hideous spectacle. + +For, in spite of Britt's yells of protest, he went under the car, missed +the grinding wheels by an inch, and rolled out on the other side with +the drunken man in his arms. + +And when the train had drawn out of the station he came back across the +track, lugging the little man as he would carry a gripsack, tossed him +into the open door of the baggage-car of the waiting train, spatted the +dust off his own clothes, and went into the coach, casting surly looks +at the sputtering inebriates who attempted to shake hands with him. + +When the train started Britt came again and penned the young man in his +seat against the window-casing. + +"You've started in makin' yourself worth while, even if you are only the +chaney man," vouchsafed his employer. "You did an infernal fool trick, +but you've saved me Tommy Eye, the best teamster on the Umcolcus waters. +As he lies there now he ain't worth half a cent a pound to feed to cats; +when he's on a load with the webbin's in his hands I wouldn't take ten +thousand dollars for him." + +"Is he a sort of personal property of yours?" asked Wade, sullenly. He +was venting his own resentment at Pulaski Britt's airs of general +proprietorship over men. + +"Just the same as that," replied Britt, complacently. "I've had him more +than twenty years, and I'd like to see him try to go to work for any one +else, or any one else try to hire him away." He struck his hand on the +young man's knee. "Up this way, if you don't make men know you own 'em, +you're missin' one of the main points of forestry!" He sneered this +word every time he used it in his talk with Wade. The new chaney man +began to wonder how much longer he could endure the Honorable Pulaski D. +Britt without rising and cuffing those puffy cheeks. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE BOSS OF THE "BUSTERS" + + "If you don't like our looks nor ain't stuck on our kind, + Git back with the dames in the next car behind." + + +On and on went the yelping staccato of the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt. +The Honorable Pulaski D. was discoursing on his favorite topic, and his +voice was heard above the rattle and jangle of the shaky old +passenger-coach that jolted behind some freight-cars. + +"Forty years ago I rolled nigh onto a million feet into that brook +there!" shouted the lumber baron of the Umcolcus. His knotted, hairy +fist wagged under the young man's nose as he pointed at the car +window, his unwholesome breath fanned warmly on Wade's cheek, and +when he crowded over to look into the summer-dried stream his bristly +chin-whiskers tickled his seat-mate's ear. The September day was muggy +and human contact disquieting. Wade shrank nearer the open window. The +Honorable Pulaski did not notice the shrinking. He was accustomed to +crowd folks. His self-assertiveness expected them to get out of the way. + +"Yes, sir, nigh onto a million in one spring, and half of it 'down pine' +and sounder'n a hound's tooth. Nothing here now but sleeper stuff. It's +a good many miles to the nearest saw-log, and that's where I'm cutting +on Jerusalem. I tell you, I've peeled some territory in forty years, +young man." + +Wade looked at the red tongue licking lustfully between blue lips, and +then gazed on the ragged, bush-grown wastes on either side. While he had +been crowding men the Honorable Pulaski had been just as industriously +crowding the forest off God's acres. The "chock" of the axe sounded in +his abrupt sentences, the rasp of saws in his voice. + +"We left big stumps those days." The hairy fist indicated the rotten +monuments of moss-covered punk shouldering over the dwarfed bushes. +"There was a lot of it ahead of us. Didn't have to be economical. Get +it down and yanked to the landings--that was the game! We're cutting +as small as eight-inch spruce at Jerusalem. Ain't a mouthful for a +gang-saw, but they taste good to pulp-grinders." + +The train began to groan and jerk to a stand-still, and the old man +dove out of his seat and staggered down the aisle, holding to the +backs of the seats. At the last station he had spent ten minutes of +hand-brandishing colloquy on the platform with a shingle-mill boss +whom he had summoned to the train by wire. He was to meet a birch-mill +foreman here. Wade looked out at the struggling cedars and the white +birches, "the ladies of the forest," pathetic aftermath which was now +falling victim to axe and saw, and wondered with a flicker of grim humor +in his thoughts why the Honorable Pulaski did not set crews at work +cutting the bushes for hoop-poles and then clean up the last remnant +into toothpicks. + +"He's a driver, ain't he?" sounded a voice in his ear. An old man +behind him hung his grizzled whiskers over the seat-back and pointed +an admiring finger at the retreating back of the lumber baron. + +Wade wished that people would let him alone. He had some thoughts--some +very bitter thoughts--to think alone, and the world jarred on him. The +yelp of the Honorable Pulaski's monologue, that everlasting, insistent +bellow of voices in the smoking-car ahead, where the ingoing crew of +Britt's hundred men were trying to sing with drunken lustiness, and now +this amiable old fool of the grizzled whiskers, stung the dull pain of +his resentment at deeper troubles into sudden and almost childish anger. + +"Once when I was swamping for him on Telos stream, he says to me, 'Man,' +he says, 'remember that the time that's lost when an axe is slicin' air +ain't helping me to pay you day's wages!' And I says to him, 'Mister +Britt,' says I--" + +Dwight Wade, college graduate, former high-school principal, and at all +times in the past a cultured and courteous young gentleman, did the +first really rude and unpardonable act of his life. He twisted his chin +over his shoulder, scowled into the mild, dim, and watery eyes of his +interlocutor, and growled: + +"Oh, cut it short! What in--" He checked the expletive, and snapped +himself up and across the aisle, and slammed down into another seat. The +red came over his face. He did not dare to look back at the old man. He +hearkened to the rip-roaring chorus in the smoking-car, and reflected +that as the new time-keeper he was now one of "Britt's Busters," and +that the demoralizing license of the great north woods must have entered +into his nature thus early. He grunted his disgust at himself under his +breath, and hunched his head down between his shoulders. + +In his nasty state of mind he glowered at a passenger who came into the +car at the front. It was a girl, and a pretty girl at that. She nodded a +cheery greeting to the old man of the grizzled whiskers, and with a +smile still dimpling her cheeks flashed one glance at Wade. It was not +a bold look, and yet there was the least bit of challenge in it. The +sudden pout on her lips might have been at thought of confiding her +fresh, crisp skirts to the dusty seat; and yet, when she turned and shot +one more quick glance at the young man's sour countenance, the pout +curled into something like disdain, and a little shrug of her shoulders +hinted that she had not met the response that she was accustomed to find +on the faces of young men who saw her for the first time. + +While Wade was gazing gloomily and abstractedly at the fair profile +and the nose, tip-tilted a wee bit above the big white bow of her veil +tied under her chin, one of the crew lurched from the door of the +smoking-car, caught off his hat, and bowed extravagantly. It was Tommy +Eye. He had to clutch the brake-wheel to keep himself from falling. But +his voice was still his own. He broke out lustily: + + "Oh, there ain't no girl, no pretty little girl, + That I have left behind me. + I'm all cut loose for to wrassle with the spruce, + Way up where she can't find me. + Oh, there ain't no--" + +An angry face appeared over his shoulder in the door of the smoker, two +big hands clutched his throat, jammed the melody into a hoarse squawk, +and then the songster went tumbling backward into the car and out of +sight. + +Almost immediately his muscular suppressor crossed the platform and came +into the coach, snatching the little round hat off the back of his head +as he entered. Wade knew him. His employer had introduced them at the +junction as two who should know each other. It was Colin MacLeod, the +"boss." + +"And Prince Edward's Island never turned out a smarter," the Honorable +Pulaski had said, not deigning to make an aside of his remarks. "Landed +four million of the Umcolcus logs on the ice this spring, busted her +with dynamite, let hell and the drive loose, licked every pulp-wood boss +that got in his way with their kindlings, and was the first into Pea +Cove boom with every log on the scale-sheet. That's this boy!" And he +fondled the young giant's arm like a butcher appraising beef. + +Wade paid little attention to him then. With his ridged jaw muscles, his +hard gray eyes, and the bullying cock of his head, he was only a part of +the ruthlessness of the woods. + +But now, as he came up the car aisle, his face flushed, his eyes eager, +his embarrassment wrinkling on his forehead, Wade looked at him with the +sudden thought that the boss of the "Busters" was merely a boy, after +all. + +"It was only Tommy Eye, Miss Nina," explained MacLeod, his voice +trembling, his abashed admiration shining in his face. "He's just +out of jail, you know." He looked at Wade and then at the old man +of the grizzled whiskers, and raised his voice as though to gain a +self-possession he did not feel. "Tommy always gets into jail after +the drive is down. He's spent seventeen summers in jail, and is +proud of it." + +"But there ain't no better teamster ever pushed on the webbin's," said +the old man, admiration for all the folks of the woods still unflagging. + +The girl did not display the same enthusiasm, either for Tommy Eye's +mishaps or for the bashful giant who stood shifting from foot to foot +beside her seat. + +"Crews going into the woods ought to be nailed up in box-cars, that's +what father says. And when they go through Castonia settlement I wish +they were in crates, the same as they ship bears." + +"How is your father since spring?" asked the young boss, stammeringly, +trying to appear unconscious of her scorn. + +"Oh, he's all right," she returned, carelessly, patting her hand on her +lips to repress a yawn. + +"And is every one in Castonia all right?" + +"You can ask them when you get there," she replied, a bit ungraciously. + +"I tell you, I was pretty surprised to see you get aboard the train down +here at Bomazeen. I--" + +She canted her head suddenly, and looked sidewise at him with an +expression half satiric, half indignant. + +"Do you think that all the folks who ever go anywhere in this world are +river drivers and"--she shot a quick and disparaging glance at the still +glowering Wade--"drummers?" + +MacLeod noticed the look and its scorn with delight, and grasped at this +opportunity to get outside the platitudes of conversation. But in his +eagerness to be news-monger he did not soften his "out-door voice," +deepened by many years of bellowing above the roar of white water. + +"Oh, that ain't a drummer! That's Britt's new chaney man--the +time-keeper and the wangan store clerk." MacLeod knew that a girl born +and bred in Castonia settlement, on the edge of the great forest, needed +no explanation of "chaney man," the only man in a logging crew who could +sleep till daylight, and didn't come out in the spring with callous +marks on his hands as big as dimes. But he seemed to be hungry for an +excuse to stay beside her, where he could gaze down on the brown hair +looped over her forehead and her radiantly fair face, and could catch +a glimpse of the white teeth. "Britt was tellin' me on the side that +he's been teachin' school or something like that, and--say, you've +heard of old Barrett, who controls all the stumpage on the Chamberlain +waters--that rich old feller? Well, Britt, being hitched up with +Barrett more or less, and knowin' all about it--" + +Wade was now upright in his seat, but the absorbed foreman, catching at +last a gleam of interest in the gray eyes upraised to his, did not +notice. + +"--Britt says that Mister School-teacher there went to work and fell in +love with Barrett's girl, and now she's goin' to marry a rich feller in +the lumberin' line that her dad picked out for her, and instead of goin' +to war or to sea, like--" + +Wade, maddened, sick at heart, furious at the old tattler who had thus +canvassed his poor secret with his boss, had tried twice to cry an +interruption. But his voice stuck in his throat. + +Now he leaped up, leaned far over the seat-back in front of him, and +shouted, with face flushed and eyes like shining steel: + +"That's enough of that, you pup!" + +In the sudden, astonished silence the old man dragged his fingers +through his grizzled whiskers and whined plaintively: + +"Ain't he peppery, though, about anybody talking? He shet me up, too!" + +"It's my business you're talking!" shouted Wade, beating time with +clinched fist. "Drop it." + +MacLeod, primordial in his instincts, lost sight of the provocation, and +felt only the rebuff in the presence of the girl he was seeking to +attract. He had no apology on his tongue or in his heart. + +"It will take a better man than you to trig talk that I'm makin'," he +retorted. "This isn't a district school, where you are licked if you +whisper!" He sneered as he said it, and took one step up the aisle. + +With the bitter anger that had been burning in him for many days now +fanned into the white-heat of Berserker rage, Wade leaped out of his +seat. Between them sat the girl, looking from one to the other, her +cheeks paling, her lips apart. + +At the moment, with a drunken man's instinctive knowledge of ripe +occasions, Tommy Eye lurched out once more on the smoker platform and +began to carol the lay that had consoled him on so many trips from town: + + "Oh, there ain't no girl, no pretty little girl, + That I have left behind me." + +There sounded the clang of the engine bell far to the front. There was +the premonitory and approaching jangle of shacklings, as car after car +took up its slack. + +"Look after your man there, MacLeod!" cried the girl. "The yank will +throw him off." + +"Let him go, then!" gritted the foreman. The flame in Wade's eyes was +like the red torch of battle to him. Not for years had a man dared to +give him that look. + +Suddenly the car sprang forward under their feet as the last shackle +snapped taut. The boss was driven towards Wade, and let himself be +driven. The other braced himself, blind in his fury, realizing at last +the nature of the blood lust. + +A squall, fairly demoniac in intensity, stopped them. MacLeod recognized +the voice, and even his passion for battle yielded. When the Honorable +Pulaski D. Britt, baron of the Umcolcus, yelled in that fashion it meant +obedience, and on this occasion the squall was reinforced by a shriek +from the girl. And MacLeod whirled, dropping his fists. + +There on the platform stood Britt, clutching the limp and soggy Tommy +Eye by the slack of his jacket. The Honorable Pulaski, jealous of every +second of time, had remained in conversation to the last with his birch +foreman. He stepped aboard just as Tommy, jarred from his feet, was +pitching off the other side of the platform. The Honorable Pulaski +snatched for him and held on, at the imminent risk of his own life. +Already both of them were leaning far out, for Tommy Eye, in the +blissful calm of his spirit, was making no effort to help himself. + +In an instant MacLeod was down the car aisle and had pulled both back to +safety. + +"Why in blastnation ain't you staying in this hog-car here, where you +belong, you long-legged P.I. steer?" roared the old man, his anger ready +the moment his fright subsided. "What do I hire you for? You came near +letting me lose the best teamster in my whole crew. Now get into that +car and stay in that car till we get to the end of this railroad." + +He put his hands against MacLeod's breast and shoved him backward into +the door, where Tommy Eye, grinning in fatuous ignorance of the danger +he had passed through, had just disappeared ahead of him. The angry +shame of a man cruelly humiliated twisted MacLeod's features, but he +allowed his imperious despot to push him into the car, casting a last +appealing look at the girl. Britt slammed the door and stood on the +platform, bracing himself by a hand on either side the casing, and +peered through the dingy glass to make sure that his crew was now under +proper discipline. + +"He's a driver and a master," piped up Grizzly Whiskers, with the +appositeness of a Greek chorus. + +"There's the song about him, ye know: + + "Oh, the night that I was married, + The night that I was wed, + Up there come Pulaski Britt + And stood at my bed-head. + Said he, 'Arise, young married man, + And come along with me. + Where the waters of Umcolcus + They do roar along so free.'" + +"I'll bet he went, at that," volunteered a man farther back in the car. +"When Britt is after men he gits' em, and when he gits 'em he uses 'em." + +"Mr. Britt," he shouted down the car aisle as the old man entered, "that +was brave work you done in savin' Tommy's life!" + +"Go to the devil with your compliments!" snapped Britt. "If it wasn't +that I was losing my best teamster I wouldn't have put out my little +finger to save him from mince-meat." + +He saw the girl, turned over a seat to face her, and began to fire rapid +questions at her regarding her father and mother and the latest news of +Castonia settlement. When the conversation languished, as it did soon on +account of the inattention of the young woman, the Honorable Pulaski +caught the still flaming eye of Dwight Wade, and crooked his finger to +summon him. Wade merely scowled the deeper. The Honorable Pulaski +serenely disregarded this malevolence as a probable optical illusion, +and when Wade did not start beckoned again. + +"Come here, you!" he bellowed. "Can't you see that I want you?" + +With new accession of fury at being thus baited, the young man started +up, resolved to take his employer aside and free his mind on that matter +of news-mongering. But the bluff and busy tyrant was first, as he always +was in his dealings with men. + +"Here, Wade," he shouted, "you shake hands with the prettiest girl +in the north country! This is Miss Nina Ide, and this is my new +time-keeper, Dwight Wade. He's going to find that there's more in +lumbering than there is in being a college dude or teaching a school. +Sit down, Wade." + +He pulled the young man into the seat. + +"Entertain this young lady," he commanded. "She don't want to talk with +old chaps like me. Her father--well, I reckon you know her father! Oh, +you don't? Well, he's first assessor of Castonia settlement, runs the +roads, the schools, and the town, has the general store and post-office, +and this pretty daughter that all the boys are in love with." + +And at the end of this delicate introduction he pushed brusquely between +them, and went back to talk with his elderly admirer in the rear of the +car. + +Wade looked into the gray eyes of the girl sullenly. There was an angry +sparkle in her gaze. + +"Well, Mr. Wade, you may think from what that old fool said that I'm +suffering to be entertained. If you think any such thing you can change +your mind and go back." + +She had not a city-bred woman's self-poise, he thought. Her manner was +that of the country belle, spoiled the least bit by flattery and +attention. And yet, as he looked at her, he thought that he had never +seen fairer skin to set off the flush of angry beauty. For others there +was something alluring in the absolute whiteness of her teeth, peeping +under the curve of her lip, in the nose (the least bit _retroussé_), in +the looped locks of brown hair crossing her temples. Yet there was no +admiration in his eyes. + +"I hope you won't hold me guilty of being the intruder," he said, +coldly. + +"Not if you move your brogans over to some seat where there is more room +for them," she returned, with a click of her white teeth that showed +mild savagery. This young man who was in love with some one else, and +who had scowled at her, was decidedly not to her liking, she thought, in +spite of his regular features, his firm chin, his clean-cut mouth +unhidden by beard, and his brown eyes. + +Wade flushed, rose, bowed with hat lifted to a rather ironical height, +and took his seat alone, well to the front of the car. He saw MacLeod's +baleful face framed in the little window of the smoking-car's door. For +mile after mile, as the train jangled on, it remained there. + +The menace of the expression, the challenge in the attitude, and this +insolent espionage, all following the insults of his gossiping tongue, +wrought upon the young man's feelings like a file on metal. As his +resentment gnawed, it was in his mind to go and smash his fist through +the little window into the middle of that lowering countenance. + +To him came the Honorable Pulaski, bristling and bustling. + +"They're telling me back there, young man, that you and Colin came near +to having some sort of rumpus a little while ago. Now, I can't have +anything of that sort going on among my men. You mind _your_ business. +I'll make _him_ mind _his_. But what's it all about, anyway? Why were +you going to fight like roosters at sight?" + +Wade looked at his pompous red face and into his eyes with their +yellowish sclerotic, and choked back the recrimination he had intended. +The thought of opening his heart's poor secret by bandying words with +this man made him quiver. + +"As well to talk to a Durham bull," he reflected. + +"Why, you poor college dude," went on his employer, scornfully, "Colin +MacLeod would break you in two and use you to taller his boots, a piece +in each hand. You're hired to keep books and peddle wangan stuff +according to the prices marked! Keep your place, where you belong. Don't +go to stacking muscle against the boss of the Busters." + +The former centre of Burton College's football eleven stiffened his +muscles and set his nails into his palms to keep from hot retort. What +was the use? What did college training avail if it didn't help a +gentleman to hold his tongue at the right time? + +"Now, remember what I've told you," ordered Britt, "and I'll go and set +MacLeod to the right-about, so that you won't have to be afraid of him +if you mind your own business." + +He went away into the smoking-car. Between the opening and the closing +of the door there puffed out a louder jargon from the orgy. It then +settled into its dull diapason of maudlin voices. + +For the rest of the journey, to the end of the forest railroad spur, +Wade sat and looked out into the hopeless and ragged ruin left by the +axes. The sight fitted with his mood. Britt, back from his interview +with MacLeod, and serene in the power of the conscious autocrat, sat by +himself and figured endlessly with a stubby lead-pencil. Wade looked +around only once at the girl. When he did he caught her looking at him, +and she immediately snapped her eyes away indignantly. + +At last the engine gave a long shriek that wailed away in echoes among +the stumps. It was a different note from its careless yelps at the +infrequent crossings. + +"Here we are!" bellowed Britt, cheerfully, stuffing away his papers and +coming up the car for his little bag. He stopped opposite Wade. + +"Remember what I told you about minding your business," he commanded, +brusquely. "You may be a college graduate, but MacLeod is your boss. He +won't hurt you if you keep your place!" + +In medicine there are cumulative poisons--the effect of small doses at +intervals amounting in the end to a single large dose. + +In matters of heart, temper, and moral restraint there are cumulative +poisons, too. Dwight Wade, struggling up as the train jolted to a halt, +felt that this last insult, coming as it did out of that brusque, +rough-sneering, culture-despising spirit of the woods, exemplified in +Pulaski D. Britt, had put an end to self-restraint. + +It was the same brusque, money-worshipping, intolerant spirit of the +woods that sounded in John Barrett's voice when he had sneered at Wade's +pretensions to his daughter's hand. There it was now in those roaring +voices in the smoking-car. And yet he had come to it--hating it--fleeing +from the sight of men of his kind when his little temple of love seemed +closed to him, and the world had jeered at him behind his back! He +looked through the dirty car windows at the little shacks of the +railroad terminus, heard the bellow of voices, gritted his teeth in +ungovernable rage at Britt's last words, and determined to--well, he +hardly knew what he did propose to do. + +But it should be something to show them all that he could no longer be +bossed and insulted and jeered at--all in that bumptious, braggadocio, +bucko spirit of the woods! + +Both platforms of the cars were swarming with men--men rigged in queer +garb: wool leggings, wool jackets striped off in bizarre colors or +checked like crazy horse-blankets. Each man in sight carried his heavy +brogan shoes hung about his neck. + +They were singing in fairly good time, and Wade listened to the words +despite himself: + + "Oh, here I come from the Kay-ni-beck, + With my old calk boots slung round my neck + Here we come--yas, a-here we come-- + A hundred men and a jug of rum. + WHOOP-fa-dingo! + Old Prong Jones!" + +The girl passed Wade, going down the aisle before he left his seat. He +came behind her. But they were obliged to wait at the door. The men +crowded close upon both platforms. Each man had a meal-sack stuffed with +his possessions. They were all elbowing each other, and the result was a +congestion that the kicks of the Honorable Pulaski and the cuffings of +Colin MacLeod did little to break. + +The boss of the Busters kept stealing glances at the girl, as though to +challenge her notice, and perhaps her admiration, as she saw him thus a +master of men. + +It was then that the spirit of anger and rebellion seething in Dwight +Wade--the cumulative poison of his many insults--stirred him to bitter +provocation in his own turn. + +The girl carried a heavy leather suit-case, and now, waiting for the +press of men to escape from the car, she rested it against a seat, and +sighed in weariness and vexation. + +With quiet masterfulness Wade took it from her hand and smiled into the +astonished gray eyes that flashed back over her shoulder at him. It was +a smile that not even a maiden, offended as she had been, could resist. + +"I will assist you to--to--I believe it is a stage-coach that takes us +on," he said. "Let me do this, so that you won't remember me simply as a +man whose own troubles made him a boor." + +MacLeod's look of fury as he saw the act fell full upon them both, and +the girl resented it. + +"I thank you," she returned, smiling at her squire with a little +exaggeration of cordiality. And when at last the platforms were cleared +they stepped out, still talking. + +All about them men were kneeling, fastening the latchets of their +spike-sole shoes. + +"Rod Ide's gal has got a new mash!" hiccoughed one burly chap, leering +at them as they passed. At the instant MacLeod, at their heels, struck +the man brutally across the mouth, shouldered Wade roughly, and spoke +to the girl, his round hat crumpled in his big fist. + +"Miss Nina," he stammered, "I'm--I'm sorry for forgetting that you were +in that car awhile back. But you know I ain't used to takin' talk of +that sort. So, let me see you safe aboard the stage, like an old friend +should." + +"This gentleman will look after me," said the girl. She tried to be +calm, but her voice trembled. A city woman, confident of the regard due +to woman, would not have feared so acutely. But Nina Ide, bred on the +edge of the forest, was accustomed to see the brute in man spurn +restraint. The passions flaming in the eyes of these two were familiar +to her. She expected little more from the gentleman in the way of +consideration for her feelings than she did from the lumber-jack. "You +go along about your business, Colin," she said, hastily. "I can attend +to mine." + +"Give me that!" snarled the boss, his eyes red under their meeting +brows. In his rage he forgot the deference due the woman. + +"See if you can take it!" growled back the other. With him the girl was +only the means to the end that his whole nature now lusted for. He +forgot her. + +Wade looked for the young giant to strike. But the woods duello has its +vagaries. + +MacLeod lifted one heavy shoe and drove its spiked sole down upon Wade's +foot, the brads puncturing the thin leather. With his foe thus anchored, +he clutched for the valise. But ere his victim had time to strike, the +furious, flaming, bristling face of the Honorable Pulaski was between +them, and his elbows, hard as pine knots, drove them apart with wicked +thrustings. As they staggered back the old lumber baron, used to playing +the tyrant mediator, grabbed an axe from the nearest man of the crew. + +"I'll brain the one that lifts a finger!" he howled. "What did I tell +you about this? Who is running this crew? Whose money is paying you? Get +back, you hounds!" + +Once more, though he gasped in the pure madness of his rage, MacLeod was +cowed by his despot. He turned and began marshalling the crew aboard +great wagons that were waiting at the station. + +"You take your seat in that wagon, young man!" roared Britt, shaking +that hateful, hairy fist under Wade's nose. "We'll see about all this +later! Get onto that wagon!" + +At the opposite side of the station was the mail-stage, a dusty, rusty +conveyance with a lurching canopy of cracked leather above its four +seats, and four doleful horses waiting the snap of the driver's whip. + +Without a word to Britt, Wade led the way to the coach, and set the +suit-case between the seats. He limped as he walked, and his teeth were +set in pain. + +He gave his hand to the girl, and she silently accepted the assistance +and took her place in the coach. + +Then he turned to meet the fiery gaze of the Honorable Pulaski, who had +followed close on their heels, choking with expletives. + +"I reckon I see through this now," he growled. "Tryin' to cut out the +cleanest feller in the Umcolcus with your dude airs! But Rod Ide's girl +ain't to be fooled by city notions. She knows a man when she sees him." +He chucked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of MacLeod, busy +with the laggard men. "Go aboard, and let this be an end of your +meddling, young man." + +"You just speak for yourself and attend to your business, Mr. Britt!" +cried the girl, with a spirit that cowed even the tyrant's bluster. +"'Rod Ide's girl,' as you call her, can choose all her own affairs, and +you needn't scowl at me, for I'm not on your pay-roll and I'm not +afraid of you!" + +She turned to Wade with real gentleness in her tones. + +"I'm afraid he hurt you. It's a rough country up here. If you hadn't +been trying to help me it wouldn't have happened. He had no right to--" +She checked herself suddenly, and her cheeks flamed. + +"That wasn't a fair twit about my sticking my nose into your affairs, +Miss Nina," protested Britt, and turning from her he visited his rage +vicariously on his time-keeper, taking him by the arm and starting to +drag him. "I told you to get aboard!" he rasped. "And when my men that I +hire don't do as I tell 'em to do, I kick 'em aboard--and a time-keeper +is no better than a swamper with me when he leaves this railroad. You +want to understand those things and save lots of trouble." + +"You take your hand off my arm, Mr. Britt," said the young man. He did +not speak loudly, but there was something in his voice that impressed +the Honorable Pulaski, who knew men. + +"Now," resumed Wade, "for reasons of my own and that I don't propose to +explain, I am going to ride to Castonia settlement on this mail-stage." + +"It's safe to go on the wagon," persisted Britt, more mildly. "I tell +you, if you mind your own business, I won't let him lick you." + +With face gray and rigid at an insult that the old man couldn't +understand, Wade opened his mouth, then shut it, turned his back, and +climbed aboard the coach. The girl moved along to the farther end, and +gropingly and blindly, without thought as to where he was sitting, he +took the place beside her. + +He remembered that as they drove away Britt shook that hairy fist at +him, and that some rude roisterer on the wagons lilted some doggerel +about "the chaney man." And through a sort of red mist he saw the face +of Colin MacLeod. + +They were miles along the rough road before he looked at the girl. At +the movement of his head she turned her own, and in the piquant face +above the big white bow of the veil he saw real sympathy. + +He did not speak, but he looked into her clear eyes--eyes that had the +country girl's spirit and a resourcefulness beyond her years--and from +them he drew a certain comfort. + +"Mr. Wade," she said, at last, "I'm only nineteen years old, but up in +Castonia settlement we see what men are without the wrappings on them. I +don't know much about real society, but I've read about it, and I guess +society women get sort of dazzled by the outside polish and don't see +things very clear. But up our way, with what they see of men, girls get +to be women young. You are a college graduate and a school-teacher and +all that, and I'm only nineteen, but--well, it just seems to me I can't +help reaching over like this--" + +She patted his arm. + +"--And what I feel like saying is, 'Poor boy!'" + +There was such vibrant sympathy in her voice that though he set his +teeth, clinched his hands, and summoned all his resolution, his nervous +strain slackened and the tears came into his eyes--tears that had been +slowly welling ever since he had turned from John Barrett's door. + +It was woman's attempt at consolation that broke through his restraint. + +"I don't blame you much for squizzlin' a little," broke in the +stage-driver, who saw this emotion without catching the conversation. +"He did bring his huck down solid when he stamped. But I've been calked +myself, and a tobacker poultice allus does the business for me--northin' +better for p'isen in a wound." + +The chaney man reached his hand to the girl under the shelter of the +seat-back. + +"Shake!" he said, simply. "I've come up here to stay awhile, and it's +good to feel that I've got one friend that's--that's a woman." + +"And you--" She faltered and paused to listen, lips apart. + +"I've come to stay," he repeated, grimly. + +He listened too. + +Far behind them they heard the dull rumble of the heavy wagons over the +ledges. The raucous howling of the revellers had something wolf-like +about it. It seemed to close the line of retreat. Ahead were the big +woods, looming darkly on the mountain ridges--that vast region of man to +man, and the devil take the weak. + +And again he said, not boastingly, but with a quiet setting of his tense +jaw muscles: + +"I've come to stay." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +DURING THE PUGWASH HANG-UP + + "With eddies and rapids it's middlin' tough, + To worry a log-drive through. + But to manage a woman is more than enough + For a West Branch driving crew." + + --Leeboomook Song. + + +Just how Tommy Eye escaped so nimbly from the ruck of the fight at the +foot of Pugwash Hill he never knew nor understood, his wits not being of +the clearest that day--and the others being too busy to notice. + +But he did escape. One open-handed buffet sent him reeling into and +through some wayside bushes. He sat on his haunches on the other side a +moment like a jack-rabbit and surveyed the stirring scene, and then made +for higher ground. At the end of an enervating sixty-days' sentence in +the county jail--his seventeenth summer "on the bricks" for the same old +bibulous cause; second offence, and no money left to pay the fine--Tommy +did not feel fit for the fray. + +He sat on a bowlder at the top of the rise for a little while and gazed +down on them--the hundred men of "Britt's Busters," bound in for the +winter cutting on Umcolcus waters. They were fighting aimlessly, "mixing +it up" without any special vindictiveness, and Tommy, an expert in +inebriety, sagely concluded that they were too drunk to furnish +amusement. So he rolled over the bowlder and nestled down to ease his +headache, knowing, as a teamster should know, that Britt's tote wagons +were to hold up at the Pugwash for a half-hour's rest and bait. + +For that matter, a fight at the Pugwash was no novel incident--not for +Tommy Eye, at least, veteran of many a woods campaign. + +The hang-up at the hill is a teamster's rule as ancient as the tote +road. + +And the fight of the ingoing crew is as regular as the halt. All the way +from the end of the railroad the men have been crowded on the wagons, +with nothing to do but express personal differences of opinion. Every +other man is a stranger to his neighbor, for employment offices do not +make a specialty of introductions. As the principal matter of argument +on the tote wagons is which is the best man, the Pugwash Hill wait, +where there is soft ground and elbow-room, makes a most inviting +opportunity to settle disputes and establish an _entente cordiale_ that +will last through all the winter. + +Two other men--two men who had been on the outskirts of the fray from +its beginning--came leisurely up the hill, and sat down on the bowlder +behind which was couched Tommy Eye. + +One was the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt; the other was Colin MacLeod. + +The Honorable Pulaski tucked the end of a big cigar into the opening in +his bristly gray beard where his mouth was hidden, and lighted it. As an +after-thought he offered one to MacLeod. The young man, his elbows on +his knees, his flushed face turned aside, shook his head sullenly. + +"Well, you're having a run of cuss-foolishness that even our champion +fool, Tommy Eye himself, couldn't match," snorted the old man, rolling +his tongue around his cigar. + +Tommy, behind the rock, tipped one ear up out of the moss. + +"Here you go pouncing into that car to-day, where my new time-keeper +was, and go to picking a fuss with him, and--" + +"He was the one that started it, Mr. Britt," said the boss, in the dull +monotone of one who has said the same thing many times before. + +"Don't bluff me!" snapped the Honorable Pulaski. "You were gossiping +over a lot of his private business with that Ide girl--and bringing me +into it, too. You can't fool me! Old Jeff back in the car heard it all. +The young feller had a right to put in an oar to stop you, and he did +it, and I'll back him in it." + +"Yes, and you went and introduced him to Miss Ide--that's some more of +your backin'," said MacLeod, bitterly. + +"Just common politeness--just common politeness!" cried Britt, waving +his cigar impatiently. "That girl hasn't said she'd marry you, has she? +No! I knew she hadn't. Well, she's got a right to talk with nice young +men that I introduce to her, and there's nothing to it to make a fuss +over, MacLeod--only common politeness. You're making a fool of yourself, +and setting the girl herself against you by acting jealous like that +before the face and eyes of every one. That's enough time and talk +wasted on girls. Now, quit it, and get your mind on your work. You +understand that I won't have any more of this scrapping in my crew." + +With a blissful disregard of consistency, he gazed through smoke-clouds +down at the men below, who were listlessly exchanging blows or rolling +on the ground, locked in close embrace. + +MacLeod stood up, and tugged the collar of his wool jacket away from his +throat. + +"I ain't much of a man to talk my business over with any one, Mr. +Britt," he said. "But you are putting this thing on a business basis, +and you don't have the right to do it. I ain't engaged to Nina Ide, and +I 'ain't asked her to be engaged to me, for the time 'ain't come right +yet. But there ain't nobody else in God's world goin' to have her but +me. She ain't too good for me, even if her father is old Rod Ide. I'll +have money some day myself. I've got some now. I can buy the clothes +when I need 'em, if that's all that a girl likes. But it ain't all they +like--not the kind of a girl like Nina Ide is. She knows a man when she +sees him. She knows that I'm a man, square and straight, and one that +loves her well enough to let her walk on him, and that's the kind of a +man for a girl born and bred on the edge of the woods." + +He drew up his lithe, tall body, and snapped his head to one side with +almost a click of the rigid neck. + +"Along comes that college dude," he snarled, "just thrown over by a city +girl and lookin' for some one else to make love to, and he cuts in"--his +voice broke--"you see what he done, Mr. Britt! He helped her off the +train before I could get there. He put her on the stage, and rode away +with her while you were makin' me handle the men. And he's ridin' with +her now, damn him, and he's a-talkin' with her and laughin' at me behind +my back!" He shook both fists at the road to Castonia settlement, +winding over the hill, and there were tears on his cheeks. + +"He probably isn't laughing very much," replied Britt, dryly. "Not since +you plugged that spike boot of yours down on his foot there on the depot +platform. A nasty trick, MacLeod, that was." + +"I wish I'd 'a' ground it off," muttered the boss. He struck his spikes +against the bowlder with such force that a stream of fire followed the +kick. + +"He can't do it--he can't do it, Mr. Britt! He can't steal her! I've +loved her too long, and I'll have her. You just gave off your orders to +me about fighting. You don't say anything to those cattle down there +fighting about nothin'. You let them settle their troubles. Here I am!" +He struck his breast. "For five years, first up in the dark of the +mornin', last to bed in the dark of the night. I've sweat and swore and +frozen in the slush and snow and sleet, driving your crew to make money +for you. And I've waded from April till September, I've broken jams and +taken the first chance in the white water, so that I could get your +drive down ahead of the rest. And now, when it comes to a matter of hell +and heaven for me, you tell me I can't stand like a man for my own. You +call it wastin' time!" + +He bent over the Honorable Pulaski, his face purple, his eyes red. Britt +took out his cigar and held it aside to blink up at this disconcerting +young madman. + +"I tell you, you are taking chances, Mr. Britt. You have bradded me on, +and told me that a man of the woods always gets what he wants if he goes +after it right. Twice to-day you have stood between me and what I want. +You've let a college dude take the sluice ahead of me. I know you pay me +my money, but don't you do that again. I'm going to have that girl, I +say! The man that steps in ahead of me, he's goin' to die, Mr. Britt, +and the man that steps between me and that man, when I'm after him, he +dies, too. And if that sounds like a bluff, then you haven't got Colin +MacLeod sized up right, that's all!" + +The Honorable Pulaski winked rapidly under the other's savage regard. He +knew when to bluster and he knew when to palter. + +"MacLeod," he said, at last, getting up off the rack with a grunt, "what +a man that works for me does in the girl line is none of my business. +But after that kind of brash talk I might suggest to you that a cell in +state-prison isn't going to be like God's out-doors that you're roaming +around in now." + +The boss sneered contemptuously. + +"Furthermore, this college dude, that you are talking about as though he +were a water-logged jill-poke, was something in the football line when +he was in college--I don't know what, for I don't know anything about +such foolishness--but, anyway, from what I hear, it was up to him to +break the most arms and legs, and he did it, I understand. This is only +in advice, MacLeod--only in advice," he cried, flapping a big hand to +check impatient interruption. "You saw when Tommy Eye, the drunken fool, +fell under the train at the junction to-day, as he is always doing, that +feller Wade picked him up with one hand and lugged him like a pound of +sausage-meat--saved the fool's life, and didn't turn a hair over it. So, +talk a little softer about killing, my boy, and, best of all, wait till +you find out that he wants the girl or the girl wants _you_!" + +He walked down the hill. + +"Go to blazes with your advice, you old fool!" growled MacLeod, under +his breath. "He's lookin' for it; he's achin' for it! He gave me a look +to-day that no man has given me in ten years and had eyes left open to +look a second time. He'll get it!" + +As he turned to follow his employer he saw the recumbent Tommy, and went +out of his way far enough to give him a vicious kick. + +"Get onto the wagons, you rum-keg, or you'll walk to Castonia!" + +"Be jigged if I won't walk!" groaned Tommy, surveying the retreating +back of the boss with sudden weak hatred. "So there was a man who saved +my life to-day when I didn't know it! And there was another man who +kicked me when I did know it! It's the chaney man he's after, and the +chaney man was good to me! I'll make a fair fight of it if my legs hold +out, and that's all any man could do." + +The horses were still munching fodder, and the gladiators, thankful for +an excuse to stop the fray, were stupidly listening to a harangue by the +Honorable Pulaski, who was explaining what would be allowed and what +would not be allowed in his camps. + +Tommy Eye ducked around the bushes and took the road with a woodsman's +lope, his wobbly knees getting stronger as the exercise cleared his +brain. + +A woodman's lope is not impressive, viewed with a sprinter's eye. Nor is +a camel's stride. But either is a great devourer of distance. So it +happened that Tommy Eye, sweat-streaked and breathing hard, caught up +with the sluggish Castonia stage while it was negotiating the last +rock-strewn hill a half-mile outside the settlement. + +Dwight Wade, time-keeper of the Busters, heard the stertorous puffing, +and looked around to see Tommy Eye clinging to the muddy axle and towing +behind. Tommy divided an amiable and apologetic grin between Wade and +the girl beside him. + +"I'm only--workin' out--the--the budge!" Tommy explained, between the +jerks of the wagon. "Don't mind me!" + +Down the half-mile of dusty declivity into Castonia, the only smooth +road between the railroad and the settlement, the stage made its usual +gallant dash with chuckling axle-boxes and the spanking of splay hoofs. + +And Tommy Eye came limply slamming on behind. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AS FOUGHT BEFORE THE "IT-'LL-GIT-YE CLUB" + + "We dug him out of his blankets, and hauled him out to the + light-- + His eyes were red with the tears he had shed, but now he + wanted to fight. + And screaming a string of curses, he struck as he raved and + swore-- + Floored Joe Lacrosse and the swamping boss and announced + he was ready for more." + + --The Fight at Damphy's. + + +Civilization sets her last outpost at Castonia in the plate-glass +windows of Rodburd Ide's store. Civilization had some aggravating +experiences in doing this. Four times hairy iconoclasts from the deep +woods came down, gazed disdainfully at these windows as an effort to put +on airs, and smashed them with rocks dug out of the dusty road. Four +times Rodburd Ide collected damages and renewed the windows--and in the +end civilization won out. + +Those experienced in such things can tell a Castonia man anywhere by the +pitch of his voice. Everlastingly, Umcolcus pours its window-jarring +white waters through the Hulling Machine's dripping ledges. Here enters +Ragmuff stream, bellowing down the side of Tumbledick, a mountain that +crowds Castonia close to the river. Most of the men of the settlement do +their talking on the platform of Ide's store, with the spray spitting +into their faces and the waters roaring at them. And go where he will, a +Castonia man carries that sound in his ears and talks like a fog-horn. + +The satirists of the section call Ide's store platform "The Blowdown." +In the woods a blowdown is a wreck of trees. On Ide's platform the +loafers are the wrecks of men. Here at the edge of the woods, at the +jumping-off place, the forest sets out its grim exhibits and mutely +calls, "Beware!" There are men with one leg, men with one arm, men with +no arms at all; there are men with hands maimed by every vagary of +mischievous axe or saw. There are men with shanks like broomsticks--men +who survived the agonies of freezing. There is always a fresh +subscription-paper hung on the centre post in Ide's store, meekly +calling for "sums set against our names" to aid the latest victim. + +Wade, looking at this pathetic array of cripples as he slowly swung +himself over the wheel of the stage, felt that he was in congenial +company; for the foot that MacLeod had so brutally jabbed with his +spikes had stiffened in its shoe. It ached with a dull, rancor-stirring +pain. When he limped across the platform into the store, carrying the +girl's valise, he hobbled ungracefully. The loungers looked after him +with fraternal sympathy. + +"The boss spiked him down to the deepo," advised Tommy, slatting sweat +from his forehead with muddy forefinger. "He's the new time-keeper." + +"Never heard of the boss calkin' the chaney man before," remarked Martin +McCrackin, rapping his pipe against his peg-leg to dislodge the dottle. + +Tommy twisted his face into a prodigious wink, jabbed a thumb over his +shoulder towards the store door, and gazed archly around at the circle +of faces. + +"He cut the boss out with the Ide girl!" He whispered this hoarsely. + +The listeners looked at the door where Wade and the girl had +disappeared, and then stared at one another. They had viewed the arrival +of the stage with the dull lethargy of the hopelessly stranded. Now they +displayed a reviving interest in life. + +"And that was all he done to him--step on his foot?" demanded a thin +man, impatiently twitching the stubs of two arms, off at the elbows. + +"Old P'laski got in!" said Tommy, with meaning. "Used his old elbows for +pick-holes and fended Colin off." + +"It will git him, though!" said another. He had shapeless stumps of legs +encased in boots like exaggerated whip-sockets. + +"You bet it will git him!" agreed McCrackin. + +Rodburd Ide, busy, chatty, accommodating little man, trotted out of the +store at this instant with a handful of mail to distribute among his +crippled patrons. + +"That's what the river boys call this crowd here," he said, over his +shoulder, to Wade, who followed him. "The 'It-'ll-git-ye Club.' I guess +It _will_ get ye some time up in this section! Here's the last one, Mr. +Wade. Aholiah Belmore--that's the man with the hand done up. Shingle-saw +took half his fin. Well, 'Liah, don't mind! No one ever saw a whole +shingle-sawyer. It's lucky it wasn't a snub-line that got ye. There's +what a snub-line can do, Mr. Wade." + +He pointed to the armless man and to the man with the shapeless legs. + +"All done at the same time--bight took 'em and wound 'em round the +snub-post." + +"And it's a pity it wa'n't our necks instead of our legs and arms," +growled one of the men--"trimmed like a saw-log and no good to nobody!" + +"Never say die--never say die!" chirruped the jovial "Mayor of +Castonia." He threw back his head in his favorite attitude, thrust out +his gray chin beard and tapped his pencil cheerily against the obtrusive +false teeth showing under his smoothly shaven upper lip. "Your +subscription-papers are growing right along, boys. The first thing you +know you'll have enough to buy artificial arms and legs, such as we were +looking at in the advertisements the other day. It beats all what they +can make nowadays--teeth, arms, legs, and everything." + +"They can't make new heads, can they?" inquired Tommy Eye, whose mien +was that of a man who had something important to impart and was casting +about for a way to do it gracefully. + +"Who needs a new head around here?" smilingly inquired the "mayor." + +"Him," jerked out Tommy, pointing to Wade. "Leastwise, he will in about +ten minutes after the boss gits here." And having thus delicately opened +the subject, Tommy's tongue rushed on. "He was good to me when I didn't +know it!" His finger again indicated the time-keeper. "I ain't goin' to +see him done up any ways but in a fair fight. But _he's_ comin'. There's +blood in his eyes and hair on his teeth. I heard him a-talkin' it over +to himself--and he's goin' to kill the 'chaney man' for a-gittin' his +girl away from him. Now," concluded Tommy, with a hysterical catch in +his throat, "if it can be made a fair fight, knuckles up and man to man, +then, says I, here's your fair notice it's comin'. But there's a girl in +it, and girls don't belong in a fair fight--and I'm afeard--I'm afeard! +You'd better run, 'chaney man.'" + +Nina Ide was in the door behind her father. Her face was crimson, and +she winked hard to keep the tears of vexed shame back--for the faces of +the loungers told her that Tommy had been imparting other confidences. +She did not dare to steal even a glance at Wade. She was suffering too +much herself from the brutal situation. + +"'A girl!' 'His girl!'" repeated Ide, seeing there was something he did +not understand. "Whose--" + +"Father!" cried his daughter. And when he would have continued to +question, snapping his sharp eyes from face to face, she stamped her +foot in passion and cried, "Father!" in a manner that checked him. He +stood surveying her with open mouth and staring eyes. + +Dwight Wade had fully understood the quizzical glances that were +levelled at him. It was not a time--in this queer assemblage--for the +observance of the rigid social conventions. Taking the father aside +would be misconstrued--and slander would still pursue the girl. + +"Mr. Ide," he cried, his eyes very bright and his cheeks flushing, "I +want you and the others to understand this thing. It's all a mistake. +Mr. Britt introduced me to your daughter, and I paid her a few +civilities, such as any young lady might expect to receive. But I seem +to have stirred up a pretty mess. It's a shameful insult to your +daughter--this--this--oh, that man MacLeod must be a fool!" + +"He is!" said the girl, indignantly. + +"And he's a fighter," muttered Tommy Eye. + +Rodburd Ide clutched his beard and blinked his round eyes, much +perplexed. + +"It isn't a very nice thing, any way you look at it--this having two +young men scrapping through this region about my girl. It isn't that I +don't expect her to get some attention, but this is carrying attention +too far." He took her by the arm and led her to one side. "Nina, there +is nothing between you and Colin MacLeod?" + +"Nothing, father. We have danced together at the hall, and he has walked +home with me--and that's the only excuse he has for making a fool of +himself in this way." + +"And--and this new man, here?" + +"I never saw him till this very day! And he's in love with John +Barrett's daughter. Oh, what an idiot MacLeod is! This stranger will +think we're all fools up here!" Tears of rage and shame filled her eyes. + +Ide's gaze, wandering from her face to Wade and then to the loafers, saw +one of Britt's great wagons topping the distant rise, and he heard a +wild chorus of hailing yells. + +"You run up to the house, girl," he said. + +"I'll not," she replied. And when he began to frown at her she clasped +his arm with both her hands and murmured: "He's a stranger and a +gentleman, father, and they're abusing him. He is nothing to me. He's in +love with another girl. It was through being obliging and kind to me +that this horrible mistake has been made. Now, I'll not run away and +leave him to suffer any more." + +Rodburd Ide, an indulgent father, scratched his nose reflectively. + +"It isn't the style of the Ide family to leave friends on the chips, +Nina," he said--"not even when they're brand new friends. We know what +an ingoing lumber crew is, and he probably doesn't, and it's the green +man that always gets the worst of it. So I'll tell you what to do: +Invite him up to the house, and you entertain him until P'laski and I +can get this thing smoothed over." + +Tommy Eye, hovering near in piteous trepidation lest his kindly offices +should miscarry, overheard the invitation that father and daughter +extended to the young man, who was gloomily eying the approach of the +wagon. + +"Yess'r, they've got the right of it," stammered Tommy, unluckily. +"You'll git it if ye don't--and the 'It-'ll-git-ye Club' will see ye git +it. Ye'd best run!" + +Wade looked into the flushed face of the girl, at the officious father +of commiserating countenance, and at the loungers who had heard Tommy's +condescending counsel and were looking at him with a sort of scornful +pity. + +Again that strange, sullen, gnawing rage at the general attitude of the +world seized upon him. He felt a bristling at the back of his neck and +in his hair--the primordial bristling of the beast's mane. + +"It is kind of you to invite a stranger," he said, "but I fear that +among these peculiar people even that kindness would be misconstrued. I +belong with Britt's crew. I'll stay here." + +There was that in his voice which checked further appeal. The girl stood +back against the wall of the store. + +The Honorable Pulaski was the first off the wagon, and he greeted Ide +with rough cordiality. When the latter began to whisper rapidly in his +ear, he shook his head. + +"I've wasted a good deal of valuable time and some temper holding those +two young fools apart to-day," he snapped. "The last thing MacLeod +wanted to do was to lick me. Now, I'm too old to be mixed up in love +scrapes. I'm going over to measure that spool stock, and the one that's +alive when I get back, I'll load him onto the wagon and we'll keep on up +the river." He strode away, leaving the "mayor" champing his false teeth +in resentful disappointment. + +But the autocrat of Castonia had a courage of his own. He set back his +head and marched up to MacLeod, who was standing in the middle of the +road, his jacket thrown back, his thumbs in his belt. + +"Colin," he demanded, indifferent as to listeners, "what's all this +about my girl? Can't she come along home, minding her own business like +the good girl that she is, without a fuss that has set all the section +wagging tongues? I thought you were a different chap from this!" + +"He had his lie made up when he got here, did he?" growled MacLeod. + +"I believe what my own girl says," the father retorted. + +"So he's got as far as that, has he? I tell ye, Rod Ide, if you don't +know enough--don't care enough about your own daughter to keep her out +of the clutches of a cheap masher like that--the kind I've seen many a +time before--then--it's where I grab in. Ye'll live to thank me for it. +I say, ye will! You don't know what you're talking about now. But you'll +know your friends in the end." + +He put up one arm, stiffened it against Ide's breast, and slowly but +relentlessly pushed him aside. + +Viewed in the code of larrigan-land, the situation was one that didn't +admit of temporizing or mediation. The set faces of the men who looked +on showed that the trouble between these two, brooding through the hours +of that long day, was now to be settled. As for his men, Colin MacLeod +had his prestige to keep--and a man who had suffered a stranger to carry +off the girl he loved without fitting rebuke could have no prestige in a +lumber camp. And it was prestige that made him worth while, made him a +boss who could get work out of men. + +The uncertain quantity in the situation was the stranger. + +With one movement of heads, all eyes turned to him. + +He was not a woodsman, and they expected from him something different +from the usual duello of the woods. + +They got it! + +For instead of waiting for the champion of the Umcolcus to take the +initiative, this city man calmly walked off the store platform at this +juncture and bearded the champion. + +"And there ye have it--two bucks and one doe!" grunted old Martin. "The +same old woods wrassle." + +The boss dropped his hands at his side as the time-keeper approached. He +grinned evilly when he noted the limp. Wade came close and spoke without +anger. + +"I see you are still determined to be a fool, MacLeod. I want no trouble +with you. Aren't you willing to settle all this fuss like a man?" + +"That's what I'm here for," replied the boss, with grim significance. + +"Then go and offer an apology to that young lady. Do it, and I'll cancel +the one you owe to me." + +If Wade had been seeking to provoke, he could have chosen no more +unfortunate words. + +"Apology!" howled MacLeod. "Do ye hear it, boys? Talkin' to me like I +was a Micmac and didn't know manners! Here's an Umcolcus apology for ye, +ye putty-faced dude!" + +His lunge was vicious, but in his contempt for his adversary it was +wholly unguarded. A woodsman's rules of battle are simple. They can be +reduced to the single precept: Do your man! Knuckles, butting head, a +kick like a game-cock with the spiked boots, grappling and choking--not +one is called unfair. MacLeod simply threw himself at his foe. It was +blood-lust panting for the clutch of him. + +Those who told it afterwards always regretfully said it was not a +fight--not a fight as the woods looks at such diversions. No one who saw +it knew just how it happened. They simply saw that it had happened. + +[Illustration: "WADE STOOD ABOVE THE FALLEN FOE"] + +To the former football centre of Burton it was an opening simple as "the +fool's gambit" in chess. His tense arms shot forward, his hands clasped +the wrists of the flying giant with snaps like a steel trap's clutch, +his head hunched between his shoulders, he went down and forward, +tugging at the wrists, and by his own momentum MacLeod made his helpless +somersault over the college man's broad back. + +And as he whirled, up lunged the shoulders in a mighty heave, and the +woodsman fell ten feet away--fell with the soggy, inert, bone-cracking +thud that brings a groan involuntarily from spectators. He lay where he +fell, quivered after a moment, rolled, and his right arm twisted under +his body in sickening fashion. + +The girl gave a sharp cry, gathered her skirts about her, and ran away +up the street. + +"He's got it!" said 'Liah Belmore, with the professional decisiveness of +the "It-'ll-git-ye Club." + +"I've read about them things bein' done by the Dagoes in furrin' parts," +remarked Martin McCrackin, gazing pensively on the prostrate boss, "but +I never expected to see it done in a woods fight." + +There was silence then for a moment--a silence so profound that the +breathing of the spectators could be heard above the summer-quieted +murmur of the Hulling Machine. Wade walked over and stood above the +fallen foe. He was not gainsaid. Woods decorum forbids interference in a +fair fight. + +As he stood there a rather tempestuous arrival broke the tenseness of +the situation. From the mouth of a woods road leading into the tangled +mat of forest at the foot of Tumbledick came a little white stallion +drawing a muddy gig. + +Under the seat swung a battered tin pail in which smouldered dry fungi, +giving off a trail of smoke behind--the smudge pail designed to rout the +black-flies of summer and the "minges" of the later season. + +An old man drove--an old man, whose long white hair fluttered from under +a tall, pointed, visorless wool cap with a knitted knob on its apex. +Whiskers, parted by his onrush, streamed past his ears. + +He pulled up so suddenly in front of Ide's store that his little +stallion skated along in the dust. + +"Hullo," he chirped, cocking his head to peer, "Cole MacLeod down!" + +He whirled, leaped off the back of the seat, and ran nimbly to the +prostrate figure. + +"Broken!" he jerked, fumbling the arm. "No--no! Out of joint!" + +"Let the man alone," commanded Wade. "He'll need proper attendance." + +"Proper attendance!" shrilled the little old man, with snapping eyes. +"Proper attendance! And I guess that you haven't travelled much that you +don't know me. Here, two of you, come and sit on this man! I'll have him +right in a jiffy. Don't know me, eh?" He again turned a scornful gaze on +the time-keeper. "Prophet Eli, the natural bone-setter, mediator between +the higher forces and man, disease eradicator, the 'charming man'--I +guess this is your first time out-doors! Here, two of you come and hold +Cole MacLeod!" + +When Wade, knitting his brows, manifested further symptoms of +interference, Rodburd Ide took him by the arm and led him aside. + +"Let the old man alone," he said. "He'll know what to do. A little +cracked, but he knows medicine better than half the doctors that ever +got up as far as this." + +They heard behind them a dull snap and a howl of pain from MacLeod. + +"There she goes back," said Ide. "He's lived alone on Tumbledick for +twenty years, and I suppose there's a story back of him, but we never +found it out this way. We just call him Prophet Eli and listen to his +predictions and drink his herb tea and let him set broken bones and +charm away disease--and there's no kick coming, for he will never take a +cent from any one." + +Four men had carried MacLeod to the wagon. His forehead was bleeding but +he was conscious, for the sudden wrench and bitter pain of the +dislocated shoulder had stirred his faculties. + +"Well, you've had it out, have you?" demanded the Honorable Pulaski, +coming around the corner of the store and taking in the scene. "What did +I tell you, MacLeod? Listen to me next time!" + +"And you listen to me, too!" squalled MacLeod, his voice breaking like a +child's. "This thing ain't over! It's me or him, Mr. Britt. If he goes +in with your crew, I stay out. If you want him, you can have him, but +you can't have me. And you know what I've done with your crews!" + +"You don't mean that, Colin," blustered Britt. + +"God strike me dead for a liar if I don't." + +"It's easier to get time-keepers than it is bosses," said the Honorable +Pulaski, with the brisk decision natural to him. He whirled on Wade. +"You'd better go home, young man. You're too much of a royal Bengal +tiger to fit a crew of mine." He turned his back and began to order his +men aboard the tote teams. + +Wade stood looking after them as the wagons "rucked" away, his face +working with an emotion he could not suppress. + +"Well, that's Pulaski all over!" remarked Ide at his elbow. "He'll fell +a saw-log across a brook any time so as to get across without wetting +his feet, and then go off and leave the log there." + +He stood back and looked the young man over from head to feet, with the +shrewd eye of one appraising goods. + +"Mr. Wade," he said, at last, "will you step into my back office with me +a moment?" + +When they were there, the store-keeper perched himself on a high stool, +hooked his toes under a round, thrust his face forward, and said: + +"Here's my business, straight and to the point. I'm a little something +in the lumbering line up this way, myself. What with land, stumpage +rights, and tax titles I've got two townships, but they're off the main +river, and I haven't done much with 'em. I'm going to be honest, and +admit I can't do much with 'em so long as Britt and his gang control +roll-dams, flowage, and the water for the driving-pitch the way they do. +They haven't got the law with 'em, but that makes no difference to that +crowd, the way they run things. Now, you don't know the logging +business, but a bright chap like you can learn it mighty quick. And +you've shown to-day that there are some things you don't have to learn, +and that's how to handle men--and that's the big thing in this country +as things are now. What I want to ask you, fair and plain, is, do you +want a job?" + +"What, as a prize-fighter?" asked the young man, surlily. + +"No, s'r, but as a boss that can boss, and has got the courage to hold +up his end on this river! I know this all sounds as though I were +temporarily out of my head in a business way, but you've made a +reputation in the last half hour here that's worth ten thousand to the +man that hires you. There's money in the lumbering business, Mr. Wade. +The men that are in it right are getting rich. But you've got to get +into it picked end to. Here's the way you and I are fixed: you might +wait for ten years and not find the opportunity I'm offering you. I +might wait ten years and not find just the man I could afford to take in +with me. I've sized you. I know what sort your references will be when I +ask for 'em. You seem right. Are you interested enough to listen to +figures?" + +And then Ide, accepting amazed silence as assent, rattled off into his +details. At the end of half an hour Wade was listening with a new gleam +of resolution in his eyes. At the end of an hour he was blotting his +signature at the bottom of a preliminary article of agreement that was +to serve until a lawyer could draw one more ample. + +"And now," said Ide, slamming his safe door and whirling the knob, +"it's past supper-time and my folks are waitin'. And it's settled +that you stay. I say, it's settled! Where else would you stop in this +God-forsaken bunch of shacks? I've got a big house and something to eat. +Come along, Mr. Wade! I'm hungry, and we'll do the rest of our talkin' +on the road." + +The young man followed him without a word. And thus entered Dwight Wade +into the life of Castonia, and into the battle of strong men in the +north woods. + +In front of the store, as they issued, the "It-'ll-git-ye Club" was +still in session, as though waiting for something. They got what they +were waiting for. + +"Boys," announced their satisfied "mayor," "I want to introduce to you +my new partner, Mr. Dwight Wade--though he don't really need any +introduction in this region after to-day. Bub!" he called to a +youngster, "get a wheelbarrow and carry Mr. Wade's duffle up to my +house." He pointed to the young man's meagre baggage that had been +thrown off the tote wagon. + +As Wade turned away he caught the keen eye of Prophet Eli fixed on him. +The eye was a bit wild, but there was humor there, too. And the cracked +falsetto of the old man's voice followed him as he walked away beside +his new sponsor: + + "Oh, the little brown bull came down from the mountain, + Shang, ro-ango, whango-wey! + And as he was feelin' salutatious, + Chased old Pratt a mile, by gracious, + Licked old Shep and two dog Towsers, + Then marched back home with old Pratt's trousers. + Whango-whey!" + +"Yes, as I was tellin' you a spell ago--just a little cracked!" +apologized Ide. "There's my house, there! The one with the tower. It +would look better to me, Mr. Wade, if only my wife had lived to enjoy it +with me." But his eyes lighted at sight of his daughter. She was +standing at the gate waiting for them. "Her own mother over again, and +the best girl in the whole north country, sir! It was man's work you did +there to-day for the sake of my girl and her good name--I only wish her +father had the muscle to do as much for her." He stretched out his puny +arms and shook his head wistfully. "But there's one thing I can do, Mr. +Wade. It can't be said that Rod Ide stood by and saw you get thrown out +of a job for his daughter's sake, and didn't make it square with you!" + +"Is that the reason you are offering this partnership to me?" inquired +the young man, his pride taking alarm. + +"No, sir!" replied the little man, with emphasis. But he added, out of +his honesty: "It's straight business between us, sir, but it wouldn't be +human nature if your best recommendation to me wasn't the fact that +you've done for my girl the service that her father ought to have done, +and I'm not goin' to try to separate that from our business. But before +I get done talking with you, I'll show you that by the time you've +helped me to win out against Pulaski Britt and old King Spruce you'll +have earned your share in this partnership." + +And then, with an air that was distinctly triumphant, he pushed Wade +ahead of him through the gate, chatting voluble explanation to a girl +who listened with a welcoming light in her gray eyes. It was a light +that cheered a roving young man who had acquired friends by such a +dizzying train of circumstances. + +They talked until far into the night, he and Rodburd Ide. + +The next day Christopher Straight was called into the conference. + +"There ain't any part of the north country that Christopher don't know," +eulogized Ide, caressing the woodsman's arm. "Forty years trapper, +guide, and explorer--that's his record." + +Wade gazed into the quiet eyes of the veteran as he grasped his hand, +and needed no further recommendation than the look old Christopher +returned. There are few men in the world with such appealing qualities +as those who have passed their lives in the woods and know what the +woods mean. Wade realized now, after his talk with Ide, the nature of +the task that he faced. Knowing that Christopher Straight was to be his +companion and guide, he was heartened, having seen the man. + +And with intense eagerness to be away, he completed his modest +preparations for the exploring trip, and set forth towards the great +unknown of the north. He had Rodburd Ide's parting hand-clasp for +reassurance, his daughter's sincere godspeed for his comfort, and the +chance to do battle for his love. And he walked with Christopher +Straight with head erect and a heart full of new hope. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +ON MISERY GORE + + "I reckon if gab had been sprawl, + He'd have climb' to the very top notch. + As it was, though, he made just one crawl + To a perch in a next-the-ground crotch." + + --The Pauper. + + +The two men "hopped" the broad expanse of Patch Dam heath, springing +from tussock to tussock of the sphagnum moss. In that mighty flat they +seemed as insignificant as frogs, and their progress suggested the +batrachian as they leaped and zigzagged. + +Ahead bounced Christopher Straight, the few tins of his scanty +cooking-kit rattling in the meal-bag pack on his back. + +At his heels came Dwight Wade, blanket-roll across his shoulders and +calipers and leather-sheathed axe in his hands. Sweat streamed into his +eyes, and, athlete though he was, his leg muscles ached cruelly. The +September sunshine shimmered hotly across the open, and the young man's +head swam. + +Old Christopher's keen side glance noted this. With the veteran guide's +tactful courtesy towards tenderfeet, he halted on a mound and made +pretence of lighting his pipe. There was not even a bead of perspiration +on his face, and his crisp, gray beard seemed frosty. + +"I'm ashamed of myself," blurted the young man in blunt outburst. His +knees trembled as he steadied himself after his last leap. + +"It ain't exactly like strollin' down the shady lane, as the song says," +replied old Christopher, with gentle satire. He looked away towards the +fringe of distant woods. + +"We could have kept on around by the Tomah trail, Mr. Wade, but I reckon +you got as sick as I did of climbin' through old Britt's slash. And +until he operated there last winter it used to be one of the best trails +north of Castonia. I blazed it myself forty years ago." + +"And just a little care in felling it would have left it open," cried +the young man, indignantly. + +"There was orders from Britt to drop ev'ry top across that trail +that could be dropped there, Mr. Wade. So, unless they come in +flyin'-machines, there's been few fishermen and hunters up the Tomah +trail this season to build fires and cut tent-poles." + +"Does the old hog begrudge that much from the acres he stole from the +people of the State?" demanded Wade. + +"He'd ruther you'd pick your teeth with your knife-blade than pull even +a sliver out of a blow down," replied Christopher, mildly. He tossed his +brown hand to point his quiet satire, and Wade's eyes swept the vast +expanse of wood, from the nearest ridges to the dim blue of the +tree-spiked horizon. + +Christopher put his hand to his forehead and gazed north. + +"I can show you your first peek at it, Mr. Wade," he said, after a +moment. "That's old Enchanted--the blue sugar-loaf you see through Pogey +Notch there. Under that sugar-loaf is where we are bound, to Ide's +holdin's." + +There was a thrill for the young man in the spectacle--in the blue +mountains swimming above the haze, and in the untried mystery of the +miles of forest that still lay between. Even the word "Enchanted" +vibrated with suggestion. + +The zest of wander-lust came upon him later--a zest dulled at first by +two days of perspiring fatigue, uneasy slumbers under the stars, +breathless scrambles through undergrowth and up rocky slopes. + +"That's Jerusalem Mountain, layin' a little to the right," went on +Christopher. "That's Britt's principal workin' on the east slope of that +this season. He'll yard along Attean and the other streams, and run his +drive into Jerusalem dead-water--and that's where you and Ide will have +a chore cut out for you." The old man wrinkled his brows a bit, but his +voice was still mild. + +The romance oozed from Wade's thrill. The thrill became more like an +angry bristling along his spine. During the days of his preparation for +this trip into the north country, Rodburd Ide--suddenly become his +partner by an astonishing juncture of circumstances--had spent as much +time in setting forth the character of the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt as +he had in instructing his neophyte in the duties of a timber explorer. +As a matter of fact, Ide left it mostly to old Christopher to be mentor +and instructor in the art of "exploring," as search for timber in the +north woods is called. Ide was better posted on the acerbities and +sinuosities of Britt's character than he was on the values of standing +timber and the science of economical "twitch-roads," and, with sage +purpose, he had freely given of this information to his new partner. + +"Don't worry about the explorin' part--not with Christopher postin' +you," Ide had cheerfully counselled, when he had shaken hands with them +at the edge of Castonia clearing. "You and he together will find enough +timber to be cut. But you can't get dollars for logs until they're +sorted and boomed--and that part means dividin' white water with Britt +next spring. So, don't spend all your time measuring trees, Wade. +Measure chances!" + +Now, with his eyes on the promised field of battle, Wade growled under +his breath. + +Britt! + +For four days now he had struggled behind old Christopher through +tangled undergrowth of striped maple, witch hobble, and mountain +holly--Mother Nature's pathetic attempt to cover with ragged and stunted +growth the breast that the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had stripped bare. + +"He cut her three times," Christopher explained. "First time the virgin +black growth--and as handsome a stand of timber as ye ever put calipers +to; second time, the battens--all under eleven inches through; third +time, even the poles. That's forestry as he practises it! He's robbin' +the squirrels!" + +Britt! + +Wade had seen rotting tops that would have yielded logs--the refuse of +the first reckless and wasteful cutting. He had passed skidways and +toiled over corduroy in which thousands of feet of good spruce had been +left to decay. The deploring finger of the watchful Christopher pointed +out butts hacked off head high. + +"The best timber in the log left standin' there, Mr. Wade. But Pulaski +Britt ain't lettin' his men stop to shovel snow away." + +Britt behind him, in the tangled undergrowth! Britt about him, in the +straggle of trees on the hard-wood ridges! Britt ahead of him, where the +black growth shaded the mountains in the blue distance! The same Britt +who had so contemptuously tossed him aside as useless baggage when +Foreman Colin MacLeod had demanded his discharge! + +Wade clutched calipers and axe, and went leaping after old Christopher +with new strength in his legs. + +But in spite of the vigor that resentment lent him, he was glad when the +guide tossed off his pack beside a brook that trickled under mossy rocks +on the hard-wood slope. It was good to hear the tinkle of water, to feel +the solid ground after the weird wobbling of the sphagnum moss, and to +snuff the smoke of the handful of fire crackling under the tea-pail. + +They were munching biscuits and bacon, nursing pannikins of tea between +their knees, when Christopher cocked an ear, darted a glance, and +mumbled a mild oath as savor to his mouthful of biscuit. + +"Set to eat a snack within a mile of Misery Gore and one of them crows +will appear to ye. And that's the old he one of them all." + +The old man who came shuffling slowly down the path was gaunt with the +leanness of want, and unkempt with the squalor of the hopelessly +pauperized. + +"It's one of the Misery Gore squatters, Mr. Wade. All Skeets and +Bushees, and married back and forth and crossways and upside down till +ev'ry man is his own grandmother, if he only knew enough to figger +relationship. All State paupers, and no more sprawl to 'em than there is +to a fresh-water clam." + +Old Christopher, with Yankee contempt of the thrifty for the willing +pauper, grumbled on in his scornful explanations after the old man sat +down opposite them. Wade, accustomed to politer usages, winced before +this brutal frankness. He plainly felt worse than the subject, who +looked from one to the other, his blue lips slavering at sight of the +food. + +"It ain't no use to set there and drool like a hound pup, Jed," snapped +old Christopher, cutting another slice of bacon. "We're bound in for a +fortnit's explorin' trip, and we ain't got no grub to spare." + +The patriarch of Misery Gore drew a greasy bit of brown paper from his +ragged vest, unfolded it, and took out what was apparently a long hair +from his grizzly beard. He pinched the thicker end between his dirty +thumb and forefinger, stroked the whisker upright, and held it before +his gaping mouth. The whisker slowly bent over towards Christopher. + +"'Lectric!" announced the experimenter, in thick, stuffy tones, as +though he were talking through a cloth. + +Again he gaped his toothless mouth, and the whisker bent towards the +uninviting opening. + +"'Lectric!" He grinned at them, rolling his watery eyes from face to +face to seek appreciation. It was evident that he considered the feat +remarkable. + +"Full of it! Er huh! Full of it!" He stroked his thin fingers down his +arm and slatted into the air. "Storms, huh? I know. Fair weather, huh? I +know. Things to happen, huh? I know. I can tell." + +He hitched nearer, and looked hungrily at the bread and bacon which +Christopher immediately and ruthlessly began to wrap up. + +"Them wireless-telegraph folks ought to know about you," grunted the +guide. "Don't pay any attention to the old fool, Mr. Wade. He don't have +to beg of us. Rod Ide furnishes supplies to these critters. Law says +that the assessor of the nearest plantation shall do it, and then Ide +puts in his bill to the State. You needn't worry about their starvin'." + +"You'd all see us starve on Misery Gore," wailed the old man. "You'd all +see us starve!" His tone changed suddenly to weak anger. "Ide's an old +hog. No tea, no tobarker." + +"Yes, and he ain't been so lib'ral with turkeys, plush furniture, and +champagne as he ought to be," growled Christopher, relishing his irony. + +"If there's anything that you really need, Mr.--Mr.--" + +"Skeet," snapped the guide. + +"--Mr. Skeet, I'll speak to Mr. Ide about it when--" + +"Mr. Wade," broke in Christopher, "what's the need of wastin' good +breath on that sculch? They get all they deserve to have. They're too +lazy to breathe unless it come automatic. They let their potatoes rot in +the ground, and complain about starvin'. They won't cut browse to bank +their shacks, and complain about freezin'. The only thing they can do to +the queen's taste is steal, and it's got so in this section that there +ain't a sportin'-camp nor a store wangan that it's safe to leave a thing +in." + +He began to stuff tins into the mouth of the meal-sack, glowering at the +ancient pauper. + +"They nigh put me out of bus'ness guidin' hereabouts. Stole everything +from my Attean camp that I left there--and it ain't no fun to tugger-lug +grub for sports on your back from Castonia." + +When the last knot in the leather thong was twitched close and the +bountiful meal-bag was closed, old Jed abandoned hope and wheedling. He +brandished the whisker at Christopher, his moth-speckled hand quivering. + +"Old butcherman!" he screamed. "'Twas my Jed. Off here!" He set the edge +of his palm against his arm. + +Christopher's face grew hard under his frosty beard, but his cheeks +flushed when Wade gazed inquiringly at him. + +"It's a thief's lookout when there's a spring-gun in a camp," he +muttered. "There was a sign on the door sayin' as much. It ain't my +fault if folks has been too busy stealin' to learn to read. If you ever +hear anything about it up this way, Mr. Wade, you needn't blame me. They +had their warnin' by word o' mouth. I'm sorry it happened, but--" + +"What happened?" + +"Young Jed Skeet joined the 'It-'ll-git-ye Club' a year ago with a fin +shot off at the elbow." + +Christopher swung his pack to his back, thrust his arms through the +straps, and marched away. Wade followed with a new light on some of the +accepted ethics of human combat in the big woods. Old Jed shuffled +behind, a toothless Nemesis gasping maledictions in stuffy tones. + +"We'll swing over the ridge and go through Misery Gore settlement, Mr. +Wade," said the old guide, after a time, divining the reason for his +companion's silence. "It may spoil your appetite for supper, but it'll +prob'ly straighten out some of your notions about me and that +spring-gun." + +On the opposite slant of the ridge a ledge thrust above the hard-wood +growth, and Christopher led the way out upon this lookout. + +"There! Ain't that a pictur' for a Sussex shote to look at, and then +take to the woods ag'in?" he inquired, with scornful disregard for any +civic pride the patriarch of Misery might have taken in his community. + +The few miserable habitations of poles, mud, and tarred paper were +scattered around a tumble-down lumber camp, relic of the old days when +"punkin pine" turreted Misery Gore. + +"I suppose the man who named it stood here and looked down," suggested +Wade. + +"It was named Misery fifty years before this tribe ever came here. I +reckon they heard of it, and it sounded as though it might suit 'em. +They're a tribe by themselves, Mr. Wade. They've been driven off'n a +dozen townships that I know of. Land-owners keep 'em movin'. I reckon +this is their longest stop. This Gore is a surplus left in surveying +Range Nine. Sort of a no man's land. But they hadn't ought to be left +here." + +There was so much conviction in the old guide's tone, and the contrast +of utter ruin below was so great, its last touch added by the pathetic +old figure in rags at the foot of the ledge, that the young man's temper +flamed. He had been pondering the spring-gun episode with no very +tolerant spirit. + +"For God's sake, Straight, show some man-feeling. Is the selfishness of +the woods down to the point where you begrudge those poor devils that +wallow of stumps and rocks?" + +Christopher received this outburst with his usual placidity--the +placidity that only woodsmen have cultivated in its most artistic sense. + +"Look, Mr. Wade!" He swept his hand in the circuit that embraced the +panorama of ridges showing the first touches of frost, the hills still +darkling with black growth, the valleys and the shredded forest. + +"There she lays before you, ten thousand acres like a tinder-box in this +weather, dry since middle August. You've seen some of the slash. But +you've seen only a little of it. Under those trees as far as eye can see +there's the slash of three cuttin's. Tops propped on their boughs like +wood in a fireplace. Draught like a furnace! It's bad enough now, with +the green leaves still on. It's like to be worse in May before the green +leaves start. And about all those dod-fired Diggers down there know or +care about property interests is that a burn makes blueberries grow, and +blueberries are worth six cents a quart! They have done it in other +places. They're inbred till they've got water for blood and sponges for +brains. When the hankerin' for blueberries catches 'em they'll put the +torch to that undergrowth and refuse, and if the wind helps and the rain +don't stop it they'll set a fire that will run to Pogey Notch like +racin' hosses, roar through there like blazin' tissue-paper in a chimbly +flue, and then where'll your black growth on Enchanted be--the growth +that's goin' to make money for you and Rod Ide? I tell ye, Mr. Wade, +there's more to woods life than roamin' through and cuttin' your gal's +name on the bark. There's more to loggin' than the chip-chop of a sharp +axe or the rick-raw of a double-handled gashin'-fiddle. And when it +comes down to profit, you can't be polite to a porcupine when he's +girdlin' your spruce-trees, nor practice society airs and Christian +charity with damn fools, whether they're dude fishermen tossin' +cigar-stubs or such spontaneously combustin' toadstools as them that +live down yonder eatin' the State's pork and flour. I'm up here with ye +to tell ye something about the woods, Mr. Wade. And it ain't all goin' +to be about calipers, the diffrunce between the Bangor and New Hampshire +scale, and how stumpage ain't profitable under nine inches top +measure--no, s'r, not by a blame sight!" + +There was no passion in the old man's remonstrance, but there was an +earnestness that closed the young man's lips against argument. He +followed silently when Christopher led the way down towards the +settlement. Old Jed took up his position at the rear. + +The first who accosted them was a slatternly woman, her short skirts +revealing men's long-legged boots. She rapped the bowl of a pipe smartly +in her palm, to show that it was empty, and demanded tobacco. She +scowled, and there was no hint of coaxing in her tones. + +When Wade looked at her with an expression of shocked astonishment that +all his resolution could not modify, she sneered at him. + +"Oh, you think we don't know northin' here--ain't wuth noticin' 'cause +we live in the woods, hey? Well, we do know something. Here, Ase, tell +this sport the months of the year, and then let's see if he's stingy +enough to keep his plug in his pocket." + +Ase, plainly her son, lubberly and man-grown, roared without +bashfulness: + +"Jan'warry, Feb'darry, Septober, Ockjuber, Fourth o' July, St. Padrick's +Day, and Cris'mus--gimme a chaw!" + +Two or three men lounged out-of-doors--one with his arm significantly +off at the elbow. But there was not even a shadow on his vapid face when +he looked at Christopher, author of his misfortune. + +"Ain't ye goin' to give me a piece of your plug, Chris?" he whined. +"Seem's if ye might. You 'n' me's square now--I got your pork and you +got my arm." + +"There! Hear that?" growled Straight, in Wade's ear. "Put your +common-sense calipers on this stand of human timber and see what ye make +of it." + +Wade, looking from face to face, as the frowsy population of Misery +lounged closer about him, half in indolence, half in the distrustful +shyness that the stupidly ignorant usually assume towards superior +strangers, noted that though the men displayed an almost canine desire +to fawn for favors, the women were sullen. The only exception was a very +old woman who hobbled close and entreated: + +"Ain't you got northin' good for Abe, nice young gentleman? Poor Abe! +Hain't got no friend but his old mother." She hooked a hand as blue and +gaunt as a turkey's claw into Wade's belt and held up her spotted face +so close to his that he turned his head in uncontrollable disgust. + +"Your hands off the gentleman, Jule," commanded Christopher, brusquely. +"It's old Jule, mate of the old he one that has been chasin' us," he +explained, with more of that blissful disregard for the feelings of his +subjects that had previously shocked the young man. "There's old Jed and +young Jed--old Jule and young Jule. They 'ain't even got gumption enough +here to change names. And that's Abe--the choice specimen that she's +beggin' for. Look at him and wish for a pictur'-machine, Mr. Wade!" + +He had thought there could be no worse in human guise than those he had +seen. But this huge, hairy, shaggy, almost naked giant, cowering against +the side of a shack with all the timidity of a child, marked a climax +even to such degeneracy as he had quailed before. + +"Mind in him about five years old, and will always stay five years old," +said the guide, pointing to the wistful, simpering face. "Body speaks +for itself. Look at them muscles! I've seen him ploughin' hitched with +their cow. Clever as a mule. He's the old woman's hoss. Hauls her on a +jumper clear to Castonia settlement." + +"An animal!" Wade gasped. + +"Not much else. Afraid of the dark, of shadows, and women mostly. +Strange women! Once a woman scared him in Castonia and he ran away like +a hoss, draggin' the jumper. Old Jule hitched him to a post after that." + +Cretinism in any form had always shocked Dwight Wade inexpressibly. He +turned away, but the old woman was in his path, begging. + +The next moment a tall, lithe girl ran swiftly out of a hut, seized the +whimpering old woman, tossed her over her shoulder as a miller would +up-end a bag of meal, and staggered back into the hut, kicking the frail +door shut with angry heel. Wade got an astonished but a comprehensive +view of this "kidnapper." There was no vacuity in her face. It was +brilliant, with black eyes under a tangle of dark hair disordered but +not unkempt like that of the females he had seen in Misery. Her lips +were very red, and the color flamed on her cheeks above the brown of the +tan. In that compost heap of humanity the girl was a vision, and Wade +turned to old Christopher with unspoken questions on his parted lips. + +"Don't know," said the guide, laconically, wagging his head. "No one +knows. She's with 'em. But you and me can see that she ain't one of 'em. +She's always been with 'em as fur back's I know of her--and that was +sixteen years ago, when she was in a holler log on rockers for a +cradle." + +"Stolen!" suggested Wade, desperately. The thought had a morsel of +comfort in it. That a girl like that could belong by right of birth in +this tribe, that a girl with--ah, now he realized why his heart had +throbbed at sight of her--that a girl with Elva Barrett's hair and eyes +could be doomed to this existence was a knife-thrust in his +sensibilities. + +And the toss of her head and the rebelliousness in the gesture--the +defiance in the upward flash of the sparkling eyes--subdued in Elva +Barrett's case by training--the mnemonics of love, whose suggestions are +so subtle, thrilled him at the sudden apparition of this forest beauty. +Reason angrily rebuked this unbidden comparison. He bit his lips, and +flushed as though his swift thought had wronged his love. Old +Christopher put into blunt woods phrase the pith of the thoughts that +struggled together in Wade's mind. The guide was looking at the closed +door. + +"There's lots of folks, Mr. Wade, that don't recognize plain white birch +in some of the things that's polished and set up in city parlors. I've +wondered a good many times what a society cabinet-shop, as ye might say, +would do to that girl." + +"They must have stolen her," repeated Wade. + +Old Christopher tucked a sliver of plug into his cheek. + +"That would sound well in a gypsy fairy-story, but it don't fit the +style of the Skeets and Bushees. They're too lazy to steal anything +that's alive. They want even a shote killed and dressed before they'll +touch it. Near's I can find out, the young one was handed to 'em, and +they was too dadblamed tired to wake up and ask where it came from. +They didn't even have sprawl enough to name her. I did that," he added, +calmly. "Yes," he proceeded, smiling at Wade's astonished glance; "I was +guidin' a sport down the West Branch just before they drove the tribe +out of the Sourdnaheunk country--under old Katahdin, you know! I see her +in that log cradle, and they was callin' her 'it.' So me 'n' the sport +got up a name for her--Kate Arden, for the mountain. 'Tain't a name for +a Maine girl to be ashamed of." + +It suddenly occurred to Wade, gazing at the old man, that the quizzical +screwing-up of his eyes was hiding some deeper emotion; for +Christopher's voice had a quaver in it when he said: + +"Poor little gaffer! Some one ought to have taken her away from 'em. But +it's hard to get folks interested in even a pretty posy when it grows in +a skunk-cabbage patch." + +He looked away, embarrassed that any man should see emotion on his face, +and uttered a prompt exclamation. + +Threading their way in single file among the blackened stumps that +bordered the Tomah trail to the north came a half-dozen men. + +"That's Bennett Rodliff ahead, and he's the high sheriff of this +county," growled the old man. "There's two deputies and two game-wardens +with him--and old Pulaski Britt bringin' up in the rear. Knowin' them +pretty well, I should say that it spells t-r-u-b-l-e, in jest six +letters. I ain't a great hand to guess, Mr. Wade, but if some one was to +ask me quick, I should say it was the same old checker-game that the +Skeets and Bushees have been playin' for all these years, and that it's +their turn to move." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE TORCH, AND THE LIGHTING OF IT + + "We know how to riffle a log jam apart, + Though it's tangled and twisted and turned; + But the love of a woman and ways of the heart + Are things that we never learned." + + --Leeboomook Song. + + +The sheriff and his men tramped into the little clearing and gave the +usual greeting of woods wayfarers--the nod and the almost voiceless +grunt. The Honorable Pulaski was a little more talkative. He was also in +excellent humor. + +"Hear you and Rod Ide have hitched hosses, Wade!" he cried. "Sheriff +here was tellin' me. I'm mighty glad of it. That lets me out of thinkin' +I got you up here on a wild-goose chase. I was sorry to dump you, but it +would take nine time-keepers to make a foreman like Colin MacLeod, and +when he put it up to me you had to go. It was business, and business +beats fun up this way." + +The young man did not reply. Words seemed useless just then. + +The Honorable Pulaski turned from him briskly and ran an appraising eye +over the miserable huddle of huts. With the true scent of primitive +natures for impending trouble, the population of Misery edged around +this group of new arrivals--the men in advance and wistful, the women +behind and sullen. + +"Well, boys," said the Honorable Pulaski, "it's just this way about it, +and we can all be reasonable and do business like business men." His air +was that of a man dealing with children or savages. "As far as I'm +personally concerned, I hate to bother you. But I represent the other +owners of this township, and the other owners aren't as reasonable about +some things as I am." + +He paused to light a long cigar. No one spoke. He proffered one to Wade, +who shook his head with a little unnecessary vigor. + +Britt talked as he puffed. + +"Now--pup--pup--now, boys--pup--you know as well as I do that you've +squatted right in the middle of a lot of slash that we had to leave, and +it lays in a bad way for fire. You ain't so careful about fire as you +ought to be." He held up his cigar. "Here's my style. I don't smoke till +I'm out of the trail. I--pup--pup--own land, and that makes a +difference. You don't own land. I don't want to bring up old stories, +but you know and I know that the prospects of six cents a quart for +blueberries makes you forgetful about what's been said to you. You've +started some devilish big fires. Here's the September big winds about +due--and this one that's just springing up to-day is a fair sample--and +all is, the owners can't afford to run chances of a fire that will stop +God knows where if it gets running in this five thousand acres of dry +tops and slash. + +"Here's Mr. Ide's representative," he continued, flapping a hand towards +Wade. "They've got black growth to the north, and he'll tell you just +the same thing." + +"Well, Mister Mealy-mouth," sneered young Jule, over the heads of the +others, "git to where you're goin' to. We don't want no sermons. It's +move ag'in, hey?" + +"It's move," snapped the Honorable Pulaski, his ready temper starting at +the woman's insolent tone, "and it's move damn sudden." + +Whether it was a groan or growl that came from the wretched huddle, +Wade, looking on them with infinite pity, could not determine. + +"I could put ye plumb square out of the county," roared Britt; "I've got +land jurisdiction enough to do it. But you be reasonable and I'll be +reasonable. I won't drive ye too far. I'll have four horses over from my +cedar operation to tote what duds you want to take and haul the old +women. Sheriff Rodliff and his men here will go along, and see that you +have grub and don't have to light fires. In fact, everything will be +arranged nice for you, and you'll like it when you get there." + +"Where?" asked young Jed. + +"On Little Lobster--the old Drake farm," said the Honorable Pulaski, +trying to speak enthusiastically and signally failing. + +"O my Gawd!" moaned young Jed; "most twenty miles to hoof it, and when +ye git there no wood bigger'n alder-withes, and all the stones the devil +let drop when his puckerin'-string bruk! Hain't a berry. Hain't northin' +to earn a livin'." + +"You never earned your living, and you don't want to earn your living," +retorted Britt. "You just want to stay up here in the big timber and +start fires." + +"No, Mr. Britt, we just want the chance to be human beings!" cried a +tense and piercing voice. The girl had reappeared in the door of the +hut. Above the meek lamentations of those about her, her voice was as +the scream of a young hawk above the baaing of sheep. She pushed her way +through them and stood before the Honorable Pulaski, palpitating, +glowing, splendid in her fury. But she propped her brown hands on her +hips--a woman of the mob--and Wade noted the attitude, and flushed at +the shamed thought of the likeness to Elva Barrett. + +In this crisis, by right of her intelligence, her daring, her +superiority, the girl seemed to take her place at the head of the +pathetic herd. + +"That's what we want, Mr. Britt. You're driving us down to the +settlements again. And then some bow-legged old farmer will lose a sheep +by bears or a hen by hawks, and we'll be set upon and driven back once +more to the woods. And then you'll come and huff and puff and blow our +house down and chase us away to the settlement. 'The law! The law!' you +keep braying like a mule. You kick us one way; the settlements kick us +another. Mr. Britt, I didn't ask to be put on this earth! But now that +I'm here I've a right to ground enough to set my feet on, and so have +these people. We are using no more of your stolen ground here than we'd +be using in another place, and here we stay!" She stamped her foot. + +"You young whippet," snorted the Honorable Pulaski, "don't sneer to me +about the law when I've got eviction-papers in my pocket and the high +sheriff of this county at my back." + +"How about the law that makes wild-land owners pay squatters for +improvements to land?" demanded the girl. "I know some law, too." + +"Do you call those hog-pens improvements?" He swept his fat hand at the +huts. + +"You may pay some one a dollar an acre for that blue sky above us and +claim that, too. You may claim all of God's open country here in the big +woods. But I know that you can't shut even paupers out from the lakes +and the streams any more than you can take away the sunlight from us." + +"I don't know where you got your law, young woman, but I'd advise you to +get better posted on the difference between right of way to State +waters and squatting on private land. Now, I ain't got time to--" + +"We'll not go back to the settlement--not one of us." She set her feet +apart and bent a fiery gaze on him. + +Britt looked away from her to his circle of supporters. The deputies +stooped over their gun-barrels to hide furtive grins at sight of the +timber baron thus baited by a girl on his preserves. Even the broad face +of the sheriff was crinkled suspiciously. The tyrant flamed with the +quick passion for which he was noted in the north country. + +"Look here, Rodliff!" His voice was like cracking twigs. "Pile the +dunnage out of those huts. If any one gets in your way drive a stake and +tie 'em to it." He thrust his bulgy nose into the air to sniff the +direction of the wind. "Then set fire to every d--n crib. The wind's all +right to carry it towards the bog." + +"I don't believe you've got law enough in your pocket to do a thing like +that, Mr. Britt," broke in Wade, with heat. + +"You don't, hey?" + +"Not to throw old men and women and children out of their houses and +leave them shelterless a dozen miles from a building. There must be +another way of getting at this eviction matter, Mr. Britt--one that's +different from burning a hornet's nest." + +"This don't happen to be any of your special business!" roared the +tyrant. "If it was, you'd stand by property interests instead of backing +State paupers." + +"Mr. Sheriff, are you going to do that thing?" + +"I'm here by order of the court, to do what Mr. Britt wants done to +protect his property," replied the officer. "I'm to execute, not to plan +nor ask questions." + +"King Spruce runs this country up here, not human feelin's," muttered +old Christopher in Wade's ear. "You won't get any satisfaction by +buttin' in. I'm ready to move. I don't like to see such things done, +and I don't believe you do. Come on!" He swung his meal-bag upon his +shoulders. + +But the young man lingered doggedly, his eyes on the face of the girl. + +"Buckin' a high sheriff and his posse ain't ever been reckoned as a +profitable business speculation in these parts," mumbled the guide. "It +wouldn't amount to a hoorah in tophet, and you'd probably wind up in the +county jail." + +The girl was gazing shrewdly at this sudden champion. There was no shade +of coquetry in her glance. It was the frank gaze of man to man. + +"I protest, Mr. Britt!" cried Wade. + +"And that's all the good it will do," snorted that angry master of the +situation. "Rodliff, you've got my orders!" + +Young Jed, sidling near Britt, with the mien of a Judas and with +manifest intent to curry favor, whimpered: + +"We don't back her up in all she says, Mr. Britt. We ain't got rights +and we know it, but we've got feelin's. Be ye goin' to do the us'al +thing about damages, Mr. Britt?" + +"Why," roared the tyrant, bluffly, "ain't the land-owners always made it +worth your while to move? It's all business, boys! Don't let fools bust +in. We don't want fire here. Get to Little Lobster as quick as the +Lord'll let ye. We'll have six months' supply of pork, flour, and plug +tobacco there waitin' for ye--all with the land-owners' compliments. +We've always believed that the easiest way is the best way, but you +don't buy that way by buckin'. Buck, and the trade is all off--and you +get thrown into another county. Close your girl's mouth and keep it +shut." + +"There!" grunted old Christopher, "if ye haven't got any more sympathy +to waste on critters like that"--a jab of his thumb at young Jed--"you'd +better come along." + +But at sight of woe on the faces of the women, and mute entreaty in the +eyes of the girl, Wade still lingered. + +"She's speakin' for herself," whispered young Jed, hoarsely. "She don't +want to leave the woods because your boss, Colin MacLeod, is courtin' +her, and she's waitin' to see him, now that he's back from +down-country." + +Riotous laughter "guffled" in the throat of Pulaski Britt as he stared +from the scarlet face of the girl to Wade's confusion. + +"Courtin' her, hey? Another case of it? I say, Rodliff, pretty soon +there won't be a whole arm or leg left on my boss if this young man here +keeps chasin' him round the country and breaks a bone on him for ev'ry +girl the two of 'em get against together." + +He laughed to the full content of his soul, and then turned on the girl. + +"Why, you ragged little fool, Colin MacLeod is crazier than a hornet in +a thrashin'-machine over Rod Ide's girl. He's up in camp now with an arm +in a sling to make him remember a fight he and this young dude here got +into over her. And he's up there beyond Pogey Notch sitting on a stump +swearing at the choppers and bragging with every other breath that he'll +kill the dude and marry the girl--and I don't reckon he's changed his +mind in two days since I saw him last." + +"You lie!" screamed the girl. + +"Hold on, there, Miss Spitfire," broke in the sheriff, himself highly +amused by the humor of the situation as it appeared to him, "there isn't +a man between Castonia and Blunder Lake but what is talking about it. +A hundred men saw the fight. I reckon five hundred have heard MacLeod +ravin' about how much he loves the Ide girl. So if he ever courted you +it must have been just for the sake of getting used to the game." Even +the fawning male citizens of Misery Gore cackled their little chorus in +the laughter that followed the high sheriff's jest. + +She drew back slowly and gazed on them all, her lips rolled away from +her white teeth. Those jeering faces from "outside" represented +property, law, the smug self-satisfaction of all who despised Misery +Gore's squalid breed. + +They stood there in the midst of the land they so arrogantly +claimed, ready to toss her away once more in the everlasting game +of battledore and shuttlecock. They were afraid for the dollars +that made them different from the wretches of Misery. They gloried +in their dollars--they mocked her in that moment, the bitterness of +which only her heart understood. Let them look out for their dollars, +then! + +Up there where the blue hills divided was sitting Colin MacLeod calling +on the name of another woman and nursing a wound received for that +woman's sake. Let him look out for himself! + +"We can make the Blake-cutting camps with you to-night," said Britt, his +mind on business once again. "We'll take good care of you, and you might +as well start one time as another. Out with the stuff and down with the +houses, Rodliff." + +At the orders the men began to busy themselves, paying no further +attention to Misery's inhabitants. + +The girl ran into the hut, lifted one of the cedar splints that made the +floor, and took out a section of iron gas-pipe--the most prized +possession of the tribe. It was their wand of plenty. It was Mother +Nature's crutch. Out of it flowed bounty. + +Into the unplugged end she poured all the kerosene there was in a +battered can. Then she stuffed into the tube a mass of wicking. + +It was a torch--the torch for the blueberry barrens. Dragged after one, +it left a blazing trail such as no other form of fire could produce. + +There was a flicker of fire in the rusty stove. She thrust the wicking +into the coals, and on the iron stalk a flame-flower sprang into huge +blossom. + +She burst through the hut's rear window and ran straight for the edge of +the clearing, towards the fuel piled high in the forest aisles. + +In that moment of blind and desperate fury she realized that the wind +was swinging into the north. It was there that MacLeod was sitting at +the foot of Pogey Notch. Ah, what a furnace-flue that would make! + +She did not pause to reason. Her single wild desire was to send the fire +leaping towards him. + +The roar of voices behind--voices entreating, voices of +malediction--made her smile. Above all was the Honorable Pulaski's +bull roar. She began to drag the torch. + +"Catch her! Damnation, catch that girl!" howled Britt. + +She reached the edge of the distant woodland. + +Immediately his cry changed to "Shoot her!" He did not mean it the first +time he cried it. He did mean it the second time. The deputies stared +after her and joggled their weapons on their arms. + +"Shoot her, or fifty thousand acres of timber are gone!" + +But that was quarry before which official guns quailed. + +In his fury and his panic and his desperate fear for his fortune, Britt +seized a gun from the nearest deputy and aimed it. + +Wade struck it up, muttering an indignant oath. Britt made as though to +club him out of the way. The young man clutched the gun and twisted it +from Britt's quivering clutch. When Britt lunged forward to seize +another rifle Wade struck him under the jaw, and he went down like a +felled ox. + +The girl was out of sight in the woods, but yellow smoke shot with +bright flame marked her course. + +"I could have told him," mused old Christopher, looking on the Honorable +Pulaski, struggling dizzily to his feet, "havin' watched her more or +less since I named her, that she wa'n't a real sociable kind of a girl +to joke with on matters that's as serious to women as love is." + +Sheriff Bennett Rodliff spoke the prologue to that conflagration: + +"There is h--l in the core of that fire," he said. + +Sometimes a little mischief, started by chance down the slopes of +events, gathers like a rolling snowball into a vast bulk of evil. But +more often in matters of evil it is the intent of the impulse that +governs. It seems at such times as though inanimate nature were +responding to human malevolence. + +The fire that started that day on Misery leaped to its grim business +with a spontaneity as fierce as the mad hate behind it. + +One man acts in a crisis with more directness and efficiency than many +men, each of whom waits on the other. They had stood and stared after +the girl when she ran into the woods with the hissing fire streaming +behind her. The pursuers that finally did start stopped promptly to +witness the fight between the young man and the baron of the Umcolcus. +Human fists in play afford more of a spectacle than even an incipient +conflagration. When the man who goes down is a man who in the past has +always been aggressor and victor, interest is more acute. + +Dwight Wade did not linger to prolong the conflict to which the furious +Britt invited him. Christopher Straight had started for the woods on +the track of the fugitive girl, and Wade ran after him, his knuckles +tingling gloriously. The thrill of that one moment, when his fist met +the flesh of the man who had insulted him, made him realize that when +one searches the depths of human nature hate, as well as love, has its +delights. + +Pressing closely on the heels of Christopher, who had waited for him, he +dove into the yellow smoke. + +"We've got to find that young she-devil!" gasped the old man. "It's +better for us to find her than for Britt to get hold of her." + +But by that time the quest was an uncertain one. + +There is craftiness in a woods fire when it is seeking to establish +itself. + +The fire sent up first from the crackling slash thick, rolling, bitter +clouds of smoke to veil its beginnings. Running to the left, where the +fresher clouds seemed to be springing, the two men caught sight of the +girl. But she was already far to the right, running and leaping like a +deer, her hideous torch still flaming. Then the smoke shut down and she +was hidden. + +A blazing mass of tops, twisted in a blowdown, fronted them, and they +were forced to make a long detour. They saw the wind wrench torches out +of the mass, torches that whirled aloft and went scaling away to the +north. Puffs of smoke showed where they had alighted. Here and there the +tops of little spruces and firs set a net for the torches, afforded +roosting-places for the flame birds that winged their red flight across +the sky. The flame did not merely burn these trees; the trees fairly +exploded; their resinous fronds and tassels were like powder grains. + +A wind gust rent the smoke for an instant and showed the pursuers the +spread of the growing destruction. It already was sprinkled over acres. + +"She's started fair, and the devil's helpin' her!" mourned the old man. + +At that moment the huge bulk of a man went lurching past them. It was +Abe, the foolish giant of the Skeets. In the glimpse they caught before +the smoke swallowed him, in his hairy nakedness, he seemed a gigantic +satyr; he leaped here and there to avoid the blazing patches in the leaf +litter and humus, and his movements seemed like a grotesque dance. + +"The old woman has sent him after the girl," explained Christopher, with +quick comprehension. "Come on!" + +Dodging, choking, crouching for air, they followed him. At last they +overtook the author of all the mischief. She threw away her torch when +they came upon her, and faced them without shame. She was panting in +utter exhaustion, and clung to a tree for support. + +"Bring her, Abe!" commanded Christopher, in a tone that the giant +understood, and he took her up in his brawny arms despite her angry +struggles. "No, not that way!" shouted the old man, when Abe whirled to +make his way back through the fire zone. "It's spread too far," he +explained to Wade; "we've got to keep ahead of it." With a blow to +emphasize his order, he drove Abe ahead of him, and they hurried towards +the north, the conflagration at their heels. + +Far ahead of them Jerusalem Mountain lifted the poll of its gray ledge. +It blocked the broad valley to the north. For those in the van of that +fire it was the rock of refuge. The tote road led that way. The +fugitives crashed through the undergrowth into the road. The fire had +already crossed it to the south of them. They took their way to the +north, their eyes on Jerusalem Mountain. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BY ORDER OF PULASKI D. BRITT + + "Twinkle, twinkle, 'Ladder' Lane, + With your wavin' winder-pane, + Up above the world so high, + Like a flash-bug in the sky." + + +The fire-lookout at the Attean station winked this ditty humorously with +playful heliograph to "Ladder" Lane, lookout on the high, bald poll of +old Jerusalem Knob. The Attean lookout got it by telephone from +Castonia. Lyrist unreported. + +Jerusalem station is more serene in its isolation than the other five +lookouts on the mountains of the north country. It has no telephone. +Lane allowed to his lonely self that he got more news than he really +wanted, anyhow. And most of the news was of the sort that the humorous +Attean lookout, or the equally humorous Squaw Mountain man, considered +likely to tease the cranky solitary on the highest and farthest outpost +of the chain of lookouts. They whiled away their solitude by gossipy +chattings over the wire. Lane confined himself to terse winkings that +would have been gruff were it possible for a heliograph to be gruff. He +seemed to take a certain grim pride in the fact that he was a thousand +feet higher than any of them and commanded three hundred thousand acres. + +Sitting now in the glare of the September sunshine on the flat roof of +his cabin, he gravely and stolidly scrawled down the words of the verse +as the Attean heliograph, blinking and glaring, spoke to him in the +Morse code. + +"Huh!" he grunted, and went on writing with stubby pencil his +interrupted day's entry in his official diary. For the twenty-fifth time +he wrote: + +"Clear, bright, and still dry." + +He screwed his eyelids close to peer into the heavens bending over him, +hard as the bottom of a brass kettle. He took off his hat and held it +edgewise at his forehead while his gaze swept the mighty range of his +vision. An imaginative person might have smiled at the likeness between +his brown and bald poll, thrust above the straggle of hair, and the bare +and bald poll of old Jerusalem, rounding above the straggle of growth on +its lower slopes. + +Some one bawled at him from the ground below. Lane did not start, though +that was the first human voice he had heard in two months. + +The young man who stood there, and who had come across the gray ledges +from the edge of the timber growth, carried an arm in a sling. + +"Do you ever look at anybody if they're nearer than ten miles away?" +inquired the visitor, with the teasing irony that it seemed popular in +the Umcolcus region to employ with "Ladder" Lane. + +When the old man stood up the fitness of his sobriquet was apparent. He +unfolded himself, joint by joint, like a carpenter's rule, and stood +gaunt as a bean pole and well towards seven feet in height. + +The name painted on the door of the photograph "saloon" that even now +lies rotting on the banks of Ragmuff in Castonia settlement is: "Linus +Lane. Tintypes and Views." No one in Castonia ever knew whither he had +come. Oxen or horses and a teamster hired for each trip had dragged the +rumbling van from settlement to settlement at the edge of the woods, and +finally to Castonia, where it arrived hobbling on three wheels, one +corner supported by a dragging sapling. Lane strode ahead, swearing over +his shoulder at the driver, and his ill-temper did not seem to leave him +even when he had opened his door for business. It is remembered that his +first customer was old Bailey, who was corresponding with an unknown +woman down-country, and who came for a tintype with hair and whiskers +colored to the hue of the raven's wing, evidently desiring to make an +impression on his correspondent. And when old Bailey, shocked and +disappointed at the painful verity of the tintype, had muttered that it +didn't seem to be a very pretty picture, Lane, who was doubled like a +jack-knife under the saloon's low roof, had yelled at him: + +"Pretty picture! You come to me with a face like a scrambled egg dropped +into a bucket of soot and complain because you don't get a pretty +picture! Get out of here!" + +And he stopped slicing up the sheet of tintypes, slammed it on the +floor, drove out old Bailey, nailed up the door of the saloon, and +started for the big woods with his few possessions on his back. + +To those who remonstrated on behalf of the offended old Bailey, Lane +said he had been feeling like that for some time, and was taking to the +woods before he expressed his disgust by killing some one. + +Therefore, the job on the top of Jerusalem that fell to him quite +naturally, after his many years' sojourn as a recluse at its foot, was a +job that fitted admirably with his scheme of life. + +"And it looks up there like it must have looked when Noah said, 'All +ashore that's goin' ashore,' on Mount Ariat, or wherever 'twas he +throwed anchor," announced Tommy Eye, of Britt's crew, returning once +from a Sunday trip to the fire station. + +For, painfully acquired, with gouges, clawings, and scratches to show +for it all, "Ladder" Lane had accumulated companions of his loneliness, +to wit: + +One bull moose, captured in calfhood in deep snow; two bear cubs; a +raccoon; a three-legged bobcat, victim of an excited hunter; two horned +owls; and a fisher cat. + +On this menagerie, variously tethered or crated in sapling cages, the +visitor with the disabled arm bestowed a contemptuous side glance while +he blinked at the tall figure on the cabin's flat roof. + +Without haste Lane worked himself through the roof-scuttle like an +angle-worm drawing into his hole; without cordiality he appeared at the +cabin door, lounging out into the sunshine. + +"I suppose you are still doing the second-hand swearing for Britt, +MacLeod," he suggested. + +The young man grunted. + +"How did ye hurt your arm? Britt chaw it?" + +"Peavy-stick flipped on me," growled the young man, willing to hide his +humiliation from at least one person in the world--and the hermit of the +Jerusalem station seemed to be the only one sufficiently isolated. + +"Huh! I thought his name was Wade." There was no spirit of jest in the +tone. The old man surveyed him sourly. "That's what the Attean helio +said." + +"Is that what you use them things for--to pass gossip like an old maid's +quiltin'-bee?" + +"There's a good deal in this world in letting a man place his own self +where he belongs," remarked Lane, with calm conviction. "I've let you +prove yourself a liar." + +He turned and went into the cabin and back up the stairs to the roof, +picking up a huge telescope as he went. Something in the valley seemed +to have attracted his attention. MacLeod followed, his face red, oaths +clucking in his throat. + +In the nearer middle ground of the great plat of country below Patch Dam +heath was set into the green of the forest like a medallion of rusty +tin. To the west of it smoke began to puff above the tree-tops. + +"On Misery," mumbled Lane, his long arms steadying his instrument. Then, +with the caution of a man of method, he went into the scuttle-hole and +secured his range-finder. + +"What's the good of tinker-fuddlin' with that thing?" demanded MacLeod; +"it's on Misery, as you said." + +"Two hundred and fifty-nine degrees," muttered the fire-scout, booking +the figures in his dog's-eared diary. + +"Say, about that fire, Mr. Lane," blurted MacLeod, nervously. "I'm up +here to-day by Mr. Britt's orders to tell you not to report it. It's on +Misery Gore, and he's there looking after it, and it ain't goin' to be +worth while to report. I know all about it, and that's the truth." + +Lane, without bestowing a glance on the speaker, was setting up his +heliograph tripod. At the young man's last words he grunted over his +shoulder: + +"So it was a peavy-stick! But they told me his name was Wade." + +"Now you look here," stormed the timber baron's boss, "you can slur all +you want to about my lyin', but I tell you, Lane, this is straight +goods. You report that fire, after the orders you've got from Britt, and +you'll lose your job. I know what I'm talkin' about." + +Lane kneeled, his thin trousers hanging over his slender shanks like +cloth over broomsticks. MacLeod stifled an inclination to take him in +one hand and snap him like a whip-lash. The old man was peering through +the centre hole in the sun-mirror, bringing his disks into alignment. + +"Britt has got orders from the court, and he's there to put the Skeets +and Bushees out and torch off their shacks. That's all there is to that +fire, Lane, and Britt don't want a stir and hoorah made about it. He +told me to tell you that. He says the cussed newspapers get a word here +and a word there, and they're always ready to string out a lot of lies +about King Spruce and wild-landers, and how they abuse settlers, and all +that rot--and it hurts prominent men, like Mr. Britt and his associates, +because folks get wrong ideas from the papers. Now you know that! Don't +report that fire, Lane." + +It was fulsome appeal and eager appeal, and MacLeod was apparently +obeying some very emphatic orders from his superior, who had supplied +language as well as directions of procedure. + +But the old fire-warden kept on with his preparations, exact, careful, +without haste. + +"He said you understood--Britt did," clamored MacLeod, hastening around +in front of the heliograph. "You know it ain't right to have those +people there in this dry time, with all that slash about 'em. Mr. Britt +will make it all right with them--the same as the land-owners always do. +It will be the papers that will lie and call the land-owners names for +the sake of stirrin' up a sensation about leadin' men--makin' politics +out of it, and gettin' the people prejudiced so as to put more taxes +onto wild lands." More of Britt's ammunition! "Mr. Britt said you'd +understand--and you do understand--and you can't report that fire." + +Lane set his gaunt grasp about the handle of the screen, ready to tilt +it for the first flash. + +"I understand just this, MacLeod--that I'm a fire-warden of the State, +sworn to do my duty as my duty is spread before me." He swept his left +arm in impressive gesture. "Look behind you! Do you see that?" + +Smoke was ballooning from the notch of the woods below them. Round puffs +seemed to be dancing in fantastic ballet from tree-top to tree-top. + +"That's a fire, MacLeod. I take no man's say-so as to what and why. That +may be Pulaski Britt smoking a cigar. It may be Jule Skeet's new spring +bonnet on fire. I don't care what it is. It's a fire, and it's going to +be reported. Stand out of range." + +His code-card was in the top of his hat. He waved the headgear +impatiently at MacLeod, his right hand still on the handle of the +screen. + +MacLeod knew what the orders of Pulaski D. Britt meant. Britt had not +hesitated to rely upon the loyalty of "Ladder" Lane, for Britt, when +State senator, had caused Lane to be appointed to the post on Jerusalem. +MacLeod reflected, with fury rising like flame from the steady glow of +his contemptuous resentment at this old recalcitrant, that Pulaski Britt +would never make allowance for failure under these circumstances. To be +sure, that fire yonder didn't look like a carefully conducted +incineration of the dwellings of Misery Gore, and it was a little ahead +of time--that time being set for the calm of early evening. But orders +from Britt were--to his men--orders from the supreme tribunal. + +"Britt put you here!" stuttered MacLeod. + +"I'm working for the State, not Pulaski D. Britt," replied the old man. + +"And I'm working for Britt, and, by ---- he runs the State in these +parts! Him and you and the State can settle it between you later, but +just now"--he swung to one side, leaned back, and drove his foot with +all the venom of his repressed rage against the apparatus--"that fire +report don't go!" + +"Ladder" Lane, serene in his proud conjuration, "The State," had +expected no such enormity. The heliograph skated on its spider legs, +went over the edge of the roof, and, after a hushed moment of drop, +crashed upon the ledge with shiver and tinkle of flying glass. + +The boss of "Britt's Busters" turned and darted through the scuttle and +down the stairs, excusing this flight to himself on the ground of his +out-of-commission arm. + +He leaped out into the sunshine and clattered away over the ledges, the +spikes in his shoes striking sparks. + +He had made half a dozen rods when he heard the old man scream "Halt!" +MacLeod kept on, with a taunting wave of his well hand above his head. +The next moment a rifle barked, and the bullet chipped the ledge in +front of him. + +"The next one bores you in the back, MacLeod!" + +He stopped then, and whirled in his tracks. + +Lane stood at the edge of his roof, his rifle-butt at his cheek. + +"Come back here!" + +"You ain't got the right to hold me up, Lane. I'll have the law on ye!" + +"Come back here!" + +There was a grate in the tone, a menace not to be braved. + +The young man shuffled slowly towards the cabin, roaring oaths and +insults to which Lane deigned no reply. + +MacLeod did not try to run when the warden disappeared for his trip to +the door. He waited sullenly. + +Near the door was a good-sized, empty cage of strong saplings, built in +"Ladder" Lane's abundant leisure, for the reception of any new candidate +for the menagerie. The old man jerked his head sideways at it. There was +a gap of three saplings in the side, and the poles stood there ready to +be set in. + +"I won't be penned that way!" yelled MacLeod. "I ain't no raccoon!" + +But the bitter visage of the warden, the merciless flash of his gray +eyes, and the glint of the rifle-barrel, swinging into line with his +face, combined with the sudden remembrance that it was hinted that +"Ladder" Lane was not always right in his head, drove the stubborn +courage out of MacLeod. He slunk rather than walked into the cage with +the mien of a whipped beast. The old man set the saplings one by one +into place, and nailed them with vigorous hammer-blows. + +"How long have I got to stay here, Lane?" he pleaded. + +"Till I can turn you over to them who will put you where you belong for +destroying State's property and interfering with a State officer." + +The old man turned away and gazed out over the forest stretches between +Jerusalem and Misery. MacLeod, clutching the bars of his cage with his +left hand, looked, too. + +It was no puny torching of the Misery huts that he was looking on, and +he realized it with growing apprehensiveness as to his zeal in +suppressing news. + +Vast volumes of yellow smoke volleyed up over the crowns of the green +growth. It was a racing fire--even those on Jerusalem could see that +much across the six miles between. Spirals waved ahead like banners of a +charging army. Its front broadened as the fire troops deployed to the +flanks. Ahead and ever ahead fresh smoke-puffings marked the advance of +the skirmish-line. Now here, now there, drove the cavalry charges of the +conflagration, following slash-strewn roads and cuttings, while the dun +smoke ripped the green of the maples and beeches. + +"It's liable to interest Pulaski D. Britt somewhat when he finds out why +Jerusalem lookout ain't callin' for a fire-posse," Lane remarked, +bitterly. + +The situation seemed to overwhelm the boss. He looked with straining +gaze at the rush of the conflagration, and had no word for reply. + +"But it may not all be loss for you," the old man proceeded, grimly. +"Perhaps the girl will be burned up--perhaps that was in your trade with +Britt." + +"I don't know what you mean about any girl," mumbled MacLeod, looking +away from the old man's boring eyes. + +"You're a liar again as well as a dirty whelp of a sneak." + +Lane spat the words over his shoulder, stumping away, the bristle of his +gray beard standing out like an angry porcupine's quills. + +"I don't allow anybody to put them words on me!" roared MacLeod. + +"You don't, heh?" Lane whirled and stumped back. He bent down and set +his face close to the saplings, his eyes narrowing like a cat's, his +nose wrinkling in mighty anger. "You can steal time paid for by Pulaski +D. Britt, and hang around Misery Gore, and coax on an ignorant girl into +a worse hell than she's living in now"--he pointed a quivering finger at +the smoke-wreathed valley--"when you know and I know, and everyone on +these mountain-tops of the Umcolcus knows and gossips it with the +settlements, that you've picked her up only to throw her farther into +the wallow where you found her. It's the Ide girl you're courtin'. It's +poor little Kate of Misery that you're killin'. There isn't another man +in the north woods mean enough to steal from a girl as poor as she +is--steal love and hope and faith. It's all she's got, MacLeod, and +you've taken all." + +The young man grunted a sullen oath. + +"There's a lot I could say to you," raged Lane, "but I ain't going to +waste time doing it. I'll simply express my opinion of you by--" + +He spat squarely into the convulsed face of MacLeod, and went away into +his cabin. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +"LADDER" LANE'S SOIRÉE + + "And down from off the mountains in the shooting sheets of flame + The devils of Katahdin come to play their reg'lar game. + So 'tis: men hold tight! Pray for mornin' light! + Katahdin's caves are empty and hell's broke loose to-night!" + + --Ha'nt of Pamola. + + +As the hours of the day went on, Colin MacLeod, caged, helpless, set +high on the bald brow of old Jerusalem, where every phase of the great +fire was spread before his eyes, found abundant opportunity to curse +himself for a fool. In time, of course, Attean or some other point would +realize the extent of the conflagration and call for help. But now, +hidden under Jerusalem and confined to the slash under the green trees, +it was a racing ground-fire that crouched and ran. It came rapidly, but +in a measure secretly. It showed a subtility of selection. It did not +waste time on the green forest of beeches and maples. It was hurrying +north towards its traditional prey. That prey was waiting for it, rooted +on the slopes of Jerusalem and the Umcolcus, on the Attean and the +Enchanted--the towering black growth of hemlock, pine, and spruce--the +apple of Pulaski Britt's commercial eye--the hope of his associates. +Once there, it would spring from its crouching race on the ground. It +would climb the resinous trunks and torch and flare and rage and roar +in the tinder-tops--a dreaded "crown-fire" that only the exhaustion of +fuel or the rains of God would stop. + +Attean would see that fire leaping past Jerusalem, and would swear and +wonder and report too late. + +Just now hours were as precious as days. + +Men could do nothing at mid-day with the wind lashing behind. MacLeod +knew well how that fire should be fought. But with men on the way ready +to flank it at nightfall and work ahead of it with pick and shovel and +beating branches of green--the winds stilled and the dews condensing--it +could be conquered--it must be conquered then, if at all. + +Woods fires sleep at night. The men who fight them may as well sleep at +mid-day. + +With the dropping of the sun and the sinking of the winds the fires +drowse and flicker and smoulder. Then must one attack the monster; for +at daybreak he is up, ravening and roaring and hungry. + +And now--not even Britt's own crew of loggers at the foot of Jerusalem +had word and warning. MacLeod bellowed appeals to be let out. He +besought Lane to hurry down the mountain to camp. He howled frightful +oaths and threats and abject promises. + +At dusk the old man came out of his cabin, and brought bread and water +and bacon to his captive without a word. He fed him with as much +unconcern as he brought browse to the tethered bull moose and +distributed provender suited to the various tastes of his menagerie. + +The darkness settled in the valleys first, and one by one fire-dottings +pricked out--blazing junipers and the stunted new growth of evergreen. +From Jerusalem the great expanse seemed like a mighty city, its windows +alight, its streets and avenues illuminated gloriously. + +MacLeod, silenced except for an occasional hoarse quack of appeal, paced +his little cage, despairing. + +"Ladder" Lane sat on the flat roof silent as a spectre. So the hours +dragged past. + +"I thought so!" grunted the old man at last. "That's what I've been +sitting up for." + +From his eyry he saw a light flickering in the stunted growth far down +Jerusalem, zigzagging nearer. At last it emerged and came across the +ledges--a flare of hissing birch bark stuck into a cleft stick. There +were several men hastening along in the circle of its radiance. Lane +could hear from afar their gruntings of exhaustion. + +"If I ain't mistook, it's your friend Britt," remarked the old man, +maliciously, as he passed MacLeod's cage on his way to meet the +visitors. + +And it was Britt--Britt with his hat in his hand, perspiration streaming +into his beard, his stertorous breath rumbling in his throat. Lane knew +the man who bore the torch as Bennett Rodliff, high sheriff of the +county. + +"It's been--God!--awful work--but we've--come round the east--edge of +it, Lane," panted Britt. Commanding general in the grim conflict, he had +been willing to burst his heart in order to establish headquarters in +the one spot from which he could mobilize his forces and direct their +tactics. "How many men have you ordered in, Lane?" + +"Not a man!" + +"Not a--not a--you stand there and tell me you haven't reported and +called for every man that Attean and Squaw can reach!" He began to curse +shrilly. + +"You'd better save your wire edge, Mr. Britt," counselled Lane. "You're +going to need it. Come here till I show you something." + +One of the sheriff's men lighted a fresh sheet of bark at the dying +flare of the other, and Lane led the way to the cage, where MacLeod +peered desperately between the saplings. + +"Just a moment, Mr. Britt!" broke in the warden, again checking the +lumber baron's fury. "This man came up here to-day with what he said +were your orders not to report that fire, and--" + +"That fire!" roared Britt, fairly beside himself. "Why, you devilish, +infernal--" + +"A moment, I say! When I set up my heliograph he kicked it off the roof. +There it lies just as it fell. You and he can settle your part of it! As +for my part of it, I have arrested him by my authority as a fire warden. +The sheriff, here, can take him whenever he gives me a receipt and makes +note of my complaint." + +"I did what you told me to, Mr. Britt," protested MacLeod, his voice +breaking. "He was reportin' the first puff of smoke, and said that you +and your orders could go to thunder. He didn't pay any attention--and I +just did what you told me to. I--" + +"Shut up!" The Honorable Pulaski, crimson with anger, fearful of his own +part in this conspiracy, and shamed by the exposure of his methods, +bellowed his order. "We'll settle this later. Knock away those saplings, +some one. MacLeod, get down this mountain, even if you break your neck +doing it, and get your crew to the front of that fire! I--I--haven't got +breath to talk to you the way you need to be talked to. As you stand, +you're only half a man on account of a girl." He darted a quivering +finger at the disabled arm. + +"And it's your other little d--n fool of a girl at Misery that torched +that fire when she heard that you'd jilted her. Now, is it women or +woods after this?" + +"Woods, Mr. Britt!" stammered the boss, eager to conciliate this raging +bull. + +"Then get to the front of that fire and stop it, even if you have to lie +down and roll over on it. It's a fire your pauper sweetheart started, +and you've arranged, by your infernal bull-headedness, to let it burn. +Stop it or keep going! It won't be healthy in my neighborhood." + +"I'll stop it or die tryin', Mr. Britt." + +Lane leaned his back against the cage and faced the group, his gaunt +arms reaching from side to side. + +"You can't free a prisoner that way, Mr. Britt," he said, firmly. "You +take this man away from me--or if the high sheriff, here, lets him +go--I'll report the thing under oath to the governor and the people of +this State; and I reckon you can't afford to have that done. I propose +to have it known why Linus Lane didn't do his duty in reporting that +fire." + +"Take that old fool away from there and let that man out," commanded +Britt, his passion blind to consequences. He could see no way out of his +muddle. He seemed to be in for wicked notoriety, anyway. Just now his +one thought was to get "Roaring Cole MacLeod," master of men, at the +head of that fire, to hold it in leash until more assistance came. He +knew his man. He understood that MacLeod, bitter in the consciousness of +his blunder, was now worth six men. "Rodliff, I'll take the +consequences!" he shouted. "Let my boss out." + +But the high sheriff seemed to be doubtful as to the consequences that +he also would have to accept. Just then he had clearer notions of +official responsibility than did the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt. + +"This man is under arrest all regular," protested Rodliff, "and I've +just the same as heard him own up that he interfered with Warden Lane in +his duty. The governor himself wouldn't have the right to order me to +let a prisoner go before a hearing on the case. That's law, Mr. Britt, +and--" + +"Talk that south of Castonia," broke in the Honorable Pulaski. "Just now +law won't put that fire out and save a fifty-thousand-acre stand of +black growth. Lane, you've got to be reasonable. There've been +mistakes, but they'll be made good. You can't afford to be bull-headed +in this thing." + +But the old man did not move from the cage. The flaring of the torch +lighted his solemn and unrelenting face. The worried face of MacLeod +peered out over one of the extended arms. + +"What--what was it happened to 'em on Misery, Mr. Britt?" he asked, +humbly. + +"I told you!" snapped Britt, glad of a momentary excuse to cover +embarrassment of this general defiance of his dignity. "Your black-eyed +beauty there, that you've been fooling with when my back's been +turned, is jealous of Rod Ide's girl, and took to the bush with a +blueberry-torch dragging at her heels to show her feelings. I'd have +shot her like I would a rabbit if it hadn't been for your particular +friend Wade." The wrathful sneer of the Honorable Pulaski was a snarl +that would have done credit to "Ladder" Lane's bobcat. "When you come to +settle accounts with that critter, MacLeod, break his leg, and charge it +on my side of the ledger." + +"So he was there, hey?" asked the boss, eagerly. + +"He was there long enough to hit me like a prize-fighter when I was +protecting my property." + +"Why didn't you kill him?" demanded the boss, with venom. + +"By the time I got a gun he was out of sight at the tail of the fire, +chasing the girl--he and old Chris Straight. I believe they were +proposing to rescue the girl," concluded Britt, with a mirthless +chuckle. "The only consolation I'm getting out of that fire down there +is that maybe it's burning that Wade and the girl, whatever they call +her, and will chase the Skeets and Bushees south and catch them, too. If +it does I'll be willing to let a thousand more acres burn." + +But it appeared that the choicest section of the Honorable Pulaski's +charitable hopes was doomed to disappointment. + +A torch, tossing from the edge of the stunted growth, marked the +approach of some one. + +"The top of Jerusalem seems liable to be a popular roosting-place for +all them that ain't wearing asbestos pants," remarked the high sheriff, +dryly. "A rush of excursionists during the heated spell, as the +summer-boarder ads say! Lane, can you give the crowd anything to eat at +your tavern except broiled moose and fricasseed bobcat?" + +The pleasantry evoked no smile. For the little group at the cabin, +Pulaski Britt first of all, with his keener eyes of hate, recognized +those who were approaching. + +Old Christopher Straight came ahead with the torch. The girl of Misery +Gore, moving more slowly now that she saw the group at the top of +Jerusalem, her face sullen, her head cocked defiantly, was at his back, +and Dwight Wade was at her side. Far behind, at the edge of the torch's +radiance, slouched a huge figure of a man. It was foolish Abe, the +hirsute giant of the Skeets. + +"And now, speaking of arresting in the name of the law," snarled the +lumber baron, "and your duty that you seem so fond of, Rodliff, get out +your handcuffs for something that's worth while. It's three years in +state-prison for maliciously setting fires on timber lands. It's a long +vacation in the county jail for assaulting a man without provocation. +There's the girl who set that fire; there's the man that struck me. So +you see, Lane, your prisoner is going to have company." + +Lane came suddenly away from the cage. The torch showed his face working +with strange emotion. + +"Mr. Britt," he said, appealingly, to the astonishment of the senator, +who understood this sour woods cynic's nature, "there are crimes that +ain't crimes in this world--not even when they're judged by God's own +scale. There's your fire yonder! Some one is responsible for it--but not +that poor girl!" + +"I saw her set it myself, you devilish idiot!" + +"Not that poor girl, I say. Those that threw her--her, with the pride of +good blood that she felt but didn't understand--her, with her hopes and +brains that her blood gave her--" + +"Blood!" roared the Honorable Pulaski. "What do you know about her +pedigree?" + +"Those that threw her into that pen of swine are responsible," went on +the warden. "Men like you, that have persecuted her and wonder why she +doesn't squeal like the rest of those idiots; men like the whelp in that +cage, trying to wrong her and throw her back into hell--all of you are +responsible for that fire. You bent the limb. It has snapped back and +struck you in your faces. It's the way of the woods." + +"Well, of all the infernal nonsense I ever listened to, this sermon on +Mount Jerusalem clears the skidway," blurted Britt. "You stand up at the +trial and repeat that, Lane, and you'll get your picture into the +newspapers." + +"And I guess a lot of the rest of us will before this scrape gets +straightened out," muttered the high sheriff, bodingly. + +"Mr. Britt, you're going to be sorry for it if you drag that poor abused +girl to prison," said Lane, with such fire of conviction that the timber +baron, cautious in his methods, and always fearing the notoriety that +would embroil the great secrets of the timber interests with public +opinion, blinked at the oracular old warden and then at the still +defiant face of the girl. Like most untrained natures in whom passion +has unleashed natural high spirit, she seemed incapable of calm +reconsideration. She had made such protest against the enormity of her +persecution as opportunity had put into her heart as right and into her +hands as feasible. + +"We were fools to bring her here and toss her into the old hyena's +claws," muttered Wade in Christopher's ear. "We might have known that he +and his crowd would make for Jerusalem." + +"I did know it," returned the old guide, quietly. "And I knew just as +well what would happen to us in the runway of that fire to-morrow." + +"Lane," broke in the Honorable Pulaski, with decision, "two trials won't +stir this thing any worse than one. You've arranged for one. Go ahead +with MacLeod. I'll have the girl." + +Those who looked on Lane's face only knew that mighty passions were +shaking him. His voice broke and quavered. + +"Mr. Britt, things have been mixed for me in this world till I don't +hardly know what is right. I've tried to do my duty as it's been laid +out for me. But in climbing up to it there's some things I haven't got +the heart to step on. Perhaps in this thing we're mixed in now we've all +been more or less wrong. I don't know. I haven't got the head to-night +to figure it out. Perhaps it's best that what has happened on Jerusalem +to-day don't get out. I don't know as that's right. But I'll say this: +give me the girl; you can take MacLeod." + +The Honorable Pulaski hesitated, "hemmed" hoarsely in his throat, +clutched at his beard, looked significantly at the high sheriff, and +then called him apart by a nod of his head. + +When he returned to the group he said, crisply: "It's a trade! Under the +circumstances, I don't suppose even such a little tin god as you will +have anything to say about it outside," he sneered, running his red eye +over Dwight Wade. The young man did not reply, but his face gave +assent. + +Lane pried away the saplings, and MacLeod stepped out. + +"Give him a camp lantern," commanded Britt. "Get your men into that fire +at daylight." + +"Tell me that they've all been lying about you, Colin," cried the girl, +her cheeks crimson, her heart going out to him at sight of his face, +"and I'll go with you! I'll work with you! I'm sorry for it if it's made +you mad with me." All her sullen anger was gone. She leaned towards him +as though she yearned to abase herself. + +With Britt's flaming eyes on him, MacLeod only moved his lips without +words. + +"Ladder" Lane came out of the cabin with two lanterns. A set of +lineman's climbers jangled dully at his belt. + +"No, you'll not go, girl!" he cried, brusquely. + +With hands on her hips, she threw back her head, her nostrils dilating. + +"I've paid a big price for you this night," he went on, more gently, +"and it isn't to a cur of that kind that I'll be giving you. MacLeod, +here's your lantern! Away, now!" + +"And I'll go, I say, if you'll tell me they've lied. Colin, darling, +tell me!" But he started away, spurred by a ripping oath from the +Honorable Pulaski. She tore herself from the restraining grasp of Wade +and ran after her lover. + +At her movement, Abe, cowering in the gloom away from the torch-lighted +area of ledge, started behind her with canine loyalty. He had followed +her into the fire zone when his mother had screamed command into his +ear. His mother and this girl, her protégée, were the only ones who ever +looked at him without disgust. + +"Abe!" shouted "Ladder" Lane. He spoke in a peculiar tone--a tone in +which the fool evidently recognized something of an old-time authority; +for he uttered a little bleat, in curious contrast with his giant bulk, +and halted. "Fire, Abe!" cried Lane, brandishing his arm in the +direction of the distant flamings. "Mother want her saved from fire. +Fetch, Abe!" + +It was a tone of authority that the witling recognized, and it commanded +his weak will and giant strength. He sped after the girl, seized her in +spite of her furious protest, and bore her back to the cabin, her +struggles exciting only his amiable grins. + +Lane rushed him and his burden into his hut. + +"Now, Abe, mother say watch her. No go into the fire! Watch till I +come!" He came out with placid confidence that his order would be +obeyed, and the mien of the giant gave excellent confirmation. + +"Men," he said, grimly, looking round on their faces, "I'd rather trust +that girl to the fool than to all of the rest of humankind; but I've had +reasons in my life to distrust men, and the higher the men the more I +distrust them. Don't any of you interfere in that duet in there. There's +only one thing that I ask you to do here till I come back--whoever stays +here--feed the animals. You can't corrupt them." He was "Ladder" Lane +once more, sour in his satire. + +"Where are you going, Lane?" demanded Britt. + +The old man shook a telephone cut-in sender at him. + +"I'm going through the woods ahead of that fire to tap the Attean line +and send my report and call for men," he said, calmly. "I'm still the +fire warden of Jerusalem region." + +He set away, striding over the ledges, his lantern winking between his +thin legs. + +"Looks like a cross between a lightning-bug and a grampy-long-shanks," +observed the sheriff, his cheerfulness increased by the happy disposal +of his troublesome prisoners. "Travelling on underpinning like that, +he'll have his word in before daybreak." + +But Pulaski Britt had not yet satisfied the curiosity that stirred as +soon as greater matters had been settled. He ran after the warden, +shouting an order to wait. + +The little group heard the colloquy, for Lane did not stop, and the +Honorable Pulaski had to bellow his question. + +"Say, Lane, in case anything should happen to you! Ain't you going to +let me do the square thing? If this girl is yours, say the word. I'll +look after her. Is she yours?" + +"No!" yelled the old man, with a fury in his tones like the rasp of a +file on their flesh as they listened. And the next words seemed to be a +cry wrung from him without his will: "If she were, I'd have killed you +and Colin MacLeod before this!" + +He went flitting down the slope of Jerusalem like a will-o'-the-wisp, +and they stood in silence and watched him out of sight. + +That night the tenantry of Jerusalem Knob divided itself silently and +sullenly into groups which ignored each other. + +Britt and his people took blankets from the fire station, and +established makeshift camps down in the fringe of the trees. + +Wade and Christopher Straight went apart, and composed themselves as +best they could on some gray moss that tufted the ledge. Their duty was +plain. That fire threatened Enchanted, once it should sweep through the +chimney draught of Pogey Notch. They must stay there and fight it at the +pass through which it was marching to invade their territory. Rodburd +Ide promised to have the Enchanted crew following them within a week. It +might be that their men were already on the way. Their route lay +through Pogey, and Wade would be there ready to captain them. + +The camp was left to the girl and her unkempt guardian. She sat silent +and full of bitter rage; but she understood the vagaries of the fool's +character well enough to realize that after Lane's orders to Abe even +her persuasions could have no effect; the valley fires that lighted the +windows of the camp gave effective point to Lane's commands. The giant +crouched by the open door and gazed upon the sullen glowings in the vast +pit below, muttering his fears to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN THE BARONY OF "STUMPAGE JOHN" + + "Wilderness lord of the olden time, + Stalwart and plumed pine; + They have dragged thee down to the roaring town + From the realms that once were thine. + And he who reigns in thy stately stead + Has never a time o' truce, + For the axe and saw and the grinder's maw + Have doomed thee, too, King Spruce." + + --Kin o' Ktaadn. + + +At half-past four in the dark of the morning "Dirty-apron Harry's" +nickel alarm-clock purred relentlessly, and he rolled out of his bunk, +his eyelids sticking like a blind puppy's. At seventeen, youth relishes +morning naps. But, as cookee of Barnum Withee's camp on "Lazy Tom" +operation, he was chosen to be the earliest bird to crow. His first duty +as chanticleer was to wake "Icicle Ike" and "Push Charlie," the +teamsters, whose hungry charges were stamping impatient hoofs in the +hovel. He dressed himself while stumbling across the dingle to the men's +camp, his eyes still shut. This feat was not as difficult as it sounds. +The difference between Harry's night-gear and day raiment was merely a +Scotch cap and the canvas robe of office that gave him his title. + +The teamsters grunted when he shook them, and followed him out of the +frowsy, snore-fretted atmosphere of the big camp. They did their morning +yawnings and stretching as they walked. When Duty calls "Time!" to a +woodsman the body is on the dot, even if the soul lags unwillingly. + +The humorists of the woods have it that the cookee pries up the sun when +he jacks the big pot out of the bean-hole. For such an important +operation, "Dirty-apron Harry" went at it listlessly. + +The bean-hole was beyond the horse-hovel, sheltered in the angle of a +little palisade of poles whose protection would be needed when the +winter's snows drifted. Harry wearily dragged a hoe in that direction +after he had kindled a fire in the cook-house stove. He did not look up +to the first pearly sheen of sunrise streaming through the yellow of the +frost-touched birches. The glory of the skies would wake him too soon. +He gave up the final fuddle of slumber grudgingly, his dull mind still +piecing the visions of the night, his soul full of loathing for the +workaday world of greasy pots and dirty tins. But when he turned the +corner of the bean-hole shelter he dropped out of dreams with the +suddenest jolt of his life. A black bear was trying to dig up the +bean-pot, growling softly at the heat of the round stones she uncovered. +Two cubs sat near by, watching operations with great interest, their +round ears up-cocked, their jaws drooling expectantly. The big bear +whirled promptly and cuffed the hoe out of Harry's limp grasp, leaped +past him before his trembling legs could move him, and scuffed away into +the woods, with her progeny crowding close to her sheltering bulk. The +cookee sped in the other direction towards the hovel with as great +alacrity. + +"Bears?" echoed "Push Charlie," appearing with his pitchfork at the +hovel door. "Stop your squawkin'. I seen half a dozen yistiddy, and all +of 'em streakin' north up this valley. Heard 'em whooffing and barkin' +last night, travellin' past here on the hemlock benches." He pointed his +fork at the terraced sides of the valley above them. + +"It's only excursion parties bound for the Bears' Annooal Convention up +at Telos Gorge," suggested "Icicle Ike," rapping the chaff out of a peck +measure. + +The cookee, woods-camp traditional butt of jokes, stared from one to the +other, trying to recover his composure. + +"And Marm Bear there wanted to take along that pot of beans for the +picnic dinner," added Charlie. + +"I think it's goin' to be a general mass-meetin' to discuss the game +laws," said Ike. "The boys who were swampin' the twitch-roads yistiddy +told me that deer kept traipsin' past all day and--well, there goes +three now." + +White "flags" flitted through the undergrowth at the edge of the +clearing, and a startled "Whick-i-whick!" further up the valley-side +hinted at the retreat of still others. Their departure was probably +hastened by the cook's shrill "Who-e-e-e!" the general call for the +camp. He came out of the cook-house scrubbing his hands and bare arms +with a towel. + +"Git that bean-pot here! What are you standin' round on one foot for?" +he demanded, testily. When the cookee began to stutter explanations, +brandishing freckled arms to point the route of the fugitives, the cook +interrupted, but now there was humor in his tones. + +"Thunderation, you gents is sartinly slow to understand what's before +your eyes! Don't you know why all these animiles is runnin' away from +down there?" He jerked a red thumb over his shoulder towards the south. +"Ain't 'Stumpage John' Barrett down there with Withee, lookin' over that +tract where we operated last season?" + +Sly grins of appreciation appeared on the faces of the teamsters. + +"Ain't you got any notion of what particular kind of language 'Stumpage +John' has been lettin' out of himself for the last twenty-four hours?" + +"Well, the idee is," said the cook, "he is down there cussin' to that +extent that he's cussed every animile off'n Square-hole township. +Animiles is natcherally timid, delicate in the ears, and hates cussin'. +The deer come first because they can run fastest. Bears left as soon as +they could, and is hurryin'. Rabbits will come next, and the quill-pigs +are on the way. Then I reckon Barnum Withee will fetch up the rear. Oh, +it must be somethin' awful down there!" He faced the south with grave +mien. His listeners guffawed. + +But a moment later "Push Charlie" stepped clear of the hovel and sniffed +with canine eagerness. There was a subtle, elusive, acrid odor in the +air. It seemed to billow up the valley, whose shoulders circumscribed +their vision so narrowly. + +"I reckon," he stated, "that he's throwed so much brimstone around him +reckless that he's set fire to the woods." + +"That's the way with some of these big timber-owners," remarked the +cook, still in humorous mood. "They raise tophet with a sport because he +throws down a cigar-butt, and they themselves will go out right in a dry +time and spit cuss words that's just so much blue flame. It's dretful +careless!" he sighed. + +"But when you come to think of what he found there on that township," +said Charlie, "you have to make allowances. More'n a third of the board +measure left right there on the ground as slash, and slash that's +propped on the branches of the tops like powder-houses on stilts. And +the whole township only devilled over at that! Barn only took the stuff +that would roll downhill into the water when it was joggled." + +"You ain't blamin' your own boss, be ye?" demanded the cook. + +"Not by a darned sight!" rejoined Charlie, stoutly. "If I was an +operator, doin' all the hard liftin', with a rich stumpage-owner with a +rasp file goin' at me on one end and a log-buyer whittlin' me at the +other, I'd figger to save myself. But I've always lived and worked in +the old woods, gents. I ain't one of those dudes that never want to see +an axe put in. The old woods need the axe to keep 'em healthy. We, here, +need the money, and the folks outside need the lumber. But when I see +enough of the old woods wasted on every winter operation to make me +rich, and all because the men that are gettin' the most out of it are +fightin' each other so as to hog profits, it makes me sorry for the old +woods and sick of human nature." + +The morning bustle of the camp began in earnest now. Men crowded at the +tin wash-basins on the long shelf outside the log wall. As fast as they +slicked their wet hair with the broken comb they hurried into the meal +camp. There they heaped their tin plates with beans steaming from the +hole where they had simmered overnight, devoured huge chunks of brown +bread deluged with molasses, and "sooped" hot coffee. + +The odor of warm food was good in the nostrils of old "Ladder" Lane, the +fire warden of Jerusalem, as he strode down the valley wall towards the +camp. He hung his extinguished lantern on a nail outside the cook camp +and stooped and entered the low door. Among woodsmen the amenities of a +camp are as scant as welcome is plentiful. Lane seized up a tin plate, +loaded it with what he saw in sight, and began to eat hastily and +voraciously. + +"Fire?" inquired the cook. + +Lane jerked a nod of affirmation. + +"Where?" + +"Misery." + +"Big?" + +Another nod. + +"Talk about your bounty on wildcats and porky-pines," raged the cook, +slamming on a stove-cover to emphasize his remarks, "the State treasurer +ought to offer twenty-five dollars for the scalp and thumbs of every +Skeet and Bushee brought in." + +The fire warden ran his last bit of brown bread around his plate, +stuffed it dripping into his mouth, and stood up after sixty seconds +devoted to his breakfast. + +"Where's Withee?" he asked the boss chopper, who had lounged to the camp +door and was stuffing tobacco into his pipe. + +"Off on Square-hole," replied the boss, with a sideways cant of his head +to show direction. + +"Fire on Misery eating north towards the Notch," reported Lane, with +laconic sourness. "Withee ought to send twenty-five men." He was already +starting away. + +"He'll probably be back by night," said the boss chopper, "if 'Stumpage +John' Barrett gets through swearin' at him about that last season's +operation." + +Lane stopped and whirled suddenly, the lineman's climbers at his belt +clanking dully. + +"John Barrett in this region!" he blurted. + +"For the first time in a lot o' years," returned the boss, with a grin. +"Suspected that Barn devilled Square-hole and wasted in the cuttin's as +much as he landed in the yards. I reckon it ain't suspicion any more! +He's been down there on the grounds two days. But he don't get any of my +sympathy. A man who stole these lands at twenty cents an acre, buying +tax titles, and has squat on his haunches and made himself rich sellin' +stumpage,[1] has got more'n he deserved, even if half the timber is +rottin' in the tops on the ground." + +[Footnote 1: The right to cut trees on the seller's land. Payment is +based on the measurement of the logs as they are brought to the landing +and piled ready for the drive.] + +The gaunt jaws of "Ladder" Lane set themselves out like elbows akimbo. +He whirled and started away again as though he had fresh cause for +haste. + +"I don't want to take any responsibility for sending off any of the +crew," called the boss. "What particular word do you want to leave for +Withee?" + +Lane settled into his woods lope and darted into the Attean trail +without reply. + +"I'll be here with my own word," he muttered, talking aloud, after the +habit of the recluse. + +"And what do you make of that now?" asked the cook of the boss, scaling +Lane's discarded plate into the cookee's soapy water. "Why ain't he up +on his Jerusalem fire station instead of rampagin' round here in the +woods?" + +"He was rigged out to climb a pole and had a telephone thingumajig with +him," suggested the boss. + +"He's strikin' acrost to tap the Attean telephone and send in an alarm, +that's what he's doin'. Prob'ly his old lookin'-glass telegraft is +busted," he added, with slighting reference to the Jerusalem helio. He +followed his men, who were streaming up the tote road towards the +cuttings. Far ahead trudged the horses, drawing jumpers. From the +cross-bars the bind-chains dragged jangling over the roots and rocks. + +In five minutes only three men were in sight about the camps--the cook, +making ready a baking of ginger-cakes; the cookee, rattling the tins +from the breakfast-table and whistling shrill accompaniment to the +clatter; and the blacksmith, busy at his forge in the "dingle," the +roofed space between the cook-house and the main camp. + +It was just before second "bean-time" when Lane came back along the +Attean trail and staggered, rather than walked, into the "Lazy Tom" +clearing. His face was gray with exertion, and sweat coursed in the +wrinkles of his emaciated features. + +"Shouldn't wonder from your looks that you'd made time," suggested the +cook, cheerfully, as the warden stumbled up to the door. "From here to +the Attean telephone-line and back before eleven is what I call humpin'. +You've been to Attean, hey?" + +"Yes," snapped the old man. "I've reported that fire and done my duty." + +"In that case, you've prob'ly got a better appetite than you had this +mornin'," remarked "Beans," hospitably. He started to ladle from the +steaming kettle of "smother" on the stove. + +"Nothing to eat for me!" broke in Lane, sullenly. "Are Withee and John +Barrett back yet?" + +"Oh, they'll stay out till dark all right. Barrett will want to count +trees as long as he can see." + +"I'll wait, then!" Lane started towards the men's camp, but the cook +stopped him. + +"If you're reck'nin' to lie down for a nap, warden, don't get into them +bunks. Them Quedaws have brought in the usual assortment of 'travellers' +this season, and I don't want to see a neat man like you accumulate a +menagerie. Now you just go right across there into Withee's private +camp. He'd say so if he was here. I'll do that much honors when he ain't +here. You won't wake up scratchin'." + +Without a word Lane turned and strode across to the office camp, went +in, and slammed the door shut after him. + +"He's about as sour and crabbed an old cuss to do a favor for as I +ever see," remarked the cook, fiddling a smutty finger under his nose. +"But a man never ought to git discouraged in this world about bein' +polite." He caught sight of the advance-guard of returning choppers up +the road, and whirled on the cookee. "You freckle-faced, hump-backed, +dead-and-alive son of a clam fritter, here come them empty nail-kags! +Get to goin', now, or I'll pour a dish of hot water down your back." + +"Is that what you call bein' polite?" growled the cookee. + +The cook kicked at him as he fled into the meal camp with a pan of +biscuits. + +"They don't use politeness on cookees any more than they put bay-winders +onto pig-pens!" he shouted. + +There were two bunks in the little office camp, one above the other. +"Ladder" Lane curled his long legs and tucked himself into the gloom of +the lower bunk. His eyes, red-rimmed and glowing with strange fire under +their knots of gray brow, noted a rifle lying on wooden braces against a +log of the camp wall. He rose, clutched it eagerly, and "broke it down." +Its magazine was full. He jacked in a cartridge, laid the rifle on the +bunk between himself and the wall, and lay down again. + +Most men, after the vigil of a night and bitter struggle of the day, +would have slept. Lane lay with eyes wide-propped. His mind seemed to +be wrestling with a mighty problem. Once in awhile he groaned. At other +times his teeth ground together. Twice he put the rifle back on the +wall, shuddering as though it were some fearsome object. Twice he got up +and retook it, and the last time muttered as though his resolution were +clinched. + +After the resolution had been formed he may have dozed. At any rate, the +first he heard of Barrett and Withee they had sat down on the steps of +the office camp, and the loud, brusque, and authoritative voice of one +of them went on in some harangue that had evidently been progressing for +a long time previously. + +"Damme, Withee, I tell you again that you've robbed me right and left! +You left tops in the woods to rot that had a pulp log scale in 'em. You +devilled the township without sense or system. You cut out the stands +near the waterways without leaving a tree for new seed. You left strips +standing that will go down like a row of bricks in the first big gale +we have. But what's the use in going over all that again? You know you +haven't used me right. The sum and substance is, you pay me a lump sum +and square me for damages to that township or I'll cancel this season's +stumpage contract. I'm using you just as I propose to use the rest of +the thieves up here." + +There was silence for a little time. The voice of the other man was +subdued, even disheartened. + +"I've said about all I can say, Mr. Barrett," he ventured. "Of course, +you're rich and I'm poor, and if you cancel the contract I can't afford +to go to law. But I've borrowed ten thousand dollars to put into this +season's operation, and I've got it tied up in supplies and outfit. I've +just got located and my camps finished. The way things have worked for +me, I ain't made any money for three years, and I've put my shoulder to +the wheel and my own hands to the axe. The operator can't make money, +Mr. Barrett, the way he's ground between the owners of stumpage and the +men down-river who buy his logs in the boom. You talk of closing your +contract with me! Do you know of a man who can afford to do any better +by you than I have--just as long as things are the way they are now?" + +"Oh, I reckon you're about all alike," returned the lumber baron, +ungraciously. "I've been a fool to believe anything stumpage buyers have +told me. I ought to have come up here every year and looked after my +property. But that would be prowling around in these woods that aren't +fit for a human being to live in, and neglecting my other business to +keep you fellows from stealing. Not for me! I've got something better to +do. Clod-hoppers that don't want to stay in their fields all day with a +gun kill one crow and hang it on a stake for the live ones to see. I'm +sorry for you, Withee, but I'm going to make a special example of you." + +"It don't seem hardly fair to pick me out of all the rest, Mr. Barrett." + +"Well, it's business!" snapped the other. "And business in these days +isn't conducted on the lines of a Sunday-school picnic." + +"Ladder" Lane, who had been staring straight up at the poles of the bunk +above his head, had not moved or glanced to right or left since the +brusque, tyrannical voice outside had begun to declaim. Now he swung his +feet off the bunk and sat on its edge. He fumbled behind him for the +rifle and dragged it across his knees. + +The night had fallen. The one window of the office camp admitted a +sallow light. From the main camp came the drone of an accordion and the +mumble of many voices. Lane realized that supper had been eaten. + +"You're right about business, Mr. Barrett," Withee went on, a touch of +resentment in his voice. "Your Bangor scale is 'business.' You talk +about wasting tops! If an operator leaves the taper of the top on a log, +he's hauling a third more weight to the landing, and then your Bangor +scale gives him a third less measure than on the short log." + +"The legislature established the scale; I didn't," retorted Barrett. + +"Yes, but you rich folks can tell the legislature what to do, and it +does it! We fellows that wear larrigans haven't anything to say about +it." In his grief and despair he allowed himself to taunt his tyrant. +"Your legislature has peddled away all the rights on the river to men +with power enough to grab 'em. Look here, Mr. Barrett, while you toasted +your shins last winter we worked here like niggers, in the cold and the +snow, the frost and the wet--and the first man to get his drag out of +our work was you. You got your stumpage-money. And when my logs were in +the water, first the Driving Association that you're a director in, with +its legislative charter all right and tight, took its toll. Then the +River Dam and Improvement Company took its toll, and you're a director +in that. Then the Lumbering Association, owned by your bunch, had its +boomage tolls. Then the little private inside clique had its pay for +'taking care of logs,' as they call it. Then on top of all the rest, the +gang had its tolls for running and shoring logs in the round-up boom, +and finally the man who bought 'em scaled down the landing-measure on +which you drew stumpage. I couldn't help myself. None of us fellows that +operate can help ourselves. It's all tied up. We had to take what was +given. Your tolls for this, that, and the other figured up about as much +as stumpage. And when the last and final drag was made out of my little +profits--there were no profits! I came out in debt, Mr. Barrett. That's +all there was to show for a winter's hard work away from my home and +family, in these woods that you say ain't fit for a human bein' to live +in. That's what you're doin' to us--and you're all standin' together +against us poor fellows to do it." + +"Same old whine of the old crowd of operators," drawled Mr. Barrett. "If +you old-fashioned chaps can't keep up with the modern business +conditions you'd better get into something else and give the young +fellows a chance." + +"Get into the poor-house, perhaps," Withee replied, bitterly. "My father +lumbered this river. I worked with him, before the big fellows had to +have both crusts and the middle of the pie. I don't know how to do +anything else. Every cent I've got in the world is tied up in my outfit. +For God's sake, Mr. Barrett, be fair with me!" + +It was the pitiful appeal of the toil of the woods at its last stand. +But "Stumpage John" Barrett resolutely reflected the autocracy of giant +King Spruce. + +"This whole matter was gone over at our last directors' meeting, Withee. +We have decided, one and all, that we won't have our timber lands +butchered and gashed and devilled to make profit for you fellows. Our +charters give us our rights, and business is business. We've got to +stand stiff, and we're going to stand stiff until we show you what's +what. I told my associates I would come up here and make an example, and +I'm going to do it. Now, that's all, Withee! It's no good to argue. The +timber interests can't afford to do any more fooling." + +"Gents," broke in the voice of "Dirty-apron Harry," "cook sent me to say +that your supper is ready." + +"Tell cook I'm ready, too," snapped Barrett, grunting off the step. "I +thought your cattle were never going to get out of that meal camp, +Withee. You feed 'em too much! That's where your profits are going to." + +Lane heard him snuffing. + +"This smoke seems to be getting thicker, Withee. It must be something +more than a bonfire, wherever it is." + +"Cook is waiting to tell you," said Harry. "He didn't want to break in +on your business talk, seein' that you was both so much took up with it. +Warden from Jerusalem was through here this morning to give alarm and +call for fighters. He's takin' a nap in the office camp, waitin' for Mr. +Withee." + +"A loafer like the rest of 'em!" snorted Barrett, starting away. "Dig +him out, Withee, and send him to me. I'm going to eat." + +At the sound of his retreating footsteps "Ladder" Lane unfolded his +gaunt frame, stood up, and swung the rifle into the hook of his arm. He +opened the office door and came upon Withee standing where Barrett had +left him. In the gloom the operator's toil-stooped shoulders and bowed +legs were outlined by the flare from the cook-camp. He continued his +mutterings as he turned his head to look at Lane, his gray beard +sweeping his shoulder. + +"It's runnin' north from Misery, Mr. Withee," reported the warden. "It's +runnin' in the slash and goin' fast. If it gets through Pogey Notch it +means a crown fire in the black growth." + +"I hope it'll burn every spruce-tree between Misery and the Canada +line!" barked the furious old operator. "If I could stand here and put +it out by spittin' on it I wouldn't open my mouth." + +"I've 'phoned the alarm through Attean," went on Lane, calmly, with no +apparent thought except his duty. "You ought to send twenty-five men." + +"Not a man!" roared the operator. "Let the infernal hogs save their own +timber lands. They want all the profit in 'em; let 'em stand all the +loss, then." + +"Look here, Withee," said the warden, implacably, "you know the law as +well as I do. A fire warden has the same right as a sheriff to summon a +posse when a fire is to be fought. Every man that is summoned and don't +go pays a fine of ten dollars unless he is sick or disabled, and you'll +have to stand good for your crew." + +"I know it!" bellowed Withee, beside himself. "Some more of the devilish +law they've cooked up to make us work like slaves for their profits. +Talk about monarchies! Talk about freedom, whether it's in a city or in +the woods! We ain't anything but cattle. The rich men have stood +together and made us so." + +"I didn't make the law, Withee. I'm simply delivering my errand as the +State orders me to do. I've done my duty. It's up to you." He sighed, +shifted the rifle to the other arm, and mumbled behind his teeth, "Now +I'll attend to a little matter of business that ain't the State's." + +He started for the door of the meal camp, the operator on "Lazy Tom" +stumping angrily at his heels. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE CODE OF LARRIGAN-LAND + + "Here's a good health to you, family man, + From the depths of our hearts and the woods; + Boughs for our bunks and salt hoss in junks + Ain't hefty in way o' world's goods. + Keep your neck near her arms and your cheek near her kiss, + And don't ever come here to the troubles o' This! + We've tasted of This and we know what it lacks-- + We lonesome old baches-- + Of peavies and patches, + Bills, Tommies, and Jacks of the Axe." + + --The Family Man. + + +Barrett was at the table, his back towards the door. He was filling a +pannikin with whiskey from a silver-mounted flask. The cook, who had +been silently admiring his smart suit of corduroy, was now more intently +and longingly regarding the amber trickle from the mouth of the flask. +But John Barrett was not a man to ask menials to share his bowl with +him. His shaven cheeks looked too hard even to permit the growth of +beard. + +The cook, whirling at the sound of Lane's moccasins on the chip dirt, +was officious according to his promulgated code of politeness. + +"Here's the warden from Jerusalem, Mr. Barrett. I done the honors of +camp the best I could, seein' that you and Mr. Withee wa'n't here." +In mentioning honors, the cook had one lingering hope that the +stumpage-king would share his flask with a State employé, and that +he himself might participate as one present and one willing. + +But the timber baron did not turn his head. He stirred sugar in his +whiskey and growled. + +"Do fire wardens up this way earn their pay, sleeping, like cats, in +the daytime?" + +Lane had stepped just inside the door, his moccasins noiseless on the +shaved poles. + +"How near is that fire to the black growth, and how are they fighting +it?" demanded Barrett. + +"It started on Misery"--Lane began, in the same tone that had +characterized his former reports. + +But at his first word Barrett jerked his head around, stared wildly, +stood up, and then sat down astride the wooden bench. With his eyes +still on the man at the door, he fumbled for the pannikin of whiskey and +gulped it down. Lane went on talking. + +"And if they can get enough men ahead of it perhaps they can stop it in +Pogey Notch," Lane concluded. + +The hands that clutched the gun trembled, but his eyes were steady, with +a red sparkle in them. The lumber king endured that stare for a few +moments, like one writhing under the torture of a focussed sun-glass. He +glanced to right and left, as though seeking a chance for flight. The +only exit was the door, and the tall, grim man stood there with his +rifle across his arm. + +"Say it, Lane! Say it!" hoarsely cried Barrett, at last, unable to +endure the silence and the doubt. + +"I have nothing to say--not now," said Lane. "I'll wait here until you +eat your supper. My lantern is hanging on the nail there, cook. Will you +fill it and light it?" + +There was a subtle, strange menace in his bearing that the cook and +Withee, staring, their mouths gaping, could not understand. But it was +plain that the man at the table understood all too well. + +"Why didn't you take it when I sent you the offer?" asked Barrett, his +voice beginning to tremble. "I wanted to settle. It was up to me to +settle. It was a bad business, Lane, but I--" + +"It's a private matter you're opening up here before listeners, Mr. +Barrett," broke in Lane. "It's my business with you, and you haven't got +the right to do it. Just now you go ahead and eat your supper. You'll +need it, for you're going to take a walk with me." + +In his perturbation, forced to eat, as it seemed, by the quiet +insistence of the warden, Barrett swallowed a few mouthfuls of food. But +he cowered, with side glances at the grim man by the door. Then he +pushed his plate away, choking. Maddened by the silent watchfulness, he +stood up. + +"I'll see you in the office," he muttered. "I'll tell you now and before +witnesses that I'm ready to settle. I've always been ready to settle. It +would have been settled long ago if you had let my man talk with you. +Now, let's not have any trouble, Lane, over what's past and gone. I'll +do anything that's reasonable." + +He shot an appealing glance at Withee. + +"We'll take Withee with us," he declared. "We'll talk in the office." + +"We'll talk under no roof of yours and on no land belonging to you," +answered Lane, firmly. "We'll talk private matters before no third +party. If you're done your supper, Mr. Barrett, you'll come with me +where we can stand out man to man in God's open country with no peekers +and listeners--and that's more for your sake than it is for mine. I've +done nothing in this life that I'm ashamed of." + +"Do you take me for a fool?" roared the land baron, hiding fear under an +assumption of his usual manner. "Do you think I'm going into the woods +alone with you?" + +"You are, Mr. Barrett." + +"By ----, I won't!" + +"I'm no hand for a threat," grated Lane, in a low, strange voice, "but +you'll come with me. You know why you'll come with me, because you know +what I'm likely to do to you if you don't come." + +Barrett looked past the man at the door. The dingle was full of crowding +faces, for the altercation had called every man out. There was some +consolation for Barrett in the spectacle of this silent, wondering mob. +After all, he was on his own land, and these men must acknowledge him as +their master. + +"Here! a hundred dollars apiece to the men who grab that lunatic and +take that rifle away from him!" he shouted, darting a quivering finger +at the warden. But before any one made a move Withee stepped forward +into the lamplight. With open, waving palm he imposed non-interference +on his crew. + +"Hold on, Mr. Barrett," said he. "Before we run into trouble by +arresting a man that's an officer, we want to know whys and wherefores." + +"Don't you know why he wants to make me go away into the woods?" bawled +the lumber king. + +"We can't very well know without bein' told," replied Withee, and an +answering grumble from his men indorsed him. + +"He wants to murder me--murder me in cold blood!" Barrett fairly +screamed this. "I know what his reason is," he added, seeing that their +faces showed no conviction. + +"I've known Linus Lane ever since he came into this region," said +Withee, breaking the awed hush that followed the baron's startling +words. "I never knew him to be anything but peaceable and square. A +little speck odd, maybe, but quiet and peaceable and square. Most of the +men here know him that way, too." + +Another answering mumble of assent. + +"Odd!" echoed Barrett, grasping at the suggestion. "You've said it. He's +a lunatic. He will kill me." + +"What for?" called the chopping-boss, bluntly. His natural desire to get +at the meat of things quickly was stimulated by ardent curiosity. + +"You are all sticking your noses into a matter that doesn't belong to +you!" cried Lane, his well-known crustiness showing itself, though it +was evident that he was hiding some deeper emotion. "I want this man to +go with me. It's business. And he's going!" His voice was almost a +snarl, but there was a resoluteness in the tone that awed them more than +violence would have done. + +"Are you going to give me up to a murderer?" bleated Barrett, for his +study of the faces in the lamplight did not reassure him. + +"Hadn't you better let us step out, and you talk your business over with +him right here, Linus?" inquired Withee, conciliatingly. + +"He's going with me, and he's going now!" shouted Lane, his repression +breaking. "The man that gets in our way will get hurt." + +He banged his rifle-butt on the floor, and those who looked on him +shrank before his awful rage. + +"Put on your hat, Barrett, and walk out!" he shrilled. "Make way, there! +This is my man, by ---- and he knows in his dirty heart why he's mine." + +But Barnum Withee's quiet woodsman's soul was not of a nature to be +intimidated, and his instincts of fairness, when it was between man and +man, had been made acute by many years of woods adjudication. + +"Hold on a minute, Linus!" he entreated, stepping between the two men +with upraised hand. "You are both under my roof, and you've both eaten +my bread to-day. I never got between men in a fair, square quarrel. I +won't now. But you've got a gun, and he hasn't. I don't want to know +your business. But if there's trouble between you it's got to be settled +fair. You can't drag a man out of my camp to do him dirty--and it would +be the same if it was only young Harry there that you were tryin' to +take." + +"Good talk!" yelled the boss. + +"I'll give a hundred dollars--" began Barrett, seeing the advantage +swinging his way; but Withee broke in with indignation. + +"No more of that talk, Mr. Barrett!" he cried. "I'll run my own crew +when it comes to pay or to orders. Now, Warden Lane, what are you going +to do with this man when you get him where you want to take him?" + +"I don't know!" snapped Lane, to the amazement of his listeners. And he +added, enigmatically, "I can tell better after I've asked him some +questions." + +"Ain't you ready to tell us that you'll use him man-fashion?" persisted +Withee. + +The deep emotion which "Ladder" Lane had been trying to hide whetted the +bitterness of his usual attitude towards mankind. + +"I'm not ready to let any fool mix himself into my affairs. We've argued +this question long enough, John Barrett. Now you--step--out!" He leaped +aside from the door, cocked the rifle, and motioned angrily with its +muzzle. + +"Stay right where you are, Mr. Barrett," said the old operator, +resolutely. "I'll stand for fair play." + +"And you'll get your pay for it, Withee, my friend!" stuttered his +creditor, eagerly. "I don't forget favors. You stand by me, and you'll +get your pay." + +"I haven't anything to sell, Mr. Barrett," said Withee, doggedly. + +"But I've got something to give you," persisted the frightened magnate, +edging near him, and striving to hint confidentially. "You stand by me, +and when it comes to contracts--" + +"I'm not buyin' anything, Mr. Barrett!" He signalled the lumber king +back with protesting palm. "I'm simply tellin' Lane that he can't take a +man out of my camp to do him dirty. And in that there's no fear and no +favor!" + +Lane gazed at the determined face of the operator and at the massing men +who crowded at the door, and whose nods gave emphatic approval of +Withee's dictum. No one knew better than he the code of the woods; no +one understood more thoroughly the quixotic prejudices and simple +impulses which moved the isolated communities of the camps. Just then +they would not have surrendered Barrett to an army, and Lane realized +it. + +The eyes focussed on him saw the tense ridges of his seamed face tighten +and the gray of an awful passion settle there. + +"After all the rest of it, you're forcing me to stand here and put it in +words, are you, you sneak?" he yelped, thrusting that boding visage +towards the timber baron. "You're hiding behind these men! Well, let's +see how long they'll stand in front of you! You've got to have 'em hear +it, eh? Then you listen to it, woodsmen!" His voice broke suddenly into +a frightful yell. "He stole my wife! He stole her! I say he stole her! +That's what I want of him, now that he's here where I can meet him in +God's open country, plain man to plain man!" + +"He's lying to you," quavered Barrett. But his eyes shifted, and the +keen and candid gaze of the woodsmen detected his paltering. + +"I was away earning an honest living, and he came along with his airs +and his money and fooled her and stole her--stole her and threw her +away. It was play for him; it was death for her, and damnation for me. +I ain't blaming her, men"--his voice had a sob in it--"she was too +young for me. I ought to have known better. Our little house was on his +land that he had stolen from the people of this State. Then he came and +stole _her_!" + +He was now close to Barrett, his bony fist slashing the air over the +baron's shrinking head. + +"It wasn't that way," stammered Barrett. "I was up there with some +friends fishing and exploring on my lands. It was years ago. The young +woman cooked meals for us. I went farther north to some other townships +of mine, and she went along to take care of camp. That's all there was +to it, men!" He spread out his palms and tried to smile. + +"You stole her!" iterated Lane. "I came home, men, and she was gone out +of our little house. I found just four walls, cold and empty, the key +under the rug, and a letter on the table--and I've got that letter, John +Barrett! And when you were tired of her up there in the woods you tossed +her away like you tossed the lemon-skins out of your whiskey-glass. You +didn't wait to see where she fell--she and your child--your child! Curse +you, Barrett, I've never wanted to meet you! I sent word to you to keep +out of these woods. I sent that word by the man you asked to bribe +me--as though your money could do everything for you in this world! You +thought you could sneak in here after all these years, because I was +tied on the top of Jerusalem. But I'm here! What do you think, men? The +fire that is roaring up from Misery township was set by this man's own +daughter--the child that he tossed away in the woods. You that know the +Skeets and Bushees know her. She set the fire! That's why I'm here. It's +his child--his and hers. I don't know whether heaven or hell planned it, +but now that I've met you, Barrett, you're going with me!" + +He strode back to the door and stood there, the rifle again across the +hook of his arm. His flaming eyes swept the faces in the dingle. Their +eyes gave him a message that his woodsman's soul interpreted. + +"There's the truth for you, men, since you had to have it!" he shouted. +"Once more I'm going to say to John Barrett--'Step out.' And if there's +still a man among you that wants to keep that hound in this camp I'd +like to have that man stand out and say why." + +There was not a whisper from the throng. They stood gazing into the door +with lips apart. Silently they crowded back, as though to afford free +passage. + +Barrett noted the movement and wailed his terror. + +"It means trouble for you, Withee, if you let him take me." + +The old operator surveyed him with a lowering and disgusted stare. + +"Mr. Barrett," he said, "I've told you that I have nothing to sell. All +that I want to buy of you is stumpage, and I've got your figures on that +and your opinion of me. I don't ask you to change anything." He turned +away, muttering, "He'll have to think pretty hard if he can do anything +more to me than what he's already threatened to do." + +Calm once more, and inexorable as fate, Lane motioned towards the door. + +"My final word, Barrett: March!" + +As he gazed into the faces about him, not one gleam of friendliness +anywhere, desperation or a flicker of courage spurred the magnate. In +that moment John Barrett had none of the adventitious aids of his +autocracy--none of the bulwarks of "Castle Cut 'Em." He was only a man +among them--fairly demanded by another man to settle a matter of the +sort where primordial instinct prompts a universal code. He drove his +hat on his head and strode through the door, his head bent. + +Lane took his lighted lantern from the cook's hand and followed. He had +his teeth set tight, as though resolved to say no more. But at the edge +of the camp's lamplight he whirled and faced the crew. Barrett halted, +too, as though hoping for some intervention. + +"Look here, men," said Lane, "I want to thank you for being men in this +thing. And seeing that you've been square with me I don't want to go +away from here leaving any wrong idea behind me. I don't know just +what's going to happen between this man and me, for a good deal depends +on him. But you've known me long enough to know that I'm not the +crust-hunting kind that cuts a deer's throat when he's helpless. You put +your confidence in me when you put this man in my hands. And I'll say to +you, I'll do the best I know!" + +"We ain't givin' any advice to you that knows your business better'n we +do," called out the boss of the choppers. "But let it be man to +man--good woods style!" + +"Good woods style!" echoed the crew, in hoarse chorus. It was plain that +their minds were dwelling on only one solution of the difficulty. + +Lane stepped back and set the rifle against the log wall. "I was near +forgetting," he said, apologetically. "I'm so used to carrying a rifle. +This belongs here." + +"Take it," suggested Withee, with a touch of grimness in his tones. + +"I don't need it," Lane answered, quietly. He whirled and started away, +and Barrett sullenly preceded him. They clambered up the valley wall, +the pale lantern-light tossing against the hemlock boughs. The crew of +"Lazy Tom" watched in silence until the last flicker vanished among the +trees of the Jerusalem trail. + +"Well," said the chopping-boss, drawing a long breath, "it appears to me +that there are some things that money can't do for old 'Stumpage John,' +big as he is in this world! One is, he's found he can't buy up the +'Lazy Tom' crew to back him in a dirty job of woman-stealin'." + +"I'd like to be there when it happens," panted "Dirty-apron Harry," +excitedly. + +"When what happens?" demanded the boss. + +"Well--well--I--I dunno!" confessed Harry. + +"Umph!" snorted the boss, "now you're talkin' as though you know +'Ladder' Lane as well as I know him. The man who can stand here and tell +what old Lane is goin' to do next can prophesy earthquakes and have 'em +happen." + +He pulled out his watch. + +"Nine o'clock!" he roared. "Lights out and turn in!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE RED THROAT OF POGEY + + "Though it ain't for me nor for any one + To say how the awful thing was done, + We know that the hand of a grief-crazed man + Is set to many a desperate plan." + + --On _Isle au Haut._ + + +It was a saffron dawn. It was a dawn diffuse and weird. A smear of +copper in the east marked the presence of the sun. For the rest, the sky +was a sickly monochrome, a dirty yellow, a boding yellow. It was not a +wind that blew; a wind has somewhat of freshness in it. It was simply +smoky air--air that rolled sullenly--choking, heavy, bitter, acrid air +that was to the nostrils what the sky was to the eye. + +After they had toiled around the base of the mountain and were well into +Pogey Notch, the man ahead, stumbling doggedly and stubbornly, found +water. It was only a little puddle, cowering from the drouth. The trees +had helped it to hide away. They had scattered their autumn foliage upon +it, beeches and birches which were grateful, for the pool had humbly +cooled their feet in the hot summer. + +The man ahead, thirst giving him almost a canine scent, fell rather than +kneeled beside the pool, thrust his face through the leaves, and guffled +the stale water. Then he plunged his smarting eyes, wide open, into the +shallow depths. + +When he faced once more the smother of the smoke and the man who stood +over him, he seemed to have a flash of new courage. His eyes blazed +again, his rumpled gray hair seemed to bristle. + +But his defiance was only the desperation of the coward at bay. + +"You've teamed me all night, Lane--from Withee's camp to here. I have +asked questions, and you haven't answered me; but now, by ----, say what +you want of me, and let's have this thing over!" + +It was an air that would have cowed an inferior in John Barrett's office +in the city, where tyranny swelled the folds of a frock-coat and was +framed in the door of a money vault. + +But this weary man in knickerbockers, his puffy face mottled by the hues +of self-indulgence and haggard after a night of ceaseless tramping along +a woods trail, was not an object of awe as he squatted beside the pool +like a giant frog. + +The woodsman who stood over him, his gaunt face seamed and brown, his +bony frame erect to the height that had won him the sobriquet of +"Ladder" Lane, seemed now the man of dignity and authority. He was of +the woods. He was in the woods. Two nights without sleep, miles of +bitter struggle through the forest to report that conflagration roaring +north to Misery township, and now puffing its stifling breath upon them, +and the agony of recollection that John Barrett's crossing his path had +dragged out--all these gave no sign in "Ladder" Lane's features and +mien. Even his voice was steady with a repression almost humble. + +What John Barrett did not know was that this humbleness was that of one +who stood in the presence of a mighty problem, awed by it. In the long +hours of self-communion, as he had plodded on, driving the timber baron +before him, he had pondered that problem until his weary brain reeled. +Introspection had always made his simple nature dizzy. + +Now the tumult and torment in his soul frightened him. Over and over +again in the darkness of the night, as he had followed at the heels of +Barrett, he had whispered, in a half-frightened manner, to himself: "I +told him to keep away! And now he's here!" + +He had looked at the back of the man, stumbling ahead of him in the +lantern-light, and had pitied him in a sort of dull, wondering fashion. +He had pitied him because he knew that Barrett, despoiler of his home, +seducer of his wife, was helpless in his hands. And because "Ladder" +Lane realized that grief and isolation had made him over into such a one +as sane men flout or fear, he was afraid of himself. + +"This here is as good a place as any, Mr. Barrett," he said. + +By striving to be calm, even to the point of being humble, Lane tried to +tame the dreadful beast that he knew his inner being had become. But +Barrett, pricking his ears at this humbleness, was too foolish to +understand. In the mystery of the night he had feared cruelly. With day +to reinforce his prestige, it occurred to him that the man was cowed by +his presence and by the reflection that a person of influence cannot be +kidnapped with impunity. + +"I can make it hot for you, Lane, for dragging me out of camp and +running me all over creation," he blustered, grasping at what he +considered his opportunity to regain mastery. "But I'm willing to settle +and call quits. I've always been ready to settle. Now, out with it, +man-fashion! How much will it take?" + +Another of those red flashes from the sullen coals of many and long +years' hatred roared up in Lane like the torching of a pitch-tree. He +had been trying for hours to beat those flashes down, for they made him +afraid. + +He trembled, blinking hard to see past the red. His hands fumbled +nervously at his sides, as though seeking something that they could +seize upon for steadiness. If the wind would only blow upon his face--a +wind of the woods, clear, cool, and hale--he felt that he might get his +grip on manhood once more. + +But the woods sent up to him only the fire-breath. It whispered +destruction. + +If he only could look up to a bit of blue sky he felt that it might +charm the red flare from his eyes. + +But the yellow pall that masked the sky was the hue of combat, not +peace. + +All out-doors seemed full of menace. The nostrils found only bitter air. +The smarting eyes saw only the sickly yellow. A normal man would have +cursed at the oppression of it all, without exactly knowing why every +nerve was on the rack. The recluse of Jerusalem Mountain, out of gear +with all the world, with mind diseased by the chronic obsession of +bitter injury, stood there under the glowering sky of that day of ravage +and ruin, and felt himself becoming a madman. And yet he set a single +idea before him for realization, and tried to keep his gaze on that +alone, and to be calm. And the idea was an idea of forcing an atonement. +How crudely conceived, Lane could not realize, for his mind was passing +the stage of clear comprehension. + +"I probably haven't got enough money with me," went on the timber baron, +sullenly. "But my word is good in a matter like this. I don't want it +talked about--you don't want it talked about. I'll overlook--you'll +overlook! Give me your figures, and you'll get every dollar." + +And still Lane was calm, and replied in a voice that quavered from an +emotion that Barrett failed to understand. + +"When you stole my wife away, Mr. Barrett, there were men that came to +me and advised me what they would do if a rich man came along and took a +woman from them, just to amuse himself for a little." + +"There are people trying to stick their noses into business that doesn't +concern them, Lane," snorted the baron, regardless that one edge of this +apothegm threatened himself. + +"I've been alone a good deal since it happened," went on Lane, in a +curious, dull monotone, "and I've spent most of my time thinking what +I'd say to you and do to you if you stood before me. I hoped it never +would happen that you'd stand before me, man to man. I didn't hunt you +up to find out what I'd do or say, for I was afraid." + +He shivered, and Barrett, in his fool's blindness, stiffened his +shoulders with a sudden air of importance, and allowed himself to scowl +with a suggestion that perhaps Lane was wise to avoid him. + +"You see, I was always making it end up in my mind that I should kill +you. There didn't seem to be any other natural end to it. I had to kill +you to square it. And that's why I was afraid. It was always one way in +my thoughts. I never could--never can plan out any other way to end it; +and murder is an awful thing, sir." + +Barrett, who had been straightening, crouched farther back on his +haunches and lost his important air. + +"In my thoughts I always gave you half an hour to think it over, and +stayed looking at you, and then killed you." There was a sudden +convulsion of Lane's features, a smoulder in his eyes, that thrilled +Barrett as though some one had whispered in his ear--"Lunatic." + +The warden's groping hands had clutched the heavy lineman's climbers +dangling from his belt, and were now set about them so tightly that +muscles were ridged on the bony surface. Barrett became gray with fear. +But Lane's ferocity disappeared as suddenly as it had flared. + +"It all goes to show that in this world most men don't do what they +think they'll do, when it comes to a big matter. I don't want to kill +you, now that I have you where I want you." He looked down on the +frightened man with a sort of pitying scorn. "It would be like batting a +sheep to death. I don't want even to talk about your taking her away. +It--it chokes in my throat! She's dead--and I guess she wanted to go +away with you that time or she wouldn't have gone. That's just the way +it seems to me now! And that's why I don't want to talk about it. It +seems funny to feel that way, after all the thinking I've done about +what I would do to you." + +"The idea is, you're taking the sensible, business man's view of it," +stammered Barrett. "I was young then, and up here in the woods, and--oh, +as you say, it is better not to talk it over. We all make mistakes." He +was pulling his wallet out of his corduroy coat. He evidently felt that +the sight of money would prolong this "sensible, business man's view" of +the situation. He did not want to take any more chances that the other +and vengeful view would return, which had shown its flame in Lane's +contorted face. "Now, I've got here--" + +"To hell with your dirty money!" shrieked the warden, in a frenzy that +was a veritable explosion out of his calmness. He kicked the wallet from +the hands of the amazed timber baron. And when Barrett tried to stammer +something, Lane leaned down and yelled, cracking his fists in the +other's shrinking face: + +"That's the way you and your kind want to cure everything--a dollar +bill greased with a grin and stuck onto the sore place! Put that kind of +a plaster on your city sneaks if you want to. But do you think I want +it--here?" He swung his arm in a huge gesture and embraced the woods. +"Your money is no good, John Barrett--here!" Another sweep of the long +arm. Then he stooped and scrabbled up a handful of dry leaves. He pushed +them into Barrett's face. "Here, sell me your soul and your decency for +that! You won't? Why not? You get your handfuls of greasy money just as +easy! You only grab out and take! I don't sell for any stuff that's come +at as easy as that." + +"Say what you want, Lane," stuttered the timber baron, huddling back +from this madman. + +"You'll pay in the way I'll tell you to pay," raged the creditor, +thrusting his fierce face close. "You'll pay out of your pride and your +heart instead of your pocket. That's the kind of coin you've stripped me +of! You stole my wife. She's dead. Settle your accounts with her in hell +when you meet her there. But the girl--your young one--yours and +hers--that you threw into the woods like you'd leave a blind kitten--" + +"She was left with people who were paid well--" Barrett broke in, but +Lane slapped him across the mouth. + +"I know where she was left--left with a nest of skunks, so that you +could hide your disgrace in the woods. I've watched her all these years. +I've been waiting for the right time to come. It's here. Your girl is up +there on the top of Jerusalem Mountain in my camp, Barrett. An idiot--a +dog on two legs--is guarding her. He's the only friend she's got. That's +your daughter. Now, you're going to take her!" + +"Take her?" echoed the cringing millionaire. + +"Take her--that's what I said. It belongs to her. Now give it to her." + +Barrett misinterpreted Lane's interest. His face lighted with a sudden +thought that to him seemed a happy one. + +"Look here, Lane," he said, eagerly, "I didn't realize but what the girl +was getting on all right. I ought to have inquired. But I didn't dare +to. A man in my position has to be careful. Now she needs some one to +take care of her. I'll admit it. I'm sorry it hasn't been attended to +before. Let this matter rest between us two without any stir. I'll give +you ten thousand dollars to act as the girl's guardian. Take her out of +these woods. And I'll put ten thousand more at interest for her." + +"I take that spawn--_I_ take her?" demanded Lane, beating his thin hand +on his breast. "I'd as soon pick up a wood adder! Take _her_--the living +reminder of what's made me what I am? Do you suppose I hate you any +worse than I hate her for being what she is?" But he checked himself; a +sudden emotion--a strange emotion--mastered him, and he sobbed as he +muttered, "Poor little girl!" Then his anger flamed again. "By ----, +Barrett, I ought to kill you now, anyway!" He clutched the irons at his +belt. But after a moment, with a wrench of his shoulders, he pulled +himself out of his frenzy. + +"You are going to take that girl to your home. You are going to +acknowledge her as your daughter. You are going to give her what belongs +to her." He was grim now, not frenetic. + +Barrett's whole body quivered. His voice was husky with appeal. + +"I want to talk to you, man to man. I'm going to show you that I have +confidence in you, Lane. I'm not saying this to any one else--only to +you. It's a big matter, Lane. It will prove that I want to be square +with you." + +"You're going to take her, I say!" + +"For ten years, Lane, the big lumber interests in this State have been +trying to get the right man into the governor's chair. You are +interested in timber. You are a State employé. We all need certain +things, and now we are in a way to get them. I'm going to be the next +governor of this State, Lane. I've got the pledges, from the State +committee down through the ranks. I'm going to be nominated in the next +State convention. I've spent fifty thousand already. Now, you see, I'm +being frank and honest with you." His voice had a quaver. He was +explaining as he would explain to a child. "All the timber interests are +behind me. See what it means if I am turned down? A scandal would do it. +It's the petty scandal that kills a man in this State quicker than +anything else--scandal or a laugh! I can't carry that girl out of the +woods and declare her to be my daughter. It would kill all my chances +for nomination. The papers would be full of it. And think of my family!" + +Lane's crude idea of an atonement was not so vague now. His brain +whirled more dizzily, for the problem was bigger--and so was the +revenge. He chuckled. It was the spirit of revenge, after all, that was +driving him, and his madman's soul now realized it and relished it. He +looked up at the saffron sky and snuffed the scorching air. He felt the +impulse seething up from the ruin of the forest, and with almost a sense +of relief loosed the grip that had been holding him above the tide of +his soul's fire and blood. + +He ran and recovered Barrett's wallet from among the leaves, and +searched it hastily. He found among the papers a few folded blank sheets +bearing John Barrett's name and monogram. There was a fountain-pen +stuck in a loop. The paper and the pen he shoved into Barrett's hands. + +"Write it!" he screamed. "Write it that she is your daughter, and agree +to take her and do right by her. Write it! I wouldn't take your word. I +want a paper. You've got to take her." + +Barrett went pale, but his thick lips pinched themselves in desperate +resolve. With the aspiration of his life close to realization he knew +all that such a document could do to him. He stood up and tossed the +paper away. + +"I'm willing to do right by the girl in the best way I can," he said, +firmly; "but as to cutting my throat for her, I won't do it. You've got +my word. That's all I'll do for you." + +"It's all?" asked Lane, with bitter menace. "All, after what you've done +to me?" + +"I won't do it," he repeated, stiffly. + +The next instant, and so quickly that a cat could not have dodged, Lane +struck forward with one of the irons. Barrett saw the flash and felt the +impact; his brain clanged once like a great bell, and he crumbled +together rather than fell. + +He was standing when he revived. But his hands were lashed by strips of +his torn corduroy coat--drawn behind him around the trunk of a birch and +tied securely. Other strips of the cloth bound legs and body close to +the tree. Lane mouthed and leaped in front of him--a maniac. + +"Enjoy it!" he screamed. "There's a thousand-acre fire out in that +level. Here's its chimney-flue. It's going through here on its way to +Enchanted. It's going fast when it comes along, and it will be your +first taste of what's laid up for you in eternity. Burn! And when you're +burning just remember that your daughter set it--set it because you +left her to grow up a hyena instead of a woman." + +He whirled and started away at Barrett's first wild appeal. + +"I wouldn't take your word! You wouldn't write it! You didn't intend to +keep it!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE MESSAGE OF "PROPHET ELI" + + "And the good, kind skipper and all his crew + Got a purse and some medals, tew, + And a lot o' praise for a-savin' me + From an awful death in the ragin' sea. + And I got jawed 'cause I left that way, + And the boss he docked me tew weeks' pay." + + --Hired Man's Sea-song. + + +Lane's quick ear was the first to catch a new sound. He stopped and +looked down into the Pogey trail. Barrett ceased his wails, and looked +and listened, too. + +Men of the woods who knew Prophet Eli of Tumbledick were never surprised +to see him appear anywhere in the Umcolcus region. And it was usually a +time of trouble that he chose for his appearance. In his twenty years' +search of the forest he had found trails and avenues that were hidden to +others. In places where veteran guides wandered and blundered, Prophet +Eli knew a short-cut or detour, and moved with wraithlike swiftness, +enjoying his reputation for surprises with the keen relish of the +shatter-pate. + +Those who did not call him "Prophet Eli," his own choice of title, +dubbed him "Old Trouble," for he scented disaster with an elfish sense, +and followed it north, east, and west. + +He came down the Pogey Notch on a ding-swingle. It was drawn by his +little white stallion. A ding-swingle is the triangle of a trimmed +tree-crotch, dragged apex forward, its limbs sprawling behind. With peak +mounted on a sapling runner it is the woods vehicle that best conquers +tote roads. + +From under the prophet's knitted woollen cap, with its red knob, his +white hair trailed upon his shoulders. His white beard brushed the oddly +checkered jacket, flamboyant with its bizarre colors. + +"The Skeets and the Bushees are still running south," he cried at the +two men, in shrill tones. "But I'm around to the front of the trouble, +as usual." + +He appeared to have no eyes for the plight of the trussed-up Barrett, +who began to shout desperate appeals to him. He cocked shrewd eyes at +"Ladder" Lane, who, with a muttered oath, started to scramble down the +slope towards him. Perhaps he saw a threat in the madman's face. + +He glanced once more at Barrett, as though interested a bit in that +miserable man's frantic urgings, and piped this amazing query, "Don't +you think a stuttering man is an infernal fool to have a name like +McKechnie Connick?" + +Then he lashed his long reins against the side of his stallion and sped +away down the valley. + +Lane followed him, running. + +They left an existent millionaire and a prospective governor helplessly +grinding the skin from his shoulders against a birch-tree, and bellowing +anathema on "lunatics." + + * * * * * + +The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt, sweat pouring down his purple face as he +raged from crew to crew on the fire-line, was not surprised to behold +Prophet Eli emerge from the smoke, riding his ding-swingle. In twenty +years Mr. Britt had often beheld the prophet at troublous junctures. In +his present state of vehement anxiety the king of the Umcolcus felt his +temper flare at sight of this herald of ill-omen. + +"Met the Skeets and the Bushees, and they're still running south. Don't +you think a man with pumple-feet is an infernal fool to try to learn to +skate?" + +Britt, thrusting past through the underbrush of the tote road, whirled +and poised his foot to kick the inoffensive stallion, as mute expression +of his rage and contempt. But he withheld the kick at the apparition of +"Ladder" Lane. The warden came running. He fairly burst out of the +smoke. + +That he was pursuing Prophet Eli for no good to the latter occurred to +the Honorable Pulaski in one startled flash, as he looked at the +warden's savage face. He stepped between the men. But it was not to +protect the prophet, whom he dismissed from his mind as utterly as +though the forest sage were a fugitive rabbit. Mr. Britt had a pregnant +question to ask of Lane on his own account, and he bellowed it at him, +clutching at his arm. + +"Where did you leave John Barrett?" + +Lane halted at his touch, and glowered on him without reply. + +"What's the matter with you, Lane? You look like a crazy man. What did +you want of Mr. Barrett, anyway? What did you drag him out of Barnum +Withee's camp for? Don't try to bluff me. I know about it. Barnum got +here with his crew at daylight to fight fire, and his men have been +talking about it. What right have you got to be bothering John Barrett? +I haven't had time to get facts. I've got something else on my mind +than other folk's troubles. But I know you've picked trouble with +Barrett. Why, great Judas, you long-shanked fool, that man is goin' +to be the next governor of this State! You must have heard of John +Barrett! Trying to arrest John Barrett! What did you take him for--a +game-poacher? Or have you gone clean out of your wits? What have you +done with him?" + +During the timber baron's harangue Lane kept his eyes on the prophet, +meeting the latter's blinking regard with sullen threat in his eyes. + +"Blast ye! Answer me!" roared the Honorable Pulaski. "Where is Mr. +Barrett? I want to discuss this fire situation with him." + +"Then go find him," growled the fire warden. + +"Where is he?" + +Lane raised his gaunt arm and swung it the circle of the horizon. + +"There!" he snarled. He still kept his gaze on the prophet, as though to +note the least intention to betray him. But it appeared that the sage of +Tumbledick was in no mood for dangerous revelations. He thrust up one +grimy finger. + +"May be there!" he remarked. He pointed the finger straight down. "May +be there!" He jumped his stallion ahead with a crack of his reins and +disappeared in the smoke. Lane cast after him a look baleful, but +relieved, and whirled and made away in the direction of Jerusalem. + +"Me standing here wasting my time on a couple of whiffle-heads with that +fire waltzing into my black growth!" Britt muttered, turning his wrath +on himself, since there was no one else in sight. "It must be only some +fool scare about Barrett. A man like him can take care of himself." + +He stumped on, turning to climb a spur of ledge from which, as +commander-in-chief, he might take an observation. Less than a mile to +the south, he spied the thing that he had been dreading. + +The ground fire, lashed by the rising wind of the morning, had leaped +off the earth and become a crown fire. It had entered the edge of the +black growth. + +One after the other the green tops of the hemlocks and spruces burst +into the horrid bloom of conflagration. They flowered. They seeded. And +the seeds were fire-brands that scaled down the wind, dropping, rooting +instantly, and blossoming into new destruction. + +"She can't be stopped! She can't be stopped!" moaned Britt. "She's +headed for the Notch, and then tophet's let loose!" + +But with the persistence of his nature he set off to rally the crew to a +flank movement. + +With the inadequate force it was rather a skirmish than a battle for +those who fought in the face of the great fire. + +Through the night, with shovels and green boughs they had attacked the +conflagration's outposts. The red army of destruction took this +punishment sullenly. The main fire seemed to crouch and doze in the +night, dulled by the condensation of dews and lacking the spur of the +winds. + +At daylight Barnum Withee had arrived with his men and set them to +trenching along the tote road parallel with the advance of the fire. He +had not reconsidered his bitterness against his tyrant John Barrett. But +the unconquerable instinct of the veteran woodsman, anxious to save his +forest, had driven him to the scene. + +To Barnum Withee's crew Dwight Wade and Christopher Straight attached +themselves by entirely natural selection, having excellent personal +reasons for avoiding the direct commands of the Honorable Pulaski Britt. + +And to Wade, struggling with blistered hands to drive his mattock +through roots and vegetable mould to the mineral earth, appeared +Prophet Eli on his ding-swingle. The prophet surveyed him with almost +arch look, and piped, in his shrill tones: + + "Oh, the little brown bull came down from the mountain, + Shang-roango, whey?" + +Wade stared at him with a vivid recollection of the first time he had +seen that strange figure and had heard that song. + +"So you didn't think I knew how to mend bones, eh, young man? Never +heard of Prophet Eli, the charmer-man, the mediator between the higher +and lower forces, natural healer and regulator of the weather? Don't you +think a man an infernal fool to dig a hole out of the dirt when it is so +much easier to dig a hole out of the air and put dirt around it?" + +Wade, not feeling inclined towards a discussion of this sort, fell to +his labor again. + +"If John Barrett's daughter set this fire, why ain't John Barrett here +to help put it out?" shrilled the prophet, and Barnum Withee hearing the +amazing query, came hurrying out of the smoke. He found Wade staring at +the man with astonished inquiry in his face. + +"You heard him say that, did you, Mr. Wade?" demanded Withee, with an +emotion the young man could not understand. + +It was the bare mention of John Barrett's daughter that had stirred +Dwight Wade; for in his soul's eye but one picture rose when she was +mentioned--Elva Barrett of the glorious eyes and the loving heart--the +one woman in the world for him--denied to him by the father who ruled +her. + +"I heard him--yes," said Wade; "but what kind of lunatic's raving is +it?" + +"It may not be a lunatic's raving, Mr. Wade," returned Withee, +enigmatically, his face grave. + +The prophet cast a look about, striving to peer into the smoke, as +though apprehensive that some one whom he didn't want in his confidence +might be listening. In a lower tone he went on: + +"If a man has got a daughter and is tied to a tree, how much will +'Ladder' Lane scale to be cut up into bean poles?" + +There was alarm on Withee's features now. He took Wade by the arm and +led him aside a few steps. + +"That old fellow has got something on his mind, Mr. Wade," he said, +earnestly, "and it may be bad business. My men have been talking here +to-day, as men will talk, though I advised them to keep their mouths +shut. It may bring the 'Lazy Tom' crowd into the thing. If there's bad +business on, I want you to be able to say outside that I haven't messed +into affairs that wa'n't mine. It may have to be proved in court, and +the word of a gentleman like you is worth that of fifty rattle-brained +choppers." + +"I don't understand, Mr. Withee. I can't appear as witness in matters I +haven't seen." + +"You can say I was here on the fire-line attendin' to my own business +when it happened--if it has happened," cried Withee. "You can say that I +had no hand in it. It's this way, Mr. Wade, if you haven't heard. Did +any of my men tell you that John Barrett--you've heard of 'Stumpage +John' Barrett--was at my camp last night?" + +"I heard nothing of it," said Wade. He leaned forward with excitement in +his face, for the tone and the air of the lumberman were ominous. + +"He was at my camp, and Lane, the Jerusalem warden, after having words +with him over an old matter between them, made Mr. Barrett go away into +the woods with him--and I think Lane was about half crazy at the time." + +"And you let an insane man force Mr. Barrett into the woods?" demanded +Wade, indignantly. + +Withee straightened, and his face took on a sort of sullen pride. "It's +on that point that I want to explain to you, for my own sake. I don't +know whether you're a friend of John Barrett's or whether you ain't. But +when I hear him confess right before me that he has stolen away another +man's wife and broken up that man's home forever, and has never done +anything to square himself, then I let that matter alone, for it's a +matter between man and man. And my men and I let John Barrett and Linus +Lane settle their own business." + +"How?" cried Wade, his face pale. "My God, man, it can't be that John +Barrett did a thing like--" + +"I heard him own to it," persisted Withee. "And what's more, it's John +Barrett's daughter that lived with the Skeets and the Bushees, abandoned +by him. And when I know a thing like that about a man, Mr. Wade, he +can't look to Barn Withee to stand behind him." + +Dwight Wade staggered back against the tree and put his arms around it +to steady himself. Had he not seen the girl he might have scorned to +believe such a story. But all his first emotions at sight of her there +in her squalid surroundings rushed back upon him now. He had seen in +this forest waif too many suggestions of Elva Barrett, and had been +ashamed to own to himself that his heart confessed as much, as though it +were an insult to the girl who reigned in his heart. + +"So, I say," repeated Withee, as if to reassure himself, "I let them +settle their own business." + +"But how?" gasped the young man. + +"You can prove nothing by me," said the lumberman, with a toss of +his hand and wag of his head, pregnant gestures of disclaimed +responsibility. "But that old fellow sitting on that ding-swingle never +put those hints together without havin' something about it on his mind. +I never knew trouble to happen in these woods unless he was there to see +some part of it." + +"What have you seen, old man?" demanded Wade, impetuously. + +"Saw the crow catch the hen-hawk. Isn't a man with a harelip an infernal +fool to learn to play a fife?" + +But Wade, coming close to the sage, noted a strange twinkle in the blue +eyes under the knots of gray brow. It was a glance so sane, so +significant, so calculating, that the young man had no voice to utter +the angry retort on his lips. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps +Prophet Eli of Tumbledick had not always been understood by those who +jeered him. The keen glance noted Wade's changing expression and +understood it. + +"It was Rodburd Ide said it to me," the prophet stated, lowering his +tone. "He said it was between you and John Barrett's pretty girl until +old John drove you into the woods. Hey?" The young man's face flushed +redly and he was about to reply, but the prophet put up a protesting +hand. "It was Rodburd Ide said to me that John Barrett didn't think you +were good enough for his daughter. Now you follow me! I want to hear +John Barrett whine. I want to see John Barrett squirm. Coals of fire! +Coals of fire, young man! What is Prophet Eli's mission? Coals of fire! +I cure those who have mocked me, don't I? I like to hear 'em whine. I +want to see them squirm. You follow me. Coals of fire!" + +[Illustration: "WRITHING AT HIS BONDS, HIS CONTORTED FACE TOWARDS THE +RED FLAMES GALLOPING UP THE VALLEY"] + +And singing this over and over to himself, he whirled his stallion and +hurried away. Wade ran behind him without question, for he guessed while +he feared. Withee started, but turned back to his men with a sullen +oath. + +It was a long and a bitter chase through the smother of the smoke, and +in the very forefront of the racing conflagration. At last Pogey Notch +had begun to suck at the raging fires with its granite lips. It was the +chimney-flue of the amphitheatre of Misery. The flames roared from tree +to tree. Wade ran, stooping forward, clutching at the cross-bar of the +ding-swingle. Without that help he never would have been able to reach +the spot where at last he found John Barrett, writhing at his bonds, +squealing like an animal--his contorted face towards the red flames +galloping up the valley. + +The prophet had left his vehicle to guide the rescuer up the slope. He +stood by, grinning with enjoyment, when the two men faced each other. He +chuckled when Wade cut the bonds. He laughed boisterously when Barrett, +weeping like a child, threw his arms around the young man's neck. + +"Coals of fire!" he shrilled. "Heap 'em on! They're hotter than the +other kind that are dropping on you!" + +Then he ran from them a few steps and rapped his skinny knuckles on a +scar breast high on a tree. + +"Your trail!" he cried. "It's here! It's blazed clear to the bald head +of old Jerusalem. Get up there on the granite. Then sit down and talk it +over! Coals of fire!" + +They heard him shrieking it back at them as he fled up the Notch. And +the two men took the trail, strangling, gasping, feeling their direction +from blaze to blaze on the trees, fighting their way up from the Gehenna +of Pogey. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +BETWEEN TWO ON JERUSALEM + + "So he didn't have no doctor but a bowl o' ginger tea, + And it didn't seem to help him, not so far as we could see." + + --Gettin' Larry Home. + + +When they came out upon the bare granite, long after mid-day, they fell +upon their faces, and lay there without speaking or the desire to speak. +They did not open their smarting eyes. + +Over and over again Wade heard a dull rumble which his stricken senses +failed to understand. But when a hollow boom reverberated among the +hills and jarred the granite under his face he sat up. He saw the purple +flash shiver across the swaying smoke, heard the splitting crack of the +bolt, and felt a raindrop on his face. + +"Thank God, Mr. Barrett, it has come at last! The rain!" he shouted. And +the timber baron staggered to his feet, and turned a bloodshot gaze on +the panorama of blazing forest and sheeting heavens. Then he looked at +Wade, blinking stupidly and searching his soul for words. + +"I haven't got the language, Mr. Wade--" he began. But the young man +broke upon his stammering speech. + +"There's no need of saying anything," he said, looking away. "I don't +want to hear any thanks." + +"I was left there to die--tied up there and left to die by a crazy fool +that tried to blackmail me--that's it, tried to blackmail me. And I'll +put him where he belongs. It was the most infernal plot ever put up on a +man. Blackmail and murder!" He gabbled his charges hysterically. The +shock of his experience had unmanned him. "You can't blackmail a man +like me without suffering for it. I'll put him into the deepest hole in +the insane asylum--with a gag in his mouth." He was going on to relate +his experience, but Wade again interrupted him. + +"I won't bother you to tell it, Mr. Barrett," he said, coldly. "I know +how it happened. Mr. Withee told me this morning." + +"It's all lies and blackmail!" screamed Barrett, his fury rising at +thought of this gossip. "Withee is against me, too. I told him I'd take +his stumpage contract away, and this is how he is getting back. I'll +have him and his whole crew in jail for blackmail if he doesn't shut his +yawp." + +A roar of thunder drowned his voice, and he stood, with the rain pelting +on him, shaking his fists above his head. But by the twist of his mouth +Wade saw that he was still cursing "blackmail." + +The sight angered him. In as insulting a passion had John Barrett railed +at him, Dwight Wade, when he had asked for the hand of John Barrett's +daughter. The man had tossed his arms in the same way when he called +Wade "a beggar of a school-master." + +"Don't call it blackmail and murder--not to me, Mr. Barrett," he said, +harshly. + +"Don't you know it's blackmail and a put-up job to ruin me?" roared the +timber baron. + +Wade stood up now and faced him. Torrents of rain beat upon them, and +they took no heed; for the face of the young man was working with a +mighty emotion and the features of the other man showed that sudden fear +had come upon him. + +"Have you ever seen that daughter of yours that you left to wallow with +human swine?" demanded Wade, with a fury he could not restrain. "Well, I +have!" Into those words he put all the bitter resentment of months of +remembrance of John Barrett's insults. + +"And I have seen the daughter you cherish in your home. I don't need any +man's say-so to prove to me that they're both your children, Mr. +Barrett. You stand convicted in the eyes of every man who has eyes and +who sees Elva Barrett and then looks on poor Kate Arden--even her name a +cruel jest! I don't want to hear a man like you lie, Mr. Barrett. Don't +talk any more to me about blackmail." He shook his fist at the roof of +the Jerusalem fire station, just showing above the ledges. "I know that +girl over there is your daughter. Now go slow, Mr. Barrett, with your +threats of what you will do to Lane. If there is any unwritten law, he +deserves to have the forfeit of the life that I've helped to save. +That's still a matter between you two. But as to that girl yonder, I +propose to ask something. What are you going to do with her?" + +Barrett muttered incoherently, dazed by the new light of Wade's words. + +"Your blackmail story may go with woodsmen, Mr. Barrett. But if Lane +should go out of these woods with his story and that girl to back it he +can hold you up to execration by every decent person in the State. The +girl proves it in every feature of her face." + +"The lunatic tried to make me take her home, own her publicly, and treat +her as a daughter--and he demanded that to ruin me. It would ruin me in +my political prospects, Wade. You know it. I'm willing to do what's +right. But I can't do that." His courage revived a little. "I'd rather +go down fighting." + +The young man pondered awhile. + +"I don't want you to think that I'm persecuting you for any of the +trouble between us, Mr. Barrett," he said, at last. "That is all over +and done with. But as a man who knows what that poor girl has been +condemned to, and like others here who can tell by their own eyes that +Lane is speaking the truth, I'm going to see that she gets a fair show." + +Barrett concealed his private doubts as to the young man's animus. But +sudden dread of this new weapon in his foe's hand mastered him. + +"In the name of God, help me out, Wade!" he pleaded, dropping all his +obstinacy. "I couldn't argue with that crazy man. I'll put the girl to +school. I'll give her money. She shall have everything heart can +wish--except my home. Think of my family, Mr. Wade! Think of my +daughter! I want to have the respect of my family, Mr. Wade, for the few +years that are left to me. Help me, and you won't be sorry for it. +I'll--" + +"I want no pay and no promises," broke in the young man. "You have been +free with your cry of blackmail. You can never taunt me with that. I'm +simply appealing to your manhood. But I'm going to see that your +daughter gets her rights, and that is no threat--it is justice." + +"Aren't those rights enough--what I have said?" urged Barrett. + +"Perhaps they are. They are probably all she can expect. People hardly +ever get all they deserve in this world--either in blessings or +punishments." His tone was bitter. And he stood apart and gazed out over +the broad expanse to the south, his brow wrinkling. He was trying to +analyze the emotions that made him champion the outcast. + +The thunder-heads had rolled on, but like mighty and noisy engines they +had dragged behind them masses of clouds that covered the skies with a +slaty expanse, and a storm, settled and steady, poured down its +grateful floods. + +Already the fire was dying. Only here and there scattered flames fought +the streaming skies from the tops of resinous trees. + +"Mr. Barrett," said Wade, at length, "the girl is at Lane's. You can't +meet her now. It is not the time and place. Probably Lane has returned +there. I don't think his mind is right--and after knowing the wrong you +did him, I can understand why. You've time to reach Britt's camp before +night. It is in the clearing to the north. You are an old woodsman. You +can find your way there." + +Barrett nodded relieved assent. + +"You have asked me to help you. As that includes helping this poor girl +most of all, I am going to do what I can, for the sake of you and your +family." Barrett gave a quick glance at him, but the young man's face +was impassive. Perhaps the timber baron had hoped, for his own temporary +guarantee, to see a flash of the old love in Wade's eyes. "I'm going to +request you to leave this matter in my hands for the present. I will see +Withee, and try to stop gossip in that quarter. Will you give me the +right to--well, to modify some of your threats? And as to Withee--I +believe you spoke of a contract!" + +John Barrett stood straighter now. The sneer of conscious authority, the +frown of tyranny, had gone from his face. There was a frankness in his +face and a sincerity in his tones that few persons had seen or heard +before. But the new inspiration was logical and real. The young man who +stood before him had just waived a mean vengeance so nobly that his +heart swelled. His doubts were quieted. + +"My boy," he said, softly, pulling off his cap and standing bareheaded +in the rain, "I'm alive now, after the experience of looking straight +into the eyes of death and giving up every hope. And, I tell you, it +seemed hard to die--just now, when the best hopes of my life are coming +true. I had time to think. I thought. I know I talked hard just a bit +ago. But I wasn't myself then. I was too near the smoke and fire." He +stopped and put his hand to watering eyes. "I can see clear now. And +I've got over my bitterness, and I guess now I can understand the Golden +Rule. That's my word, and there's my hand on it. Now talk for me to +those I've hurt." + +They clasped hands. But it was Barrett who made that overture. + +"I'll wait for you at Britt's camp--until you come and tell me what I'm +to do," said the timber baron. And then he turned and trudged away +across the wet ledges. + +Wade gazed after him until he disappeared in the stunted growth. He +gazed sourly into the palm of the hand that the millionaire had +squeezed, and reflected that perhaps Barrett's precipitate repentance +was off the same piece as his own forgiveness of the bitter matter that +lay between them. Being a young man inclined to be honest with himself, +Dwight Wade confessed that the fabric of his forgiveness had a selvage +that already showed signs of ravelling. He was a little angry at his +state of mind. + +"And yet it sounded like a campaign speech to catch votes," he muttered. + +He was still angrier at himself then, for, put into words, his doubt +seemed an unjust suspicion. + +"I must have got more of a jolt than I thought when I dropped from +ideals to the real," he pondered, gazing out through the slanting lines +of rain. "I seem to have about as many grudges against humanity as old +Lane himself." + +When he looked towards the roof of the little fire station he awoke +to the consciousness that the rain was wet and the wind searching. To +himself, in a sudden flash of introspection, he seemed to be as unkempt +within as without. There on the granite of the bare mountain, with the +forces of nature conquering the last embers of the mighty conflagration, +the narrower things of life and living--the amenities, the trammels +that man patiently puts upon himself for the sake of the social +fabric--appeared vain and delusive ideals. It was not thus that the +strong battled and won. + +"Considering what sort of a man they're making of me up here, where +cast-iron is better than velvet, I think it's likely, John Barrett, that +it has been lucky for you that you have a daughter away down there." + +He set his face in long gaze to the southern hills, bulked dimly behind +the mists. + +"As for Kate Arden--" He shook his head despondently, and walked away +across the glistening granite towards "Ladder" Lane's house. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN THE PATH OF THE BIG WIND + + "So we fellers of the camp, when the wind-spooks rave and ramp, + We fasten up the dingle-door with spike and extry clamp; + For it ain't a mite against 'em if the boldest chaps do hide + When the big old trees go tumblin', crash and bang, on ev'ry side." + + --_Ha'nt of Pamola._ + + +John Barrett, millionaire, realized rather vaguely that he had left +something on the bald poll of Jerusalem Knob. It was after he had +grasped Dwight Wade's hand, both of them standing shelterless under the +skies, the welcome rains beating into their faces. + +John Barrett, millionaire, stumbling weariedly to shelter at the foot of +Jerusalem Knob, having left something in that upper vastness where soul +forgot the petty things, realized--vaguely again--that he had found what +he had left. The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt seemed to pass it to him in +a hand-clasp. + +On Jerusalem, John Barrett had left much of his insolence, more of his +selfishness, and all of his vindictiveness. Dwight Wade, generous in his +own triumph, had shamed the baser feelings out of him. And yet that new +poise of a sincerer manliness seemed to be charmed away suddenly by the +mere touch of Pulaski Britt's big hand. That hand represented the brutal +tyranny of the barons of the woods. It was thrust out in welcome over +the threshold of the wangan camp, and Britt hauled in his fellow-baron +with boisterous greeting. + +"It's been hell for all of us, John, but I reckon you've been in the +hottest corner of it if what they tell me is true. I didn't have time to +ask for any details, not with that infernal fire on my hands, but it +isn't the first time that rascals have poked up fools in these woods to +pay off old grudges against timber-land owners. I've hit back hard a few +times myself. This time we'll hit hard enough to teach 'em a lesson that +will stick awhile." He put his head out of the door and yelled an order +to the cook. + +"It--it may not be best to push things too hard," faltered Barrett, +spreading his wet, blue hands to the blaze of the Franklin stove. +"Things have come up that--" + +"They've tried the same bluff on me," blustered the host. "They loaded +old Lane up with threats of what he'd do. It's all conspiracy and +blackmail. There's more behind it than we realize now. But we'll dig 'em +out, Barrett. We've got to smash the whole thing now or they'll have us +on the run. I didn't suppose Barnum Withee was the kind of man to work +out a grudge the way he did, but it shows us the danger in bein' too +easy with any of 'em. Old Lane is only crazy. It's this Wade we want to +bang the hardest. I'll tell you what I believe, John. I'll bet cents to +saw-logs he's been hired to come up here and start a rebellion. There +are interests in this State that will do it. By Judas, in twenty-four +hours I'll show 'em!" + +The tacit partnership of honorable reparation bound by hand-clasp on +Jerusalem had not the elements to make it endure in Pulaski Britt's +domains, with Pulaski Britt to sound his old-time rallying call of greed +and tyranny. That earlier partnership, sealed by the arms f Old King +Spruce, had never been dissolved, and Barrett was once more becoming +"Stumpage John," cold and hard and calculating. + +"Look here, Pulaski," he blurted out, in sudden confidence, "there's a +little more to this than you understand just now. I'm in a devil of a +position. I--I--" He hesitated, staring into the fire and waving his +hands slowly in the steam that rose from his sodden garments. + +"I haven't done just right, I suppose, but there are reasons why, that a +man like you will understand. I just left that Wade fellow up on the top +of Jerusalem. We've had a talk. He didn't understand very well." + +"Did he offer to trade something for the sake of gettin' that daughter +of yours that he's in love with?" demanded Britt, maliciously. + +"I don't know," confessed the other. "I'm under obligations to him, +Pulaski. He cut me loose from a tree to-day in Pogey Notch. In another +ten minutes the fire would have got me." + +"Great Jehosaphat!" exploded the host. "Tried to kill you! A timber +grudge carried that far!" He stamped about the little camp. His face +wrinkled with apprehension and fury. He had a sudden vivid mind-picture +of his own reign of tyranny, and realized that if John Barrett had been +attacked, Pulaski Britt had more reason to fear. "It's a call for a +lynchin', John," he said, hoarsely. "And I've got a crew that will do +it." + +"It was Lane that tied me--the fire-station warden," Barrett went on. + +"And Withee turned you over to him, knowin' he'd do it!" stormed the +baron. "His men blabbed it that Lane had taken you. Withee, Wade--we'll +clean out the whole coop of 'em!" + +But John Barrett did not seem to warm up to this plan of vengeance. He +still kept his eyes on the fire. His shoulders were hunched forward +with something of abjectness in their droop. + +"You haven't got some whiskey handy, have you, Pulaski?" he asked, +plaintively. "I don't feel well. I've had an awful night and day." + +Britt brought the liquor from a cupboard, cursing soulfully and urging +vengeance. But after Barrett drank from the pannikin he leaned his face +to the blaze again and broke upon the Honorable Pulaski's vicious +monologue. + +"I've told the wrong end first--but there are some things easier to say +than others. It was Linus Lane who tied me to that tree and left me to +die there, but"--Barrett rolled his head sideways and gave Britt a queer +glance from his eye-corners--"did you ever see my daughter Elva, +Pulaski?" + +Britt blinked as though trying to understand this sudden shifting of +topic, and wagged slow nod of assent. + +"Have you ever seen that girl of the Skeet settlement--the one that +doesn't belong to them?" Barrett half choked over the question. + +"Have I seen her?" roared the Honorable Pulaski, no longer paying +attention to incongruity of questions. "Why, that's the draggle-tailed +lightnin'-bug that set this fire that we've been fightin' for +forty-eight hours, and that only this rain stopped from bein' a +fifty-thousand-acre crown-fire! Have I seen her! I was there when she +set it, and only the grace o' God and that Wade's fist saved her from +bein' shot, and shot by me! I would have killed her like I'd kill a +quill-pig!" + +Barrett did not look up from the fire. + +"Then you've seen both those girls, you say? I haven't seen this one in +the woods here. But this Wade told me to-day that they very much +resemble each other. He has heard some gossip and is making threats. He +seems to think I ought to take the girl and care for her." + +Britt began a bitter diatribe, coupling the name of Wade and the girl as +examples of all that is inimical to timber interests and timber +owners--but he checked himself suddenly as soon as his native shrewdness +mastered his passion. A flicker in his eyes showed that a light had +burst upon his mind. He strode back and forth behind Barrett's stool, +and gazed down upon the stumpage king's bent back. + +"Look here, John," he demanded, bluffly, at last, "was there any truth +in the story that was limpin' round in these woods about you almost +twenty years ago? There was a woman in it--somebody's wife. I've +forgotten who." + +"It was Lane's wife," admitted Barrett, finding confession good for the +soul of one who stood bitterly in need of practical advice--and Pulaski +Britt was nothing if not practical. "I was up here prospecting, and she +was bound to follow me up to camp, and I was infernal fool enough to let +her. And when it came time for me to go out of the woods I couldn't take +her--you can see that for yourself! I thought I had provided for her--I +would have done it, but she dropped out of sight, and I couldn't go +hunting around and stirring up gossip. Same way about the child." + +"Young one has had a nice, genteel bringin'-up," remarked the Honorable +Pulaski, sarcastically. Hard though his nature was, he had the sincerity +of the woods, and he felt sudden contempt for this man who had uprooted +for one brief sniff of its perfume a woods blossom that he could not +wear. + +"I didn't realize it until Lane told me at Withee's camp. I had hoped +she had fallen into good hands. It's a devil of a position to be in," +the other mourned, returning to his prior lament. + +"Well," remarked Britt, inexorably, "you can't exactly complain because +you are now gettin' only a little of what Lane and the girl have been +gettin' a whole lot of all these years. It ain't any use to whine to me, +John. I don't pity you much. I've been hard with men, but, by Cephas, +I've never been soft with women! It don't pay." + +"It seems as though you ought to be willin' to advise me a little," +pleaded Barrett. "I'm ready to do what I can for the girl, now that I've +found out about her. But Lane insisted on my taking her out with me and +declaring her to the world as my daughter. And when I refused he tied me +to the tree." + +"Oh, ho! It wasn't just for the old original revenge, then?" queried +Pulaski, his expression indicating a more charitable view of "Ladder" +Lane's assault on the vested timber interests as represented by Stumpage +John Barrett. "Well, if the girl is your young one she ought to have a +chance!" + +In his turn, Barrett got up and paced the floor. "Such a thing would +kill my chances of being the next governor of this State, and you and +the whole timber crowd have got a lot at stake there." + +"Well, I've got to admit, havin' played politics myself somewhat," said +Britt, unconsolingly, "that a quiet little frost of scandal will nip off +a budding leaf that a wind like this wouldn't start." + +He tapped the frame of the chattering window. In the hush of their +voices they heard the wind volleying through the trees and roaring high +overhead among the black clouds. Night had fallen. The crew had long +before finished supper, and the cook had twice summoned the inattentive +two in the wangan to a second table spread more sumptuously. + +"And what kind of a trade is it your friend Wade wants to make with +you?" inquired Britt. "Takin' the thing by and large, you must be in +for a prime hold-up. If he should say, 'Your daughter or your +life--political life!'--I reckon you'd have to change your mind about +his qualifications as a son-in-law, wouldn't you?" He eyed Barrett +keenly and heard his oaths with relish. "You see," persisted the host, +"though old Lane is probably out of this for good, after trying to kill +you, and you can handle Barnum Withee and the rest of these woods cattle +in one way or another, this Wade chap is sittin' across from you with +about every trump in the deck under his thumb. What does he say he +wants?" + +"He doesn't say," muttered Barrett. "He hasn't asked for anything. He's +thinking it over." + +"It's the cat and the mouse, and him the cat!" suggested the Honorable +Pulaski, with manifest intent to irritate. "I should have most thought +you would have thrown your arms around his neck after your rescue and +yelled in his ear: 'My daughter is yours, noble man! Take her and my +money, and live happy ever after!' These fellows that write novels +always have 'em do that sort of thing--and the novel-writers ought to +know!" + +"There's no novel about this thing!" retorted Barrett, angrily. "My girl +knows whom she is expected to marry--and she'll marry him when the right +time comes. And it won't be a college dude without one dollar to rub +against another! I'm in a devil of a hole, Pulaski, but do you think for +one minute that I'm going to let that Wade make a slip-noose of this +thing and hang me up with my heels kicking air? I'll either choke him +with thousand-dollar bills, or--or--" + +He glanced at Britt and forbore to finish the sentence. + +The door opened just then and Tommy Eye, teamster, poked in his grizzled +head. + +"Cook has lost his voice hollerin' 'Beans!' gents," he reported, and +Britt whirled on his heel and led the way out. + +"After supper, after supper, John!" he snapped, testily, when the other +repeated his plea for advice. "We'll come back here and find a plan +blossoming in our cigar smoke." They hurried away to the cook-camp, +bending against the rush of the wind. "Put some wood on that fire, +Tommy," Britt called over his shoulder. + +With the scent of the inebriate, Tommy had sniffed whiskey when he +opened the camp door; his drunkard's eye caressed the bottle that the +Honorable Pulaski had forgotten to replace in the cupboard. He stood +dusting from his sleeves the bark litter of the wood he had brought and +softly snuffled the moisture at the corners of his mouth as he gazed. +One wild impulse suggested that he take the bottle and run into the +woods. + +"No," said Tommy, aloud, in order that his voice might brace his +determination. "It would be stealin', and, bless God, Tommy Eye never +stole when he was sober. I may have stole when I was drunk and didn't +know it, but I never stole when I was sober." He paused. "I wish I +wasn't sober," he sighed. He took up the bottle, turned it in his grimy +hands, gustfully studied the streakings of its oil on the glass, and at +last sniffed at the open mouth. "Ah-h-h-h, rich men have the best, and +they have plenty. Some people don't think it is wrong to steal from rich +men. I do. But if he was here he'd probably say: 'Tommy, you have +brought the wood--you have mended the fire. It is a cold night, and sure +the wind is awful! Tommy, take one drink with me and work the harder for +P'laski Britt on the morrer.'" + +He took the bottle away from his nose, stared at the window's black +outline, listened to the clattering frame, and muttered, again sighing: +"Sure and them wor-rds don't sound just like the wor-rds that P'laski +Britt would say, but in a night like this it isn't always easy to hear +aright. I wouldn't steal--but I'll dream I heard him say 'em. 'One +drink, Tommy,' I hear him say." + +He set the bottle to his lips, tipped it, closed his eyes, and drank +until at last, breathless and choking, he felt the bottle suck dry. + +"Bless the saints!" he gasped; "it was one drink he said, and sure with +my eyes shut I couldn't see how big was the drink." He felt the thrill +of the mighty potation from head to toes. His meek spirit became +exalted. "If I should go out now," he mumbled, "he would say that I +stole it. But I will stay here with the bottle in my hand just as it was +when I took the one drink. I will show him. And, after all, it is not +much he can do to me--now!" He rubbed a consolatory palm over his +glowing stomach. He stood there, beginning at last to rock slowly from +heel to toe, until he heard voices and footsteps. The preoccupied barons +had not lingered over their repast. "No, I'll not run away. I'll not +steal," muttered Tommy Eye, "but--but I'll just crawl under the bunk, +here, to think over the snatch of a speech I'll make to him. And a bit +later I'll feel more like bein' kicked." + +From the safe gloom of his covert he noted that they had brought back +with them the boss, Colin MacLeod. Britt turned down the wooden button +over the latch of the door and gave his guests cigars. + +They smoked in silence for a while, and then Britt spat with a snap of +decision into the open fire and spoke. + +"MacLeod, a while ago, when we were talkin' about Rodburd Ide's girl, +Nina, I told you that I wouldn't interfere in your woman affairs +again--or you told me not to interfere--I forgot just which!" There was +a little touch of grim irony in his tones--irony that he promptly +discarded as he went on. "About that Ide girl--you ought to know that +you can't catch her--after what has happened. I know something about +women myself. The girl never took to you. If she had cared anything +about you she would have run to you and cried over you when you were +lying there in the road where Dwight Wade tossed you. That's woman when +she's in love with a man. Don't break in on what I'm saying! This isn't +any session of cheap men sittin' down to gossip over love questions. It +may sound like it, but it's straight business. Don't be a fool any +longer. But there's a girl that you have courted and a girl that thinks +a lot of you, because I heard her say so one night on Jerusalem Knob. +You ought to marry that girl." + +The Honorable Pulaski again checked retort by sharp command. + +"That girl isn't of the blood of the Skeets and Bushees, and you know +it. She is a pretty girl, and once she is away from that gang and +dressed in good clothes she will make a wife that you'll be proud of. +Now, what do you say, Colin? Will you marry that girl?" + +MacLeod stared from the face of his employer to the face of John +Barrett, the latter displaying decidedly more interest than the +questioner. Then he stood up and dashed his cigar angrily into the fire. +Blood flamed on his high cheek-bones and his gray eyes glittered. + +"What has marryin' got to do with my job, or what have you got to do +with my marryin'?" he asked, in hot anger. + +The Honorable Pulaski continued bland and conciliating. + +"Keep on all your clothes, Colin, my boy," he counselled. "Don't say +anything to me that you'll be sorry for after I've shown you that I'm +only doin' you a friendly turn. But I've found out a mighty interesting +thing about this girl--Kate Arden, they call her. As a friend of yours +I'm givin' you the tip. It would be too bad to have a girl with a nice +tidy little sum of money comin' to her slip past you when all you have +to do is to reach and take her." + +The boss's face was surly. + +"You must have been talkin' with some one in Barn Withee's crew," he +suggested. + +"And what does Withee's crew say?" demanded Britt, with heat. + +"It wasn't a sewin'-circle I was attendin' out on that fire-line," +retorted MacLeod, with just as much vigor. "There was somethin' bein' +talked, but I didn't stop to listen." + +"Look here, MacLeod," cried his employer. Britt came close to him +and clutched the belt of his wool jacket. "There are some nasty +liars in these woods just now. There are some of them that will go to +state-prison for attempted blackmail. You are too bright a man not to +realize which is your own side. I know you well enough to believe that +all the lunatics and slanderers this side of Castonia couldn't turn you +against your friends. And you've got no two better friends than John +Barrett and I." + +"I'm not gainsaying it, Mr. Britt. But what has joinin' this matrimonial +agency of yours got to do with your friendship or my work?" + +"I've found out, Colin, that this girl has got money comin' to her from +her folks. She doesn't know about it yet. No one knows about it, except +us here. She never belonged to the Skeets and Bushees. She was stolen. +This money has been waitin' for her. Barrett and I are bank-men, and +things like this come to our attention when no one else would hear of +it. There's--there's--" Britt paused and slid a look at Barrett from +under an eyebrow cocked inquiringly. Barrett slyly spread ten fingers. +"There's ten thousand dollars comin' to her in clean cash, Colin. Now, +what do you think of that?" + +"I think it's a ratty kind of a story," said MacLeod, bluntly. + +Britt's temper flared. + +"Don't you accuse me of lyin'," he roared. "The girl has got the money +comin', I say." + +"Maybe it _is_ comin'," replied the boss, doggedly; "but has she got any +name comin'? Has she got any folks comin'? Has she got anything comin' +except somebody's hush-money?" + +The woodsman's keen scenting of the trail discomposed the Honorable +Pulaski for a moment. But after a husky clearing of his throat he +returned to the work in hand. + +"Folks, you fool! You can't dig folks up out of a cemetery. If her folks +had been alive they'd have hunted up their girl years ago. They were +good folks. You needn't worry about that. There's no need now to bother +the girl about her folks or the money. She wouldn't know how to handle +it if she had it in her own hands. It needs a man to care for her and +the cash. We don't want a cheap hyena to fool her and get it. You're the +man, Colin. Marry her, and the ten thousand will be put into your fist +the day the knot is tied." + +"It sounds snide and I won't do it," growled MacLeod, seeming to fairly +bristle in his obstinacy. "Not if she was Queen of Sheby." + +"Le' him go, then!" murmured a voice under the bunk. "Here's a gen'lum +puffick--ick--ly willin'." + +The Honorable Pulaski turned to behold the simpering face of drunken +Tommy Eye peering wistfully from his retirement. + +"I'll do it ch-cheaper, so 'elp me!" said Tommy, pounding down the empty +bottle to mark emphasis. + +"Yank that drunken hog out o' there, MacLeod!" roared Britt, after a +preface of horrible oaths. And when Tommy stood before him, swaying +limply in the boss's clutch, he cuffed him repeatedly, first with one +hand, then with the other. The smile on the man's face became a sickly +grimace, but he did not whimper. + +"'Spected kickin'," he murmured. "Jus' soon be cuffed." He held up the +empty bottle that he still clung to desperately. "Want to 'splain 'bout +one drink--" he began. But Britt wrenched the bottle from his hand, +raised it as though to beat out Tommy's brains, and, relenting, smashed +it into a corner. + +"So you've laid there and listened to our private business," he said, +malevolently. "You've heard more than is good for you, Eye." + +"Didn't hear nossin'," protested Tommy. "Was thinkin' up speech. Jus' +heard him say he wouldn't marry--marry--" + +"Marry who?" + +"'Queen of Sheby,' says he, with all her di'monds. I'll marry her. I'll +settle down wiz Queen of Sheby." + +"He's too drunk to know anything," said MacLeod. "Open the door, Mr. +Britt, and I'll toss him out." + +And he flung the soggy Tommy out on the carpet of pine-needles with as +little consideration as though he were a bag of oats. + +He turned at the door and looked from Britt to Barrett. + +"You've put a big thing up to me, gents, and you've sprung it on me like +a crack with a sled-stake. If I got dizzy and answered you short it was +your own fault. Give me a night to sleep on it." + +Outside he twisted his hand into the collar of Tommy Eye and started +towards the main camp, dragging the inebriate. "I'll see that he keeps +his mouth shut, gents," he called back to them. + +"You needn't worry, John," announced Britt, closing the door and pulling +out another cigar. "He'll do it." He waited for the sulphur to burn from +the match, and lighted his tobacco, a smile of triumph wrinkling under +his beard. + +"You don't usually tackle Pulaski D. Britt for good, practical advice +without gettin' it," he went on. "The girl is crazy after MacLeod. +You'll find MacLeod square when he makes a promise. He's got fool +notions about those things. And when she's married to him and settled +down here in these woods, where she belongs, the chap that wants to make +her Exhibit A in a slander against John Barrett will find himself up +against a mighty tough proposition. You see that, don't you? Now the +next thing is to get her out of the hands of that gang that want to use +her against you." + +He mused a moment. + +"All that we need to do is to send a man up to Jerusalem to-morrow, and +say that you're all ready to start for outside and propose to take the +girl along. If any one in this world has any rights over her, you have. +They can't refuse. And now we'll go to bed, John, for if ever two men +needed sleep, I reckon we're the ones." + +But it was not unbroken slumber that came to them. The big winds outside +roared with the sound of a bursting avalanche. Over the camp the sawing +limbs of the interlaced crowns shrieked and groaned. There were deeper, +further, and more mystic sounds, like mighty 'cellos. And when the great +blow was at its height the wangan camp, built upon the roots of the +splay-foot spruces, swayed with the writhing of the roots, creaked in +its timbers, and seemed to toss like a craft on a crazy sea. There were +noises near at hand in the woods like the detonations of heavy guns. +Every now and then the earth shivered, and thunderous echoes boomed down +the forest aisles. + +"Do you hear 'em John?" called Britt, at last. He had long been awake, +and had marked the restless stirrings of the other in the bunk below +him. + +"I've been listening an hour," said Barrett, despondently, "and it's big +stuff that's coming down. Our loss by fire was small change to what this +means to us, Pulaski. Withee has devilled my lands until there isn't a +wind-break left." + +A roar like the awful voice of a park of artillery throbbed past them on +the volleying wind. + +"I feel as though it was kissing a thousand dollars good-bye every time +I hear one of those noises," said Britt. "The devil can play jack-straws +in the Umcolcus region after this night, and find a new bunch every +day." + +At last they looked dismally out on the dawn. The great gale had blown +overhead and away, the rearguard clouds chasing it, and the hard growth, +stripped of every vestige of leaf, gave pathetic testimony to the +bitterness of the conflict of the night. + +The two lumber barons, staring anxiously up at the slopes of the black +growth for signs of ravage, were confronted by Tommy Eye, meek, +repentant, and shaky. + +"Sure, the witherlicks and the swamp swogons did howl last night, gents, +and they all did say as how Tommy Eye ought to be ashamed of the size of +his drink. And I've come back to you to get my kick." He turned humbly. + +The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt accepted the invitation with alacrity, +and dealt the kick with a vigor that fetched a squawk from the teamster. +The timber tyrant's mood that morning welcomed such an opportunity, even +as a surcharged cloud welcomes a lightning-rod or a farm-house chimney. +But once the kick had been dealt the Honorable Pulaski felt less wire on +the edge of his meat-axe temper. + +"And now I'll take my discharge," said Tommy. "MacLeod gave me an order +on you for my pay." + +Britt snatched away the paper and tore it up. + +"Get into that hovel and look after your horses." But when Tommy turned +to go his employer called him back. "I've got another job for you just +now, you snake-chaser. You need to chew fresh air, and you'll find a lot +of it on top of Jerusalem. I don't know just how much you understood of +our business in the wangan camp last night, Eye, and I don't care. You +know me well enough to understand that if you ever blab any of it I'll +have your ha' slet out of you!" Tommy cringed under a furious glare. "It +will depend on how well you do an errand for me now whether or not I +feed you to bobcats. You get that, do you?" + +Again the teamster bowed his wistful assent. + +"I wish I hadn't let Sheriff Rodliff and his men leave," remarked Britt +to "Stumpage John," eying Tommy with some disfavor. "But perhaps this +fool can do the trick better than a sheriff's posse. Sending the posse +might make talk and stir suspicions." + +"The quieter it's done the better," suggested Barrett. "After my talk +with Wade--which was pretty soft, as I remember it--it will seem natural +for me to send after the girl--and by just such a messenger as this." + +"So we'll send the fool--you're right!" affirmed Britt. "Tommy," he +directed, wagging a thick finger under the man's attentive nose to mark +his commands, "you hump up to that fire station on Jerusalem as quick as +leg-work will get you there, and you'll find a young girl. There are not +enough young girls up there so that you'll make any mistake in the right +one. You tell the one that's in charge, or whoever claims to be in +charge, that the girl has been sent for. You'll probably find that +fellow Dwight Wade takin' the responsibility. Tell him that it's all +right, and that the gentleman he made the talk with is prepared to back +up all promises. Bring the girl back with you." + +"Girls was never much took with me, and I never was handy in makin' up +to girls," protested Tommy, his face puckering in alarm. "She prob'ly +won't come, and then I'll get kicked again." + +"You'll get kicked again mighty sudden if you don't do as I tell you, +and do it quick and do it right!" roared Britt, starting off the camp +platform. And Tommy, cowed by his tyrant, stood not upon the order of +his going. He was trotting with a dog-waddle when he disappeared up the +Jerusalem trail. + +"He ought to be back by noon," said Britt. "In the mean time we'll eat +breakfast and then cruise for blowdowns. And I'm thinkin' it isn't goin' +to be a very humorous forenoon for timber-land owners." + +Nor was it. Dolefully and silently they traversed wastes of splintered +devastation, blocked ram-downs, choked twitch-roads, and hideous snarls +of cross-piled timber. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE AFFAIR AT DURFY'S CAMP + + "The boss was a-thinkin' to swat him, but allowed he had + better not, + For 'twas trouble bad that Dumphy had, whatever it was + he'd got." + + +When the timber barons came in sight of the camp at noon, Tommy Eye, +returned emissary, was seated on the edge of the wangan platform with +attitude and countenance of alarmed expectancy. By his side was old +Christopher Straight, the guide who had accompanied Dwight Wade from +Castonia settlement. + +"I done it--I said as you said for me to say," Tommy began, eagerly, +"and Mr. Straight here will tell you the same. I said it first to old +Noah up there, and he was startin' off with his animiles like as they +done with the ark stranded, and he swore me up hill and down, and--" + +"Shut up!" barked the Honorable Pulaski, in a perfectly fiendish temper +after the sights of that forenoon. "Did you bring that girl? And if you +didn't, why not?" + +"I can tell you better, perhaps, Mr. Britt," broke in old Christopher, +calmly. "She has been left on Mr. Wade's hands, and Mr. Wade feels that +he ought to be careful. Warden Lane, who had charge of her, seems to +have lost his wits. All last night--it was an awful night, gentlemen, +on Jerusalem--he was out on the ledges raving and howling. I think that +a matter that Mr. Barrett will understand was troubling up his +conscience, if that's the word for it. This mornin' he seemed to be +clean out of his head. He knocked the saplin's off his cages and let out +the animals, and they followed him off down into the woods--" + +"Moose, bobcat, fisher-cat--" But Tommy ceased his enumeration to dodge +a vicious sweep of Britt's palm. + +"I guess he left the place for good, seeing he took his rifle and his +pack," continued the guide. "I thought the timber owners might like to +know that their fire station is abandoned. As for the girl," he hastened +to add, "Mr. Wade told me to say that for reasons that Mr. Britt would +understand he didn't think she ought to come here." + +"Because she's lost her head over my boss, MacLeod, eh?" demanded Britt. + +"You saw yourself that the girl wasn't to be controlled easily when the +young man was present," said Christopher, mildly. "So he believes if +there is business to be talked to her and about her it will be better to +meet somewhere else." + +"The blasted coward is afraid to come with her or let her come," sneered +the Honorable Pulaski. "Well, we'll go up there; and we'll take a few +men along and find out who's runnin' this thing--a college dude or the +men who own these timber lands." Mr. Barrett would have advised more +pacificatory talk. But Mr. Britt was in a mood too generally unamiable +that day to heed prudence and wise counsel. + +"You'll have only your own trouble for your trip," remarked Straight. +"This man here said that Mr. Barrett was all ready to leave the woods. +Mr. Wade has left the top of the mountain with the girl, and will meet +Mr. Barrett to the south of Pogey Notch. You'll not have to go out of +your way, sir," he explained. + +"Well, where?" snapped Britt. + +"I'm here prepared to lead Mr. Barrett to the place, and I suggest that +if he's ready we'll be on our way. You'll probably want to fetch the +Half-way House at nightfall, sir." + +This patent distrust of Pulaski Britt and his designs angered that +gentleman quite beyond the power of even his profanity. But he knew +Christopher Straight too well to attempt to bulldoze that hard-eyed old +woodsman. + +"Is this select assembly too good to have me come along?" he inquired, +his thick lips curling under his beard. + +"I think Mr. Wade will be glad to have you there," said Christopher, +mildly. "He didn't say anything to the contrary. He expects Mr. Barrett +to have some one to keep him company as far as the stage road, though he +thought it probably would be a woodsman. But Mr. Wade gave particular +instructions about any crowd comin' along, and he'll not meet any one if +your boss MacLeod is in the party. That's straight talk. He's had all +the trouble with your boss that he cares for." + +After a withering survey of Straight, which the old guide endured with +much composure, Britt beckoned Barrett away with a jerk of his head, and +the two strolled behind the horse-hovel. + +"There you have it, John," he snarled, more ireful as a champion than +the unhappy principal. "It's a put-up job. He's goin' to plaster the +girl onto you. It's his play. He's goin' to use it for all it's worth." + +"It will be better for me to take her out than to have him chase along +after me with the girl and the story--if that's the way he feels; and +it's plain that he means to make trouble," said Barrett, moodily. "I can +put her away somewhere in a boarding-school, and--" + +The Honorable Pulaski broke upon this doleful capitulation with +contemptuous brusqueness. + +"You talk like a fool, John! Take that girl outside these woods and give +her an education? File her teeth so that she can set 'em into your +throat? You teach her to read and to write and to know things, and +that's what it will amount to in the end. The girl has got to stay +here!" He embraced the big woods in a vigorous gesture. "She belongs +here! And the only way to keep her here is to put her in the hands of a +man that--" + +Colin MacLeod had followed them to their retreat behind the hovel, and +was standing at a little distance, looking at them. + +"Come here, Colin!" And Britt advanced to meet him and clutched his arm, +the arm that Dwight Wade had dislocated in that memorable battle in +Castonia. "Boy, if you are a coward, now is your time to own it. Old +Straight has come down here to tell us that Wade has that girl in his +hands. He knows what she's worth. He wants to meet Barrett and myself. +You can guess why. He proposes to get hold of that money. He knows we +control it. We can't help ourselves if she chooses to stay with him." + +The able old liar of the Umcolcus knew his man as the harper knows his +instrument. He felt the muscles ridge under his clutch. + +"He has sent word that he won't have you at the meeting. Ask Straight! +He'll give you the message. The dude knows he wouldn't stand the show of +a snowball in tophet with you there where the girl could see you. If +you're a coward, say so, and we'll look further." + +"By ----, I'm no coward, and you know it!" growled the boss. + +"He's licked you once and cut you out with one girl," persisted Britt. +"The whole Umcolcus knows that! When they find out that he's got away +with a girl that has been in love with you, and with ten thousand +dollars in the bargain, why, boy, even Tommy Eye will dare to put up his +fists to you!" + +In MacLeod's tumultuous mind it was no longer love's choice between Nina +Ide and Kate Arden; it was the hard, bitter passion of the primitive +man--the instinct to grasp what a foe is coveting for the sake of +humiliating that foe. Again MacLeod felt himself thrust forth by +circumstances to be the champion of his kind. That man from the city was +of the other sort. + +"Mr. Britt," he choked, "let me at him once more!" + +"Oh, that will be all right!" said the baron; "but we're not pulling off +a prize-fight, MacLeod. Scraps are interestin' enough when there isn't +more important business on hand. There happens to be business just now. +The whole idea is, are you ready to marry the girl?" + +MacLeod had approached them grimly resolved to be defiant on that point. +The flicker in his eyes now was the shadow of that resolution departing. + +"If it's him against me again," he snarled, "I'll marry a quill-pig and +ask no questions." + +"Not exactly cheerful talk to hear from a prospective bridegroom +marryin' money and good looks," commented the Honorable Pulaski, dryly; +"but a promise is a promise, MacLeod, and I never knew you to break one +you made me. Shake!" + +By the way in which both Barrett and MacLeod turned inquiring gaze on +him, the Umcolcus baron understood that he was tacitly elected autocrat +of the situation, and he proceeded about his task with the briskness +characteristic of his habit of command. + +"John, you get your dinner, bid us an affectionate farewell, and go +along with old Straight. Go alone. Tell him you left all your duffel at +Withee's camp and don't need any guide. I'll look after the rest of it. +Chris Straight can hide his dude and the girl, but he can't pull up the +ground behind him." + +They started off promptly after the noon snack, the taciturn Christopher +offering no comment on Mr. Barrett's amiable compliance, and apparently +blandly unsuspicious that the Honorable Pulaski concealed guile under a +demeanor which had suddenly become pacific. + +Men who had made their warfare more by craft and less by brute strength +would have been more wily. John Barrett and Pulaski Britt had always +been too confident of their own power to think subterfuge necessary. +Barrett, especially, as he strode along at the heels of old Christopher, +was so well content with his own first essay in duplicity that his +taking-down was correspondingly humiliating. They were resting, he and +the old guide, after a tough scramble around a blowdown that they had +encountered a mile or so from Britt's camps. + +With a jerk of his chin Christopher indicated a far-off sound on the +back trail. + +"Pretty busy, that woodpecker is, Mr. Barrett!" + +"Stumpage John" assented, wondering at the same time how such an old +woodsman could misinterpret that chip-chop. "The fool Indian ought to +make allowance for a blowdown," he reflected, angrily. "He's following +too close." + +"In this world you expect cheap men to lie and cheat," remarked +Christopher, serenely. "But you don't hardly expect State senators and +candidates for governor to be that sort." + +"What the devil do you mean?" demanded Barrett, with heat. + +"I mean that Britt's Indian, Newell Sockbeson, is following us and +makin' a double-blaze for--well, I suppose it's so that Pulaski Britt +and his men can chase us up. As to why, you probably know better than I +do, Mr. Barrett." + +The timber baron stared at this disconcerting old plain-speaker without +finding fit words for reply. + +"It can hardly be that he's goin' to all that trouble simply to get the +girl. Mr. Wade is ready to turn the girl over to you, Mr. Barrett. Why +is it that men ain't willin' to play fair in this world? What does +Pulaski Britt want to meddle in this thing for?" + +"I think you're wrong about the Indian following us," paltered the +millionaire. "You're only guessin' about that, Straight." + +"When I see Pulaski Britt talk to an Indian, when I see that Indian pack +a lunch, take a camp-axe, and hide at the mouth of the trail, I don't +have to guess, Mr. Barrett. Some of us old fellows of the woods see a +whole lot of things without seemin' to take much notice." He got up off +the tree-trunk where he had been sitting and made ready to take the +trail again, swinging his pack to his shoulders. + +"There wouldn't have been any misunderstanding if Wade had sent the girl +back by the messenger," protested Barrett. "And if he didn't have +something up his sleeve he would have done so. The girl is nothing to +him, and he's meddling in affairs that are none of his business." + +"You'd better save that talk and tell it to him," said the old guide, +grimly. "I'm going to take you to where we arranged to meet if every man +that Britt can rake and scrape on his ten townships comes followin' at +my back. I've thought it over, and the more witnesses there are to some +things the better it is for all concerned--or the worse!" + +And reflecting on what these words might mean, and now a little dubious +as to the sagacity of Pulaski Britt in handling delicate negotiations, +"Stumpage John" plodded on with less content in his heart. + +Two miles farther down the trail, at a place that Barrett recognized as +the old Durfy camps, Straight signalled by discharging his rifle, and +Dwight Wade came into sight with the girl. Foolish Abe of the Skeets +followed far behind like a sheepish dog, uncertain whether to expect +kick or caress. + +"You may as well know first as last that the whole pack is followin' a +little way behind," snorted old Christopher, in disgust. "Britt sent an +Indian to snuff the trail and blaze the way. I did your errand, that's +all. You've got time to get away. You may want to keep on tryin' to do +business with a crowd that ain't square. I don't!" He turned and walked +away, sat down, and filled his pipe. + +"I had Straight explain to you why it was better to meet privately +here," declared Wade, with honest resentment glowing in his eyes. "But +I'm not going to run. I've had hard work to get this young woman to +consider your proposition to educate her, Mr. Barrett." He held her by +the hand, and spoke out with a candor that convinced the lumberman that +here there was neither reservation nor complicity. The girl eyed him +sulkily, without interest, as she looked at all outsiders. "I have told +this young woman that you, as a timber-land owner, are sorry for all the +troubles that the Skeets and Bushees have had in years past, and want to +make up in some way. I've told her you're ready to send her to some good +boarding-school. As she can't read or write, she doesn't know what this +means, and she can't express her thanks. But I'm sure that later she'll +understand your kindness and generosity. The girl is untrained, and she +knows it. I hope you'll overlook any lack of gratitude, Mr. Barrett. +She'll know how to express it some day." + +John Barrett, looking into a face which recalled the face of the +daughter whom he loved and cherished in his city home, felt one throb of +strange emotion, and then realized in all his selfish nature that +affection is more a matter of habit and cultivation than an affair of +instinct. After one thrill his soul shrank from her. He had not expected +the girl to be so like. He caught himself wishing that he had not made +the compact with the inexorable Britt, and listened for the noise of the +men-pack with shame and some regret. On the other hand, this girl, +unkempt for all her beauty, insolent with the insolence of ignorance, +staring at him from under her knitted brows, was impossible, he +reflected, as an asset of a man with a reputation to preserve and an +ambition to fulfil. Instead of feeling the instinct of tenderness, he +looked at this wild young thing of the woods with uneasy fear in his +shifting eyes. + +With honest resentment, Wade noted the baron's reluctance to make his +word good. + +"You think I'm a meddler, Mr. Barrett," he said, coming close to the +other, "but don't think that I'm satisfying any personal grudge when I +ask that you care for this poor girl! Perhaps you would have done so +anyway, without my suggestion. I hope so." + +"I think I could arrange my own business without any outside help," said +Barrett, dryly. He began to feel that he could get out of the situation +better if he aroused his own resentment. + +"Mr. Barrett, it was chance that put the girl in my way and taught me +her story. I've been Don Quixote enough to see her through this thing. +I'm sorry it happens to be you on the other side. I'm afraid you don't +give me credit for unselfishness." + +"I'll allow you all the credit you deserve," said "Stumpage John," +sullenly. "I understand, without your telling me, that you are gentleman +enough to keep this matter behind your teeth on account of my family. I +thank you, Wade. I'll take charge of the girl from now on." + +He looked back up the trail anxiously, and the young man's gaze +followed. A man loafed into sight from among stubs blackened by fire. + +"There's Newell Sockbeson," remarked old Christopher. "I heard him +making his last blaze a few minutes ago." + +"I don't know just what your plan is, Mr. Barrett," said Wade, the red +in his cheeks. "I've been hoping that you trusted me to act the +gentleman, even if I couldn't act the friend. Mr. Straight and I stand +here as witnesses that you have taken charge of this girl." He now spoke +low. "But you haven't told me that you indorse the little plan I adopted +to relieve you from any explanations and to make the thing seem natural +to her." + +Wade's face showed that he expected a frank promise. + +"Mr. Straight will go to the stage road with you," added the young man. +At this hint of watchfulness the face of Barrett darkened. "As a +school-teacher, I know something of the boarding-schools of the State, +and I'll--" The timber baron's temper flamed at this plain intent to +advise. + +"I've taken charge of the girl, I say! Your responsibility ends. You +were apologizing a moment ago for meddling. Now, don't go to--" + +"I didn't apologize," replied Wade, with decision. "And I don't intend +to. And my responsibility ends only when I know that this unfortunate +creature is placed in a good school to get the advantages that she has +been robbed of all these years." + +The hot retort from Barrett ended in his throat with a cluck. "The +devil!" he blurted, staring down the trail. + +Dwight Wade, whirling to look to the south, could not indorse that +sentiment. Close at hand was Nina Ide, riding a horse with the grace of +a boy, whose attire she had adopted with a woods girl's scorn of +conventions. Wade hurried to meet her, cap in hand and eager questions +on his lips. The color mounted to her face, and she shook out the folds +of a poncho, looped across the saddle, and draped it over her knees. + +"No, it's not strange, either," she broke in to say. "Your partner--and +that's father--had to come up here on business, and I've come along with +him, just as I always do when he comes here in the partridge season." +She patted a gun-butt. "But I didn't expect to find fire and smoke and +lightning and rain and tornadoes up here, any more than I looked for you +at Pogey Notch when you were supposed to be exploring for a winter's +operation on Enchanted. Now you will have to explain to your partner +here!" And he turned from her smiling face to shake hands with Rodburd +Ide. + +"Every man who can handle brush and mattock is expected to be at the +head of a fire in time of trouble!" chirped the "Mayor of Castonia." He +tipped back his head to beam amiably on his partner. "Did it get through +onto us, Wade?" + +"The rain stopped it half-way up Pogey." + +"Then God was good to us! Isn't that so, Mr. Barrett?" And the cheerful +little man trotted along to grip the hand of "Stumpage John." That +gentleman glowered sullenly, and tried to explain his gloom by muttering +about "blowdowns" being worse than fires. He looked ill. As he came down +the trail a fever had been rising in his blood. He went away by himself, +and sat down feeling faint and weak. + +"Old Enchanted is all right," said Ide. "There's a thousand acres of +black growth there, every tree standin' with its arm about its brother. +You mustn't let 'em devil you, Mr. Barrett!" he called. + +Mr. Barrett, his lowering gaze on Wade, agreed mentally. + +"Well, this is certainly a convention of the timber interests!" cried +the brisk little autocrat of Castonia. He pointed up the trail, where +the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt was advancing alone. + +Wade withdrew unobstrusively, and stood beside Nina Ide. Perhaps he +hoped that her talk might bring some word of Elva Barrett. + +But at last even Rodburd Ide's cheery consciousness became impressed by +the fact that neither Britt nor Barrett seemed to relish any chat on +timber topics. And he broke upon a constrained silence to suggest to +Wade that they proceed--taking it for granted that now his partner's way +lay to the north, along with his own. + +"There's--there's--" Wade stammered, and now for the first time Ide and +his daughter marked the girl of the Skeet settlement leaning moodily +against the side of the Durfy hovel, the unkempt Abe hovering +apprehensively in the background. + +"Ah ha!" piped Ide. "There are the remnants, eh? We met the rest of the +colony hiperin' out of the woods. They've gone to Little Lobster, girl, +and the old woman is worryin' about you." + +Wade stared straight at Barrett. The timber baron understood the +challenge of his eyes. He was commanded to declare his intentions. In +spite of himself, he scowled. It was a scowl of recalcitrancy. And the +young man, angered by the presence of Britt and the evident appearance +of treachery, shot his bolt. + +"There is a piece of good-fortune for this poor girl, Mr. Ide. Mr. +Barrett proposes to educate her, and he's going to take her with him out +of the woods." + +"She has been gettin' a lot of attention lately," blurted the Honorable +Pulaski, with malice and derision. "For the past three or four days, +Rodburd, your young partner here has been her steady company. They have +just come strollin' alone together down the Lovers' Lane from Jerusalem +Knob." He fixed his keen eyes on the astonished face of Nina Ide. His +narrow nature believed that, like other girls, she could be stirred to +quick jealousy. And knowing her influence over her father, he foresaw +trouble ahead for the partnership between Ide and Wade. "Seems to be in +the air up this way now for the young men to gallivant through the woods +with the Skeet girl. Wade here seems to have cut out Colin MacLeod." +Then the coarse old jester sneered into the indignant face Wade turned +to him. + +"It will be a good thing for her to go to school," said Ide, a little +puzzled by the evident antagonism of these men. "It will be kind of you, +Mr. Barrett." + +"Say, look here, Ide," cried Britt, in his irritation suddenly deciding +to play the strong hand with this young interloper, "your friend Wade +here, being a school-teacher, seems to have school on the brain. He also +seems to be full of ready-made plans for men older and better than he +is. From things that come to me, he has picked up a lot of foolishness +about these Skeets and Bushees and this girl since he's been cruisin' +round these woods. Mr. Barrett and myself have made arrangements to take +care of the rest of that pauper settlement, and the Skeets probably told +you so when you met them." + +Ide nodded acknowledgment. + +"We'll look after the girl, too." He walked up to Wade and snapped his +fingers, unable to resist his desire to bully. "Now, young fellow, +you've been stickin' your nose pretty deep into other men's business. +Take it out, or I'll twist it off your face. Any one would think that +this girl matter was runnin' the world in these parts. There's been too +much talk about what's of no consequence. Go along with your partner. +You're on my land. Keep movin'." + +But all of Dwight Wade's stubborn obstinacy rose in his breast; all his +youthful chivalry flamed in his face. + +"I've no more business with you, Britt!" he said, significantly; and +Britt's face flamed with the remembrance of a certain knock-down blow. +"My business is with you, Mr. Barrett, and you know what it is. You keep +the word that you've given me about this girl, or I'll set you before +the people of this State in your right colors--and you needn't croak +blackmail to me, for you can't frighten me." + +"I--I--don't see that it's any business of yours--of yours, Wade," +stammered the pacificatory Ide, catching the courage of protest from the +rather indignant face his daughter turned on the young man. + +"And I don't see that it is the business of any of you!" stormed Kate +Arden. She came close to the group of men and stood with brown hands +propped on her hips, her head thrown back, and the insolent stare of her +black eyes seeking face after face. "I'll be passed about from hand to +hand no longer. I don't want any old purple-faced fool to send me to +school." Barrett winced. "And as for you," she sneered, turning on Wade, +"you attend to your own business until I ask you to help me in mine." + +The Honorable Pulaski saw his opportunity. + +"Colin MacLeod!" he bawled. + +And with a rush that betrayed his impatience, the boss of the Busters +came out of his hiding-place up the trail. + +The girl gave a sharp cry of joy at sight of him. + +But MacLeod, half-way to them, saw the girl on the horse and stopped as +suddenly as he had started. Even at that distance they noted that his +face worked with piteous embarrassment. + +"You've given in your promise, MacLeod! Don't forget that!" roared +Britt. "There's the boy for you, my girl! He wants to marry you. Go with +him!" + +"And you'll be a fool of a gir-rl if ye do!" squalled a voice. It was +Tommy Eye, yelling from the top of the Durfy hovel, to which he had +clambered unobserved. "I know I'm a drunk. I know I ain't worth anything +to anybody!" he gabbled. "But ye saved my life once, Mr. Wade, when I +didn't know it!" He flapped entreating hands at Wade, and that young man +stepped in front of the furious Britt with such determination on his +face that the woods tyrant halted. "But ye'll be a fool gir-rl, I say! I +was under the bunk last night when they planned it. He don't love ye! I +heard him say so. He called you names! Colin MacLeod, ye ain't the liar +enough to stand out here and say ye didn't." + +MacLeod, his adoring eyes on Nina Ide, had no word to say. The features +of Kate Arden, who stared at him with her heart in her eyes, twisted +with a promise of bitter tears. This, then, was the girl of Castonia, +with whom they had taunted her! + +"It's only for grudge and money he's goin' to marry you!" persisted +Tommy. "May I rest forever in purgatory with no masses for my soul if +that ain't the truth!" + +With the instinct of the animal repulsed, the girl read more in the face +of MacLeod than she understood from the declaration of Tommy Eye. + +She looked from face to face again, but the flame was gone from her +eyes. There they stood, the silent, hostile, bitter phalanx from +outside--oppressors and scorners. There she stood--alone! + +And she fell face down upon the ground--the only mother she had ever +known--a heart-broken, weary, lonely, sobbing child. + +Nina Ide reached her before the others moved. Twice the girl fought her +way out of her arms. Twice the sympathetic little mother-heart of the +Castonia beauty conquered the rebel and retook her, whispering to her +eagerly. And she held her tear-streaked face close to her shoulder, and +patted the grimy little fingers between which tears were trickling. +There was something inexpressibly pathetic even in the unkemptness of +the stricken girl, in her torn dress and the brown skin of face and +hands, touched here and there by the stain of exposure to the blackened +forest. And in her loneliness, feeling for the first time in her life +real sympathy from one of her sex, gathering with grateful nostrils the +faint perfume that whispered of the refinement and comfort that her +heart had sought almost unconsciously and had never found, at last the +girl ceased her struggles and clung to her new friend. The waif's true +instinct was proving this friend's sincerity more surely than the +whispered assurances proved it. And Nina Ide bent to her ear, and +murmured: + +"We will hate him together, poor little girl! He is not a good man to +have a girl's love." + +"When the hysterics are all over," remarked the Honorable Pulaski, +sarcastically, "we'll take the young woman off your hands." + +"You'll not take her off _my_ hands!" retorted Nina, with spirit. "She's +going back home with me." + +"You haven't got any rights over her!" barked Britt. + +"Perhaps, then, Mr. Barrett is ready to stand up and say what his rights +are," suggested Wade, with bitter hint of retaliation in his tones. + +Barrett, pale with the illness that was seizing him, grew paler yet with +anger and terror, for he feared exposure. + +The Honorable Pulaski picked up the gage of battle with all the alacrity +of his irascible nature. + +"For a dog-fight, that girl will be as good a bone as anything else!" he +growled, under his breath. And then he whirled on his heel and bellowed: + +"Wake up there, MacLeod! If you can't make love to the girl you are +goin' to marry, I reckon you can at least fight a little to get her! +Call in the crew!" + +He walked up to Ide. "Better call off your girl, Rod," he advised, +bluffly. "This isn't any of her business, or yours either." + +"I figure that a Skeet girl belongs as much to us as to you," snapped +the doughty little man from Castonia. "If my girl takes interest enough +in her to invite her home, I think you'd better let her go." + +"Well, I've got a crew of a hundred men posted back here a few rods in +the woods to back me up when I say she stays right where she belongs." +His tone was offensive, and Rodburd Ide's anger flared. + +"My business just now in here, Britt, is to bring a hundred men for our +Enchanted operation. They're down there by the brook eating lunch. I +don't want any trouble over this, but there's some nasty reason back of +this girl matter, and I won't stand for any persecution of a helpless +creature. My men back me when I say she goes home with my girl. Hello, +men for the Enchanted! Up this way in a hurry!" + +The look that Nina flashed at her father was inspiration for him! + +As his men came into sight over the bank the crew of Britt tramped +towards them down the trail. + +"Nina," said Ide, "you'll have to go back now. Chris Straight will go +with you. Take the girl on the horse with you, and let Chris lead by the +headstall. You'll go all safe. Hurry away from here! But after you get +started, take your time to the Half-way House. There's no one going to +get past down this trail to chase you and bother you." + +There was determination in the voice of the little man, and his daughter +kissed him at the same time that Dwight Wade was patting his shoulder. + +Wade ran along by the side of the horse for a little way, and, when he +turned, eagerly kissed Nina Ide's gloved hand. + +"God bless you for a little saint!" he gasped. "You'll understand this +some day, perhaps." + +"I understand that she is alone and needs a friend," she +responded--"just as you needed a friend when you were only Britt's +'chaney man.'" She smiled archly at him and passed out of sight, old +Christopher tugging at the bits of the horse. + +Wade went back in the forefront of the thronging crew of the men for +Enchanted. + +"As I said, Britt, I don't want trouble," repeated Rodburd Ide, "but +you'll please remember that the lower corner of your township is here at +Durfy's camp. I reckon the men for the Enchanted will camp right here on +the trail for a few hours. The man that tries to push past to trouble my +daughter or her friend will get hurt." + +"They are goin' past just the same!" shouted Britt, fiercely. + +"My God, Pulaski, think of consequences!" pleaded "Stumpage John," in +low tones. He arose with difficulty and staggered to Britt's side. His +tones quavered with weakness. "I'd be ruined by the story of what it was +all about. I'm sick. I only want to get home. I don't want to see +trouble here." + +Britt glared at his associate, at Wade, Ide, and at last at Colin +MacLeod, who was staring in the direction of Nina Ide. + +The tyrant snorted his disgust. + +"Take the combination of a candidate for governor, some fool women, +crazy men, love-sick idiots, and"--his eyes swept the scene in vain +search for Tommy Eye--"a pooch-mouthed blabber, and it's enough to trig +any decent, honest, sensible woods fight ever yarded down. Barrett, +you're right! You'd better get home and get on your long-tailed coat and +plug hat as soon as you can. You and your private"--he sneered the +word--"business don't seem to fit in up here." + +He folded his arms and, with his men behind him, stood looking over the +crew for the Enchanted, who, cheerfully and without question, stood +blocking the way. + +"It may not happen just now," he grunted, "but it's on my mind to say +that some day these two gangs will get together when there isn't a +governor's boom to step on, nor women to get mussed up." + +And the gaze of fury that he bent on Dwight Wade was returned with +interest. + +An imaginative man might have seen the new spirit of the woods facing +the old. + +But there was no imaginative man there--there were only men who chewed +tobacco and wondered what it all meant. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE OLD SOUBUNGO TRAIL + + "And never a knight in a tournament + Rode lists with a jauntier mien, + Than he of the drive who came alive + Thro' the hell of the Hulling Machine." + + --The Spike-sole Knight. + + +Larry Gorman, "the woodsman's poet," whose songs are known and sung in +the camps from Holeb to Madawaska, was with Rodburd Ide's incoming crew. +His three most notable lyrics are these: "I feed P.I.'s on tarts and +pies," "Bushmen all, your ear I call until I shall relate," and "The Old +Soubungo Trail." + +When Rodburd Ide's hundred men "met up" with the Honorable Pulaski D. +Britt's hundred men at the foot of Pogey Notch, Larry Gorman displayed a +true poet's obliviousness to the details of the wrangle between +principals. He didn't understand why Pulaski Britt, blue with anger +above his grizzled beard, and "Stumpage John" Barrett, mottled with +rage, should object so furiously when Rodburd Ide's girl took away the +tatterdemalion maid of the Skeets, nor did Larry ask any questions. If +this be the attitude of a true poet, there was evidently considerable +true poetry in both crews, for no one appeared to be especially curious +as to the why of the quarrel. However, the imminence of a quarrel was a +matter demanding woodsmen's attention. It might have been noted that +Poet Gorman cut the biggest shillalah of any of them. And while he +rounded its end and waited for more formal declaration of hostilities, +he lustily sang the solo part of "The Old Soubungo Trail," with a +hundred hearty voices to help him on the chorus: + + "I left my Lize behind me, + Oh, she won't know what to do, + I left my Lize for the Old Town guys, + And I left my watch there, too. + I left my clothes at a boardin'-house, + I reckon they're for sale, + And here I go, at a heel-an'-toe, + On the old Soubungo trail. + Sou-bung-o! Bungo! + 'Way up the Bungo trail!" + +Spirit rather than melody characterized the efforts of these wildwood +songsters. The Honorable Pulaski Britt, who didn't like music anyway, +and was trying to talk in an undertone to timber baron Barrett, swore a +deep bass obligato. + +He did not take his baleful gaze from Dwight Wade, who had gone apart, +and was leaning against the mouldering walls of the Durfy hovel. + +"You had your chance to block their game, and you didn't do it, John. +You make me sick!" muttered the belligerent Britt. "You've let that +college dude scare you with threats, and old Ide champ his false teeth +at you and back you down. You don't get any of my sympathy from now on. +I had a good plan framed. You knocked it galley-west by poking yourself +into the way. They've got the girl. They'll use her against you. You can +fight it yourself after this." + +Barrett stared uneasily from one crew to the other. + +"It would have been too tough a story to go out of these woods," he +faltered. "Two crews ste'boyed together by us to capture a State +pauper." + +"A story of a woods rough-and-tumble, that's all!" snorted Britt. "And +these dogs wouldn't have known what they were fightin' about--and would +have cared less. And while they were at it I could have taken the girl +out of sight! You spoiled it! Now, don't talk to me! You go ahead and +see if you can do any better." He tossed his big hand into the air and +whirled away, snuffling his disgust. + +Larry Gorman, having peeled a hand-hold on his bludgeon, was moved to +sing another verse: + + "I ain't got pipe nor 'backer, + Nor I ain't got 'backer-box; + I ain't got a shirt, and my brad-boots hurt, + For I ain't a-wearin' socks. + But a wangan's on Enchanted, + Where they've got them things for sale, + And I don't give a dam what the price it am + On the old Soubungo trail. + Sou-bung-o! Bungo! + 'Way up the Bungo trail!" + +Sturdy little Rodburd Ide, magnate of Castonia, bestrode in the middle +of the trail to the south. His head was thrown back, and his mat of +whiskers jutted forward with an air of challenge. To be sure, he did not +exactly understand as yet the full animus of the quarrel. He had heard +his partner, Dwight Wade, announce on behalf of Honorable John Barrett +that the latter proposed to educate the girl protégée of the Skeets' +tribe. He had noted that the timber baron did not warm to the +announcement in a way that might be expected of the true philanthropist. + +Tommy Eye's astonishing declaration from the house-top that the timber +magnates of Jerusalem townships were proposing to marry the girl off to +Colin MacLeod, boss of "Britt's Busters," and that, too, in spite of +MacLeod's lack of affection, had some effect in enlisting Ide's +sympathies and interference. But his daughter's spirited championship of +the poor girl was really the influence that clinched matters with the +puzzled Mr. Ide. + +"Rodburd," declared the Honorable Pulaski, approaching him on the +contemptuous retreat from Barrett, "you've gone to work and stuck your +nose into matters that don't concern you. Your man Wade there, instead +of attending to your operation on Enchanted, has been spending his time +beauing that girl around these woods and stirring up a blackmail scheme. +I'm telling you as a friend that you'd better ship him. He's going to +make more trouble for you than he has yet. He isn't fit for the woods. I +found it out and fired him. Do the same yourself, or you'll never get +your logs down and through the Hulling Machine." + +"Do you mean that you're going to fight him on the drive on account of +your grudge?" demanded Ide. + +"I don't mean that," blustered Britt. "It's the man himself who'll queer +you." + +"I don't believe it," replied Ide, stoutly. "There are some things goin' +on here that I don't understand the inside of up to now; but as for that +young man, I picked him for square the first time I laid my eyes on him +at Castonia. I've had him looked up by friends of mine outside, and now +I know he's square. You can't break up our partnership by that kind of +talk, Britt. Now own up! What's the nigger in the woodpile here, +anyway?" The little man was still unbending, but his eyes snapped with +curiosity. + +But the Honorable Pulaski's shifty eyes dodged the inquiring stare of +the Castonia man. The view down the tote road in the direction in which +Nina Ide and Kate Arden had disappeared under convoy of Christopher +Straight seemed to be a more welcome prospect than that frankly +inquisitive face. And the view down the trail also suggested a safer +topic for conversation. + +"I believe in indulgin' a girl's whims, Rod, but this is a time when +you've let yourself go too far. That lucivee[2] kitten that your +daughter has lugged off home set this fire that we've been fightin' up +here. She set it maliciously, in the face and eyes of Sheriff Rodliff +and myself. She's the worst one of the whole lot, and as a plantation +officer you know the Skeets and Bushees pretty well. Are you goin' to +let your girl take a critter like that back home with her?" He noted a +flicker of consternation in the little man's eyes. "Now, don't be a fool +in this thing. Let a half-dozen men run after that girl and fetch her +back. She don't belong in any decent home. John Barrett and I have +arranged a plan to take care of her and keep her out of mischief." + +[Footnote 2: Lynx, corruption of the French-Canadian name, +_loup-cervier_.] + +But again the timber magnate's eyes failed to meet the test of Ide's +frank stare. + +"I've known you a good many years, Pulaski," said he. "I've done a lot +of business with you, and you can't fool me for a minute. You've been +into a milk-pan, for I can see cream on your whiskers." + +"I'm only warnin' you not to harbor such a criminal!" stormed the other. +His wrath slipped its leash once more. The presence of Dwight Wade, his +very silence, seemed tacit proclamation of victory and the boast of it. +"The girl belongs back here, and we're goin' to have her back. If your +men don't fetch her, mine will." + +But Ide set his short legs astride a little more solidly. + +"As first assessor of the nearest plantation, I can handle the State +pauper business of these parts, and do it without help," he said. + +"You mean that meddlin' girl of yours is runnin' it," taunted Britt. + +In his heart the fond father realized the force of the taunt, and knew +why he was blocking that trail so resolutely. A mother bear would have +shown no more determination in closing the retreat of her cubs. + +"If for any reason that I don't understand as yet you want the +guardianship of that girl, Britt," he declared, "come down any time you +want to and get your rights legally. But just now I'm tellin' you again +that you and your men can't get past here. And if you do, you'll go with +cracked heads." + +And once more Pulaski D. Britt substituted oaths for action. + +Stamping back towards his men, he saw Tommy Eye squatting like a +jack-rabbit on the top of the Durfy camp. That guileless marplot offered +a fair target for his rage against the world in general. + +"MacLeod," bawled Britt to the boss, who had not yet pulled himself +together after that final flash of scorn from the eyes of Nina Ide, +"pull that drunken loafer off that roof and yard the men back to camp!" + +"I'm discharged out of your crew, Mr. Britt," squealed Tommy, a quaver +of apprehensiveness in his voice. "I've discharged myself. I've told the +truth about what you was tryin' to do. So I ain't fit for you to hire." + +It was not the unconscious satire of the statement that put a wire edge +on the Honorable Pulaski's temper. It was Tommy Eye's rebelliousness, +displayed for the first time in a long life of utter subservience. + +"You won't be fit for anything but bait for a bear-trap ten minutes +after I get you back to camp," bellowed the tyrant. "MacLeod, get that +man down!" + +"Don't you want to hire a teamster, Mr. Ide?" bleated Tommy, crawfishing +to the peak of the low roof. "You know what I be on twitchro'd, ramdown, +or in a yard. You don't find my hosses calked or shoulder-galled." He +hastened in nervous entreaty: "You hire me, Mr. Ide. I never had a team +sluiced yet. You know what I can do in the woods." + +The plaintiveness of the frightened man's appeal touched Wade. He +realized the weight of misery this pathetic turncoat might expect +thereafter at the hands of Britt and his crew of "Busters." MacLeod was +advancing towards the ladder that conducted to the roof, his sullen face +lighting with a certain amount of satisfaction. Wade put himself before +the ladder. + +"Hirin' men out from under isn't square woods style, Tommy," said Ide, +shaking his head. + +"That man isn't a slave," protested Wade. "He is the only man I've found +in these woods with courage enough to stand up for what's right, Mr. +Ide. I don't believe in leaving him to those who are going to make him +suffer for it." + +"Up to now, you dude, you've done about everything that shouldn't be +done in the woods!" cried Britt. "But there's one thing you can't do, +and that's take a man out of my crew." + +"It's an unwritten law, Wade," protested his partner. "It isn't square +business to meddle with another operator's crew." + +"When a case like this comes up, it's time to change the law, then," +declared Wade, with savageness of his own, the menacing proximity of +MacLeod acting on his anger like bellows on coals. + +"I can't afford to be mixed into anything of the sort," persisted Ide. + +"And nobody but a fool would try it, Rod. I've warned you to get rid of +him. You can see for yourself now! He don't fit. He's protectin' +fire-bugs, standin' out against timber-owners' interests, and breaking +every article in the code up here." + +"And I'm likely to keep on breaking the kind of code that seems to go +north of Castonia!" cried the young iconoclast. For a moment his +flaming eyes dwelt on the face of the Honorable John Barrett, and that +gentleman, who had been wondering just what shaft his own recalcitrancy +would next draw from this champion of the oppressed, looked greatly +perturbed. "Mr. Ide, do you forbid me to hire this man?" + +"N-no," admitted his partner, rather grudgingly. + +"Then you're hired, Eye." Wade looked up and answered the gratitude in +Tommy's eyes by a nod of encouragement. "Come down, my man, and get into +our crew. You've acted man-fashion, and I'll back you up in it." + +"Let it stand--let it stand as it is," whispered Barrett, huskily, +clutching at the arm of Britt as that furious gentleman surged past him. +"If we tackle the young fool now he's apt to blab all he knows about me. +It's a ticklish place. Handle it easy." + +"I'll handle it to suit myself!" stormed Britt, yanking himself loose. +"You set back there if you want to, and play dry nurse to your +twins--your family scandal on one arm and your governor's boom on the +other. But when it comes to my own crew and my private business, by the +Lord Harry, I'll operate without your advice!" + +He began to call on his men, rallying them with shrill cries. He ordered +them to surround the camp and take the rebel. In the next breath he bade +MacLeod to go up the ladder and pull Tommy down. + +"Poet" Larry Gorman, who had been gradually edging near the spot which +he had sagely picked as the probable core of conflict, set himself +suddenly before Colin MacLeod as the boss advanced towards Wade with a +look in his eye that was blood-lust. MacLeod had a weather-beaten ash +sled-stake. + +"Sure, and a gent like him don't fight with clubs," said Gorman. "We've +all heard about his lickin' ye once, and man-fashion, too! Now, go get +your reputation. Start with me." The redoubtable bard poked his +shillalah into MacLeod's breast and drove him suddenly back. At this +overture of combat the men for Enchanted came up with a rush. They met +the "Busters" face to face and eye to eye. + +"We're all axe-tossers together, boys!" cried Gorman. "Ye know me and +you've sung my songs, and ye know there's no truer woodsman than me ever +chased beans round a tin plate. Now, Britt's men, if ye want to fight to +keep a free man a slave when he wants to chuck his job, then come and +fight. But may the good saints put a cramp into the arm of the man that +fights against the interests of woodsmen all together!" + +Under most circumstances even such a cogent argument as this would not +have stayed their hands. But coming from Larry Gorman, author of +"Bushmen All," it made even the "Busters" stop and think a moment. And +when MacLeod was first and only in renewing hostilities--obeying Britt's +insistent commands--Gorman again held him off at the end of his +bludgeon, and shouted: + +"Oh, my cock partridge, you're only brisk to get into the game because +you're daffy over a girl. You'd wipe your feet on Tommy Eye or any other +honest woodsman to polish your shoes for the courtin' of her." + +It was a taunt whose point the "Busters" realized and relished. It was +even more forceful than Larry's first appeal. Some of the men grinned. +All held back. But for MacLeod it was the provocation unforgivable. He +drew back his arm and swept his stake at Larry's head. That master of +stick-play warded and leaped back nimbly. + +"Fair, now! Fair!" he cried. "They're all lookin' at us, and there can't +be dirty work." Gorman's face glowed, for he had won his point. His wit +had balked a general combat. His massing fellows had tacitly selected +him as their champion. He had put the thing on a plane where the +"Busters" were a bit ashamed to take part. They turned their backs on +Britt in order to watch the duellists more intently. They knew that +Larry Gorman was vain of two things--his songs and his stick-swinging. + +"What say ye to waitin' till your shoulder ain't so stiff?" he inquired, +with pointed reference to the injury MacLeod had received at the hands +of Wade. His mock condolence pricked Colin to frenzy. He drove so +vicious a blow at the bard that when the latter side-stepped the boss +staggered against the side of the camp. + +"But sure I can make it even," said Larry, facing him again without +discomposure; "for I'll sing a bit of song for you to dance by." + +The merry insolence of this brought a hoarse hoot of delight from both +sides. And pressing upon his foe so actively that the crippled MacLeod +was put to his utmost to ward thwacks off his head and shoulders, this +sprightly Cyrano of the kingdom of spruce carolled after this fashion: + + "Come, all ye good shillaly men. + Come, lis-ten unto me: + Old Watson made a walkin'-cane, + And used a popple-tree. + The knob it were a rouser-- + A rouser, so 'twas said-- + And when ye sassed old Watson + He would knock ye on the head." + +MacLeod got a tap that made his eyes shut like the snap of a patent +cigar-cutter. + +"Chorus!" exhorted the lyrist. And they bellowed jovially: + + "Knick, knock, + Hickory dock, + And he'd hit ye on the head!" + +Larry leaped back, whirled his stick so rapidly that its bright peeled +surface seemed to spit sparks, and again got over the boss's indifferent +guard with a whack that echoed hollowly. + +MacLeod was too angry to retreat. He was too angry to see clearly, and +his brain rang dizzily with the blows he had received. His injured +shoulder ached with the violence of his exertions. But his pride kept +him up, and forced him to meet the fresh attack that Gorman made--an +attack in which that master seemed to be fencing mostly to mark the time +of his jeering song: + + "Old Watson was a good old man, + And taught the Bible class, + But he didn't like the story + Of the jawbone of the ass. + 'Why didn't he make a popple-club,' + So Uncle Watson said, + 'And scotch the tribe of the Phlistereens + By bangin' 'em on the head?'" + +The blow that time staggered MacLeod. + +"Chorus!" called "Poet" Larry. But before he could rap his antagonist at +the end of that roaring iteration the Honorable Pulaski was between +them, having at last contrived to fight his way through the ranks of the +crowding men. He narrowly missed getting the blow intended for the boss. +He yanked the sled-stake out of the nerveless grasp of the sweating and +discomfited MacLeod, and raised it. + +"Be careful, Mr. Britt," yelped Gorman. His mien changed from gay +insouciance to bitter fury. "You've struck me once in my life, and I +took it and went on my way, because I was getting your grub and your +pay. You strike me to-day, and I'll split your head open like a rotten +punkin!" + +Britt had begun to rant that he could thrash the whole Enchanted crew +single-handed. He was maddened by the lamblike demeanor of his own men. +But he knew a desperate and dangerous man when he saw him. At that +moment Larry Gorman was dangerous. The tyrant lowered his club and +backed away, muttering some wordless recrimination at which the poet +curled his lip. Seeing his chance, Tommy Eye hooked his legs about the +uprights and slid down the ladder with one dizzy plunge, struck the +ground in squatting fashion, and shot head-first into the ranks of his +protectors. + +But after that masterly raillery of Gorman's there was no fight left in +the "Busters." And his vengeful bearding of the Honorable Pulaski left +the autocrat himself speechless and helpless. + +Tommy Eye's trembling hand fingered his chin, his wistful eyes peered +over the shoulders of his new friends, and he knew he was safe. The +"Busters," nudging each other and growling half-humorous comment, began +to sift out of the yard of the Durfy hovel, and lounge back along the +trail towards the Jerusalem camp. + +"D--n ye for cowards!" yelled the Honorable Pulaski, viciously flinging +the ash sled-stake after them. + +"Oh, but they're not cowards!" cried Larry. In his bushman's soul he +realized that even now a chance taunt, a random prick of word, might +start the fight afresh. "Every man-jack there is known to me of old, and +the good, brave boys they are! But your money ain't greasy enough, Mr. +Britt, to make good men as them fight to take away a comrade's +man-rights." + +The "Busters" nodded affirmation and kept on. One man stepped back and +hallooed: "Right ye are, Larry Gorman! And when ye try to get your +Enchanted logs first through the Hulling Machine next spring, ye'll find +that we're the kind of gristle that can't be chawed. That'll be man's +business, and no Teamster Tommy Eye to stub a toe over!" + +There was a grin on the man's face, but none the less it was a +challenge, and Larry accepted it. + +"Sure, and we'll be there!" he called. "We'll be there with hair a foot +long, pick-pole[3] in one hand, peavy-stick[4] in the other, ready for a +game of jack-straws in the white water and a fist-jig on the bank!" + +[Footnote 3: An ashen pole, shod with an iron screw-point.] + +[Footnote 4: The Maine variety of the cant-dog, illustrated on the +cover.] + +"And will ye write it all into a song, Larry Gorman?" + +"All into a song it shall go!" + +And roaring a good-natured cheer over their shoulders, the "Busters" +filed away into the mouth of Pogey Notch. + +"You may as well move, boys," ordered Rodburd Ide. "This business here +isn't swampin' yards nor buildin' camps!" + +The men for Enchanted cheerfully shouldered dunnage-sacks, and in their +turn set off up the Notch. + +"Here's Tommy Eye's bill of his time, Mr. Britt," said Gorman, holding +out a crumpled paper to the choking tyrant. Tommy himself had prudently +departed, bulwarked by his new comrades. + +"I'll not pay it!" blustered Britt. "He broke the contract!" + +"No more does he want you to pay it," replied Larry, serenely, speaking +in behalf of the amiable prodigal. "He says to credit it on that one +drink of whiskey he took out of your bottle, and when he earns more +money workin' for honest men he'll pay ye the rest." + +He tore the paper across and across, snapped the bits in Britt's face, +turned, and followed the crew. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE HOME-MAKERS OF ENCHANTED + + "The clank of the press and the scream of the saws, + The grunt of the grinder that slavers and chaws + At the fibre o' pulp-wood, the purr of the plane, + Sing only one song to the big woods o' Maine. + So here's for a billion down race-way and sluice-- + Hell for the hemlock, the pine, and the spruce." + + --Off for the Woods. + + +John Barrett was first to break the embarrassed silence that fell upon +the four men left at the camp. Rodburd Ide's brows were wrinkled, and +his lips were parting to ask the questions that his curiosity urged. +Britt was wrathfully gazing after the insolent Larry. Dwight Wade had +taken up his pack and calipers, and was waiting for Ide with some +impatience. + +"Mr. Wade," began the Umcolcus baron, nervously, "I hope you will +understand my position in this matter, and see why it was necessary to +make some change in the plan we discussed on Jerusalem." + +"I sha'n't try to understand it," snapped Wade. "You volunteered +promises. I took those promises to the person most interested, and +you've seen fit to drop out from under. That ends our business--all the +business we had in common, Mr. Barrett." + +But the baron was anxious to placate. He began guarded explanations, to +which Ide was listening intently, but Wade cut them short with a scorn +there was no mistaking. + +"The only sort of interest I took in that unfortunate girl has been +maliciously misinterpreted, Mr. Barrett. She was thrown on my hands in a +way that you thoroughly understand. Mr. Ide, as a plantation officer, +has relieved me of the responsibility. You can talk with him hereafter." + +"But what--what are you going to say to him?" faltered Barrett, forced +to show his anxious fear, since Wade was moving away. + +In his physical weakness, in the illness that was sapping his nerve, he +became wistfully paltering. + +"Nothing," replied the young man, curtly, but with a decisiveness there +was no misunderstanding. "The matter has ceased to be any business of +mine. My business hereafter--and I say this to my partner--is concerned +wholly and entirely with certain lumbering operations on Enchanted +township." + +He went away, following the crew. Rodburd Ide, eager to be gone, and +seeing in the affair thus flatly dropped by Wade only a phase of the +older animosity between Britt and the young man--a quarrel that might +seek any avenue for expression, even a State pauper--demanded of +Barrett: + +"Do you lay any special claim to the girl?" His tone was that of an +official only. + +"Of course he doesn't," broke in Britt, seeing that his associate was +groping for a reply. "We did think of trying to help her, but what's the +use? There isn't any more gratitude in that sculch than there is in a +pine knot. Send her back to the tribe." + +The little Castonia magnate looked relieved. + +"She's all right with my girl till I get home," he said. "Then the +affair will take care of itself, like all those things do." + +Barrett had picked up one of the discarded bludgeons and was supporting +himself on it. His legs trembled visibly when he walked to Ide's side. + +"Rodburd," he said, appealingly, "I can see that you think this thing +strange. I don't want you to have wrong ideas. You and I have known each +other too long to get into quarrels. You have seen that I have been +trying to smooth matters here to-day. I can't talk it over with you now. +I'm sick--I'm a sick man, Rodburd! I've been through a dreadful +experience up here." + +"You don't look well," returned Ide, solicitously, his ever-ready +sympathy enlisted. + +Barrett's face was haggard and his eyes were bloodshot. He wavered on +his feet, tipping from heel to toe like a drunken man. + +"You ought to get out of these woods as quick as you can," the Castonia +man went on. + +Even Britt saw now that his associate was in a bad way. He gave a keen +glance at him, and shouted to MacLeod, who was waiting at the edge of +the woods, "Send back four of my men!" + +"I feel dreadfully," mourned Barrett. His grit and his excitement had +been keeping him up. Now, like most strong men who have to confess that +they are conquered, he gave way to his illness with utter abandonment of +courage. + +"Mr. Barrett," said Ide, surveying him pityingly, "I can see that you're +a sick man. I don't want to say that to frighten you, but because you +ought to know it. You'd better only try to make Castonia, and have a +doctor sent there. My girl will be there as soon as you are. You go to +my house, and get doctored up before you tackle the trip down-river. +That buckboard ride will kill you if you try it in the shape you're in +now." + +"You'd better do as he says, John," advised Britt, checking the timber +baron's feeble protests. "I'm going to have these four men make a litter +for you and lug you. You can stand that sort of ridin', but unless you +are in better shape when you get to Castonia you wouldn't be good for +that stage ride. Use common-sense, and rest up at Rodburd's house." + +"Give the men their orders," whispered the little Castonia magnate in an +aside to Britt. "It's fever, and a bad one if I ain't mistaken. By the +time he's got to my place he'll probably be too sick to give any orders +of his own. I never saw a man grow sick so fast. Tell the men to leave +him there." He talked impatiently, for his crew had disappeared up the +trail. "I've got to be hurryin'," he added. "Mr. Barrett, make my home +yours!" he cried over his shoulder, as he trotted off. "I'll be back in +a few days--as soon as I get this crew of mine located." + +The four men were already at work securing poles and boughs for the +litter. + +Barrett sat down upon a tussock, and held his throbbing head in his +hands. He began weakly to complain that Britt had made a mistake in +bringing his men and insisting on possession of the girl. + +The Honorable Pulaski promptly checked the incoherent expostulations of +the stumpage baron. + +"No, I haven't committed you, either," he blurted. "Bluff it out! It's +the only way to do. It's the way I advised you to do in the first place. +The thing looks big to you here in the woods. You're down on the level +with it. Get back into the city, and get your tail-coat on and your +dignity, and sit up on top of that governor's boom of yours, and the +story will only be political blackmail if they try it on you. But they +won't. That Wade fellow is one of those righteous sort of asses that +like to read moral lessons to other people, and especially to you, so +he can work out his grudge. But he's all done. I know the sort. The +thing began to scorch his fingers and he chucked it. He's got enough to +attend to in these woods. Don't you worry." + +"But I do worry," mourned Barrett. "And there's the girl to consider. +God save me, Pulaski, she's mine! Her looks show it. I can't sleep +nights after this, unless she is taken care of in a decent way." + +"There'll be a dozen methods of doin' it when the time is ripe," urged +the other, consolingly. "As it is now, you get out of these woods and +stay out, and attend to your business--which is my business, too, when +it comes to the governor matter. By ----, you've seen enough in this +trip to understand that we haven't got any too safe timber laws as it +is. If the farmers get control next trip it means trouble for such of us +as take to the tall timber. Buck up, man! Don't believe for a minute +that we're goin' to let a college dude and a State pauper queer you. The +thing will work itself out." + +He uttered a sudden snort of disgust, gazing over Barrett's shoulder. + +"Foolish Abe" of the Skeets had edged out of the bush, the silence after +the uproar of voices and conflict encouraging him. He seemed pitifully +bewildered. An instinct almost canine prompted him to take the trail to +the south, for his only friend, the girl of the tribe, had gone that +way. But a strange female had gone with her, and of strange females he +entertained unspeakable fear. + +"Here, you cross-eyed baboon," called the Honorable Pulaski, "go! +Scoot!" He pointed north in the direction in which the Enchanted crew +had disappeared. "Young man want you. Follow him. Stay with him. Run!" +He picked up his discarded sled-stake, and the fool hurried away towards +the Notch. "I'd like to see that human nail-keg plastered onto the +Enchanted crew for the winter," remarked Britt, with malice. "There's no +fillin' him up. He'll eat as much as three men, and that Wade is just +enough of a soft thing not to turn him out. If I can't bore an enemy +with a pod-auger, John, I'll do it with a gimlet--a gimlet will let more +or less blood." + +Five minutes later Barrett was borne on his way south, his courage +braced by some final arguments from his iron associate, his mind made up +to adopt the course of indignant bluff suggested by the belligerent +Britt. + +And Britt was stumping north, driving the blubbering Abe before him with +sundry hoots and missiles. + +When the poor creature came crawling to the fire on hands and knees at +dusk that evening, hairy, pitiable, and drooling with hunger, Rodburd +Ide accepted him with resignation, though he recognized Britt's petty +malice; for unless he were driven, Abe Skeet would never have come past +a well-stocked lumber-camp to follow wanderers into the wilderness. + +That night the Enchanted crew camped on Attean Stream, a short day's +journey from their destination. The tired men snatched supper from their +packs and fell back snoring, their heads on their dunnage-bags. + +They were away in the first flush of the morning, Rodburd Ide leading +with his partner. Wade welcomed the little man's absorbed interest in +the business ahead of them. Ide asked no questions about the incident at +Durfy's. Wade put the hideous topic as far behind other thoughts as he +could, and soon other thoughts crowded it out. + +As they passed from the zone of striped maple, round-wood, witch-hobble, +and mountain holly that Mother Nature had drawn across her naked breast +after the rude hand of Pulaski Britt had stripped the virgin growth, +his heart lifted. Under the great spruces of Enchanted the town's +bricks, streets, and human passions seemed very far away. + +Before he slept that night he had had an experience that thrilled the +sense of the primitive self hidden within him, as it is hidden in all +men, and covered by conventions. + +He had staked the metes and bounds, the corners, the frontage, all the +dimensions of a new home, where no roof except the crowns of trees had +ever shut sunlight off the earth. + +Mankind in general opens eyes within walls that the hands of those +coming before have built. + +Many have no occasion to seek ever for other quarters than those their +fathers have given them. With most the limit of exploration is the quest +for a new rental. Mankind who build, build along settled streets, first +taking note that sewers and water systems have been installed. + +Even in the woods most crews come up to find that the advance +skirmishers have builded main camp, meal camp, horse-hovels, and wangan. +Owing to the sudden forming of Rodburd Ide's partnership with the young +man whom Fate threw in his way, and his equally sudden determination to +operate on virgin Enchanted, there had been no time for preliminaries. +Even the tote teams with the first of the winter's supplies were miles +away down the trail, for in the woods the human two-foot outclasses the +equine four-foot. + +Therefore, Wade, perspiring in the forefront of the toilers, saw the +first tree topple, heard it crash outward from the site of the camp, and +tugged with the others when it was set into place as the sill. When he +stood back and wiped his forehead and gazed on that one lonesome log it +made roofless out-doors seem bigger and more threatening. The rain was +pattering from a cold sky. The thrall of centuries of housed ancestors +was on him. Roof and walls had attached themselves to his sentiency, +even as the shell of the snail is attached to its pulp. + +But the next moment Larry Gorman started a song, and the rollicking +hundred men about him took it up and toiled with merry thoughtlessness +of all except that God's good greenwood was about them and God's sky +above them, and Wade bent again to labor, ashamed that he had counted +shingles and plaster as standing for so much. + +They put up eight-log walls for the main camp, notching the ends. A +hundred willing men made the buildings grow like toadstools. While the +walls were going up men laid floors of poles shaved flat on one side. +Others brought moss and chinked the spaces between the logs of the +walls. The first team up brought tarred paper and the few boards needed +for tables and like uses. The tarred paper and cedar splints roofed all +comfortably. + +The second team brought stove, tin dishes, and raw staples--and cook and +cookee walked behind. + +And when old Christopher Straight came at the tail of the procession as +fast as he could hurry back from Castonia settlement, the camps stood +nearly complete under the frown of Enchanted Mountain, Enchanted Stream +gurgling over brown rocks at the door. + +The distant whick-whack of axes told where the swampers were clearing +the way, and the tearing crash of trees punctuated the ceaseless "ur-r +rick-raw!" of the cross-cut saws. The only axe scarf on Ide's trees was +the nick necessary to direct their fall. They were felled by the saw. + +Two days of exploration on the spruce benches straight back from the +stream showed up several million feet of black growth easily available +for a first season's operation. + +Ide, Wade, and old Christopher cruised, pacing parallels and counting +trees. And when they sat down on an outcropping of ledge the young man +made so many sagacious observations that Ide's eyes opened in amazement. + +"Where did you learn lumberin'?" he demanded. + +"I wasn't aware that I knew it--not as it is viewed from a practical +stand-point," replied Wade, humbly. "I was going to ask you in a moment +if you wouldn't like to have me keep still so that you and Christopher +could talk sense." + +"I never heard better opinions on a stand of timber and a lay of land," +affirmed his partner. "It looks as though you'd been holdin' out on me," +he added, with a grim smile. + +The young man smiled back. There was a certain grateful pride in his +expression. + +"I know how old woodsmen look at book-learned chaps, Mr. Ide. Pulaski +Britt told me once. I was simply trying on you a bit of an experiment +with my little knowledge of books. I was waiting to have you and +Christopher pull me up short. I'm rather surprised to find that you +think what I said was good sense. But after a book-fellow has bumped +against practical men like--like Mr. Britt for a time, he begins to +distrust his books. It's simply this way, Mr. Ide: I had a few young men +in my high-school who were interested in forestry of the modern sort, +and I worked with them to encourage them as much as I could. It is +almost impossible for a reading-man in these days not to take an +interest in the protection of our forests, for the folks at Washington +are making it the great topic of the times." + +"Well," remarked Ide, with a sigh of appreciation, "I never read a book +on forestry in my life, and I never heard of a lumberman in these parts +who ever had. But if you can get facts like those you've stated out of +books, I reckon some of us better spend our winter evenin's readin' +instead of playin' pitch pede." He got up and gave the young man a +complimenting palm. "Wade," he said, earnestly, "I'll own up that I've +been a little prejudiced against book-fellows myself. Instead of givin' +an ignorant man the contents of the book--the juice of it, as you might +say---in a way that won't hurt, they are so anxious to have him know +that it's book-learnin' they've got, they'll bang him across the face +with it, book-covers and all. I like your knowledge, because it's goin' +to help us in handlin' this thing we've bit off up here. But I'll be +blamed if I don't like your modesty best of all." + +He picked up his calipers, stuck them under his arm, and started for +camp with a haste that showed full confidence in his partner's ability. + +And the next morning he buttoned the camp letters in his coat, and +started south for Castonia with the outgoing tote team. + +"I don't worry about this end," he said, at parting, "and you needn't +worry about mine. Don't be afraid of going hungry. There's nothin' like +full stomachs to make axes and saws run well. It will have to be +hand-to-mouth till snow flies, then I'll slip you in stores enough to +fill that wangan to the roof. Good heart, my boy! We're goin' to make +some money." + +Wade followed him to the edge of the clearing with his first sense of +loneliness tugging within him. + +"Safe home to you, Mr. Ide," he said, "and my respectful regards to Miss +Nina, if you will take them. I suppose--she will--probably--the girl she +took away--" he stammered. + +"By thunder mighty!" cried the Castonia magnate, whirling on him, "I'd +forgotten all about that Skeet girl, or Arden girl, or whatever they +call her." + +He eyed the young man with a dawning of his old curiosity, but Wade met +his gaze frankly. + +"The affair of the girl is not mine at all," he said. "Simply because +she seemed superior to the tribe she was with, I hoped Mr. Barrett would +do as he partly promised--use a few dollars of his money to help her +from the muck. Such cases appeal to me, because I'm not accustomed to +seeing them, perhaps." + +"If my girl is interested in that poor little wildcat, you needn't think +twice about her bein' taken good care of," cried the admiring father. + +And gazing into the wholesome eyes and candid face of the little man, +Wade reflected that perhaps Fate had handled a problem better for John +Barrett's abandoned daughter than he himself, in his resentful zeal, had +planned. + +He shook Ide's hand hard, and, with the picture of John Barrett's other +daughter in his dimming eyes and the love of John Barrett's other +daughter burning in his lonely heart, he turned back towards the woods, +whose fronded arms, tossing in the October wind, beckoned him to his +duty. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE HA'NT OF THE UMCOLCUS + + "For even in these days P. I.'s shake + At word of the phantom of Brassua Lake; + And all of us know of the witherlick + That prowls by the shores of the Cup-sup-tic; + Of the side-hill ranger whose eyeballs gleam + In the light of the moon at Abol stream." + + --The Ha'nts. + + +A few days after the men of Enchanted were housed, those who gazed +southeast from the mountain shoulder saw a smear of white on the +horizon. It was the first snow on lofty Katahdin. + +Tommy Eye greeted that sight most enthusiastically. Like a good +teamster, he was anxious for "slippin'." + +"Bless the saints, old Winter has pitched camp down there, and is mixin' +up a batch of our kind of weather," he said to Wade. "Injun Summer had +better grab up what's left of her flounces and get out from under." + +But Winter proceeded about his business with majestic deliberateness. He +patted down the duff under the big trees with beating, sleety rains; and +when the ground was ready for the sowing of the mighty crop, he piled +his banks of clouds up from the south, and, though he gave the coast +folk rain, he brought the men of the north woods what they were longing +for--snow a-plenty; snow that heaped the arms of the spruces, filled +all the air with smothering clouds, and blanketed the ground. + +Wade, blinking the big flakes out of his eyes as he breasted the +swirling storm, came across to the main camp from the wangan, his pipe +and tobacco-pouch in hand. He rejoiced in his heart to see the snow +driving so thickly that the camp window was only a blur of yellow light +smudging the whiteness. This first real storm of the winter promised two +feet on a level, and guaranteed the slipping on ram-downs and +twitch-roads. + +The cheer of the storm permeated all the camp on Enchanted. The cook +beamed on Wade with floury face. The bare ground had meant bare shelves. +He predicted the first supply-team for the morrow. He had been thriftily +"making a mitten out of a mouse's ear" for several weeks. Tommy Eye, +ploughing back from his good-night visit to the horse-hovel, proclaimed +his general pleasure for two reasons: No more bare-ground dragging for +the bob-sleds; no more too liberal dosing of bread dough with soap to +make the flour "spend" in lighter loaves. "Eats like wind and tastes +like a laundry," Tommy had grumbled. + +The boss of the choppers moved along to give Wade the end of the "deacon +seat," and grinned amiably. + +"That's a cheerful old song she's singing overhead to-night," he +remarked. + +It needed a lumberman's interpretation to give it cheer. + +There were far groanings, there were near sighs; there were silences, +when the soft rustle of the snow against the window-glass made all the +sound; there were sudden, tempestuous descents of the wind that rattled +the panes and made the throat of the open stove "whummle" like a +neighing horse. + +Wade lighted his pipe with deep content. He enjoyed the rude fraternity +of the big camp. There was but little garrulity. Those who talked did so +in a drawling monotone that was keyed properly to the monotone of the +soughing trees outside--elbows on knees and eyes on the pole floor. +Clamor would not have suited that little patch of light niched in the +black, brooding night of the forest. But there was comfort within. The +blue smoke from pipe bowls curled up and mingled with the shadows +dancing against the low roof. The woollens, hung to dry on the long +poles, draped the dim openings of the bunks. The "spruce feathers" +within were still fresh, and resinous odors struggled against the more +athletic fragrance of the pipes. + +Most of the men loafed along the "deacon seat," relaxed in the luxury of +laziness for that precious three hours between supper and nine o'clock. +A few, bending forward to catch the light from the bracket-lamp, +whittled patiently at what lumbermen call "doodahs"--odd little toys +destined for some best girl or admiring youngster at home. "Windy" +McPheters regaled those with an ear for music by cheerful efforts on his +mouth-harp, coming out strong on the tremolo, and jigging the heel of +his moccasined foot for time. And when "Windy" had no more breath left, +"Hitchbiddy" Wagg sang, after protracted persuasion, the only song he +knew--though one song of that character ought to suffice for any man's +musical attainments. + +Its length may be understood when it is stated that it detailed all the +campaigns of the first Napoleon, and "Hitchbiddy" sang it doubled +forward, his elbows on his crossed knees, and the toe of his moccasin +flapping for the beat. He came down "the stretch" on the last verse with +vigor and expression: + + "Next at Waterloo those Frenchmen fought, + Commanded by brave Bonaparte [pronounced 'paught'], + Assisted by Field Marshal Ney-- + He never was bribed by gold. + But when Grouchy let the Prussians in + It broke Napoleon's heart within. + 'Where are my thirty thousand men? + Alas, stranger, for I am sold.' + He led one gallant charge across, + Saying, 'Alas, brave boys, I fear 'tis lost.' + The field was in confusion with dead and dying woes. + When the bunch of roses did advance, + The English entered into France-- + The grand Conversation [_sic_] of Napoleon arose." + +To signal that the song was done, "Hitchbiddy" dropped the tune on the +last line, and in calm, direct, matter-of-fact recitative announced that +"the grand Conversation of Napoleon arose." In the fifty years during +which that song has been sung in the Maine lumber-camps, no one has ever +displayed the least curiosity as to that last line. Away back, +somewhere, a singer twisted a nice, fat word of the original song, and +it has stayed twisted, and no one has tried to trouble it by idle +questions. + +"Hitchbiddy's" most rapt listener was Foolish Abe of the Skeets. The +shaggy giant squatted behind the stove beside the pile of shavings he +was everlastingly whittling for the cook-fire. It was the only task that +Abe's poor wits could master, and he toiled at it unceasingly, paying +thus and by a sort of canine gratitude for the food he received and the +cast-off clothes tossed to him. + +A mumbled chorus of commendation followed the song. But the +chopping-boss, his humorous gaze on the witling, remarked: + +"I reckon I'll have to rule that song out, after this, 'Hitchbiddy.'" + +"What for?" demanded the amazed songster. + +"It seems to have a damaging and cavascacious effect on the giant +intellect of Perfessor Skeet," remarked the boss, with irony. "Look at +him!" + +Abe was on his knees, stretching up his neck and twitching his head from +side to side with the air of an agitated fowl. + +"We'll make it a rule after this to have only common songs, like Larry +Gorman's," continued the boss, with a quizzical glance at the woodsman +poet. "These high operas are too thrillin'." + +But those who stared at Abe promptly saw that his attention was not +fixed on matters within, but without. + +"He heard something," muttered one of the men. "He's got ears like a +cat, anyway." + +If the giant had heard something it was plain that he heard it again, +for he dropped his knife and scrambled to his feet. + +"Me go! Yes!" he roared, gutturally; and, obeying some mysterious +summons, his haste showing its authority, he ran out of the camp. + +"Catch that fool!" yelled the boss. But the first of those who tumbled +out into the dingle after him were not quick enough. The night and the +swirling storm had swallowed him. A few zealous pursuers ran a little +way, trying to follow his tracks, lost them, and then came back for +lanterns. + +"It's no use, Mr. Wade," advised the boss. "He's got the strength of a +mule and the legs of an ostrich. The men will only be takin' chances for +nothin'. He's gone clean out of his head, and there's no tellin' when +he'll stop." + +And Wade regretfully gave orders to abandon the chase. He and the others +stood for a time gazing about them into the storm, now sifting thicker +and swirling more wildly. He was oppressed by the happening, as though +he had seen some one leap to death. What else could a human being hope +for in that waste? + +"He's as tough as a bull moose, and just as used to bein' out-doors," +remarked the boss, consolingly. "When he's had his run he'll smell his +way back." + +Teamster Tommy Eye was the most persistent pursuer. He came in, stamping +the snow, after all the others had reassembled in the camp to talk the +matter over. + +"Did ye hear it?" demanded Tommy. "I did, and I run like a tiger so I +could say that at last I'd seen one. But I didn't see it. I only heard +it." + +"What?" asked Wade, amazed. + +"The ha'nt," said Tommy. "I've always wanted to see one. I was first +out, and I heard it." + +"What did it sound like?" gasped one of the men, his superstition +glowing in his eyes. + +"It's bad luck forever to try to make a noise like a ha'nt," said Tommy, +with decision. "Nor will I meddle with its business--no, s'r. 'Twould +come for me. Take a lucivee, an Injun devil, a bob-sled runner on grit, +and the gabble of a loon, mix 'em together, and set 'em, and skim off +the cream of the noise, and it would be something like the loo-hoo of a +ha'nt. It's awful on the nerves. I reckon I'll take a pull at the old T. +D." He rammed his pipe bowl with a finger that trembled visibly. + +"I've seen one," declared, positively, the man who had inquired in +regard to the sound. "I've seen one, but I never heard one holler. I +didn't know it was a ha'nt till I'd seen it half a dozen times." + +"Good eye!" sneered Tommy. "What! did it have to come up and introduce +itself, and say, 'Please, Mister MacIntosh, I'm a ha'nt'?" + +"I've seen one," insisted the man, sullenly. "I was teamin' for the +Blaisdell Brothers on their Telos operation, and I see it every day for +most a week. It walked ahead of my team close to the bushes, side of the +road, and it was like a man, and it always turned off at the same place +and went into the woods." + +"Do you call that a ha'nt--a man walkin' 'longside the road in +daylight--some hump-backed old spruce-gum picker?" demanded Tommy. + +"The last time I see it I noticed that it didn't leave any tracks," +declared the narrator. "It walked right along on the light snow, and +didn't leave any tracks. Funny I didn't notice that before, but I +didn't." + +"You sartinly ain't what the dictionary would set down as a hawk-eyed +critter," remarked Tommy, maliciously. "It must have been kind of +discouragin', ha'ntin' you." + +"It was a ha'nt," insisted the man, with the same doggedness. "I got +off'n my team right then and there, and got a bill of my time and left, +and the man that took my place got sluiced by the snub-line bustin', +and about three thousand feet of spruce mellered the eternal daylights +out of him. Say what you're a mind to--I saw a thing that walked on +light snow and didn't make tracks, and I left, and that feller got +sluiced--everybody in these woods knows that a feller got killed on +Telos two winters ago." + +"Oh, there's ha'nts," agreed Tommy, earnestly. "Mebbe you saw one; only +you got at your story kind of back-ended." + +The old teamster had been watching incredulity settle on the face of +Dwight Wade, and this heresy in one to whom his affections had attached +touched his sensitiveness. + +"You're probably thinkin' what most of the city folks say out loud to +us, Mr. Wade," he went on, humbly. "They say there ain't any such things +as ha'nts in the woods. It would be easy to say there ain't any bull +moose up here because they ain't also seen walkin' down a city street +and lookin' into store windows. But I'd like to see one of those city +folks try to sleep in the camp that's built over old Jumper Joe's grave +north of Sourdnaheunk." + +There was a general mumble of indorsement. It became evident to Wade +that the crew of the Enchanted were pretty stanch adherents of the +supernatural. + +"Hitchbiddy" Wagg cleared his throat and sang, for the sake of +verification: + + "He rattled underneath, and he rattled overhead; + Never in my life was I ever scared so! + And I did not dast to lay down in that bed + Where they laid out old Joe." + +"They can't use that place for anything but a depot-camp now," stated +Tommy; "and it's a wonder to me that they can even get pressed hay to +stay there overnight." + +"Well, from what I know of human nature," smiled Wade, "I should think +that hay and provisions would stay better overnight in a haunted camp +than in one without protection." + +He rapped out his pipe ashes on the hearth of the stove and rose to go. + +"And don't you believe that it was a ha'nt that called out Foolish Abe?" +asked Tommy, eager to make a convert. "You saw that for yourself, Mr. +Wade." + +"I am afraid to think of what may have happened to that poor creature," +replied Wade, earnestly, looking into the black night through the door +that he had opened. He heard the chopping-boss call: "Nine! Turn in!" as +he strove with the storm between the main camp and the wangan, and when +he stamped into his own shelter the yellow smudge winked out behind +him--such is the alacrity of a sleepy woods crew when it has a boss who +blows out the big lamp on the dot of the hour. He shuddered as he shut +out the blackness. He had no superstitions, but the unaccountable flight +of the witling, and the eerie tales offered in explanation and the +mystic night of storm in that wild forest waste unstrung him. He went to +sleep, finding comfort in the dull glow of the lantern that he left +lighted. + +Its glimmer in his eyes when the cook called shrilly in the gray dawn, +"Grub on ta-a-abe!" sent his first thoughts to the wretch who had +abandoned himself to the storm. He hoped to find Abe whittling shavings +in the cook-house. + +"No, s'r, no sign of him, hide nor hair," said the cook, shaking his +head. "Reckon the ha'nt flew high with him." + +The snow still sifted through the trees--a windless storm now. The +forest was trackless. + +"For a man to start out in the woods in that storm was like jumpin' into +a hole and pullin' the hole in after him," observed the chopping-boss. +That remark might have served as the obituary of poor Abe Skeet. The +swampers, the choppers, the sled-tenders, the teamsters, trudging away +to their work, had their minds full of their duties and their mouths +full of other topics during the day. + +And all day the cook bleated his cheerful little prophecy in the ears of +the cookee: "The tote team will be in by night." That morning, with his +rolling-pin, he had pounded "hungryman's ratty-too" on the bottom of the +last flour-barrel to shake out enough for his batch of biscuits, and he +burned up the barrel, even though the pessimistic cookee predicted that +"the human nail-kags" would eat both kitchen mechanics if the food gave +out. + +Dwight Wade, at nightfall, surveyed the bare shelves of the cook camp +with some misgivings. + +"Don't you worry," advised the master of that domain. "Rod Ide ain't +waitin' three weeks for good slippin' jest for the sake of settin' in +his store window and singin' 'Beautiful snow'! He sure got a load of +supplies started on that first skim o' snow, and they're due here +to-night--" The cook paused, kicked at the cookee for slamming the +stove-cover at that crucial moment of listening, and shrilled, "There +she blows!" + +Wade heard the jangle of bells, and hastened to meet the dim bulk of the +loaded sled. The driver did not reply to his delighted hail, but before +he had time to wonder at that silence some one struggled out of the +folds of a shrouding blanket and sprang from the sled. It was a woman; +and while he stood and stared at her, she ran to him and grasped his +hands and clung to him in pitiful abandonment of grief. + +It was Nina Ide. In the dim light Wade could see tears and heart-broken +woe on her face. He had had some experience with the self-poise of the +daughter of Rodburd Ide. This emotion, which checked with sobs the words +in her throat, frightened him. + +"It's a terrible thing, and I don't understand it, Mr. Wade," quavered +the driver. He slipped down from the load and came and stood beside +them. "We was in Pogey Notch, and the wind was blowin' pretty hard +there, and I told the young ladies they'd better cover their heads with +the blankets. And I pulled the canvas over me, 'cause the snow stung so, +and I didn't see it when it happened--and I don't understand it." + +"When what happened?" Wade gasped. + +"They took her--whatever they was," stated the driver, in awed tones. "I +didn't see 'em or hear 'em take her. And I don't know jest where we was +when they took her. I went back and hunted, but it wasn't any use. They +was gone, and her with 'em. They wasn't humans, Mr. Wade. It was black +art, that's what it was." + +"Probably," said Tommy Eye, with deep conviction. He had led the group +that came out of the camp to greet the tote team. "There were ha'nts +here last night. They got Foolish Abe." + +"They sartinly seem to mean the Skeet family this time," said the +driver. "It was that Skeet girl--the pretty one that's called Kate--that +they got off'n my team." + +The men of the camp, surrounding the new arrivals, surveyed Nina Ide +with respectful but eager curiosity. + +"If I was a ha'nt," growled the chopping-boss, "and had my pick, I +reckon I'd have shown better judgment." His remark was under his breath, +and the girl did not hear it. She clung to Wade. Her agitation +communicated itself to him. A sense of calamity told him that there was +trouble deeper than the disappearance of the waif of the Skeet tribe. + +Her words confirmed his suspicion. "My God, what are we going to do, Mr. +Wade?" she sobbed. "I planned it; I encouraged her. It was wild, +imprudent, reckless. I ought to have realized it. But I knew how you +felt towards her. I wanted to help her and--and you!" + +Something in the horror of her wide-open eyes told him plainly now that +this could not be merely the question of the loss of one of the Skeets. +And with that conviction growing out of bewildered doubt, he went with +her when she led him away towards the office camp. A suspicion wild as a +nightmare flashed into his mind. In the wangan she faced him, as +woe-stricken, as piteously afraid, as though she were confessing a crime +against him. + +"It was John Barrett's daughter Elva on that team with me," she choked. +"She wanted to come--but I'll be honest with you, Mr. Wade. She wouldn't +have come if I hadn't encouraged her--yes, put the idea into her head +and the means into her hands. I've been a fool, Mr. Wade, but I'll not +be a coward and lie about my responsibility." + +He gazed at her, his face ghastly white in the lantern-light. + +"She wanted to--she was coming here--she is lost?" he mumbled, as though +trying to fathom a mystery. + +Infinite pity replaced the distraction in the girl's face. + +"Forgive me, Mr. Wade!" she cried. "Not for my folly--you can't overlook +that. Forgive me for wasting time. But I didn't know how to say it to +you." She put her woman's weakness from her, though the struggle was a +mighty one, and her face showed it. "I won't waste any more words, Mr. +Wade. John Barrett has been at my father's house for weeks. He has been +near death--he is near death now, but the big doctors from the city say +that he will get well. He must have been through some terrible trouble +up here." + +She looked at him with questioning gaze, as though to ask how much he +knew of the strain that had prostrated John Barrett, the stumpage king. + +"He was in great danger--and his exposure--" stammered Wade. + +But she went on, hurriedly: + +"It was fever, and it went to his head, and he talked and raved. His +daughter came from the city and nursed him, and she has heard him +talking, talking, talking, all the time--talking about you, and how you +saved him from the fire; talking about a woman who is dead and a man who +is alive, and a girl--" + +"Does Elva Barrett--know?" he demanded, hoarsely. + +"It was too plain not to know--after she saw that girl, Mr. Wade. The +girl was there at our house--she is there now. It isn't all clear to us +yet. We have only the ravings of a sick man--and the face of that girl. +Father doesn't understand all of it, either. But he knows that you do, +although you haven't told him." She clutched her trembling hands to hold +them steady. "And he has talked and talked of other things, Mr. +Wade--the sick man has. He has said that you have his reputation, and +his prospects, and the happiness of his family all in your hands, and +that you are waiting to ruin him because he has abused you; and he has +tossed in his bed and begged some one to come to you and promise +you--buy you--coax you--" + +"It's a cursed lie--infernal, though a sick man babble it!" Wade cried, +heart-brokenly. "It holds me up as a blackmailer, Miss Nina. It makes me +seem a wretch in Elva's eyes. And yet--was she--was she coming here +thinking I was that kind--coming here to beg for her father?" he +demanded. + +"We--I--oh, I don't like to tell you we believed that of you," the girl +sobbed. "No, I didn't believe it. But if you had only heard him lying +there talking, talking! And you were the one that he seemed to fear. And +we thought if you knew of it you wouldn't want him to worry that way. +And if we could carry back some word of comfort from you to him--She +wanted to come to you, Mr. Wade, and I encouraged her and helped her to +come--because--because--" The girl caught her breath in a long sob, and +cried: "She loves you, Mr. Wade! And I've pitied you and her ever since +that day in the train when I found out about it." + +It was not a moment to analyze emotions. Nina Ide, in her ingenuous +declaration of Elva Barrett's motives in seeking him, had made his heart +for an instant blaze with joy. For that instant he forgot the shame of +the baseless babblings of the sick man, the awful mystery of Elva +Barrett's disappearance. The blow of it--that Elva Barrett was +gone--that she was somewhere in those woods alone, or worse than alone, +had stunned him at first. Groping out of that misery, striving to +realize what it meant, he had faced first the hideous thought that she +might believe him mean enough to seek revenge. Then came the dazzling +hope that Elva Barrett so loved him that she adventured--imprudently and +recklessly, but none the less bravely--in order to make her love known. +Then over all swept the black bitterness of the calamity. + +"But you must have some suspicion--some hint how she was taken or how +she went!" he cried. "In Heaven's name, Miss Nina, think! think! You +heard some outcry! There was some hidden rock or stump to jar the sled! +The man did not search along the road far enough! She must be +lost--lost!" and his voice rose almost to a shriek. + +"There was no cry, Mr. Wade. And I went back with the man. We searched; +we called--we even went as far as the place where we covered ourselves +with the blankets. We could find no track, and the snow was driving and +sifting. The man does not know it was Elva Barrett," she added. + +He suddenly remembered the driver's statement. + +"She came in Kate Arden's clothes," confided the girl. "Those who saw +her ride out of Castonia, Mr. Wade, thought it was Kate Arden. And Kate +Arden, in Elva Barrett's dress, is sitting now beside John Barrett, +holding his hand, and his daughter's face has soothed him. He thinks it +is his daughter beside him. They are so like, Kate and Elva. We waited +until we had made sure. It was my plan. And Kate obeyed me. I don't know +what she is thinking of. She is sullen and silent, but she took the +place by his bed when I told her to. Then it could not be said that John +Barrett's daughter had come seeking Dwight Wade." + +Even in this stress he could still feel gratitude for the subterfuge +that checked the tongues of gossip. + +"I wish father had more authority over me," sobbed the girl. "He +wouldn't have let us come on such a crazy errand if I hadn't bossed him +into it." The lament was so guilelessly feminine that Wade put aside his +own woe for the moment to think of the girl's distress. + +"This will be your home until I can send you back, Miss Nina," he said, +gently. "I will have old Christopher bring in your supper and mend your +fire." + +"And about her, Mr. Wade?" she cried. + +"I'm going," he said, simply, but with such earnestness that her eyes +flooded again with tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE MAN WHO CAME FROM NOWHERE + + "He hadn't a word for no one, not even for me or Mike, + And whenever we spoke or tried to joke, he growled like a + Chessy tyke." + + +Dwight Wade found a lively conference in progress in the main camp. + +Tommy Eye was doing most of the talking, and it was plain that his +opinions carried weight, for no one presumed to gainsay him. + +"And I'll say to you what I'm tellin' to them here, Mr. Wade," continued +the teamster. "You saw for yourself what happened here last night. A +ha'nt done it. And the ha'nt done this last. They're pickin' Skeets +right and left." + +"Ha'nt must be in the pay of Pulaski D. Britt," remarked one rude joker. +"He's been the one most interested in gettin' the tribe out of this +section." + +Dwight Wade, love and awful fear raging in his heart, was in no mood to +play dilettante with the supernatural, nor to relish jokes. + +"We'll have done with this foolishness, men!" he cried, harshly. "A girl +has been lost in these woods." He was protecting Elva Barrett's +incognito by a mighty effort of self-repression. The agony of his soul +prompted him to leap, shouting, down the tote road, calling her name and +crying his love and his despair. "I want this crew to beat the woods and +find her." + +"She can't ever be found," growled a prompt rebel. "I heard the driver +tell. She was picked right up and lugged off. There ain't any of us got +wings." + +"Oh, you've got to admit that there are ha'nts!" persisted Tommy, with +fine relish for his favorite topic. "And they pick up people. I see one, +in the shape of a tree, pick up an ox once and break his neck." + +"D--n you for drooling idiots!" raved Wade, beside himself. It was the +first outlet for the storm of his feelings. + +He ordered them to get lanterns and start on the search--he strode among +them with brandished fists and whirling arms, and they dodged from in +front of him, staring in amazement. + +"My Gawd," mourned Tommy, "this camp has had the spell put on it for +sure! The ha'nt has driv' the boss out of his head, and will have him +next. And if it can drive a college man out of his head, what chance has +the rest of us got?" + +Panic was writ large in the faces of the simple woodsmen, and fear +glittered in their eyes. A single queer circumstance would merely have +set them to wondering; but these unexplainable events, following each +other so rapidly and taking ominous shade from the glass that lugubrious +Tommy Eye held over them, shook them out of self-poise. It needed but +one voice to cry, "The place is accursed!" to precipitate a rout, and +old Christopher Straight had the woodsman's keen scent for trouble of +this sort. + +"A moment! A moment, Mr. Wade!" he called. He patted the young man's +elbow and urged him towards the door. "I want to speak to you. Keep +quiet, my men, and go in to your supper." + +As he passed the cook-house door he sharply ordered the cook to sound +the delayed call--the cook being then engaged in discussing, with +chopping-boss and cookee, a certain "side-hill lounger," a ha'nt that +wrought vast mischief of old along Ripogenus gorge. + +"Mr. Wade," advised the old man, when they were apart from the camp, +"I'm sorry to see you get so stirred up over the Skeet girl, for I don't +believe she appreciates your kindness. I have this matter pretty well +settled in my own mind. I don't know just why Miss Nina is up here, nor +why she has brought that girl back--or tried to. It is plain, though, +that the girl has deceived her." + +"I don't understand," quavered Wade, struggling between his own +knowledge and old Christopher's apparent certainty. + +"The Skeet girl, having her own reasons for wanting to come this way +from Castonia, got as far as Pogey Notch, slipped off the team, and made +her way to Britt's camp on Jerusalem to join Colin MacLeod. It's all a +put-up job, Mr. Wade, and they've simply done what they set out to do in +the first place, when Britt and his crew followed John Barrett and me to +Durfy's. So I wouldn't worry any more about the girl, Mr. Wade. Let her +stay where she plainly wants to stay." + +Wade blurted the truth without pausing to weigh consequences. He +bitterly needed an adviser. Old Christopher's calm confidence in his own +theory pricked him. + +"Great God, man, it isn't the Skeet girl! It is John Barrett's +daughter--his daughter Elva!" + +For a moment Christopher gasped his amazement, without words. + +"There have been strange things happening outside since we've been +locked in here away from the news," the young man went on, excitedly. +"It is Elva Barrett, I tell you, Christopher, and she has been stolen." + +"Then it's a part of the plot--somehow--someway," insisted the old man. +"Colin MacLeod, or some one interested for Colin MacLeod, saw that +girl, and took her for the Skeet girl. I've never seen Elva Barrett, but +you've told me that the Skeet girl is her spittin' image--or words to +that effect," corrected the old guide. + +"And she was dressed in Kate Arden's clothes!" groaned Wade, remembering +Nina Ide's little scheme of deception. + +"Then she's at Britt's camp--mistaken for the Skeet girl, as I said," +declared Straight, with conviction. + +"But hold on!" he cried, grasping Wade's arm as the young man was about +to rush back into the camp, "that's no way to go after that girl--hammer +and tongs, mob and ragtag. In the first place, Mr. Wade, those men in +there are in no frame of mind to be led off into the night. I know +woodsmen. They've been talkin' ha'nts till they're ready to jump ten +feet high if you shove a finger at 'em. This is no time for an army--an +army of that caliber. They know well enough now at Britt's camp that it +isn't Kate Arden. And I'll bet they're pretty frightened, now that they +know who they've got. It's a simple matter, Mr. Wade. I'll go to Britt's +camp and get the young lady. I'll go now on snow-shoes and take the +moose-sled, and I'll be back some time to-morrow all safe and happy." + +"I'll go with you," declared Wade. + +"It isn't best," protested the old man. "I've no quarrel with Colin +MacLeod. It means trouble if you show in sight there without your men +behind you." + +"But I'm going," insisted Wade, with such positiveness that old +Christopher merely sighed. "I'll let you go into the camp alone," +allowed Wade, "for I am not fool enough to look for trouble just to find +it; but I'll be waiting for you up the tote road with the moose-sled, +and I'll haul her home here out of that hell." + +"I can't blame you for wantin' to play hoss for her," said the woodsman, +with a little malice in his humor. "And if she is like most girls +she'll be willin' to have you do it." + +Ten minutes later the two were away down the tote road. They said +nothing of their purpose except to Nina Ide, whom they left intrenched +in the wangan--a woods maiden who felt perfectly certain of the chivalry +of the men of the woods about her. + +The storm was over, but the heavens were still black. Wade dragged the +moose-sled, walking behind old Christopher in the patch of radiance that +the lantern flung upon the snow. Treading ever and ever on the same +whiteness in that little circle of light, it seemed to Wade that he was +making no progress, but that the big trees were silently crowding their +way past like spectres, and that he, for all his passion of fear and +foreboding, simply lifted his feet to make idle tracks. The winds were +still, and the only sounds were the rasping of legs and snow-shoes, and +the soft thuddings of snow-chunks dropped from the limbs of overladen +trees. + +In the first gray of the morning, swinging off the tote road and down +into the depths of Jerusalem valley, they at last came upon the +scattered spruce-tops and fresh chips that marked the circle of Britt's +winter operation. + +The young man's good sense rebuked his rebelliousness when Christopher +took the cord of the sled and bade him wait where he was. + +"I don't blame you for feeling that way," said the old man, interpreting +Wade's wordless mutterings; "but the easiest way is always the best. If +she is there she will want to come with me, where Miss Ide is waiting +for her, and the word of the young lady will be respected. I'm afraid +your word wouldn't be--not with Colin MacLeod," he added, grimly. + +And yet Dwight Wade watched the lantern-light flicker down the valley +with a secret and shamed feeling that he was a coward not to be the +first to hold out a hand of succor to the girl he loved. That he had to +wait hidden there in the woods while another represented him chafed his +spirits until he strode up and down and snarled at the reddening east. + +At last the waiting became agony. The sun came up, its light quivering +through the snow-shrouded spruces. Below him in the valley he heard +teamsters yelping at floundering horses, the grunting "Hup ho!" of +sled-tenders, and the chick-chock of axes. It was evident that the visit +of Christopher Straight had not created enough of a sensation to divert +Pulaski Britt's men from their daily toil. Wade's hurrying thoughts +would not allow his common-sense to excuse the old man's continued +absence. To go--to tear Elva Barrett from that hateful place--to rush +back--what else was there for Straight to do? In the end the goads of +apprehension were driving him down the trail towards the camp, +regardless of consequences. + +But when, at the first turn of the road, he saw Christopher plodding +towards him, he ran back in sudden tremor. He wanted to think a moment. +There was so much to say. The old man came into sight again, near at +hand, before Wade had control of the tumult of his thoughts. + +The sled was empty. + +Christopher scuffed along slowly, munching a biscuit. + +"They wouldn't let her go? I--I thought they had made you stay--you were +so long!" gasped the young man, trying by words of his own to calm his +fear. + +"She isn't there, Mr. Wade," said the old man, finishing his biscuit, +and speaking with an apparent calmness which maddened the young man. +This old man, placidly wagging his jaws, seemed a part of the stolid +indifference of the woods. + +"I brought you something to eat, Mr. Wade," Christopher went on. He +fumbled at his breast-pocket. "We've got tough work ahead of us. You +can't do it on an empty stomach." + +"My God! what are you saying, Straight?" demanded the young man. +"They're lying to you. She is there. She must be. There's no one--" + +"And I say she isn't there," insisted Christopher, with quiet firmness. +"I know what I'm talking about. You're only guessin'." + +"They lied to you to save themselves." + +"Mr. Wade, I know woodsmen better than you do. There are a good many +things about Colin MacLeod that I don't like. But when it came to a +matter of John Barrett's daughter Colin MacLeod would be as square as +you or I." + +"You told them it was John Barrett's daughter?" + +"I did not," said the old man, stoutly. "There was no need to. If it had +been John Barrett's daughter she would have been queening it in those +camps when I got there. She hadn't been there. There has been no woman +there. Colin MacLeod and his men didn't take Miss Barrett from that tote +team. And I've made sure of that point because I knew my men well enough +to make sure. She isn't there!" + +"There is no one else in all these woods to trouble her," declared Wade, +brokenly. + +"No one knows just who and what are movin' about these woods," said +Christopher, in solemn tones. "In forty years I've known things to +happen here that no one ever explained. Hold on, Mr. Wade!" he cried, +checking a bitter outburst. "I'm not talking like Tommy Eye, either! I'm +not talking about ha'nts now. But, I say, strange things have happened +in these woods--and a strange thing has happened this time. Barrett's +daughter is gone. She's been taken. She didn't go by herself." He gazed +helplessly about him, searching the avenues of the silent woods. + +"North or east, west or south!" he muttered, "It's a big job for us, Mr. +Wade! I'm goin' to be honest with you. I don't see into it. You'd better +eat." + +The young man pushed the proffered food away. + +"You eat, I say," commanded old Christopher, his gray eyes snapping. +"An empty gun and an empty man ain't either of 'em any good on a +huntin'-trip." + +He started away, dragging the sled, and Wade struggled along after him, +choking down the food. + +When they had retraced their steps as far as the Enchanted tote road, +Christopher turned to the south and trudged towards Pogey Notch. The +trail of the tote team was visible in hollows which the snow had nearly +filled. The snow lay as it had fallen. The tops of the great trees on +either side of the road sighed and lashed and moaned in the wind that +had risen at dawn. But below in the forest aisles it was quiet. + +Had not the wind been at their backs, whistling from the north, the +passage of Pogey Notch would have proved a savage encounter. The +stunted growth offered no wind-break. The great defile roared like a +chimney-draught. As the summer winds had howled up the Notch, lashing +the leafy branches of the birches and beeches, so now the winter winds +howled down, harpers that struck dismal notes from the bare trees. The +snow drove horizontally in stinging clouds. The drifting snow even made +the sun look wan. The quest for track, trail, or clew in that storm +aftermath was waste of time. But the old man kept steadily on, peering +to right and left, searching with his eyes nook and cross-defile, until +at the southern mouth of the Notch they came to Durfy's hovel. + +Christopher took refuge there, leaning against the log walls, and mused +for a time without speaking. Then he bent his shrewd glance on Wade +from under puckered lids. + +"There's no telling what a lunatic will do next, is there?" he blurted, +abruptly. + +Wade, failing to understand, stared at his questioner. + +"I was thinkin' about that as we came past that place where 'Ladder' +Lane trussed up John Barrett and left him, time of the big fire," the +old man went on. "Comin' down the Notch sort of brought the thing up in +my mind. It's quite a grudge that Lane has got against John Barrett and +all that belongs to him." + +Wade was well enough versed in Christopher Straight's subtle fashion of +expressing his suspicions to understand him now. + +"By ----, Straight, I believe you've hit it!" he panted. + +"I've been patchin' a few things together in my head," said the old man, +modestly, "as a feller has to do when dealin' with woods matters. I've +told you that queer things have happened in the woods. When a number of +things happen you can fit 'em together, sometimes. Now, there wasn't +anything queer at Britt's camps to fit into the rest. I came right on +'em sudden, and there wasn't a ripple anywhere. I didn't go into the +details, Mr. Wade, in tellin' you why I knew Miss Barrett wasn't there. +It would have been wastin' time. But now take the queer things! Out goes +Abe Skeet into the storm! Who would be mousin' around outside at that +time of night except a lunatic--such as 'Ladder' Lane has turned into +since the big fire? You saw on Jerusalem how Lane could boss Abe--he +jumped when Lane pulled the string. + +"And it was Lane that called him out of our camp," the old man went on. +"No one else could do it--except that old Skeet grandmother. Lane has +been in these woods ever since he abandoned the Jerusalem fire station. +He's no ordinary lunatic. He's cunnin'. He's only livin' now to nuss the +grudge. Now see here!" Christopher held up his fingers, and bent them +down one by one to mark his points. "He has ha'nted camps in this +section to locate Abe Skeet. Knowed Abe Skeet could probably tell where +Kate Arden had gone, Abe havin' been left to guard her. Called Abe out +to go with him to get that girl back--maybe havin' heard that John +Barrett got out of these woods scot-free and had dumped the girl off +somewhere else. Lane is lunatic enough to think he needs the girl to +carry out his plan of revenge. And he does, if he means to take her +outside and show her to the world as John Barrett's abandoned daughter, +as it's plain his scheme is. Lane and Abe started down towards Castonia. +Heard tote team, and hid side of road (would naturally hide). Saw girl +that looked like Kate Arden (even dressed in her clothes, I believe you +told me?). Followed the team, and when she covered herself in the +blanket, as though to make herself into a package ready for 'em, they +grabbed her off the team before she had time to squawk. Had her ready +muzzled and gagged, as you might say! Mr. Wade, as I told you, I've been +patchin' things in my mind. I ain't a dime-novel detective nor anything +of the sort, but I do know something about the woods and who are in 'em +and what they'll be likely to do, and I can't see anything far-fetched +in the way I've figgered this." + +While his fears had been so hideously vague Wade had stumbled on behind +his guide without hope, and with his thoughts whirling in his head as +wildly as the snow-squalls whirled in Pogey. Now, with definite point on +which to hang his bitter fears, he was roused into a fury of activity. + +"We'll after them, Christopher!" he shouted. "They've got her! It's just +as you've figured it. They've got her! She will die of fright, man! I +don't dare to think of it!" He was rushing away. Christopher called to +him. + +"Just which way was you thinkin' of goin'?" he asked, with mild sarcasm. +"I can put queer things together in my mind so's to make 'em fit pretty +well," went on the old man, "but jest which way to go chasin' a lunatic +and a fool in these big woods ain't marked down on this snow plain +enough so I can see it." + +Wade, the cord of the moose-sled in his trembling hands, turned and +stared dismally at Straight. The old man slowly came away from the +hovel, his nose in the air, as though he were sniffing for inspiration. + +"The nearest place," he said, thinking his thoughts aloud, "would be to +the fire station up there." He pointed his mittened hand towards the +craggy sides of Jerusalem. "They may have started hot-foot for the +settlement. Perhaps 'Ladder' Lane would have done that if 'twas Kate +Arden he'd got. But seein' as it's John Barrett's own daughter--" He +paused and rubbed his mitten over his face. "Knowin' what we do of the +general disposition of old Lane, it's more reasonable to think that he +ain't quite so anxious to deliver that particular package outside, +seein' that he can twist John Barrett's heart out of him by keepin' her +hid in these woods." + +The young man had no words. His face pictured his fears. + +"It's only guesswork at best, Mr. Wade," said Christopher. "It's tough +to think of climbin' to the top of Jerusalem on this day, but it seems +to me it's up to us as men." They looked at each other a moment, and the +look was both agreement and pledge. They began the ascent, quartering +the snowy slope. The dogged persistence of the veteran woodsman animated +the old man; love and desperation spurred the younger. The climb from +bench to bench among the trees was an heroic struggle. The passage +across the bare poll of the mountain in the teeth of the bitter blast +was torture indescribable. And they staggered to the fire station only +to find its open doors drifted with snow, its two rooms empty and +echoing. + +"I was in hopes--in hopes!" sighed the old man, stroking the frozen +sweat from his cheeks. "But I ain't agoin' to give up hopes here, +sonny." Even Wade's despair felt the soothing encouragement in the old +man's tone. + +"We've got to fetch Barnum Withee's camp on 'Lazy Tom' before we sleep," +said the guide. "There'll be something to eat there. There may be news. +We've got to do it!" And they plodded on wearily over the ledges and +down the west descent. + +They made the last two miles by the light of their lantern, dragging +their snow-shoes, one over the other, with the listlessness of +exhaustion. The cook of Withee's camp stared at them when they stumbled +in at the door of his little domain, their snow-shoes clattering on the +floor. He was a sociable cook, and he remarked, cheerily, "Well, gents, +I'm glad to see that you seem to be lookin' for a hotel instead of a +horsepittle." + +Not understanding him, they bent to untie the latchets of their shoes +without reply. + +"T'other one is in the horsepittle," said the cook, jerking his thumb +over his shoulder in the direction of his bunk in the lean-to. "He was +brought in. I've been lookin' for something of the sort ever since he +skipped from the Jerusalem station. Lunatics ain't fit to fool 'round in +the woods," he rambled on. + +"Who've you got in there?" demanded Christopher, snapping up from his +fumbling at the rawhide strings. + +"Old 'Ladder' Lane," replied the cook, calmly. "Murphy's down-toter +brought him here just before dark. He's pretty bad. Froze up +considerable. Toter heard him hootin' out in the swirl of snow on the +Dickery pond and toled him ashore by hootin' back at him. No business +tryin' to cross a pond on a day like this! 'Tain't safe for a young man +with all his wits, let alone an old man who has beat himself all out +slam-bangin' round these woods this winter. + +"Yes, he's pretty bad. Done what I could for him, me and cookee, by +rubbin' on snow and ladlin' ginger-tea into him, but when it come to +supper-time them nail-kags of mine had to be 'tended to, and here's +bread to mix for to-morrow mornin'. We don't advertise a horsepittle, +gents, but you wait a minute and I'll scratch _you_ up somethin' for +supper. The horsepittle will have to run itself for a little while." + +Wade and the old man stared at each other stupidly while the cook +bustled about his task. For the moment their thoughts were too busy for +words. Even Christopher's whitening face showed the fear that had come +upon him. + +"Guess old Lane was comin' out to get a letter onto the tote team," +gossiped the cook. "I was lookin' through his coat after I got it off +and found that one up there." + +He nodded at a grimy epistle stuck in a crevice of the log, and went +down into a barrel after doughnuts which he piled on a tin plate. + +Noiselessly Christopher strode to the log and took down the letter and +stared at the superscription, and without a word displayed the writing +to Wade. It was addressed to John Barrett at his city address. + +The cook was busy at the table. + +"By Cephas, this is _our_ business!" muttered the old man. And, turning +his back on the cook, he ripped open the envelope. On a wrinkled leaf +torn from an account-book was pencilled this message: + +"_You stole my wife. I've got your daughter. Now, damn you, crawl and +beg!_" + +"Look here, cook," called Straight, sharply, "there's bad business mixed +up with Lane. Don't ask me no questions." He flapped the open letter +into the astonished face of the man to check his words. "We've got to +speak to Lane, and speak mighty quick." + +"He was in a sog when I put him to bed," said the cook. "Didn't know +what, who, or where. They say lunatics want to be woke up careful. You +let me go." He took a doughnut from the plate and started for the +lean-to, grinning back over his shoulder. "He may be ready to set up, +take notice, and brace himself with a doughnut." + +The two men waited, eager, silent, hoping, fearing--each framing such +appeal as might touch the heart of this revengeful maniac. + +They heard the cook utter a snort of surprise; then they saw the flame +of a match shielded by his palm. A moment later he came out and stood +looking at them with a singularly sheepish expression. + +"Gents," he blurted, "I'll be cussed if the joke ain't on me this time! +I went in there to give the horsepittle patient a fresh-laid doughnut to +revive his droopin' heart, and--" + +"Is that man gone?" bawled Christopher, reaching for his snow-shoes. + +"Yes," said the cook, grimly; "but you can't chase him on snow--not +where he's gone. He's deader'n the door-knob on a hearse-house door." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE HOSTAGE OF THE GREAT WHITE SILENCE + + "Round the bellowin' falls of Abol we lugged him through the + brush, + And Death had marked his forehead: 'To a Woman. Kindly + Rush!'" + + +When Christopher and Wade started up and hurried into the lean-to, the +cook of the "Lazy Tom" camp went ahead carrying a lamp to light the +place whose rude interior had so suddenly been made mystic by death. + +"'Yes, s'r,' says I to him," he repeated, with queer, bewildered, +hysterical sort of chuckle. "I says to him, jolly as a chipmunk in a +beech-nut tree, I says, 'Set up and have a doughnut all fresh laid,' and +I'll be bunga-nucked if he wa'n't dead! And that's a joke on me, all +right!" + +He held the lamp over the features of old "Ladder" Lane, and Dwight Wade +and Christopher Straight bent and peered. + +"Look; if he ain't grinnin'!" whispered the cook, huskily. For one +horrid moment it seemed to Wade that the fixed grimace of the death-mask +expressed hideous mirth. The scrawl that the young man still clutched +in his fist held the words that the dead lips seemed to be mouthing: +"You stole my wife. I've got your daughter. Now, damn you, crawl and +beg!" And at the thought of Elva Barrett, hidden, lost--worse than +lost--somewhere in that great silence about them, Wade's agony and anger +found vent in the oath that he groaned above the dead man, who seemed to +lie there and mock him. + +But Christopher Straight gently laid his seamed hand on the shaggy +fringe of the gray poll. + +"It was a hot fire that burned in there, poor old fellow," he murmured. +"And those that knew you can't be sorry that it's gone out." + +He pressed his hand up under the hanging jaw, and smoothed down the +half-opened eyelids. And when he stepped back, after his sad and kindly +offices, the old man's face was composed; it was the worn, wasted face +of an old man who had suffered much; grief, hardship, hunger, and all +human misery were writ large there in pitiful characters, in hollow +temple, sunken cheeks, pinched nostrils, and lips drawn as one draws +them after a bitter sob. And over its misery, after a long look of +honest grief, the old woodsman drew up the edge of the bunk's worn gray +blanket, muttering as soothingly as though he were comforting a sick +man: "Take your rest, old fellow! There's a long night ahead of you." + +With bowed head Wade led the way into the main camp. He stumbled along +blindly, for the sudden tears were hot in his eyes. He regretted that +instant of anger as a profanation that even his harrowing fears for Elva +Barrett could not excuse. For Linus Lane, lying there dead, he +reflected, was the spoil of the lust of Elva Barrett's father, as his +peace of mind and his sanity had been playthings of John Barrett's +contemptuous indifference; and who was he, Dwight Wade, that he should +sit in judgment, even though his heart were bursting with the agony of +his fears? + +"In the woods a tree falls the way of the axe-scarf, Mr. Wade," said old +Christopher, patting his shoulder. "John Barrett felled that one in +there, and he and his got in the way of it. Don't blame the tree, but +the man that chopped it." + +"Where is she, Christopher? What has he done with her?" demanded the +young man, hoarsely. He did not look up. His eyes were full. He was +trying to unfold the scrap of paper, but his fingers trembled so +violently that he tore it. + +They had not marked the hasty exit of the cook. But his return broke in +upon the long hush that had fallen between Wade and the woodsman. He was +bringing Barnum Withee, operator on "Lazy Tom," and his chopping-boss, +and the men of "Lazy Tom" came streaming behind, moved by curiosity. + +"And I says to him--and these gents here will tell you the same--I says, +'Set up and have a fresh-laid doughnut!'" babbled the cook, retailing +his worn story over and over. + +"I didn't know you were here," said the hospitable head of the camp, +"till cook passed it to me along with the other news, that poor Lane had +parted his snub-line. I looked him over when he was brought in, but I +didn't see any chance for him." And after inviting them to eat and make +"their bigness" in the office camp, he went on into the lean-to. + +"Put on your cap, boy!" said old Christopher, touching Wade's elbow. The +grumble of many voices, the crowd slowly jostling into the camp, the +half-jocose comments on "Ladder" Lane disturbed and distressed +Christopher, and he realized that the young man was suffering acutely +from a bitter cause. "Come out with me for a little while." + +The wind had lulled. The heavens were clear. The Milky Way glowed with +dazzling sheen above the forest's nicking, where the main road led. +Wherever the eye found interstice between the fronds of spruce and +hemlock the stars spangled the frosty blue. There was a hush so profound +that a listener heard the pulsing of his blood. And yet there was +something over all that was not silence, nor yet a sound, but a +rhythmical, slow respiration, as though the world breathed and one heard +it, and, hearing it, could believe that nature was mortal--friend or +kin. + +Christopher walked to the first turn of the logging-road, and the young +man followed him; and when the trees had shut from sight the snow-heaped +roofs and the yellow lights and all sign of human neighbors, Christopher +stopped, leaned against a tree, and gazed up at the sparkling heavens. + +"I reckoned your feelings was gettin' away from you a bit, Mr. Wade," +said the old man, quietly, "and I thought we'd step out for a while +where we can sort of get a grip on somethin' stationary, as you might +say. In time of deep trouble, when they happen to be round, a chap feels +inclined to grab holt of poor human critters, but they ain't much of a +prop to hang to. Not when there's the big woods!" + +"The big woods have got her, Christopher," choked the young man, +despairingly. "And I'm afraid!" + +"The big woods look savagest to you when you're peekin' into them from a +camp window in the night," declared the old man. "But when you're right +in 'em, like we are now, they ain't anything but friendly. Look around +you! Listen! There's nothing to be afraid of. Let the big woods talk to +you a moment, my boy. Forget there are men for just a little while. I've +let the woods talk to me in some of the sore times in my life, and +they've always comforted me when I really set myself to listen." + +"My God, I can only hear the words that are written on this scrap of +paper!" cried Wade. He shook "Ladder" Lane's crumpled letter before the +woodsman's face, and Christopher quietly reached for it, took it, and +tore it up. + +"When a paper talks louder than the good old woods talk, it's time to +get rid of it," he remarked, and tossed the bits over the snow. + +"I ain't goin' to tell you not to worry," Christopher went on, after a +time. "I'm no fool, and you're no fool. It's a hard proposition, Mr. +Wade. A lunatic whirling in a snow-cloud like a leaf, round and round, +and then driftin' out, and no way in the world of tellin' where he came +from! And there's some one--off that way he came from--that you want +terrible bad! Yet even that lunatic's tracks have been patted smooth by +the wind. It's no time to talk to human critters, Mr. Wade. It would be +'Run this way and run that!' Let the woods talk to you! They've been +wrastlin' the big winds all day. They'll probably have to wrastle 'em +again to-morrow. And they'll be ready for the fight. Hear 'em sleep? The +same for you and for me, Mr. Wade. Go in and sleep, and be ready for +what comes to-morrow." + +He walked ahead, leading the way back to camp, and Wade followed, every +aching muscle crying for rest, though his heart, aching more poignantly, +called on him to plunge into the forest in search of the helpless +hostage the woods were hiding. + +It is not in the nature of woodsmen to pry into another's reason for +this or that. Barnum Withee gave Christopher Straight a chance to tell +why he and his employer were so far off the Enchanted operation; but +when Christopher Straight smoked on without explaining, Barnum Withee +smoked on without asking questions. In one of the dim bunks of the +wangan Wade breathed stertorously, drugged with nature's opiate of utter +weariness. And after listening a moment with an air of relief, +Christopher broke upon Withee's meditations. + +"Was you tellin' me where Lane has been makin' his headquarters since he +skipped the fire station?" he inquired, innocently. + +"I was thinkin' about him, too," returned Withee, promptly. +"Headquarters! Does an Injun devil with a steel trap on his tail have +headquarters while he's runnin' and yowlin'? Whether he's been in the +air or in a hole since he went out of his head, time of the fire, I +don't know. Eye ain't been laid on him till he come out of that +snow-squall, walkin' like an icicle and hootin' like a barn owl." + +"Heard of any goods bein' missed from any depot camps?" pursued the +woodsman, shrewdly. "That might tell where he's been hangin' out." + +"No," said the operator, suddenly brusque. Then he looked up from the +sliver that he had been whittling absent-mindedly, and fixed keen eye on +Straight. "Say, look here, Chris, if you and your young friend are over +here huntin' for Lane, or for any documents or papers or evidence to +make more trouble for Honorable John Barrett, I've got to tell you that +you can't ring me in. Honorable Barrett and me has fixed!" + +"I reckoned you would," said Christopher. "Stumpage kings usually get +their own way." + +"Well, it's different in this case," declared the operator, +triumphantly, "and when I've been used square I cal'late to use the +other fellow square, and that's why I'm tellin' you, so that you won't +make any mistakes about how I feel towards Mr. Barrett. I don't approve +of any move to hector him about that Lane matter. He says to me at +Castonia--" + +"When?" + +"No longer ago than yesterday. I came through from down-river with two +new teamsters and a saw-filer, and hearin' Mr. Barrett was able to set +up and talk a little business for the first time, I stepped into Rod +Ide's house, and we fixed. He throwed off all claims for extry stumpage +and damages on Square-hole. And when a man gives me more than I expect, +that fixes me with him." + +"Ought to, for sartin," agreed Christopher. "Change of heart in him, or +because you knowed about the Lane case?" The tone was rather satirical, +and Withee flushed under his tan. + +"You don't think I went to a sick man's bedside and blackmailed him, do +you, like some--" + +"Friend Barn," broke in the old woodsman, quietly, "don't slip out any +slur that you'll wish you hadn't." + +"Well," growled the operator, "it may be that 'Stumpage John' Barrett +ain't always set a model for a Sunday-school, but if I had as pretty a +daughter as that one that was settin' in his room with him, and as nice +a girl as she seems to be, though of course she didn't stoop to talk to +a grizzly looservee like me, I'd hate to have an old dead and decayed +scandal dug up in these woods, and dragged out and dumped over my +front-yard fence in the city!" + +And Christopher remembered what he had remarked on one occasion to +Dwight Wade, when they had seen the waif of the Skeet tribe on Misery +Gore, and now he half chuckled as he squinted at Withee and muttered in +his beard, "Lots of folks don't recognize white birch when it's polished +and set up in a parlor." + +"What say?" demanded the operator, suspiciously. + +"I'm so sleepy I'm dreamin' out loud," explained Christopher, blandly, +"and I'm goin' to turn in." And he sighed to himself as he rolled in +upon the fir boughs and pulled the spread about his ears. "There's some +feller said that good counsel cometh in the morning. Mebbe so--mebbe so! +But it will have to be me and the boy here for the job, because old +Dan'l Webster, with all his flow of language, couldn't convince Barn +Withee now that it's John Barrett's daughter that is lost in the woods. +I know now why something told me to go slow on the hue and cry." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +IN THE MATTER OF JOHN BARRETT'S DAUGHTER + + "Warmth and comfort? Ay, all these + Under the arch of the great spruce trees; + But our cup o' content holds naught but foam!-- + No woman's hand to make a home." + + +Wade did not wake when the cook's wailing hoot called the camp in the +morning. It was black darkness still. He slept through all the clatter +of tin dishes, the jangle of bind-chains as the sleds started, the yowl +of runners on the dry snow, and the creaking of departing footsteps. The +sun quivered in his eyes when he rolled in the bunk at touch of old +Christopher's hand on his shoulder. + +"Oh, but you needed it all, my boy!" protested the woodsman, checking +the young man's peevish regrets that he had slept so long. "Come to +breakfast." + +Barnum Withee had eaten with his men, but he was waiting in solitary +state in the cook camp, smoking his pipe, and moodily rapping the horn +handle of a case-knife on the table. + +"Law says," he remarked to his guests, continuing aloud his meditations, +"that employer shall send out remains of them that die in camp. But I +ain't employer in this case, and I'm short of hosses, anyway, and the +tote team only came in yesterday, and ain't due to go out again for a +week." + +"It makes a lot of trouble, old critters dyin' that ain't got friends," +observed Christopher, spooning out beans. + +"You may mean that sarcastic, but it's the truth just the same," +retorted Withee. "He ain't northin' to me. What I was thinkin' of, if +you were bound out--" + +"Ain't goin' that way," said the woodsman, giving Wade a significant +glance. + +"Well, from what things you let drop last night," grumbled the operator, +"I figured that you were more or less interested in old Lane, and +perhaps were lookin' him up for somethin', and if so you ought to be +willin' to help get him out and buried in a cemetery. He ain't a friend +of mine and never was, and it ain't square to have the whole thing +dumped onto me." + +Wade, his heart made tender by his own grief, gazed towards the lonesome +isolation of the lean-to with moistening eyes. Alone, living; alone, +dead! But Christopher put into cold phrase the burning fact they had to +face. + +"We've got business of our own for to-day, Barnum, and mighty important +business, too." + +And pulling their caps about their ears, and tugging their moose-sled, +they set away, up the tote road to the north, leaving Barnum Withee not +wholly easy in his mind regarding their motives. + +It was from the snow-swirl on Dickery Pond that "Ladder" Lane had +emerged, even then death-struck. It was straight to Dickery that +Christopher led the way, and two hours' steady trudging brought them +there. + +"So it was from off there he came," muttered the woodsman, blinking into +the glare of the snow crystals on its broad surface. "But where, in +God's name, he came from it ain't in me to say!" + +It was one of those still winter days when even the wind seems to be +bound by the hard frost. The sliding snow-shoes shrieked as shrilly with +the sun high as they had in the early morning. There was no hint of +melting. + +"There are five old operations around this pond, and a set of empty +camps on each one," said Straight. "I've been to each one of them in +times past, and I know where the main roads come out to the landings. +But it's slow business, takin' 'em one after the other. Perhaps we ought +to go back and beat the truth of this thing into Barnum Withee's thick +head, and start the hue and cry--but--but--I'd hoped to do it some +better way." + +"Straight," panted the young man, "it's getting to be perfectly +damnable, this suspense! Let's do something, if it's only to run up the +middle of that pond and shout!" + +"Well," snorted the old guide, irrelevantly, "I've been lookin' for +old Red Fins to come along for two days now, and I ain't disappointed. +If there's trouble anywhere in this section, old Eli has got a smeller +that leads him to it." Wade whirled from his despairing survey of the +pond and saw Prophet Eli. He was coming down the tote road on his +"ding-swingle," urging on his little white stallion with loose, clapping +reins. Huge mittens of vivid red encased his hands, and his conical, +knitted cap was red, and was pulled down over his ears like a +candle-snuffer. + +Wade felt a queer little thrill of superstition as he looked at him, and +then sneered at himself as one who was allowing good wit to be infected +by the idle follies of the woods. And yet there was something eerie in +the way this bizarre old wanderer turned up now, as he had appeared +twice before at times that meant so much, at moments so crucial, in +Wade's woods life. + +Prophet Eli swung up to them, halted, and peered at them curiously out +of his little eyes. + +"Green, blue, and yellow," he blurted, patting his much-variegated wool +jacket. "And red! Red mittens good for the arterial blood. Why don't you +wear them?" + +"Say, look here, prophet--" began Christopher, blandly respectful. + +"Green is nature's color. Calms the nerves. Blue, electricity for the +system--got a stripe of it all up and down my backbone. Good for you. +Ought to wear it. Yellow, kidneys and cathartic. You'd rather be sick, +eh? Be sick. Clek-clek!" He clucked his tongue and clapped his reins. +But Christopher grabbed at the stallion's headstall and checked him. + +"I believe the idea is all c'rect, prophet, and I'll use it, and I'll +try to make it right with you. But just now I'm wantin' a little +information, and I'll make it right with you for that, too. You're +sky-hootin' round these woods all the time. Now, where's Lane been +makin' his headquarters?--you ought to know!" + +"What do you want him for? State-prison or insane asylum?" snapped the +prophet. + +"I don't want him," said the woodsman, solemnly. "He's spoken for, Eli. +He's down there, dead, in Barn Withee's camps." + +The little gray eyes blinked quickly. What that emotion was, one could +not guess. For the voice of the prophet did not waver in its brisk +staccato. "Dead, eh? Hate-bug crawled into him and did it. I told him to +stay in the woods and the hate-bugs couldn't get him. Told him twenty +years ago. But he wasn't careful. Let the hate-bug get him at last. +Dead, eh? I'll go and get him." + +"Get him?" echoed Christopher. + +"Promised to bury him," explained the prophet, promptly. "Wanted to be +buried off alone, just as he lived. Rocks for a pillow. Expects to rest +easy. I helped him dig his grave and lay out the rocks a long time ago. +And I'll tell no one the place--no, sir." + +"Well, that lets Withee out of trouble and expense," said the woodsman, +"and you'll get a good reception down that way. Now, prophet, where's he +been hiding? You know, probably. It's important, I tell you." The old +man had struck his stallion, and the animal was trying to get away. But +Christopher held on grimly. + +"You call yourself a good woodsman?" squealed the indignant Eli. + +"I reckon I'll average well." + +"If any one wants anything of 'Ladder' Lane now," cried the prophet, "it +must be for something that he's left behind him! Left behind him!" he +repeated. He stood up on the "ding-swingle," and ran his keen gaze about +the ridges that circled the lake. + +"Was it something that could build a fire?" he demanded, sharply. +Christopher, in no mood for confidences, stared at the peppery old man. +"You call yourself a good woodsman, and don't know what it means to see +that!" He pointed his whip at a thin trail of white smoke that mounted, +as tenuous almost as a thread, above the distant shore of Dickery Pond. +"No lumbermen operating there for three years, and you see that, and are +lookin' for something, and don't go and find out! And you call yourself +a woodsman!" Without further word or look he lashed the stallion; the +animal broke away with a squeal, and Prophet Eli's "ding-swingle" +disappeared down the tote road in a swirl of snow. + +"No, I ain't a woodsman!" snorted Christopher. He started away across +the pond at a pace that left Wade breath only for effort and not for +questions. "I ain't a woodsman. Standin' here and not seein' that smoke! +Not seein' it, and guessin' what it must mean! I ain't a woodsman!" Over +and over he muttered his bitter complaints at himself in disjointed +sentences. "I'm gettin' old. I must be blind. A lunatic can tell me my +business." His anger rowelled him on, and when he reached the opposite +shore of the lake he was obliged to wait for the younger man to come +floundering and panting up to him. + +"I don't feel just like talkin' now, Mr. Wade," he said, gruffly. "I +don't feel as though I knew enough to talk to any one over ten years +old." He strode on, tugging the sled. + +An abandoned main logging-road, well grown to leafless moose-wood and +witch-hobble, led them up from the lake. Christopher did not have to +search the skies for the smoke. His first sight of it had betrayed the +camp's location. He knew the roads that led to it. And in the end they +came upon it, though it seemed to Wade that the road had set itself to +twist eternally through copses and up and down the hemlock benches. + +The camps were cheerless, the doors of main camp, cook camp, and hovel +were open, and the snow had drifted in. But from the battered funnel of +the office camp came that trail of smoke, reaching straight up. Crowding +close to the funnel for warmth, and nestled in the space that the heat +had made in the snow, crouched a creature that Wade recognized as +"Ladder" Lane's tame bobcat. This, then, was "Ladder" Lane's retreat. +Inside there--the young man's knees trembled, and there was a gripping +at his throat, dry and aching from his frantic pursuit of his grim +guide. + +"Mr. Wade," said Christopher, halting, "I reckon she's there, and that +she's all right. I'll let you go ahead. She knows you. I don't need to +advise you to go careful." + +And Wade went, tottering across the unmarked expanse of snow, the pure +carpet nature had laid between him and the altar of his love--an altar +within log walls, an altar whose fires were tended by--He pushed open +the door! Foolish Abe was kneeling by the hearth of the rusty Franklin +stove. And even as he had been toiling on Enchanted, so here he was +whittling, whittling unceasingly, piling the heaps of shavings upon the +fire--unconscious signaller of the hiding-place of Elva Barrett. + +For a moment Wade stood holding by the sides of the door, staring into +the gloom of the camp, for his eyes were as yet blinded by the glare of +out-doors. + +And then he saw her. Her white face was peering out of the dimness of a +bunk. Plainly she had withdrawn herself there like some cowering +creature, awaiting a fate she could not understand or anticipate. One +could see that those eyes, wide-set and full of horror, had been +strained on that uncouth, hairy creature at the hearth during long and +dreadful suspense. + +Through all that desperate search, in hunger, weariness, and despair, he +had forgotten John Barrett, contemptuous millionaire; he remembered that +John Barrett's daughter Elva had confessed once that she returned his +love, and he had thought that when they met again, this time outside the +trammels of town and in the saner atmosphere of the big woods, she might +understand him better--understand him well enough to know that John +Barrett lied when he made honest love contemptible by his sneers about +"fortune-seekers." They were all very chaotic, his thoughts, to be sure, +but he had believed that the ground on which they would meet would be +that common level of honest, human hearts, where they could stand, eye +to eye, hands clasping hands, and love frankly answering love. + +But love that casts all to the winds, love that forgets tact, prudence, +delicacy, love without premeditation or after-thought, is not the love +that is ingrained in New England character. She gazed at him at first, +not comprehending--her fears still blinding her--and he paused to murmur +words of pity and reassurance. + +And then Yankee prudence, given its opportunity to whisper, told him +that to act the precipitate lover now would be to take advantage of her +weakness, her helplessness, her gratitude. If he took this first chance +to woo her, demanding, as it were, that she disobey her father's +commands, and putting a price on the service that he was rendering her, +might her good sense not suggest that, after all, he was a sneak rather +than a man? + +They call the New England character of the old bed-rock sort hard and +selfish. It is rather acute sensitiveness, timorous even to concealment. + +And in the end Dwight Wade, faltering banal words of pity for her +plight, went to her outwardly calm. And she, her soul still too full of +the horror of her experience to let her heart speak what it felt, took +his hands and came out upon the rough floor. + +The shaggy giant squatting by the hearth bent meek and humid eyes on the +young man. "Me do it--me do it as you told!" he protested. He patted his +hand on the shavings. He was referring to the task to which Wade had set +him on Enchanted. To the girl it sounded like the confession of an +understanding between this unspeakable creature and her rescuer. Wade, +eager only to soothe, protested guilelessly, when she shrank back, that +the man was not the ogre he seemed, but a harmless, simple fellow whom +he had been sheltering and feeding at his own camp. And then, by the way +she stared at him, he realized the chance for a horrible suspicion. + +"I don't understand," she moaned. "It's like a dreadful dream. There was +an old man who sat here and muttered and raved about my father! And +this--this"--she faltered, shrinking farther from Abe--"who brought me +here in his arms! And you say he came from your camp! Oh, these +woods--these terrible woods! Take me away from them! I am afraid!" + +She dropped the shrouding blanket from her shoulders, and he saw her now +in the garb of the waif of the Skeets. And under his scrutiny he saw +color in her cheeks for the first time, replacing the pallor of +distress. + +"I had thought there was excuse for this folly--reason for it. I thought +it was my duty to--" She faltered, then set her teeth upon her lower +lip, and turned away from him. "Oh, take me away from these woods! +Something--I do not know--something has bewitched me--made me forget +myself--sent me on a fool's errand! The woods--I'm afraid of them, Mr. +Wade!" + +It came to him with a pang that the woods were not offering to his love +the common ground of sincerity that he had dreamed of. Elva Barrett, +ashamed of her weakness, would not remember generously an attempt to +take advantage of her distress when every bulwark of reserve lay in +ruins about her, and he felt afraid of his burning desire to take her in +his arms and comfort her. Thus self-convinced, he failed to realise that +the girl with her bitter words was merely striving, blindly and +innocently, to be convinced--and convinced from his own mouth--that she +had been wise in her folly, devoted in her mission, and honest in the +love that had found such heroic expression in her adventuring. + +She looked at him, and saw in his face only the struggle of doubt and +hopelessness and fear, and misinterpreted. "You know what the woods have +done to make shame and wretchedness, Mr. Wade!" she cried, a flash of +her old spirit coming into her eyes. "Men who have been honest with the +world outside and honest with themselves have forgotten all honesty +behind the screen of these savage woods." + +Her cheeks were burning now. She drew the blanket over herself, hugging +its edges close in front, covering the attire she wore as though it were +nakedness. And in that bitter moment it was nakedness--for the garb she +had borrowed from Kate Arden symbolized for her and for him a father's +guilty secret laid bare. + +"Take me away from the woods!" she gasped. + +The look that passed between them was speech unutterable. He had no +words for her then. In silence he made the long sledge ready for her. +Christopher helped him, silent with the reticence of the woodsman. If he +had even glanced at Elva Barrett no bystander could have detected that +glance. There were thick camp spreads on the sled. Christopher's +thoughtfulness had provided them, and when they had been wrapped about +her the two men set away, each with hand on the sled-rope. + +"We'll go the short way back to Enchanted," said the old guide, +answering Wade's glance. "Back across Dickery, up the tote road, and +follow the Cameron and Telos roads. It will dodge all camps, and keep us +away from foolish questions. I've got enough in my pack from Withee's +camp for us to eat." + +Abe floundered behind, keeping them in sight with the pertinacity of a +dog, and he ate the bread that Straight threw to him with a dog's mute +gratitude. + +Only the desperation of men utterly resolved could have accomplished the +journey they set before them. The girl rode, a silent, shrouded figure; +the men strode ahead, silent; Abe struggled on behind, ploughing the +snow with dragging feet. When the night fell they went on by the +lantern's light. + +It was long after midnight when they came at last to the Enchanted +camps, walking like automatons and almost senseless with fatigue. Wade +lifted the girl from the sled when they halted in front of the wangan. +Her stiffened and cramped limbs would not move of themselves. And when +she was on her feet, and staggered, he kept his arm about her, gently +and unobtrusively. + +"This is the best home I have to offer you," he said. "Nina Ide is here +waiting. We will wake her, and she will do for you what should be done. +Oh, that sounds cold and formal, I know--but the poor girl waiting in +there will put into words all the joy I feel but can't speak. My head is +pretty light, and my heels heavy, and I don't seem to be thinking very +clearly, Miss Barrett," he murmured, his voice weak with pathetic +weariness. + +She was struggling with sobs, striving to speak; but he hastened on, as +though at last his full heart found words. + +"This is--this--I hardly know how to say this. But I understand why you +came." He felt her tremble. "But, my God, Elva, I don't dare to believe +that you thought so ill of me that you were coming to plead with me for +your father's sake." It was not resentment, it was passionate grief that +burst from him, and she put her hands about his arm. + +"I told you it was folly that sent me," she sobbed. "But he had been +unjust to you, Dwight. Oh, it was folly that sent me, but I wanted to +know if you--if you--" She was silent and trembled, and when she did not +speak he clasped her close, trembling as pitifully as she. + +"Oh, if you only dared say that you wanted to know whether I still loved +you!" he breathed, in a broken whisper. "And I would say--" + +It seemed that his heart came into his throat, for her fingers pressed +more closely upon his arm. In that instant he could not speak. He +pretended to look for Christopher, but that wise woodsman's tact did not +fail. He saw Christopher disappearing into the gloom of the dingle, and +heard the careful lisp of the wooden latch in its socket and the +cautious creak of the closing door. There was only the hush of the still +night about him, and when he turned again the starlight was shining on +Elva Barrett's upraised face. And her dark eyes were imperiously +demanding that he finish his sentence--so imperiously that his tongue +burst all the shackles of his sensitive prudence. + +"And I would say that my love is so far above the mean things of the +world that they can't make it waver, and it is so unselfish that I can +love you the more be-because you love your father and obey him. And all +I ask is that you don't misunderstand me." There was deep meaning in his +tones. + +"Oh Dwight, my boy," she moaned, "it's an awful thing for a daughter to +disobey her father. But it's more awful when she finds that he--" But he +put his fingers tenderly on her lips, and when she kissed them, tears +coursing on her cheeks, he gathered her close, and his lips did the +service that his fingers retired from in tremulous haste. + +"My little girl," he said, softly, "keep that story off your lips. It is +too hard, too bitter. I may have said cruel things to your father. He +may tell you they were cruel. But remember that she had your eyes and +your face--that poor girl I found in the woods. And before God, if not +before men, she is your sister. And so I gave of my heart and my +strength to help her. And I know your heart so well, Elva, that I leave +it all to you. It's better to be ashamed than to be unjust." + +"She _is_ my sister," she answered, simply, but with earnestness there +was no mistaking. "And you may leave it all in my hands." + +Then fearfully, anxiously, grief and shame at shattered faith in a +father showing in the face she lifted to him, she asked: + +"It was he, was it not--the old man that took me away and sat before me +and cursed me? He was her--her husband?" + +His look replied to her. Then he said, soothingly: "It was not in our +hands, dear. But that which is in our hands let us do as best we can, +and so"--he kissed her, this time not as the lover, but as the faithful, +earnest, consoling friend--"and so--to sleep! The morning's almost here, +and it will bring a brighter day." + +She drew his head down and pressed her lips to his forehead. + +"True knighthood has come again," she murmured. "And my knight has taken +me from the enchanted forest, and has shown me his heart--and the last +was best." + +Still clasping her, he shook the door and called to the girl within; and +when she came, crying eager questions, he put Elva Barrett into her arms +and left them together. + +As he walked away from the shadow of the camp into the shimmer of the +starlight he felt the wine of love coursing his veins. His muscles +ached, weariness clogged his heels, but his eyes were wide-propped and +his ears hummed as with a sound of distant music. His thoughts seemed +too sacred to be taken just then into the company of other men. He +dreaded to go inside out of the radiance of the night. He turned from +the door of the main camp when his hand was fumbling for the latch, +pulled his cap over his ears, and began a slow patrol on the glistening +stretch of road before the wangan. The crisp snow sang like fairy bells +under his feet. Orion dipped to the west, and the morning stars paled +slowly as the flush crept up from the east. And still he walked and +dreamed and gazed over the sombre obstacles near at hand in his life +into the radiance of promise, even as he looked over the black spruces +into the faint roses of the dawn. + +Tommy Eye, teamster, stumbling towards the hovel for the early +foddering, came upon him, and stopped and stared in utter amazement. He +came close to make sure that the eerie light of the morning was not +playing him false. Wade's cheerful greeting seemed to perplex him. + +"It isn't a ha'nt, Tommy," said the young man, smiling on him. + +"I have said all along as how it had got you," declared Tommy, with +ingenuous disappointment, looking Wade up and down for marks of +conflict. "But it may be that the ha'nts want only woods folk and are +afraid of book-learnin'! So you're back, and the girl ain't, nor +Christopher, nor--" + +"We're all back," explained Wade, calculating on Tommy's news-mongering +ability to relieve him of the need of circulating information. "We found +the--the one that was lost. That was all! She was lost, and we found +her, and we even found Foolish Abe, and he came back with us last night. +There was no mystery, Tommy. They were simply lost, and we found them. +They're asleep." + +Tommy fingered the wrinkled skin of his neck and stared dubiously at +Wade. + +"You'll see Abe whittling shavings just the same as usual this morning," +added the young man. "By-the-way, you and he may be interested to know +that Lane, the old fire warden, died at Withee's camp the other day." +For reasons of his own Wade did not care to make either the news of the +rescue or its place too definite. + +"Then," declared Tommy, hanging grimly to the last prop left in his +theory, "that accounts for it. 'Ladder' Lane is dead, and has turned +into a ha'nt. It was him that called out the fool. And he'll be making +more trouble yet. You'd better send for Prophet Eli, Mr. Wade, because +the prophet is a charmer-man and can take care of old Lane." + +"He has taken care of him already," said the young man. "We saw Prophet +Eli, and he started right away to attend to the case." And Tommy's face +displayed such eminent satisfaction that Wade had not the heart to +destroy the man's belief that his book-learned boss had adopted a part +of the woods creed of the supernatural. It was a day on which he felt +very gentle towards the dreams of other persons, for his own beautiful +dream shed its radiance on all men and all of life. + +That she was there, safe, brought by amazing circumstances into the +depths of the woods, and under his protection, seemed like a vision of +the night as he walked back and forth and watched the morning grow. + +When the sun was high and the men had been gone for hours, he put his +dream to the test. He rapped gently on the wangan door, and her voice, a +very real and loving voice, answered. With his own hands he brought food +for the two girls and spread a cedar-splint table, and served them as +they ate, and ministered in little ways, through the hours of the day, +and watched Elva's pallor and weariness give way before tenderness and +love. With the poor shifts of a lumber-camp he, not intending it, taught +her heart the lesson that love is independent of its housing. + +He rode with them on the tote team to the northern jaws of Pogey Notch +the next day, and sent them on, nestled in a bower of blankets. There +had been no further word between them of the great thing that had come +into their lives. They tacitly and joyously accepted it all, and left +the solution of its problem to saner and happier days. But the face that +she turned back to him as she rode away under the frowning rocks was a +glowing promise of all he asked of life. And as he plodded back up the +trail he went to his toil with tingling muscles and a triumphant soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE CHEESE RIND THAT NEEDED SHARP TEETH + + "So, mister, please excuse us, but you open up that sluice, + Or Gawd have mercy on ye, if I turn these gents here loose!" + + --The Rapogenus Ball. + + +Rodburd Ide, fresh-arrived from Castonia in hot haste, saw well to it +that he and Dwight Wade were safe from interruption in the wangan camp. +He even drove a sliver from the wood-box over the latch of the door. +Wade, summoned down from the chopping by a breathless cookee to meet his +partner, gazed upon these nervous, eager precautions in some alarm. + +"Now, brace your feet, and get hold of something and hang on hard," +advised the "Mayor of Castonia." + +"Good Heavens, Mr. Ide, what has happened to her?" gasped the young man. +His trembling hands clutched at the edge of the splint table, hallowed +by Elva Barrett's smiles of love across it. + +"Her!" snorted the little man, in indignant astonishment. "You don't +think I've whaled up here hell-ti-larrup on a jumper to sit down and +talk about women, do you?" + +"But Miss Barrett--" gulped Wade. + +"Miss Barrett--" Ide checked himself, discreet even in his impatience. +"Miss Barrett is all right, and the girl is all right, and--say, +look-a-here, my boy, don't you think of a girl, don't you look at a +girl, don't you even dream of a girl, for the next two months!" He drove +his hard little fist upon the sacred table. + +He leaned forward, and his very beard bristled at the young man. "Forget +your mother, forget your grandmother, forget that there is anything to +you except grit and muscle. For if ever two men had a man's work cut out +for 'em we're the ones. If ever two men found themselves on the outside +of a ripe cheese and needed teeth to gnaw in, we're the men. Money! I +can't see anything but dollar bills hangin' from those spruce-trees. But +you've got to put on brad-boots and climb to get them. You've got to +walk over men to get 'em!" He was striding about the little room. "I +reckon I seem a little excited," he added, with a catch in his voice. +"But by the priest that hammered the tail for the golden calf, I've got +reasons to be excited. I've smelt it comin' for two years, son! I 'ain't +said anything. I didn't say anything to you when I took you into +partnership; I didn't dare to. But I smelt it all the time. I 'ain't +watched the comin's and goin's of certain men at Castonia for nothin'! +Let 'em bring guns and fishin'-poles! They can't fool me. I smelt it +comin'. And now, by ----, it's come!" Again he banged his fist on the +table and glared down on his partner. + +The partner stared back at him with so much dismay and reproachful +inquiry that Ide blew off his superfluous excitement in one vigorous +"Poof!" and sat down. + +"The sum and substance of it is, those old Hullin' Machine falls ain't +goin' to bellow away all them thousands of hoss-power in empty noise any +longer. But they've made a noise big enough to reach the crowd that's +organized to fight the paper trust. See now?" + +Wade's eyes gleamed in swift comprehension. + +"The independents are goin' to develop that power. They're goin' to +build the biggest paper-mill in the world there. They're goin' to extend +the railroad up to Castonia. They're goin' to do it all on an old +charter that every one had forgotten except the lobby clique that put it +through and has been holdin' it for speculation. And why I know it all +and no one else knows it on the outside yet, my boy, is because they've +had to come to _me_! They've _had_ to come to _me_!" + +And he promptly answered the eager though mute inquiry in the young +man's eyes. + +"Every dollar that I could save, rake, and borrow for years I've been +putting into shore rights and timber. What timber country I couldn't buy +I've leased stumpage on. I've smelt it all comin'. And now they've had +to come to me, Wade. They've bonded the shore rights for a purchase, and +it's all settled." + +"With all my heart I'm glad for you, Mr. Ide!" cried the young man, with +a sincerity that put a quiver into his voice. And both hands seized the +hands of the magnate of Castonia in a grip that brought gratified tears +to the other's eyes. + +"I know it has always been a surprise to you, Wade, that I was so ready +and anxious to give you a lay on the timber end," the little man went +on. "But I knew it was time to operate on these cuttin's this season. +There are things you can't hire done with plain money. I wanted courage, +grit, and honesty. Most of all, I needed absolute loyalty. There's been +too much buyin' up of men in these woods. The old gang is a hard one to +fight. I reckon I've got you with me." + +"Heart, soul, and body, now as from the first, Mr. Ide." + +"And the lay I've given you is the best investment I could have made," +declared the partner. "I want you to feel that it is straight business. +It was no gift. You're earnin' it. But the big bunch is ahead of you, +boy!" His tone was serious. + +"Your make will come out of the timber lay. I've said I smelt this +comin'. If it hadn't come this year we should have sent our logs 'way +down-river along with the rest, and done the best we could to steal a +profit after Pulaski Britt and his gang had charged us all the tolls and +fees they could think of, and made us accept their selling-scale. But +now! But now!" His voice became tense, and he leaned forward and patted +the young man's arm. "The Great Independent--and that's the name of the +new organization, and it's a name that's goin' to roar like the Hullin' +Machine in the ears of the trust--wants every log we can hand over to +'em this season. What they don't use in construction work and in their +new saw-mill they'll pile to grind into pulp next year. + +"I've got their contract, Wade. Every log to be scaled for 'em on +our landings! And I reckon that will be the first time a square +selling-scale was ever made on this river. No Pirate Britt and his +gang of boom-scale thieves for us this time! Every honest dollar we +make will come to us. And there'll be a lot of 'em, son." + +Wade, even though Rodburd Ide had so brusquely commanded him to forget +his love, felt that love stirring in the thrill that animated him now. +Did not success mean Elva Barrett? Did not fair return from honest toil +mean that he could face John Barrett, bulwarked by his millions? Forget +his love? Ide couldn't understand. His love was a spur whose every +thrust was delicious pain. But now that the great secret was out, +Rodburd Ide's tide of enthusiasm seemed to be in somewhat ominous and +depressing reflux. + +He spread upon the splint table a lumberman's map, and his hands +trembled as he did so. + +"You've done as I told you, and only yarded at the ends of the +twitch-roads, and haven't hauled to landings?" he inquired. + +Wade nodded. + +"I was waitin', I was waitin'," explained the other, nervously scrubbing +his hand over the map. "If nothin' had happened at Umcolcus Hullin' +Machine this year we'd have landed our logs on Enchanted Stream and run +'em down into Jerusalem, and taken our chances along with Britt's logs. +'Twas a hard outlook, Wade. The last time I dared to operate here I did +that, and you'll find jill-pokes with my mark stranded all along the +stream. The old pirate took my drive because he claimed control of the +dams, charged me full fees, and left behind twenty-five per cent. of my +logs, claiming that the water dropped on him. But I noticed he got all +of his out. It's what we're up against, my son. If I'd tried to fight +him with an independent drive he would have had me hornswoggled all the +way to the down-river sortin'-boom, and then would have had my heart out +on the scale. It's what we're up against!" he repeated, despondently. +"There isn't any law to it. It's the hard fist that makes the right up +this way. I'm tellin' you this so you can understand. You've got to +understand, my boy. I wish it was different. I wish it was all square. I +hate to do dirty things myself. I hate to ask others to do 'em." + +It was not entirely a gaze of reassurance that the young man turned on +him. Ide avoided it, and with stubby finger began to mark the map to +illustrate his words. Wade leaned close. He realized that a new and +grave aspect of the situation was to be revealed to him. Getting the +timber down off the stumps had absorbed his attention utterly. As to +getting it to market, he had been awaiting the word of his partner and +mentor. + +"Here it is!" growled Ide. "It's a picture of it! And if it ain't a good +picture of the damnable reason why no one else but Pulaski Britt and his +crowd can make a dollar on these waters, then I'm no judge. Here we are +on Enchanted--mountain here and pond here! The dam at our pond will give +us water enough to get us down to Britt's dam on Enchanted dead-water. +Then we've got to deal with Britt. Law may be with us, but in dealin' +with Britt up here in this section law is like a woodpecker tryin' to +pull the teeth out of a cross-cut saw. Britt has got the foot of +Enchanted Stream, and he controls Jerusalem Stream that gobbles +Enchanted. That's our outlook to the east of us. Now to the west, and +only two miles from our operation here, is Blunder Stream. Runs into +Umcolcus main river, you see, like Jerusalem Stream away over here to +the east. Straightaway run. Fed by Blunder Lake, up here ten miles to +the north--that is, it ought to be fed! And it ought to be the stream to +take our logs. But more than thirty years ago, without law or justice, +Britt closed in the rightful western outlet of Blunder Lake with a big +dam, and dug a canal from the eastern end to Jerusalem Stream, and every +spring since then he's used the water for the Jerusalem drive. A half a +dozen small operators have been to the legislature from time to time to +get rights. Did they get 'em? Why, they didn't even get a decent look! +Old King Spruce doesn't go to law or the legislature askin' for things. +King Spruce takes them. Then the laborin' oar is with the chaps who try +to take 'em away. Even if a thing is unrighteous, Wade, it doesn't stir +much of a scandal in politics to keep it just as it is. It's what we're +up against, I say!" + +He held down the map, his finger on Enchanted, as though typifying the +power that held them and their interests helpless. Wade gazed upon the +finger-end. He felt it pressing upon his hopes. His brows wrinkled, but +he said nothing. + +"The Great Independents will make that name heard by the next +legislature, I've no doubt," Ide went on, "but that's a year from now. +In the mean time we've got five millions or so of timber here at this +end, and its market and the money waitin' at the other end, which is +Castonia. And there's another thing, Wade, and it's the biggest of all: +we've got to hold our timber above the Hullin' Machine. Nature has fixed +the place for us. There's the dead-water behind Hay Island. With Britt +drivin' our logs, he'd ram 'em hell-whoopin' through the Hullin' +Machine, and find an excuse for it, and then buy 'em in down-river at +his own price. If we undertook to follow him down Enchanted and +Jerusalem, he wouldn't leave enough water to drown a cat in. I'm taking +the time to show you this thing as it stands, son. You've got to see all +sides of it." + +Ide's little gray eyes were gleaming at him, and the expression of his +face showed that he was narrowing possibilities to one prospect, and was +wondering whether his partner had grasped the full import of that +prospect. + +"I think I see all sides of it, Mr. Ide," he said, at last. Then he put +his fingers on the thin thread that marked the course of Blunder Stream. +"And the only side that doesn't hurt the eyes seems to be this side, +west of Enchanted Mountain." + +"Well, even then it depends on what kind of specs you've got on," +returned Ide. + +"Suppose we forget that dam at the west end of Blunder and Britt's canal +to the east for just a moment, Mr. Ide. If we got our logs down the side +of Enchanted Mountain and landed them on Blunder Stream we'd stand our +only show of heading Britt's drive at the Hulling Machine, wouldn't we?" + +"You was reckonin' on havin' water under 'em, wasn't you?" inquired the +little man, with good-natured satire. "Wasn't plannin' on havin' 'em +walk like a caterpillar, nor fly down, nor anything of the sort?" + +"I was reckoning on water," returned the young man, flushing slightly, +"but I was not discussing Blunder Lake. I asked you to leave that out +for a moment." + +"Leave out Blunder Lake, and you haven't got a brook that will float +chips," said Ide. Then he jumped up and shot his fists above his head. +"But with a drivin'-pitch in Blunder Stream we can have the head of our +drive down into Umcolcus River and to Castonia logan while Pulaski Britt +is still swearin' and warpin' with head-works across Jerusalem +dead-water. We'd have our head there before he had a log down the last +five miles of lower Jerusalem into the main river. We'll have our sheer +booms set and our sortin'-gap, and we'll hold our logs and let his +through--his and the corporation drive that he's master of, and has been +master of for thirty years. He's been the river tyrant, Wade; but with +our head first at Castonia, and our booms set, and we willin' to sort +free of expense to them followin', I'd like to see the man that would +dare to interfere with our common river rights. The old Umcolcus was +rollin' its waters for the use of the tax-payin', law-abidin' citizens +of this State before old Pulaski Britt and his log-drivin' association +gang of pirates was ever heard of. They've usurped, Wade! They've +usurped until they've made possession seem like ownership. I've picked +you as a man that can handle the men that's under him, and isn't afraid +of Pulaski Britt. And it's got to be a case of reach and take what +belongs to you. If they've got any law with 'em in this thing, it's law +they've stolen like they've stolen the timber lands." + +"I've never intended to break law in my dealings with men," said Wade, +with a cadence of mournfulness in his tones. "Law up in the big woods +doesn't seem to be quite as clear-cut as it is in men's relations +outside. But can there be honest law, Mr. Ide, that will allow men like +Pulaski Britt to step in and deprive a man of rightful profits earned +by his own hard labor--to deprive him of--" He was thinking then, +despite of himself, of Elva Barrett, but choked and added, wistfully, +"When it's only an even show a man asks, a fair chance to travel his own +course, it seems hard that there are men who go out of their path to +trip him." It was not lament. He had the air of one who displayed his +convictions to have them indorsed. + +"It's Britt's way," retorted the other, curtly. "He's made money by +doin' it, and expects to make a lot more by bossin' the river." + +"I want to see Mr. Britt," said Wade, quietly. + +"See Britt! You don't think for a minute you're goin' to induce him to +take our drive or do the square thing on the water question, do you?" + +"But I want to see him for a reason of my own, Mr. Ide. I'm frank to say +I don't expect any justice from Britt, after my experience with him; but +there is such a thing as justification for myself. I see you don't +understand." He noted the little man's wrinkling brows. "I don't know +that I'm exactly sure of my own mind. But I can't seem to bring myself +to fight this thing according to the code of the woods. I'm going into +it with every ounce of strength and hope that's in me, and there's just +one preliminary that I want for my peace of soul. I want to see Pulaski +Britt." + +"If I was gettin' ready to fight the devil," remonstrated Ide, "I reckon +I'd keep away from his brimstone-pot. He's at his Jerusalem camp," he +added, grudgingly. "He went through two days ago." + +"Then that's where I'll go to find him," said Wade, decisively. + +Rodburd Ide fingered his nose and gazed on his partner with frank +scepticism. "Whatever you want with Britt, you're wastin' your time +on him"--his tone was sullen--"and the wind-up will be another +peckin'-match with that long-legged rooster, MacLeod. I say, save +time and strength for our own business, Wade." + +"And I say I've got business with Pulaski Britt, and propose to go to +him like a man," declared Wade. "You and I can't afford to have any +misunderstanding about this, Mr. Ide. You have said you picked me to +handle this end. I've got to handle it in my own way, so far as dealings +with men go. I'll take your advice--I'll _ask_ your advice on details of +the work, because I don't know. As to my business with Mr. Britt, there +is no doubt in my mind. I want you to go with me." + +And in the end Mr. Ide went, nipping his thin lips, not wholly convinced +as to the logic of the step, but with his opinion of Dwight Wade's +courage and self-reliance decidedly heightened, and he reflected with +comfort that those were the qualities he had sought in his partnership. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +SHARPENING TEETH ON PULASKI BRITT'S WHETSTONE + + "The people in the city felt the shock of it that day. + And they said, in solemn gloom, + 'The drive is in the boom, + And O'Connor's drawn his wages; clear the track and give + him room.'" + + +For a long time they rode side by side on the jumper without a word. Mr. +Ide decided that his reticent companion was pondering a plan for the +approaching interview, and was careful not to interrupt the train of +thought. He was infinitely disappointed and not a little vexed when Wade +turned to him at last and inquired, with plain effort to make his voice +calm, whether John Barrett had recovered sufficiently to go home. + +"He? He went two weeks ago--he and his girl," snapped the little man, +impatiently. + +After a moment he began to dig at the buttons of his fur coat, and +dipped his hand into his breast-pocket. He brought out a letter. + +"Here's a line Barrett's girl left to be sent in to you the first +chance." He met the young man's reproachful gaze boldly. "When a man's +got real business to attend to," he snorted, "he ain't to blame if he +disremembers tugaluggin' a love-letter." He gave the missive into Wade's +hands, and went on, discontentedly: "What kind of a crazy-headed +performance was it those girls was up to when they came up into these +woods? I've had too much on my mind to try to get it out of my girl, and +probably I couldn't, anyway, if she took a notion not to tell me. She +has her own way about everything, just as her mother did before her," he +grumbled. + +"I have no possible right to discuss Miss Nina Ide's movements, even +with her father. Miss Barrett's affairs are wholly her own. May I read +my letter?" + +"May you read it?" blurted Ide, missing the delicacy of this +conventional request. "What in tophet do you think I've got to do with +your readin' your own letters?" And he subsided into offended silence, +seeking to express in this way his general dissatisfaction with events +as they were disposing themselves. + +Though the cold wind stung bitterly, Wade held the open letter in his +bare hands, for he longed for the touch of the paper where her hand had +rested. + + "MY DEAR DWIGHT,--We are going home. The darkness has not lifted + from us. For my light and my comfort I look into the north, where I + know your love is shining. My sister was sitting by my father's + side when I returned, and he was awake from his long dream and knew + her, but he had not spoken the truth to her, and if she knows she + has not told. And the cloud of it all is over us, and I cannot + speak to him or open my heart to him. He did not even ask where I + had been. It is as though he feared one word would dislodge the + avalanche under which he shrinks. And I have to write this of my + father! So we are going home. Love me. I need all your love. Take + all of mine in return." + +When Wade folded it he found Rodburd Ide studying his face with shrewd +side glance. + +"Have you any idea what 'Stumpage John' is goin' to do with the other +one--the left-hand one?" he inquired, blandly. "Favor each other +considerably, don't they? It told the story to me the first time I saw +them together, after the right-hand one got there to my place. You can't +hardly blame John for not takin' the left-hand one out with him, same as +my girl sort of expected he would, same as his own girl did, too, I +reckon." + +"Did he say anything to--" stammered Wade, and hesitated. + +"Nothin' to me," returned the magnate of Castonia, briskly. "Didn't have +to. Knowed I knew. Day he left he tramped up and down the river-bank for +more'n two hours, and then come to me with his face about the color of +the Hullin' Machine froth and asked me to call the girl Kate into the +back office of my store. I wasn't tryin' to listen or overhear, you +understand, but I heard him stutter somethin' about takin' her out of +the woods and puttin' her in school, and she braced back and put her +hands on her hips and broke in and told him to go to hell." + +"What?" shouted Wade, in utter astonishment. + +"Oh, not in them words," corrected Ide. "But that's what it come to so +far as meanin' went. And then she sort of spit at him, and walked out +and back to my house." + +He clapped the reins smartly on the flank of the lagging horse, as +though this sort of conversation wasted time, and added: "She's still at +my house, and the girl says she's goin' to stay there--so I guess that +settles it. Now let's get down to some business that amounts to +somethin'! What are you goin' to say to Pulaski Britt?" + +But if Dwight Wade knew, he did not say. He sat bowed forward, hands +between his knees, the letter between his palms, his jaw muscles ridged +under the tan of his cheeks, and so the long ride ended in silence. + +When they were once in the Jerusalem cutting it was not necessary to +search long for the Honorable Pulaski Britt, ex-State senator. They +heard him bellowing hoarsely, and a moment later were looking down on +him from the top of a ramdown. A pair of horses were floundering in the +deep snow, one of them "cast" and tangled in the harness. The teamster +stood at one side holding the reins helplessly. The snow was spotted +with blood. + +"You've let that horse calk himself, you beef-brained son of a +bladder-fish!" roared Britt. "You ain't fit to drive a rockin'-horse +with wooden webbin's!" He dove upon the struggling animal, and, hooking +his great fists about the bit-rings, dragged the horse to his feet. +"Stripped to the fetlocks!" mourned the owner. He surveyed the bleeding +leg and whirled on the teamster. "That's the second pair you've put out +of business for me in a week. Me furnishing hundred-and-fifty-dollar +horses for you to paint the snow with!" He ploughed across to where the +man stood holding the reins, and struck him full in the face, and the +fellow went down like a log, blood flying from his face. "Mix some of +your five-cent blood with blood that's worth something!" he yelped. "If +there's got to be rainbow-snow up this way, I know how to furnish it +cheaper." + +"That's a nice, interestin' gent down there for you to tackle just now +on your business proposition," observed Ide, sourly. "Now, suppose you +use common-sense, and turn around and go back to Enchanted!" + +But the Honorable Pulaski suddenly heard the jangle of their +jumper-bell, and stared up at them. + +"Gettin' lessons on how to run a crew, Ide?" he asked. And seeing that +the teamster was up and fumbling blindly at the tangled harness, he +advanced up the slope. "I 'ain't ever forgiven you for takin' Tommy Eye +away from me. That man's a _teamster_! It was a nasty trick, and perhaps +your young whelp of a partner there has found out enough about woods +law by this time to understand it." + +"Mr. Britt--" began Wade. + +"I don't want to talk to you at all!" snapped the tyrant, flapping his +hand in protest. + +"Nor I to you!" retorted Wade, in sudden heat. "But as Mr. Ide's partner +I have taken charge of the woods end of our operation, and I've got +business to talk with you. We haven't begun to land our logs yet +because--" + +"It's a wonder to me that you've got any cut down, you dude!" snorted +Britt, contemptuously. + +"Because we haven't had an understanding about the drive," went on the +young man, trying to keep his temper. "Now, about logs coming down +Enchanted and into Jerusalem--" + +"You'll pay drivin' fees for every stick." + +"And you'll take our drive with yours?" + +"No, sir. I won't put the iron of a pick-pole into a log with your mark +on it!" declared Britt.[5] + +[Footnote 5: Lest the remarkable attitude of the Honorable Pulaski D. +Britt be considered an improbable resource of fiction, the author +hastens to state that the Maine legislature, in considering the repeal +of a log-driving charter, had exactly this situation submitted to it.] + +"Mr. Britt," said Wade, his voice trembling in the stress of his +emotions, "as an operator in this section, as a man who is asking you +straight business questions as courteously as I know how, I am entitled +to decent treatment, and it will be better for all of us if I get it." + +"Threats, hey?" demanded Britt, malignantly. + +"No threats, sir. If you won't take our drive for the usual fees and +guarantee its delivery, will you let us drive it independently?" + +"Not with my water--and you'll pay fees just the same!" + +"_Your_ water! Who made you the boss of God's rains and rivers? Have you +any charter, giving you the right to turn the State waters of Blunder +Lake from their natural outlet and keep everybody else from using them?" + +Britt clacked his finger in his hard palm and blurted contemptuous +"Phuh!" through his beard. + +"Show me any such charter, Mr. Britt, or tell me where to find the +record of it, and I'll accept the law." + +"Hell on your law!" cried the tyrant of the Umcolcus. + +"Aren't you willing to let the law decide it, Mr. Britt?" + +"Hell on your law!" + +Three times more did Wade, his face burning in his righteous anger, his +voice trembling with passion, ask the question. Three times did the +Honorable Pulaski Britt fling those four words of maddening insult back +at him. And Wade, his face going suddenly white, snatched the reins from +Ide's hands, struck the horse, whirled him into the trail, and drove +away madly. Down the aisles of the forest followed those four words as +long as Pulaski Britt felt that their iteration could reach the ears of +listeners. + +"So you finished your business with him, did you?" inquired Ide, at +last, allowing himself, as a true prophet, a bit of a sneer. + +"I got just what I went after," snarled the young man. "I got in four +words the fighting rules of these woods, explained by the head devil of +them all, and, by ----, if that's the only way for an honest man to save +his skin up here, they can have the fight on those lines! Take the +reins, Mr. Ide; I want to straighten this thing in my mind." + +Little passed between them on the return journey, but they talked far +into the night, leaning towards each other across the little splint +table in the office camp. + +The next morning they climbed the side of Enchanted, following the main +road that had been swamped to Enchanted Stream. On the upper slopes they +came upon the log-yards, and heaps of great, stripped spruces piled +ready for the sleds. Farther up the slopes they heard the monotonous +"whush-wish" of the cross-cut saws and the crackling crash of falling +trees. + +In the Maine woods it is not the practice to haul to landings until the +tree crop is practically all down and yarded on the main roads. This +practice in the case of the Enchanted operation that winter was +providential; for in the conference of the night before Rodburd Ide and +his partner had definitely abandoned Enchanted Stream. That decision +left them the alternative of Blunder Stream. It was the only plan that +fitted with Rodburd Ide's new hopes based on the log contract in his +breast-pocket. For months he had dimly foreseen this crisis without +clear conception as to how it was to be met. But the possibilities of +the gamble had fascinated him. + +In his calculations he had tried to keep prudence to the fore. But he +had been waiting so long that at last prudence became dizzy in the swirl +of possibilities. He had never intended to make Dwight Wade his mere +cat's-paw. But the vehement courage of that sturdy young man, as +displayed in the battle of Castonia, had touched something in Rodburd +Ide's soul. All through his quiet life he had seen might and mastery +make money out of the woods. And so at last he himself ventured, +trusting much to the might and mastery he found in this self-reliant +young gentleman whom Fate had flung into his life. Gasping at the +boldness of it, he was willing that the whole winter's cut of the +Enchanted operation should be landed upon Blunder Stream. That there was +a way to get their water he admitted to himself, but he did not dare to +think much upon the means. Dwight Wade, driven by fierce anger against +Pulaski Britt, who blocked his way to the girl whom his own hands could +win but for Britt, smote the splint table and declared that there should +be a spring flood in Blunder Stream. + +"And if you fear lawsuits, being a man of property, Mr. Ide, you should +not know what I intend to do. You may be held as a partner. Dissolve +that partnership. You may be held as an employer. Discharge me when this +log-cut is landed. Protect yourself. I have only my two hands for them +to attach." + +The little man blinked at him admiringly, and then patted his shoulder. + +"You needn't tell me what you intend to do. You are the one for this +end, and I can trust you. But when it comes to responsibility and the +law, Wade, if those thieves try it on, after all they've stolen, you'll +find Rod Ide right with you. You're my partner, and you'll stay my +partner," declared Ide, stoutly. + +He repeated it as they swung around the upper granite dome of Enchanted, +and looked down the western slope into Blunder valley. + +"There's the place for your main road, Wade," he said--"down that +shoulder there! Swamp a half-mile of the steep pitch and you'll come +into the Cameron road, and it will take you to the stream. You'll need +about fifteen hundred feet of snub-line for that sharp incline there, +and I'll have it up to you by the time you are ready for it. Put the +swale hay to the rest of the pitches. It will trig better than gravel. +Don't let 'em put a chain round a runner. You want to keep your road so +smooth that every load of logs will go down there like a boy down a barn +rollway. Sprinkle your levels and keep 'em glare ice. By ----, it's a +beauty of an outlook for a landing-job! Cut your high slopes this trip. +Keep your logs above the level of that shoulder, and every hoss team +will make a four-turn day of it. We'll save a dollar a thousand on the +landing-proposition alone, over and above the Enchanted road chance! And +up there--" He gazed to the north up the valley over the wooded ridges, +and then hushed his voice, as though there lay somewhere in that blue +distance a thing that he feared. + +"Up there is a lake of water, Mr. Ide, that God designed to flow down +this valley, and it's going to find its own channel again--somehow! I +hope that doesn't sound like cheap boasting. It's only my idea of the +right." + +He led the way back around the granite dome above the spruce benches, +and the old man followed in silence. + +Two hours later Rodburd Ide was off and away for Castonia, his +jumper-bell jangling its echoes among the trees. He had hope in his +heart and a letter in his pocket. The hope was his own. The letter was +addressed to John Barrett's daughter, and the superscription had brought +a little scowl to the brows of the magnate of Castonia. Somehow it +seemed like communication with the enemy. But Dwight Wade, writing it in +the stillness of the night, while the little man snored in his bunk, had +seemed in his own imaginings to be putting into that letter, as one lays +away for safe keeping in a casket, all that heart and soul held of love +and candor and tenderness. It was as though he intrusted those into her +hands to preserve for him against the day when he might take them back +into life and living once more. Just now they did not seem to belong to +this life on Enchanted; they did not harmonize with the bitter +conditions. He pressed down the envelope's seal with the fantastic +reflection that he was sending out of the conflict witnesses in whose +presence he might stand ashamed. + +Therefore, it was not treason that Rodburd Ide bore in the pocket of his +big fur coat. Dwight Wade had sent tenderer emotions to the rear. He +stood at the front, ready to meet iron with iron and fire with fire. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE DEVIL OF THE HEMPEN STRANDS + + "When the snub-line parts and the great load starts + There's nothing that men may do, + Except to cower with quivering hearts + While the wreck goes thundering through." + + --The Ballad of Tumbledick. + + +Days of winter snow and blow; days of sunshine, hard and cold as the +radiance from a diamond's facets; days of calm and days of tempest; days +when the snowflakes dropped as straight as plummets, and days when the +whirlwinds danced in crazy rigadoons down the valleys or spun like +dervishes on the mountain-tops! And all were days of honest, faithful +toil in the black growth of Enchanted, and the days brought the +dreamless sleep o' nights that labor won. + +In those long evenings hope lighted a taper that shone brightly beside +the lantern of the office camp in whose dull beams Dwight Wade wrote +long and earnest letters. But these were not to John Barrett's daughter; +the conditions of their waiting love had tacitly closed the mail between +them. + +Again Dwight Wade, in the honesty of his soul, had seen a light of hope +that contrasted cheerily with the red glare of might against might which +made his decency quail. He saw a chance to win as a man, not as a thug. + +The most brilliant young attorney of the newer generation in the State +had been Wade's college mate. To him Wade detailed in those long +letters the iniquitous conditions that fettered independent operators in +the north country, and gave the case into his enthusiastic keeping. It +meant digging into the black heart of the State's political corruption, +timber graft, and land steals. It was a task that the young attorney, +with earnest zeal and new ideals of civic honor, had long before entered +upon. He seized upon this store of new ammunition with delight, and Wade +rejoiced at the tenor of his replies. That the law and the right would +intervene in Blunder valley to preserve him from a conflict in which he +must use the shameful weapons selected by Britt for the duello was a +promise that he cherished. And thus heartened, he toiled more eagerly. + +It was well into February before they began to haul their logs to the +landing-place on Blunder Stream. But even with an estimated five +millions to dump upon the ice of Blunder, time was ample, for the +snub-line down the steep quarter-mile of Enchanted's shoulder made a +cut-off that doubled the efficiency of the teams. It was the crux of the +situation, that snubbing-pitch. With its desperate dangers, its +uncertainties, its celerity, it was ominous and it was fascinating. But +it was the big end of the great game. Dwight Wade made himself its +captain. Tommy Eye, master of horses, came into his own and was his +lieutenant. + +Those two trudged there together in the gray of the dawn; they trudged +back together in the chilled dusk, still trembling with the racking +strain of it all. + +Wade, cant-dog in hand, stood beside the snubbing-post and gave the word +for every load to start, and watched every inch of its progress with +tense muscles and pounding heart. Tommy Eye mounted the load and took +the reins from the deposed driver as each team came to the top of the +pitch; and the snorting, fearing horses seemed to know his master touch, +and in blind faith went into their collars and floundered down under +the fateful looming of the great load. Thus, every hour of the day, +Tommy Eye silently, boldly ventured his life in the interests of the man +who had once saved it, and Dwight Wade watched over his safety from the +top of the slope. No word passed between the two. But they understood. +There was no other man in the north country with the soothing voice, the +assuring touch on the reins, and the mystic power to inspire confidence +in dumb brutes--no other man that could bring the qualities that Tommy +Eye brought to his task, coupled with the blind courage to perform. The +horses turned their heads to make sure that he held the reins and was +adventuring with them. Then they went on. + +The snubbing-post was a huge beech, sawed to leave four feet of stump. +It had been adzed to the smoothness of an axe-handle. The three-inch +hawser clasped it with four turns, and two men, whose hands were +protected by huge leather mittens, kept the squalling coils loosened and +paid out the slack, when the cable was hooked to the load of logs on its +way down the slope in order to hold it back. And when the coils yanked +themselves loose and the rope ran too swiftly, even making the leather +mittens smoke, Wade, with his cant-dog, threw the hawser hard against +the stump and checked it. It was a trick that Tommy Eye taught him, and +it required muscle and snap. At the instant of peril he drove his +cant-dog's iron nose into the roots of the stump, surged back on his +lever, and pinched the rope between post and ash handle of the tool. +Friction checked and held the load, but it was muscle-stretching, +back-breaking labor. + +And all the time there was the rope to watch to make sure that no rock's +edge or sharp stick had severed a strand, for broken strands uncoil like +a spring under the mighty strain. There were the flipping bights of the +coiled hawser to guard against as the men paid it out. Men are caught +by those bights and ground to horrible death against the snubbing-post. + +In time that rope came to have sentiency in the eyes of Wade. Some days +it seemed to be possessed by the spirit of evil. It would not run +smoothly. It fed out by jerks, getting more and more of slack at each +jump. It began to sway and vibrate between post and load, a wider arc +with every jerk, a gigantic cello-string booming horrible music. It +snarled on the post; it growled grim and sinister warning along its +tense length. So terrible are these wordless threats that men have been +known to surrender in panic, flee from the snubbing-post, and let +destruction wreak its will. Hence the silent and understanding +partnership between Tommy Eye, shadowed by death on the load, and Dwight +Wade fiercely alert at the snubbing-post. + +There came a day when the spirit of evil had full sway. + +The weather was hard, with gray skies and a bone-searching chill. The +hawser, made smooth as glass by attrition, was steely and stiff with the +cold. It had new voices. Once it leaped so viciously at the legs of one +of the post-men that he gave a yell and ran. In the tumult of his +passion and fear Wade cursed the caitiff, his own legs in the swirl of +the bights, his cant-dog nipping the rope to the post and checking it +short. And far down the slope Tommy Eye, his teeth hard shut on his +tobacco, waited without turning his head, a mute picture of utter +confidence. + +It was while Wade held the line, waiting for the men to re-coil the +hawser into safe condition to run, that the Honorable Pulaski Britt +appeared. He came trotting his horses down the Enchanted main road and +jerked them to a halt at the top of the pitch. Two men were with him on +the jumper. Each wore the little blue badge of a game warden. + +"We are after a man named Thomas Eye, of your crew," said one of the +men, catching Wade's inquiring gaze. "We've traced that cow-moose +killing to him--the Cameron case." + +For an instant Wade's heart went sick, and then it went wild. Such an +impudent, barefaced plot to rob him of an invaluable man at this crisis +in his affairs seemed impossible to credit. It was vengefulness run mad, +gone puerile. + +"Mr. Britt has signed the complaint and has the witnesses," said the +warden. "We've got a warrant and we'll have to take the man." + +"And there he is on that load," said the Honorable Pulaski, pointing his +whip-butt. + +"Hold that line, men," commanded Wade, coming away from the post. "Tommy +Eye has not been out of my camp, wardens. He is absolutely indispensable +to me. He has killed no moose. But if it can be proven I'll pay his +fine." + +"It takes a trial to prove it," said the warden, dryly. "That's why +we're after him." + +"Britt, I didn't think you'd get down to this," stormed the young man. + +"I'm not a game warden," retorted the baron of the Umcolcus. "You're +dealin' with them, not me." + +He sat, slicing his whip-lash into the snow, and watched the young man's +bitter anger with huge enjoyment. And when Wade seemed unable to frame a +suitable retort he went on: "If you think I've got anything to do with +taking that crack teamster out of your crew, you'd better thank me. +Anything that interferes with your landing your logs in a blind pocket +like Blunder Stream is a godsend to you and Rod Ide." His temper began +to flame. "What do you think you're going to do there? Do you calculate +to steal any of my water? Do you think that whipper-snapper whelp of a +lawyer that you've set yappin' at our heels is goin' to spin a thread +for you against the men that have run this section for thirty years? If +you've only got the law bug in your head, give it up. But if you have +the least sneakin' idea of troublin' that dam up there"--he shook his +fist into the north--"coil your snub-line and save time and money; for, +by the eternal Jehovah, blood will run in that valley before water +does!" + +In the pause that followed one of the wardens asked, "Do you propose to +resist the arrest of Eye, Mr. Wade?" + +The question was an incautious one. In a flash the young man saw that +this last sortie of the Honorable Pulaski was not so much an adventure +against Tommy Eye as against himself--with intent to embroil him with +the officers of the law. That might mean more trouble than he dared +reflect upon. He had a very definite apprehension of what the legal +machinery of Britt and his associates might do to him if he afforded any +pretence for their procedure. + +One of the wardens dropped off the jumper at a word from Britt, and the +timber baron urged his horses down the slope, the other officer +accompanying him. + +Tommy Eye sat on his load, still with gaze patiently to the front, +waiting in serene confidence the convenience of his employer. That back +turned to Wade was the back of the humble confider, the back of the +martyr. In his sudden trepidation at thought of his own imperilled +interests, were he himself enmeshed in the law, Wade had thought to +leave Tommy's possible fate alone. But now, almost without reflection or +plan, he ran down the hill. The martyr's serene obliviousness struck a +pang to his heart. In those days of strife and toil and understanding +Tommy Eye had grown dear to him. Britt, turning, yelled to the officer +at the top of the slope, "Give that snub-line a half-hitch and hold that +load!" + +A bit of a rock shelf broadened the road where the logs were halted. +Britt lashed his horses around in front of the load with apparent intent +to intimidate Tommy. The warden dropped off the jumper and shut off +retreat in the rear. And Wade, running swiftly, carrying his cant-dog, +came and leaped upon the load and stood above Tommy--his protecting +genius, but a genius who had no very clear idea of what he was about to +do. + +No one ever explained exactly how it happened! + +The warden, who was at the top of the pitch and who did it, gazed a +moment, saw what he had done, and fled with a howl of abject terror, +never to appear on Enchanted again. The men at the snub-post stated +afterwards that he came to them, hearing Pulaski Britt's orders, elbowed +them aside with an oath, and took the hawser. He probably undertook to +loosen the coils to make a half-hitch; but a game warden has no business +with a snub-line when the devil is in it. + +It gave one triumphant shriek at its release, and then--"Toom! Toom! +Toom!"--it began to sing its horrible bass note. It was slipping faster +and faster around the snubbing-post under the strain of Tommy Eye's +load, which it had been holding back. + +Tommy Eye knew without looking--knew without understanding. He +knew--that most terrible knowledge of all woods terrors--that he was +"sluiced." He screamed once--only once--and the horses came into their +collars. Their hot breath was on the back of Pulaski Britt's neck when +he started--started with a hoarse oath above which sang the shrill yelp +of his whip-lash, and behind him, on the icy slope, slid the great load +of logs now released from anchorage to the snubbing-post and guided only +by the nerve of Tommy Eye. + +"Jump, Mr. Wade! Jump!" gasped the teamster. But Wade drove the peak of +his cant-dog into a log and clung to the upright handle. He looked +back. The great hawser spun itself off the spindle of the post and +chased down the hill in spirals, utterly loose and free. + +It was no dare-devil spirit that held him on the load. His soul was sick +with horrible fear. It was something that was almost subconsciousness +that kept him there. Perhaps it was pity--pity for Tommy Eye, so brave a +martyr at his post of duty. In the flash of that instant when the great +load gathered speed he stiffened himself to leap, then he looked at +Tommy's patched coat and remembered his oft-repeated little boast: "I've +never left my hosses yet!" And so if Tommy could stay with his horses, +he, Dwight Wade, could stay with Tommy! There was a queer thrill in his +breast and the sting of sudden tears in his eyes as he decided. + +The first rush of the descent was along an incline, steep but even. +There were benches below--each shelf ten feet or so of jutting +level--that broke the descent. Wade saw the jumper of Pulaski Britt +strike the first bench. The old man went off the seat into the air, and +when he fell he dropped his reins, clutched the seat, and kneeled, +facing the pursuers, his face ghastly with terror. He crouched there, +not daring to turn. Even if he had held his reins they would have been +as useless in his hands as strips of fog. Ledges and trees hemmed either +side. There was only the narrow road for his flying horses, and they ran +straight on, needing neither whip nor admonitions. + +The groan of five thousand feet of timber chafing the bind-chains when +their great load struck the shelf was like the groan of an animal in +agony. The chains held. It was Tommy who had seen to every link and +every loop. Then, for the first time in his life, Wade heard the scream +of horses in mortal fear. The lurch of the forward sled lifted the pole, +and for one dreadful instant both animals kicked free and clear in air. + +Tommy Eye shot two words at them like bullets. "Steady, boys!" he +yelled. His head was hunched between his shoulders. His arms were +out-stretched and rigid. Tommy Eye, master of horses! It was his lift on +the bits at just the fraction of a second when they needed it that set +them on their feet when the pole dropped. And down the next descent they +swooped. + +From his height Wade looked straight into the eyes of Pulaski Britt. It +seemed that with every plunge of their hoofs Tommy Eye's horses would +smash that puffy face. The checks of the benches, when the huge load +struck and staggered from time to time, allowed Britt's lighter equipage +a little start. But the mighty projectile that drove on him down the +smooth slopes gained with every yard, for the thrusting pole swept the +horses off their feet in plunge after plunge. And then it was Tommy +Eye's desperate coolness that helped them to their infrequent footing. +All of the man's face that Wade could see was a ridged jaw muscle above +the faded collar of his coat. The peak of his cap hid all but that. + +There was a curve at the foot of the snub slope. The wall of trees that +closed the vista was disaster spelled by bolled trunk and sturdy limb. +There stood the nether millstone: the upper was rushing down, and the +grist would be flesh of horses and men. No man could see any other +alternative. That horses, shaken every now and then on the up-cocked +pole as helplessly as kittens, could bring that load around the curve +was not a hope; it could be nothing but a dream of desperation. + +As to what Tommy Eye dreamed or thought, his passenger had no hint. +There was only the patch of cheek showing under the tilted cap. But the +reins were just as tight, the out-stretched arms just as steady. Wade +crouched low, his eyes on that rigid jaw muscle. + +Suddenly, with a yell like the cry of something wild, Eye sprang to his +feet, bestriding the logs, bracing himself for some mighty effort. They +were at the Curve of Death! There came a surge on the tight reins, eight +hoofs dug the snow in one frantic thrust, and they went around--they +went around! With horses and driver straining to one side the great load +pitched, swerved, and, after one breathless instant, swept on in the +road around the curve. + +Twenty rods farther on they struck the hay, spread thickly for the +trig--the checking of the runners. And the sled-runners, biting +it, jerked and halted, the bind-chains creaked, the chafing logs +groaned--and they were stopped! The lathering horses stood with legs +wide spraddled, their heads lowered, their snorting noses puffing up +the snow. + +Tommy Eye dug the tobacco from his cheek and thoughtfully tossed it +away. Britt's team had disappeared, reins dragging, the horses running +madly, the whitened, puffy face flashing one last look as it winked out +of sight among the trees. + +"I've dreamed of such a thing as this," observed Tommy, at last, a +strange tremor in his tones. "I've dreamed of chasin' old P'laski Britt, +me settin' on five thousand feet of wild timber and lookin' down into +his face and seein' him a-wonderin' whether they'd let him into the +front door of hell or make him go around to the back. It's the first +time he was ever run good and plenty, and I done it--but," he sighed, +"it was damnation whilst it lasted!" + +He turned now and gazed long and wistfully at Wade. + +"Ye stuck by me, didn't ye, Mr. Wade?" he said, softly. "Stuck by me +jest like I was a friend, and not old, drunken Tommy Eye! I reckon we'll +shake on that!" And when they clasped hands he asked, with the wistful, +inexpressible pathos of his simple devotion to duty: "What was it all +about? I jest only know they sluiced me!" + +And Wade gasped an explanation, Tommy Eye staring at him with wrinkling +brows and squinting eyes. + +"Come to arrest me for northin' I hadn't done?" he shrilled. "Come to +take me off'n a job where I was needed, and where I was earnin' my +honest livin'?" + +"They had the warrant, and Britt swore out the lying complaint." + +"Mr. Wade," said Tommy, after a solemn pause, "I've done a lot of things +in this life to be ashamed of--but jest gittin' drunk, that's all. I +ain't never done a crime. But jest now, if it hadn't been for that +toss-up between supper in camp or hot broth in tophet to-night, I'd be +travellin' down-country, pulled away from you when you need me worst, +and all on account of P'laski Britt. If that's the chances an honest man +runs in this world, I'm an outlaw from now on!" + +Wade stared at him in amazement, for there was a queer significance in +Tommy's tone. + +"An outlaw!" repeated Tommy, slapping his breast. "Yes, s'r, I'm an +outlaw! An outlaw so fur as P'laski Britt is concerned. I've showed him +I can run him! Did you see him lookin' at me? He'll dream of me after +this when he has the nightmare." + +He took Wade by the arm. + +"I 'ain't been sayin' much, Mr. Wade, but I see how things are gettin' +ready to move in this valley. You ain't built for an outlaw. But you +need one in your business. I'm the one from now on." + +He pulled his thin hand out of his mitten and shook it towards the north +in the direction in which Blunder Lake lay. + +"You need an outlaw in your business, I say! I'm tough from now on. I'll +be so tough in April that you'll have to discharge me. There's no +knowin' what an outlaw will do, is there, Mr. Wade? I'd ruther go to +jail as an outlaw than as a drunk, like I've done every summer. They +look up to outlaws. They make drunks scrub the floors and empty the +slops." His voice trembled. "Oh, you needn't worry, Mr. Wade! I'll be +proud to be an outlaw. And I ain't northin' but old Tommy Eye, anyway." + +He slid down off the load and went between the horses' heads, and +fondled them and kissed them above their eyes. + +"Brace up, old fellers!" he said. "You won't have to pull no more +to-day. I reckon you've done your stunt!" + +"I--I don't understand this outlaw business, Tommy," stammered Wade, +looking down on him from the load. Tommy peered up, his head between the +shaggy manes of the horses. + +"Don't you try to, Mr. Wade!" he cried, earnestly. "There ain't no good +in tryin' to understand outlaws. They ain't no kind to hitch up to very +close. Don't you try to understand them!" And as he bent to unhook the +trace-chains he muttered to himself: "I ain't sure as I understand much +about 'em myself, but there's one outlawin' job that it's come to my +mind can be done without takin' private lessons off'n Jesse James, or +whoever is topnotcher in the line just now. In the mean time, let's see +that warden try to arrest me!" + +But as days went by it became apparent that the wardens and the +Honorable Pulaski D. Britt considered that they had precipitated an +affair on Enchanted whose possible consequences they did not care to +face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE "CANNED THUNDER" OF CASTONIA + + "A woodsman hates a coward as he hates diluted rye, + Stiff upper-lip for livin', stiff backbone when you die!" + + +When April came, and with caressing fingers began to stroke the +softening snow from the mountain flanks, she found full half a million +of the Enchanted cut still on the yards. + +"If it's to be a gamble, let's make it a good one," Rodburd Ide had +counselled his partner. "Pile on every stick that winter's back will +carry. Pile till it breaks!" + +Dwight Wade had a trustworthy "kitchen cabinet" of advisers in old +Christopher Straight, Tommy Eye, and the chopping-boss; and with them as +counsellors he ventured further than his own narrow experience would +have prompted. + +On nights when April slept and the trickling slopes were stiffened by +the cold, the crew of the Enchanted stole a march on spring. They awoke +at sundown with the owls. They ate breakfast in the gloom of early +evening. And, with the moon holding her lantern for them in the serene +skies, they rushed their logs into the waiting arms of Blunder valley. +That those arms would surrender the timber when the time was ripe seemed +more certain as the days went by. The word of their zealous young man of +law was encouraging. There had been pleas, representations, digging +over of old charters, hunt through dusty records, citation of +precedents, and some very direct talk regarding a thorough legislative +investigation of conditions in the north country to regulate the rights +of independent operators. + +It was admittedly too big a question to be hurried. Litigation fattens +by what it feeds on. Grown ponderous, it marches, slow and dignified, in +short stages between terms, and sits and rests and puffs at every +cross-road of argument, exception, appeal, and writ of error. Even that +exigency of five millions of timber waiting in Blunder valley could not +hasten the settlement of the young reformer's main contention or the big +question. But there are in this life some deeper sentiments than +enthusiasm in reform. The old college friendship between Dwight Wade, +famous centre of Burton's eleven, and the little quarter-back whom he +had shielded was one of those deeper sentiments. And now the lawyer, for +the sake of that friendship, was willing to buy Dwight Wade's success in +Blunder valley by honorable compromise on certain points where +compromise was honorable. + +With a man open to sane reason and moral decency a compromise might have +been effected. But after Pulaski D. Britt had craftily drawn out proffer +of a truce and proposition of a trade in one phase of the great question +of water-rights, he burst into a bellow of "blackmail" that echoed from +end to end of the State. The words bristled in the newspapers controlled +by the land barons and was rolled on the tongues of gossip. And as +humanity in general, selfish in its easy-going way and jealous of +resolute activity, likes to believe ill of reformers, men were readier +to believe Britt than to give a motive of honest friendship its due. The +jeers of the mob make what some people like to call "public opinion." +And sometimes when public opinion is loudly gabbling and can be +politely referred to in case of doubt, there can be found judges who +will listen with one ear to the voices of the street and with the other +to the specious representations of the man in power. + +So it came about that the judge presiding at the _nisi prius_ term in +the great county dominated by Pulaski D. Britt hearkened in chambers to +some very distressing details set before him by that gentleman and +certain other "employers of labor" and "developers of the great timber +interests." The judge pursed his lips and with his tongue clucked +horrified astonishment at stories of brutal assaults made "on members of +Pulaski Britt's crew" (this being Dwight Wade's desperate defence of +himself, as pictured by Britt), and other tales of lunatics provoked to +deeds of violence towards aforesaid "developers"; of incendiaries +spirited away from officers; of men stolen out of Britt's crew (poor +Tommy Eye's rescue from torture, as revamped for evidence by the +Honorable Pulaski D. Britt); and, lastly, of that desperate and +malignant attempt on the life of Honorable Pulaski D. Britt when a load +of timber was sluiced at him from the shoulder of Enchanted Mountain. + +Dwight Wade had not put into the hands of his lawyer the details of +those pitiful secrets of the woods; for not only his honor as a man set +a seal on his lips, but the sacredness of his love imposed higher +obligation still. So his lawyer listened, amazed, incredulous, but +incapable of refuting these tales in the categorical way that the law +demands. + +So much, then, for what "the gang" had done for Pulaski D. Britt and his +interests. Britt lacked neither words nor will to make the story a black +one. + +As to what they intended to do, the Honorable Pulaski declaimed, with +quivering finger rapping tattoo on the map of the Blunder valley, his +voice hoarse with emotion and the perspiration of apprehensiveness +streaking his puffy cheeks. + +And with past enormities standing undefended, what might not a judge +believe as to future atrocities when the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had +made the prediction, his chief exhibit of intended outlawry being five +millions of timber stranded in Blunder valley, and requiring "stolen +water" to move it? His last argument was an uncontradicted allegation of +attempted compromise, his last word "Blackmail!" shot at the face of the +opposing lawyer while his stubby finger vibrated under the lawyer's +nose. + +Therefore, at the end of it all, the clerk of courts wrote, the judge +signed, and five minutes after the ink was dry High Sheriff Bennett +Rodliff buttoned his coat over the folded paper and set his face towards +Enchanted. + +Forty-eight hours later, having travelled by train, by stage, by sledge, +and on foot, he stood before Dwight Wade in the midst of his crew at the +landings in Blunder valley, gave the paper to him, and watched his face +while he read it. Being a man who enjoyed his own authority and exulted +in the power of the law when it dealt crushing blows, the high sheriff +noted with satisfaction that the young man's face grew pale under its +tan. + +"Get the sense, do you?" inquired the sheriff, allowing himself the +relaxation of a chew of tobacco after his headlong rush into the north; +"it's an injunction. You can't meddle with Blunder Lake dam; can't h'ist +gates; can't take water!" He gazed about him at the heaped logs piled in +the bed of the stream. "Kind o' seems to me," he observed, with smug +rebuke, "that I'd have been slow in landin' logs down here till I knowed +what the law court was goin' to do about these water-rights. Law steps +slow and careful, and this whole thing has got to wait till it gets way +up to the full bench. Lettin' you have water here might be an admission +by the big crowd that they was all wrong on the chief proposition. The +big crowd ain't that kind!" + +Wade had read the injunction through to its bitter end. Every stilted +phrase, every estopping, restraining word of its redundancy, was like a +bar between him and his hopes. It was a temporary injunction. But the +date set for a hearing on the question of permanency was a date that +made those log-piles in Blunder valley loom in his dizzy gaze like +monuments to buried expectations. + +"Where was our lawyer when this damnable document was issued?" he cried, +shaking the paper under the sheriff's nose. His heart was aflame against +the thing called Law. The sheriff stood there as Law's representative, +expressing in his blank face such unfeeling acceptance of the situation +as hopeless, that Wade wanted to jam the paper between those jaws +wagging blandly on their tobacco. + +"Oh, he was there!" remarked Rodliff, dryly. "Perhaps if he hadn't been +there your case would have come off better. Judges ain't got much use +for lawyers when the shyster kind get shown up in a graft game. The +fellow who named this Blunder valley years ago," he observed, running +his eyes over the log-piles once more, "must have had a gift of +second-sight. Rod Ide's always been cal'lated to be level-headed. It's a +wonder to me he let you fool him into this. I've heard considerable +about it outside. But it's worse than I'd reckoned on." + +For a sickening instant the thing showed to Wade in its blackest light. +To be sure, it was the Law that struck down his hands. But it was plain +that the Law was, after all, only a part of the game--and his enemies +had invoked it and had won. + +"Look here, men!" shouted the high sheriff, turning from his survey of +this defeated wretchedness, "I want you to take note of what I've done +here. I've served an injunction on your boss. It means that he's got to +leave Blunder Lake dam alone. Him and all his crew! Understand?" + +The men had been slowly gathering near on the log-piles, in order to get +drift of what this visit meant. Some of them had private reasons for +wondering what business a high sheriff was on; all of them were curious. +And the sheriff saw Tommy Eye in the forefront. + +"By-the-way, Eye," he called, "the wardens want you! You'd better come +along out with me and save trouble." + +"I'm an outlaw," cried Tommy, defiantly, "and I won't come with nobody!" + +The sheriff blinked at the man who had been his uncomplaining prisoner +for so many summers, and seemed to be trying to digest this defiance. + +"I'm an outlaw!" repeated the man. "I ain't to work for nobody. I've +jacked my job here. I'm just plain outlaw. I ain't responsible to +nobody. Nobody ain't responsible for me. You tell that to everybody +concerned. I'm an outlaw!" + +Rodliff, still with wondering eyes on Tommy, slowly worked a revolver +out of his hip-pocket. + +"Come down off'n that pile!" he shouted. "I want you!" + +But once the revolver was out the target was not visible. Three leaps, +his calk boots biting the logs, put Tommy out of sight behind the pile. +Two minutes later they heard him among the trees far up the slope of +Blunder valley. He was still shouting his declaration of outlawry, and +the diminuendo of tone indicated that he was running like a deer. + +The high sheriff shoved back his revolver, scowling up at the grinning +faces on the log-piles. But he found no hint of similar amiability in +Wade's expression when he turned to face the young man; and after +surveying him up and down with much disfavor, he shook his fist in a +gesture that embraced them all, and started away, flinging over his +shoulder the contemptuous remark that he seemed to have "lighted in a +pretty tough gang." The significance of that expressed conviction was +not lost on the young man. It revealed what machination was doing. +Britt, bulwarked by the courts and public sentiment, was not to be +fought by the outlawry he had invoked as the code of combat. + +An hour later Dwight Wade was urging his horse towards Castonia. If +Rodburd Ide or a message from Rodburd Ide were on the way north he would +meet the situation so much the sooner. The sting of his bitter thoughts +and the goad of his impatience would not allow him to stay at Enchanted. +He wanted to know the exact facts "outside." He did not dare to +jeopardize his partner by the rashness his bitter anger once +contemplated. + +A half-mile down the tote road Tommy Eye dashed at him from the covert +of the spruces. + +"I reckoned you'd be goin', Mr. Wade!" he panted. "I ain't intendin' to +bother you--but what did Ben Rodliff say that was--that paper that he +clubbed you with?" + +The pitiful intensity of his loyal anxiety struck Wade to the heart. "It +was an injunction, Tommy," he explained, patiently. "It's an order from +the court. Oh, it's horribly unjust! It may be law, but it isn't +justice; for justice would take into account a man's common rights, and +wouldn't tie them up by pettifogging delays." He was talking as much to +himself as to the poor fellow who clung to the thill. The words surged +into his mouth out of his full soul. "I have been square with men, +Tommy, square and decent. I believe in law, and I want to respect it. +But when law obeys Pulaski Britt's bidding, and takes you by the throat +and kneels on you and chokes you, and lets such a man as Britt walk past +on his own business, free and clear, it's law that's devil-made." + +But the incantation of that law was having its effect on a nature that +was more docile than it realized. In his hot anger he had said he would +fight Britt with the tyrant's own lawless choice of weapons. He looked +back and remembered that he had intended to do so. A sheriff with a gold +badge and a bit of paper had prevailed over his bitter resolution when +Pulaski Britt and his army at his back would have failed to cow him. + +The dull roll of a distant detonation came to them in the little silence +that followed on Wade's outburst. It came from the west, where men of +the Enchanted crew were at work widening the granite jaws of Blunder +gorge to give clear egress to the Enchanted drive. In that moment of his +utter despair the roar of the rend-rock was a mocking voice. + +"And that's all there is to an injunction?" demanded Tommy. "Ben Rodliff +hands you a paper, and spits tobacker-juice on the snow, and calls you a +fool, and goes down past here, like he did a little while ago, swingin' +his reins and singin' a pennyr'yal hymn? Only has to do that to tie up +the whole Enchanted drive that we hundred men have sweat and froze and +worked to get onto the landings?" + +"Only that, Tommy," replied Wade, bitterly. "The law is sitting there on +Blunder dam. You can't see it, but it's there, and it says, 'Hands +off!'" + +"There's something you can see, though," Tommy declared. "You can see +two men in a shack that's been built over the gates of Blunder Lake dam. +One sleeps daytimes, the other sleeps nights, and they've both got +Winchesters. I've been there private and personal, and looked 'em +over." + +"I don't want any of my men lurking about that dam," commanded Wade. + +Tommy Eye cinched his worn belt one notch tighter over his thin haunches +and buttoned his checkered wool jacket. "I ain't one of your men," he +growled, with such sudden and sullen change in demeanor that Wade stared +at him in amazement. "I've gone into the outlaw business, and I've told +you so, and I've told Ben Rodliff so." + +They heard the thudding boom of dynamite once more, and the absolutely +fiendish look that came into Tommy's face as he turned his gaze towards +Blunder valley enlightened his employer. + +"That sounds good to me!" shrieked the teamster. It was as though one of +the docile Dobbins of the hovel had suddenly perked up ears and tail and +begun to play the part of a beast of prey. + +When Tommy ran back into the spruces Wade shouted after him, insistently +and angrily. But he did not reply, and after a time Wade drove on, +cursing soulfully the whole innate devilishness of the woods. That +another weak nature had run amuck after the fashion to which he had +become accustomed in his woods experience seemed probable; but he had +neither time nor inclination to chase Tommy Eye. As to Blunder Lake dam, +he reflected that the eternal vigilance of the Winchesters guaranteed +Pulaski Britt's interests in that direction, and, soul-sick of the whole +wicked situation, he was glad that the Winchesters were there. He had +failed. He could at least own that much man-fashion to Rodburd Ide. + +It was a messenger that he met--not the partner himself. And as he had +anticipated, the messenger summoned him to Castonia. The last few miles +of his journey took him along the bank of the Umcolcus. The big river +had already thrown off its winter sheathing and was running full and +free. It was waiting for the northern lakes, still ice-bound, to +surrender their waters and sweep the logs down to it. + +Rodburd Ide's stout soul uttered no complaints when the two had locked +themselves in the little back office of the store. But his mute distress +and bewilderment in the face of calamity sanctioned by the law touched +his young partner more than complaints would have done. The fighting +spirit was gone out of the little man. + +"I didn't reckon it could go against us that bad, not after what the +lawyer said. He seemed to know his business, Wade. But maybe he was too +honest to fight a crowd like that. It's a crusher to come after hopes +was up like mine was. I even went to work the minute the ice slid +down-river, and set our sheer-booms above the logan and got the +sortin'-gap ready. I was that sure our logs were comin' down. But it +ain't your fault, Wade, and it ain't mine. It's just as I told you once +before. It's what we're up against!" + +And then, striving for a pretext to end the doleful session, he invited +Wade to walk up the river-bank. He wanted to show him the site for the +new great mills. "They can't steal that much away from me, my boy," he +said, trying to be cheerful. "The mills will have to buy out of the +corporation drive this year, seeing that we're coopered on our contract. +That means so much more good profit for Britt and his crowd. They've got +their smell of what's comin', too, and that's probably why they fought +so hard to get the injunction. They're in for a big make and their own +prices this year. But the more I know about that charter of the Great +Independent the more trouble I can see for the old crowd when the next +legislature gets to tearin' this thing to pieces. The G. I.'s know what +they're doin'. They'll have their rights. And when the big wagon starts +little fellers like you and me can climb aboard and ride, too. But the +big wagon won't start till next year," he added, sadly. + +Out-of-doors they did not talk. The roar of the Hulling Machine +dominated everything, and the spume-clouds swaying above it spat in +their faces. On the platform of Ide's store the pathetic brotherhood of +the "It-'ll-git-ye Club" sat in silent conclave, stunned into a queer +stupor by the bellow of the Hulling Machine, even as habitual +opium-eaters succumb to the blissful influence of the drug. + +Above the falls an island divided the river. On the channel side the +waters raced turbulently. The island sentinelled the mouth of the +logan that deeply indented the shore on the quiet side of the river. +Ide had installed a system of sheer-booms. They spanned the current +diagonally, and were to be the silent herders that would edge the +log-flocks away from the banks, crowd them to centre at the sorting-gap, +and keep them running free. Below the sorting-gap there were two +sheer-booms--divergent. One ushered the down-river logs back into the +current that dashed towards the Hulling Machine. The other would swing +the logs of the Enchanted drive into the quiet holding-ground of the +logan. + +[Illustration: "'WHAT I SAY ON THIS RIVER GOES!'"] + +The thought of the heaped logs in Blunder valley, the memory of the +dynamite bellowing its farewell to him over the tree-tops, and now the +spectacle of these empty booms, had the eloquence of despair and the +pathos of failure for Dwight Wade. And as the two of them--he and his +partner--stood there and gazed silently, they were forced to face bitter +accentuation of their stricken fortunes. Pulaski D. Britt, master of the +Umcolcus drive, came on his way north at the head of his men. It was an +army marching with all its impedimenta. There were many huge bateaux +swung upon trucks that had hauled them around the white-water. Men +launched them into the eddy above the Hulling Machine, and began to load +them with tents, cordage, and the wangan stores. + +Rodburd Ide and his young partner stood at one side, and surveyed this +scene of activity without speaking. And Britt marched up to them, +raucous and domineering with the masterfulness of the river tyrant. It +had long been the saying along the Umcolcus that Pulaski Britt got mad a +week before the driving season opened, and stayed mad a week after it +ended. + +"Ide," he cried, "you and I seem to be always in trouble with each other +lately! But it's of your own makin', not mine! These sheer-booms that +you've stuck in here obstruct navigation. I want to get my boats up. +You've got to cut these booms loose." + +"Mr. Britt," returned Ide, his tones quivering with passion, "two men in +each bateau crew can shove those booms down with pick-poles and let a +bateau over without wasting a minute's time. You've brought those +bateaux over all your own sheer-booms below here--you've got your own +booms above. You've been riding over 'em for thirty years. Now be +reasonable." + +"You run back down there to your store and get onto your job of sellin' +kerosene and crackers," advised the Honorable Pulaski, sarcastically. +"Don't you undertake to tell me my business. As river-master, I say +those logs obstruct navigation, and what I say on this river goes!" + +"You talk, Britt, as though a title that you've grabbed onto, the same +as you have everything else along this river, amounted to anything in +law," objected the magnate of Castonia. "I own the land that those booms +are hitched to, and you're not goin' to bluff me by any of your +obstruction-to-navigation talk. You've managed to get most things along +this river this spring your own way, but I reckon I know when you've +gone about far enough. Don't try to rub it in!" + +Mr. Britt, serene in his autocracy as drive-master, was in no mood to +bandy arguments nor waste time on such as Rodburd Ide. + +He whirled away, lifted a wooden box from one of the wagons, and set it +down gingerly. + +"MacLeod!" he called. The boss came away from the river-bank, where he +was superintending stowing of supplies. "Unpack this dynamite, and blow +damnation out of those booms--the sortin'-gap first!" + +The man twisted his face in a queer grimace. + +"I don't think I'll do it, Mr. Britt," he said, curtly. + +He looked away from Britt when the tyrant began to storm at him, and +fixed his eyes on Wade's face with an expression there was no reading. + +"No, I ain't no coward, either," he said, at last, interrupting his +employer's flow of invective. "But dynamitin' other folks' booms with +the folks lookin' at you ain't laid down in a river-driver's job; and I +ain't got any relish for nailin' boot-heels all next summer in a jail +workshop." + +"I'll take the responsibility of this!" shouted Britt. + +"Then you'd better do the job, sir," suggested MacLeod, firmly. "Law has +queer quirks, and I don't propose to get mixed into it." + +There was no gainsaying the logic of the boss's position. The Honorable +Pulaski noted that the men had overheard. He noted also that there were +no signs of any volunteers coming from the ranks. And so, with the +impetuosity of his temper, when the eyes of men were upon him, he set +his own hand to the job. With a cant-dog peak he began to pry at the +box-cover. + +And Colin MacLeod, hesitating a moment, walked straight up to Dwight +Wade--to that young man's discomposure, it must be confessed. Wade set +his muscles to meet attack. But MacLeod halted opposite him, folded his +arms, and gazed at him with something of appeal in his frank, gray eyes. +There was candor in his look. In their other meetings Wade had only seen +blind hate and unreasoning passion. + +"Maybe you've got an idea that I'm a pretty cheap skate, Mr. Wade," he +blurted. "Maybe I am, but it ain't been so between me and men unless +there was women mixed in. My head ain't strong where women is mixed in. +You hold on and let me talk!" he cried, putting up his big hand. "I've +got eleven hundred dollars in the bank that I've saved, my two hands, +and a reputation of bein' square between men. That's all I've got, and I +want to keep all three. I had you sized up wrong at the start. I mixed +women in without any right to. I misjudged the cards as they laid. I +used you dirty, and I got what was comin' to me. Now I've found out. I +know how things stand with you all along the line, from there"--he +pointed south towards the outside world that held Elva Barrett--"to +there on Enchanted. And I'm sorry! I'm sorry I ever got mistaken, and +made things harder for a square man. You heard what I just said to Mr. +Britt. I wanted you to hear it. All is, I'd like to shake hands with you +and start fresh. It may have to be man to man between us yet on this +river, but, by ----, for myself I want it man-fashion." + +He cast a glance behind him. Britt had the box open, and had dug out of +the sawdust some cylinders in brown-paper wrappings. When MacLeod +whirled again to face Wade the latter put out his hand without +reservation in face or gesture. Months before, such amazing repentance +and conversion might have astonished him, but now he understood the real +ingenuousness of the woods. Pulaski Britt, hardened by avarice and +outside associations, was not of the true life of the woods. This +impulsive boy, with his mighty muscles and his tender heart, was of the +woods, and only the woods. + +MacLeod came one step nearer to Rodburd Ide, and pulled off his hat. + +"If it ain't too much trouble, Mr. Ide, I wish you'd tell Miss Nina that +I've done it square and righted it fair. And don't scowl at me that way, +Mr. Ide! It was a dream--and I've woke up! It was a pretty wild +dream--and a man does queer things in his sleep. Your girl ain't for me +or my kind, and I know it, now that I've woke up. I'd like to tell her +so, and explain, but I don't know how to do it, Mr. Ide. You do it for +me. I ask you man-fashion!" + +He started away from them hastily, strode back to the bateaux, and began +to swear at the men who had stopped work to gaze on the Honorable +Pulaski. The latter had already embarked in a bateau, carrying several +of those ominous sticks wrapped in their brown-paper cases. + +"Britt," shrieked Ide, "we've been to law with you to find out our +rights! Ain't you willin' to take your own medicine?" + +"Hell on your law!" blazed the drive-master, contemptuously. + +"Give us time to get an injunction before you destroy our good +property," demanded the little man, choking with his ire. + +For answer Britt shook one of the dynamite sticks above his head without +even turning to look back. His men crowded the boat over the boom at the +sorting-gap, and Britt lighted the fuse and tossed the explosive upon +the anchored log platform. + +"Oh, if our men were only here instead of at Enchanted!" mourned Ide. + +"They're just where we ought to have them, Mr. Ide," the young man +growled. + +Britt was safely away up-river when the dynamite did its work; his men +had rowed like fiends. It was a beautiful job, viewed from the +stand-point of destruction. The downward thrust of the mighty force +splintered the platform into toothpicks and let the booms adrift. + +The partners of Enchanted did not exchange comments. They gazed after +the destroyer. Taking his time, as though to prolong their distress, +Britt dynamited the booms above, and then stood up and jerked his arm as +a signal for his crew to follow. They went splashing up the river, six +oars to a bateau, and disappeared, one boat after the other, bound for +the mouth of Jerusalem Stream. Already the jaws of the Hulling Machine +were gulping down the gobbets of splintered logs. + +"How soon can you replace those booms, Mr. Ide?" Wade edged the words +through his teeth, as a man stricken with lockjaw might have spoken. And +without waiting for reply, he hurried on. "Put 'em in, Mr. Ide, because +you're going to need 'em. And put along this shore all the men in +Castonia who can handle guns. Winchesters and dynamite, with 'Hell on +law' for a battle-cry! That's what he's given us. It's good enough for +me. Will you put those booms in, Mr. Ide?" + +"I'll put 'em in, and I'll protect 'em after they're put in," declared +the little man, stoutly. The fighting spirit was in him again. + +They looked at each other a moment, and turned and hurried back towards +the settlement. Neither man seemed to feel that words could help that +situation nor emphasize determination. + +Prophet Eli was in front of Ide's store with his little white stallion +when the two arrived there. The old man surveyed Wade shrewdly when he +hastened to Nina Ide, who was waiting for a word with him. + +"Boy! boy!" whispered the girl, clasping his tanned hand in both of +hers, "I don't like to see your eyes shine so! They're hard. But I know +how to soften them. I have a letter for you from the one woman of all +the world. Come with me and get it." + +"Keep it for me," he muttered--"keep it until I come for it. I'm not fit +to touch it now. It might make a decent man of me, and--and--I don't +want to be--not just yet, Miss Nina." He whirled away, climbed upon his +jumper, and lashed his horse back along the trail towards Enchanted. The +words of that half-jeering ditty of Prophet Eli's followed him, as they +had on that memorable first day at Castonia, and grotesque as the lilt +was, it seemed to express the young man's flaming resolution: + + "Oh, the little brown bull came down from the mountains, + Shang, ro-ango, whango-whey! + And as he was feelin' salutatious, + Chased old Pratt a mile, by gracious, + Licked old Shep and two dog Towsers, + Then marched back home with old Pratt's trousers." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +"'TWAS DONE BY TOMMY THUNDER" + + "Twenty a month for daring death--or fighting from dawn + to dark-- + Twenty and grub and a place to sleep in God's great public + park. + We roofless go, with the cook's bateau to follow our hungry + crew-- + A billion of spruce and hell turned loose when the Allegash + drive goes through." + + --Ballad of the Drive. + + +Wade's poor beast was staggering when at last he topped the horseback +overlooking Enchanted valley. He himself plodded behind the jumper, +clinging to it, walking to keep awake. He had started in the dusk, he +had been nearly twenty-four hours on the road from Castonia, and it was +growing dusk again. He was too utterly weary to be surprised when Tommy +Eye came hurrying down from a knoll that commanded a long view of the +tote road. The light of a little camp-fire glowed on the knoll, and he +saw that a horse was tethered there. + +"I'm gettin' to be a worse outlaw than ever, Mr. Wade," declared the +teamster. "I've stole one of your hosses, and grub and hay from the +store camp, and I'm livin' here in the woods. I've been waitin' for +you," he added, wistfully. "I might have slept a little last night when +I didn't know, but I reckon I didn't. I figgered you'd come. I've been +waitin' for you. They can't say I'm one of your men, Mr. Wade. I'm +livin' here in the woods." + +"Look here, Eye," blurted his employer, roughly, "I haven't any time nor +taste for fool talk just now. You take the horse back to camp and get on +your job." He started on. + +"You don't sound as though you'd got what you went after," cried Tommy, +unabashed. He came trotting behind. "You didn't get satisfaction, then, +Mr. Wade! Injunction still there, hey? You didn't get--" + +"What did you suppose I'd get from Pulaski Britt, you infernal fool?" +His own brutality towards the faithful servitor made him ashamed. But +the spirit of evil that had taken possession of him was speaking through +lips that he surrendered in weariness of body and bitterness of soul. +And when a shade of repentance smote him at sight of Tommy trotting +sorrowfully at his side, he gasped out of his woe. "He has dynamited our +booms, Tommy. Did it with his own hands. And now"--he threw up his arms +towards Blunder Lake--"wait till to-morrow!" + +Tommy Eye stopped without a word and let Wade go on. + +"Wait till to-morrow?" he mumbled, as he scrambled back up the knoll. +"Wait till to-morrow, when I've got a two-hoss load of canned thunder +planted under Blunder dam, and the devil helpin' me by puttin' them two +to sleep ev'ry night, snorin' like quill-pigs?" He waited until Wade had +stumbled out of sight, then cinched upon his horse the blankets that had +served for couch during his vigil, mounted, and urged the animal through +the woods, kicking heels into its flanks. + +There were men of the crew who heard an unwonted sound in the midnight +hush of the Enchanted camp. It was a dull, heavy, earth-thudding noise +that swept down from the north over the tree-tops and travelled on +through the forest. Men awoke and asked themselves what had awakened +them, and went to sleep again, and knew not what it meant. + +Wade did not hear the sound. Exhaustion had fettered his senses when he +crawled into his bunk in the office camp. What he did hear, as he roused +himself in the gray of early dawn to set his hand to the desperate task +he was resolved upon, was the splattering rush of a horse's feet in the +spring ooze of the tote road and a human voice that shrieked, +hysterically: "Man the river, damn ye! Man the river!" + +It was Tommy Eye. He was crouched on the back of his horse when the men +came tumbling out. His little eyes were like fire-points. The wattles of +his neck were blood-gorged. He spat froth as he raved at them. + +"Man the river, I tell ye! She's b'ilin' full from bank to bank. Ben +Rodliff's injunction busted to blazes and the Enchanted drive started +slam-whoopin', and it's me that's done it!" + +"You hellion, have you blowed Blunder dam?" shouted the chopping-boss, +while Dwight Wade was still gasping for words. + +"Blowed Blunder dam!" shrieked Tommy, "Why, I've blowed Blunder dam so +high that Ben Rodliff's injunction can't get to it in a balloon. I've +blowed a gouge ten feet deep in the bed-rock. I've let the innards out +of Blunder Lake. She's runnin' valley-full, ice-cakes dancin' jigs on +the black water! And when they ask who done it, tell 'em it was +me--Tommy Eye, the outlaw! Tommy Eye, with a two-hoss load of canned +thunder!" He tried to shake his fists above his head, but groaned, and +one arm dropped as though it were helpless. Blood was caked on his hand +and wrist. He did not wait for Wade to ask the question. + +"It's the pay I got for wakin' 'em up in time to run, Mr. Wade. I give +'em a chance. They give me a thirty-thirty! They'd have give me more if +they could have shot straighter. I'm an outlaw, but there ain't no blood +on my head, Mr. Wade." + +He slid off the horse and staggered towards the cook camp. + +"Gimme mine in my hand, cook!" he called. "I'll eat it while I'm +runnin'. For it's man the river, boys!" + +And the rest of them ate running, too. Wade led them, determined that no +one should head him in the race. He heard the husky breathing of the +hundred runners at his back when he swept around the granite dome of +Enchanted and came in view of the valley. They stopped, panting, and +surveyed the scene for a moment. They saw the tumbling waters, yeasty +and brown. They heard the groan and grunt of dissolving log-piles as the +fierce tide tore at them and bore away the logs. And each man took a new +grip on his cant-dog handle and loped on. + +It was plain that Tommy Eye had spoken the truth. That flood was not the +mere outrush through shattered dam-gates. Blunder Lake was emptying +itself through a rent deeper than nature had set in its side. In a +stream-bed of intervales and broad levels the Enchanted drive would have +been scattered to its own disaster. But Blunder valley was slashed deep +between the hills. The turbid flood that raced there was penned. The +log-herds could only butt the granite cliffs and surge on. There was but +one outlet--the mad current of Blunder Stream pouring down to its +junction with the Umcolcus. + +They "manned the river," scattering along, one man posted at a curve in +sight of another. A hat waved meant that a jam was forming and called +for help. And when timber jack-strawed too wildly to be readily loosened +by cant-dog and pick-pole they dynamited. There was no time for +"knittin'-work" on that drive. + +Tommy Eye, with meal-sack slung over his shoulder, made himself +custodian of the "canned thunder." It was Larry Gorman, woodsman poet, +who first called him "Tommy Thunder." If you go into the north country +you can probably find some one to sing you the song that Larry Gorman +composed, the first verse running: + + "Come, listen, good white-water chaps. Who was that man, I wonder, + Who turned himself to an outlaw bold and put the bang-juice under? + Who was it cracked the neck of her, 'way up at old Lake Blunder, + When hell broke loose and sluiced our spruce? + 'Twere done by Tommy Thunder!" + +His was the recklessness of mania. Men who saw him coming along the +shore with his horrid burden dodged into the woods. Where and when he +slept no one knew. Daytime and night-time he was racing to where logs +had cob-piled. Roars that boomed among the hills told that he had +arrived. In the first gray of morning men saw him warming his dynamite +over a camp-fire, and shuddered and hurried away. To find the king log +of a jam and drop his cartridge where it would have instant effect, he +took chances that made men turn their backs. It isn't pleasant to see a +man macerated by grinding logs or scattered across the sky. + +No word passed between Tommy Eye and Dwight Wade. Those days and nights +when the Enchanted drive was on its roaring way down Blunder Stream +towards the Umcolcus River were not the sort of days that invited +conversation. On the ordinary stream-drives to the main river, in the +desperate hurry of the driving-pitch, men work as many hours as they can +stand up. With the drive under control, they can at least stop sluicing +in the dead hours of the night. But the Enchanted drive that spring was +a wild beast that never closed its eyes. As it raged along they did not +dare to leave it alone for an hour. Men raced beside it, clutched at it, +clung as long as they were able, and dropped off, stunned by the stupor +of exhaustion. + +After a few hours some one's prodding foot stirred them back to +wakefulness, and they stumbled up and began the fight once more. Outside +of a charge in battle, there is no place where individual rivalry is so +keen and eager as in a driving-crew on hard waters. Men do not require +to be urged to do their utmost. "Coward" and "shirk" are sneers that cut +deeply down-river. + +Wade, rushing from point to point, cant-dog in hand, his shoes mere +pulp, his clothes in tatters, saw men asleep with their faces in the tin +plates that the cookee had heaped with food. They had gone to sleep with +the first mouthful, hungry as demons, but overcome the moment their feet +stopped moving. + +Some he found asleep where they were posted to "card"[6] certain ledges. +He beat them about the head with the flat of his hand, and they awoke +and thanked him with wistful smiles that touched his heart. But brutal +force had started the Enchanted drive, brutal force marked its rush, and +it had to be brutal force that could keep it going. Brutal force took +toll in the logs that were splintered by dynamite, but it was a toll +that circumstances demanded. A man unwilling to take the chances that +Tommy Eye took would have wasted thousands of feet instead of hundreds, +and Wade knew it, and gulped words of gratitude when they met, hurrying +on the shore. + +[Footnote 6: To disentangle and set free logs caught in the rocks.] + +Half-way to the Umcolcus, Lazy Tom Stream enters Blunder, and here Wade +found Barnum Withee rushing in his logs and eager to accept an +invitation to join drives. Withee was asking no questions. He did not +need to. He understood. What had been done upstream was none of his +business. He could declare that much when he got his drive down, and +could defend himself from complicity. In the mean time he would take +advantage of the situation. + +There were now one hundred and sixty herders of the wild flock, with +Barnum Withee, one of the best men on the river, to take command of the +rear. + +So Wade went to the front--to Castonia, sweeping down the swollen +Umcolcus in one of Withee's bateaux with four men at the oars. He had +played violence against violence in the big game. It was natural to +suppose that Pulaski Britt by this time had his fists clinched ready to +retaliate. + +On either side of his bateau as he hurried to Castonia the logs ran +free. But they were all his own logs, this advance-guard, marked with +the double diamond and cross. + +Had Rodburd Ide done his part, and were they being held at Castonia? + +He found the booms set again, Rodburd Ide in command at the sorting-gap, +and various members of the "It-'ll-git-ye Club" sitting along the shore +with guns across their knees. Every able-bodied man in Castonia was on +the booms with a pick-pole, and already the double-diamond logs were +swirling and herding in the logan. + +"It's done, and they'll have us into court, but, by ----, we'll have +some ready money to fight 'em with!" screamed the little man, grasping +Wade's hand as the bateau swung broadside to the sorting-gap platform. +And when he had heard the story of "Tommy Thunder, outlaw," that his +partner hurriedly related, his mouth parted in a grin, even though his +forehead puckered with apprehension. + +"But will it let us out, Wade?" he asked. "The man took it on himself +out of his grudge against Britt. But will it let us out?" + +"It's your money that is in this thing, and not mine," returned the +young man, "and I suppose it's natural for you to think of your property +first. But as for me, Mr. Ide, I'll take what profits are coming to me +from this operation, and I'll stand in with poor old Tommy Eye, jointly +indicted, jointly in the dock, jointly in jail, till the last dollar is +spent. For he did just what I meant to do!" + +For an instant Ide's eyes flickered. Then they became shiny. + +"My boy," he said, "the Enchanted Township Lumber Company is +incorporated, and you and I own the stock. With your consent, I'm goin' +to make over ten shares of that stock to Thomas Eye before I sleep +to-night. I reckon this company stands ready to fight its battles and +protect its members." + +"Mr. Ide," gulped Wade, contritely, "forgive me for that hasty speech. +But God help me, partner, I've been in hell since I saw you last, and +I'm full of the fires of it! I think you can understand." + +He crouched there in the bateau, clutching the gunwale with hands that +trembled until they shook his body to and fro. His face was streaked +with the grime of days and nights of toil. His eyes were haggard with +sleeplessness. Fasting had hollowed his cheeks. Such lines as only the +bitter things of life can set in the human countenance were traced deep +upon the brown skin. In his rags and his weariness he was as one who had +been conquered instead of one who had fulfilled. The little man of +Castonia reached down and patted his shoulder with a hand that had a +father's sympathy in its touch. + +"Bub," he murmured, "I'm goin' to take some other time to tell you what +I think of you. Just now I want you to go down to the house. My Nina +will know what to do for you and what to say to you. She has some +letters for you to read before you go to sleep, and I reckon they'll +give you pleasant dreams." + +Kate Arden opened the door and welcomed him with a smile, the first he +had ever seen on her face. His heart came into his mouth at sight of +her. Never had she seemed so like Elva Barrett. But before he had word +with her Nina Ide came running, floury hands outspread, her face alight +above her housewife's tire. She stood on tiptoe, put her arms around his +neck, and kissed him. + +"Brother Dwight! Brother Dwight!" she half sobbed. "Oh, Brother Dwight, +I didn't know--I didn't realize--I didn't understand, or I would have +held you back until you had torn these two arms from my shoulders. I +prayed for you and watched for you. They buy their logs with blood up +there. But it shall not be with your blood, Dwight. I have hated father +all these days. He knew what you were going back to, and didn't stop +you!" + +"It was all my own affair, little girl," Wade returned, gently--"my +duty, to which I was bound by fair man-promise. And I've got our logs +into the river, but it has been the kind of work that blisters souls, +Sister Nina!" His voice had a pathetic quaver of weariness. + +"I was at the sorting-gap when the first one came, and I knelt and +kissed it," she said, smiling at him from misty eyes. "And then I wrote +to the one of all the world and told her about a hero." + +An hour later he lay asleep in a darkened room, the tense lines gone +from his face, his lax hand spread over a letter, finding the sweetest +solace in slumber he had known for many a day. + +At the first peep of light next morning he was at the sorting-gap in +full command, removing a burden of responsibility from Rodburd Ide which +had made that little man a quaking wreck of his ordinarily self-reliant +self; for in every log that had come spinning around the upper bend of +the Umcolcus his fears had seen the peak of Pulaski Britt's rushing +bateau. + +That the river tyrant would come, furious beyond words, was a fact +accepted by Dwight Wade, and Wade was ready to meet him. But every hour +that passed without bringing the drive-master meant so much more towards +the success of the Enchanted drive. + +The logs came in stampeding droves. Withee's were mixed among the +"double diamonds," but there were no delays at the sorting-gap. Two +crews fed them through--one for day and one for night, with a dozen +lanterns lighting their work. Wade was resolved that Britt should lack +at least one argument in the bitter contention. The sorting should be +done faithfully and promptly, and the down-river drive should be hurried +on its way. But at the end of four days not one of the logs nicked with +the "double hat," Britt's registered mark, had shown up. Nor did Britt +himself appear. + +A sullen, suffering man of Britt's crew, who came walking into Castonia +with hand held above his head to ease the agony of a felon, brought the +first news. + +Blunder Lake dam had been blown up, he reported, and such a chasm had +been opened in the bed-rock that the lake had vomited its waters to the +west until the bed of Britt's shallow canal to the east was above the +water-line. Britt had only his splash dams along Jerusalem for a +driving-head. In the past years the pour of the canal had given him a +current in Jerusalem dead-water. Now he was trying to warp his logs +across there with head-works and anchor. But the south wind was howling +against him, and no human muscle could turn the windlass, even when the +oaths of the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt dinned in the ears of his +toilers. All this the new-comer related. + +"And it's something awful to hear!" said the man. "He walks the platform +of that head-works, back and forth and back and forth. He cusses God and +the angels, the wind and all it blows across. And then when he is well +worked up to cussin', he 'tends to the case of the devil that blowed up +Blunder Lake dam. And his face is as red as my shirt, and the veins +stick out on his for'ead as big as a baby's finger. They say that you +can't cuss only about so much without somethin' happenin' to you. I've +read about the cap'n of a ship that done it too much once, and his ghost +is still a-sailin'. All I've got to say is that if Pulaski Britt don't +stop, he'll get his." + +The "It-'ll-git-ye Club" had listened to this recital intently. It +agreed forebodingly. In fact, in special session the club passed a vote +of dismal prophecy for the whole Jerusalem operation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE PARADE PAST RODBURD IDE'S PLATFORM + + "'Twas a hundred wet miles to the handiest rail, + And his home it was fifty more; + And behind on our bateau's bubblin' trail + Raced Death with his muffled oar." + + --Ballad of the Drive. + + +Two days later the "It-'ll-git-ye's," as sombre prophets, were +distinctly cheered by the sight of Boss Colin MacLeod borne past Rodburd +Ide's store on a litter. They were hurrying him to the hospital +down-river, and he had his teeth set into his lip to keep back the +groans. + +"No, sir! No fifty more miles of that for you, my boy," declared Ide, +when he was told that MacLeod's arm and leg were broken. "Into my house +you go, and the doctor comes here." And MacLeod was put to bed in the +spare room, weeping quietly. + +"It was the head-works warp done it, Mr. Wade," he moaned, turning +hollow eyes upon his sympathizer. "Broke and snapped back. I told him +man's strength couldn't warp them logs across against that wind, but he +was bound to make us do it. He said I was a coward, Mr. Wade. But I took +the place at the guide-block to show I wasn't. And then he cursed me for +gettin' hurt!" + +When Wade left the room he found Kate Arden waiting outside. During the +days he had been at Castonia the girl had appeared to avoid him. She had +paled when he spoke to her, replied curtly, and hurried away as though +she feared he was about to broach some topic that would distress her. +Yet it was not towards him merely that she had displayed that +apprehensive reserve. Not even to Nina Ide did she open her heart, and +Nina told Wade of this with wonderment and grief. She had been docile, +even to the subterfuge of sitting silent by John Barrett's bedside when +Elva Barrett had resigned her trust to seek Dwight Wade in the +wilderness. She had made no comment, asked no questions. She had showed +dumb gratitude, and eagerly sought such household tasks as could be +intrusted to her untrained hands. But wistful shrinking, the air of a +wild thing confined but not tamed, was with her ever. + +Now, when she faced Wade outside the door, her eyes shone like stars, +her cheeks flamed, and the old fearlessness and determination were in +her features. + +"I shall take care of him," she said. "I shall nurse him, and no one but +me! I shall know how, Mr. Wade. He'll need me now. You go and tell them +all that I shall nurse him. No one else shall do it." + +It was the woods mate claiming her own. It was more than love as +convention has classed it. It was the fire, lighted by the primordial +torch of passion, which burns and does not reason, not to be smothered +by rebuff or abuse; its pride not the calculating pride of a resentment +that can divorce it from its object, but the pride of blind, utter +loyalty through all. + +Dwight Wade had gone near enough to the heart of things to understand +this love. + +He looked at her a little while, sympathy lighting his eyes and +vibrating in his voice as he answered her: + +"You shall have him, poor little girl, because he needs you." + +He opened the door for her, closed it behind her, and left them alone +together. + +Two days later the "It-'ll-git-ye Club" realized the full climax of +ominous prophecy and was correspondingly content. The Honorable Pulaski +D. Britt was brought out from Jerusalem dead-water and taken down-river, +a helpless hulk of a man grunting stertorous breaths, the right hand, +which had waved command all those years along Umcolcus, now hanging +helpless at his side, his right leg dangling uselessly as they lifted +him along to a wagon. + +It was the fate that the choleric tyrant had invited. That last and +mightiest rage of his life, when with swollen veins and purple face he +had stamped about the head-works platform, had done for Pulaski Britt +and his weakened blood-vessels what those who knew him well had +predicted. Wade was not surprised, for the suppression of Britt by this +means and at this frantic climax in Britt's affairs was too entirely +logical. It came to him suddenly that he felt a sense of relief, and +then he wondered with shame whether he had hoped for it. Then he +dismissed the speculation as unprofitable and not agreeable. The tyrant +was in chains of his own forging. His logs came limping along in +scattered squads, and were sent through the sorting-gap and down-river. + +The new master of the corporation drive was not cordial when he +appeared, hurrying towards headwaters. But he was not hostile, either. +He surlily demanded expedition at the Castonia sorting-gap, and went on +up-river. + +There are some combatants who, seeing a crisis approaching, feel that it +is their best policy to sit down and wait until the crisis comes to +them. This implies the calculation that perhaps the crisis may go around +the other way, but it is not the policy for the intrepid. In his present +mood Dwight Wade decided to go to meet the crisis, with head erect and +shoulders back. + +He addressed the president of the Umcolcus Lumbering and Log-driving +Association, requesting a conference with him and the directors of the +body. If the letter thinly screened a demand for that conference it was +the fault of Dwight Wade's resolute determination to face the issue. + +The letter remained long unanswered. Its receipt was not even +acknowledged. The delay seemed to be contemptuous slighting of a +possible overture of amicable settlement. Rodburd Ide sadly reasoned to +this conviction, and daily gazed towards the south in search of the +sheriff bringing writs of attachment with as much trepidation as he had +gazed north in the black days when he expected Pulaski Britt. + +Dwight Wade was hardly more sanguine. And yet he was heartened by +letters from his lawyer, who was up and at the foe once more. The lawyer +intimated that an earnest conference was going on among the big fellows +of the timber interests. In the past, prior to sittings of the +legislature, they had heard the ominous stampings of the farmer's +cowhide boots and the mutterings about unrighteous privileges, filched +State timber lands, and unequal taxation. In the secret sessions of +those directors the stand-pat roarings of their woods executive had +drowned all pacific suggestions of compromise. But now the Honorable +Pulaski D. Britt lay at home, unable to lift the ponderous hand which +had pounded emphasis. + +In the end Wade decided that the big fellows were waiting to settle what +they were to say before they summoned him to conference. That he was +correct was proven by the letter that came at last. It was a courteous +letter; it appointed a time of meeting, and named as the place John +Barrett's office in "Castle Cut 'Em." + +On the evening before Wade left Castonia, Colin MacLeod summoned him, a +cheerful convalescent who looked out daily into the new flush of June, +and restlessly moved his stiffened limbs in his chair, and counted the +days between himself and the free life out-of-doors. + +"Mr. Ide was tellin' me why you are goin' and where you are goin'," said +MacLeod, with simple earnestness. Kate Arden was sitting with her head +on his knee, and he was smoothing her hair gently. "I wanted the little +girl to stay here while I talked this to you. I told you about my dream +once, man-fashion. I've told her about it. I ain't excusin' or screenin' +myself. I didn't know, that's all. I never tried to fool this little +girl, Mr. Wade. They lied who said I did. I pitied her, Mr. Wade. But +it's a hard place to start in lovin' a girl where I saw her first--and +I'd seen some one else before I saw her. But I know now, sir. I've told +her so all these days that she's been with me, so true and tender. I +reckon I never was in love before. I wouldn't have acted that way with +you, sir, if I really was in love and trusted. But there ain't no +mistake this time, Mr. Wade!" He gulped, a sob in his throat and a smile +in his eyes. "I'm her man for ever and ever. She knows it and she's +glad. And I know she's all mine, and I'm the happiest man in the whole +north country." + +He broke in upon Wade's eager burst of congratulation. + +"There's just one more word I wanted to say--sort of in the way of +business, Mr. Wade." There was a peculiar expression upon his face. +"Maybe when you're outside some one--_some one_ may drop a word or +inquire about her business--you know--something about her." His look of +strange significance became deeper, and Wade understood. "All is, you +might say that she and Colin MacLeod are goin' to get married, and Colin +MacLeod ain't askin' anybody for her--only herself and God. God ain't +denyin' His Fathership to a girl as good as she is. Colin MacLeod ain't +askin' anything else--ain't allowin' anything else. Say that to 'em. +He's got his own two hands and eleven hundred dollars saved, and the big +woods for her and for him. She and I wouldn't be happy outside the big +woods, Mr. Wade. Say it all to 'em, sir, if any one drops a word to +you--and they probably will, because you've had words with them. You'll +know how to say it. But make it plain that it will be dangerous business +for any man to reach out his hand to her or to me with anything in +it--and tell 'em it's Colin MacLeod says that," he added, bitterly. + +"The only things you need, Colin," cried Wade, advancing towards him, +"are good-will and friendship, and both are in the hand I give you." + +At the door he turned. + +"Will you wait until I come back, Colin?" he asked. "I would like to +stand up with you when you are married--Nina Ide and I." + +"I'll wait, Mr. Wade," returned the other, tears of gratitude springing +to his eyes. "And may luck go with you in this business." + +That fervent wish, put again into words, followed him next morning when +he departed from Castonia. This time it was Tommy Eye who said it--Tommy +Eye, fresh down with the rear of the drive, and a very timorous and +apprehensive figure of an outlaw. But he seemed to be a little +disappointed after Wade had assured him that the matter of Blunder Lake +dam would be assumed by the Enchanted Company, and that Tommy himself +had nothing to fear. + +"I reckon you can do it, Mr. Wade. You can do most anything you set out +to," sighed Tommy. "Howsomever, I kind of figgered on that outlaw +business to keep me away from down-river. The city ain't good for the +likes of me. They begin to rattle the keys of the calaboose the minute I +get off'n the train." + +"Tommy," commanded Wade, severely, "don't you go down-river this season. +You stay here and attend to the work we've got marked out for you." + +"That's just as good a wheel-trig as the outlaw proposition would be," +declared Tommy, his face clearing. "Orders from you settles things, Mr. +Wade. Here I stay." + +On the morning of his departure Rodburd Ide's daughter walked with Wade +to the store, where the stage started. In the days of their late +intimacy the girl had grown into his heart. The sincerity of a sister, +self-reliance and womanly sympathy had characterized her attitude +towards him from the first; and she had welcomed a friendship which +lifted her to a comrade's level. She was as yet an altruist in matters +of the heart; she frankly and openly interested herself only in the +loves of others. + +Wade knew all the unspoken words that her sympathy dictated when, +standing out before them all, she clasped his hand before he clambered +over the wheel of the old stage. + +He saw no very clear horizon for his own love, but his comrade's smile +heartened him, and the flutter of her handkerchief carried its message +of good courage when the stage pitched down the slope that hid Castonia +settlement. + +The road to "Castle Cut 'Em" lay before him. At that moment the +Honorable John Barrett loomed so largely as a foe that Dwight Wade's +thoughts were of his fight. Of his love he hardly dared to think at all. + +The "It-'ll-git-ye Club" watched the departure of the stage that day +with more than usual interest, also with somewhat deeper gloom. + +The knowledge that Dwight Wade and his partner had assumed all blame +for the destruction of Blunder Lake dam was current in all the north +country. + +King Spruce's delay in visiting punishment only made the situation +graver in the estimation of the prophets of evil. King Spruce had many +weapons, and in the past had promptly seized the one nearest at hand and +dealt a crushing blow when provocation was given. The fact that the new +drive-master had passed on without even as much as a threat of +retribution was taken as an ominous presage. It was agreed that when +King Spruce remained grimly silent so long, in order to revolve a +project of retaliation, he must be whittling an especially mighty +bludgeon. + +The members of the "It-'ll-git-ye Club" very frankly expressed thoughts +of this tenor to the half-dozen men who arrived at Castonia in the early +morning to take the stage down-river with Wade. The men gloomily agreed. +Two of them showed signs of funk at the last moment, and had to be +coaxed on board the stage by the young man. + +These were the sort of men that Wade had seen a year before in the +general rooms of "Castle Cut 'Em." They were independent operators and +stumpage-buyers, who had responded to the messengers and letters that +Wade had been sending out. + +There were more of them who joined the party at the railroad; others +came into the train as it stopped here and there on the way to the +junction. All of them seemed impressed by that sense of gloom and +apprehension; there was not a sanguine face. + +But in their unanimity of dolorousness they displayed a further +interesting characteristic. They seemed entirely ready to accept this +young man as their leader and their champion; in fact, as he went among +them, they confessed that they had come along only because he had +assured them that he would bear the brunt of the approaching conflict. +The experience of years had shown them that they had no one man or +combination of men among themselves who could go up against King Spruce. +They even distrusted each other's honesty, for every man realized all +the iniquity of the game of graft and grab that had characterized their +dealings with each other and with the main power in the past. + +That they should let this new-comer lead them was because he had already +proved his mettle and his fearlessness, and the whole north country knew +it. He had beaten Pulaski Britt at his own game, he had defied King +Spruce, and now he was willing to beard the tyrant in his own castle, +and only asked their presence at his back in order that the sight of +them might prove his assertions and aid to win some grace for all of +them. + +Therefore, they had answered his appeal and had gone with him. But they +went without alacrity, and were encouraged only by the despondent belief +that at least matters could not be made any worse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE PACT WITH KING SPRUCE + + "We 'lowed he was caught, and we never thought we'd see + Mike any more; + But he took and he kicked a bubble up, and he rode all safe + to shore." + + --The "Best White-water Man." + + +So it came about that once more, after a year had passed, Dwight Wade +walked up the hill towards "Castle Cut 'Em," where the sunlight +shimmered upon grim walls. The mills along the canal screamed at him as +he passed. His fancy detected derision in the squall of the saws. + +A score of men plodded along with him--broad-backed, silent men who, now +that they were under the frown of King Spruce's citadel, muttered their +forebodings to one another. Resentment and desperation had left their +hearts open to the young man's appeal when he urged a union against the +tyrant. But now their reluctance hinted that their determination was +built on some very shifty sands. He remembered the man who had declaimed +a year before so stoutly, and had been turned aside from his purpose by +a few words whispered in a corner. + +And so it was without high hopes that Wade led the way into the broad +stairway to the castle. He wished that the men would pound down their +feet on those stairs so that King Spruce would know that they were +coming as bold and honest men should come. But his little army tiptoed +up, their heavy boots creaking as do the boots of decorous mourners at a +funeral. + +When he opened the door of the big general room his face did not show +that he was disheartened. He had determined not to come to John Barrett +as a mere petitioner. He was no longer allowing hope to soften the +bitter business of demanding. + +He saw the situation more plainly now than he saw it when he had bidden +farewell to Elva Barrett in Pogey Notch. There could be no hope of truce +between himself and John Barrett. By winning the love of John Barrett's +daughter, by possessing himself of the secret of John Barrett's shame, +he realized that he had committed offences that the pride of Barrett +could not pardon. He had followed this by striking the first blow +against the autocracy of King Spruce in the north country, and he was +now appearing before King Spruce's high chamberlain as the leader of the +rebels whom his deed had spurred to rebellion. + +In spite of his great love for Elva Barrett, he felt a sense of +exaltation because he had the power to put that love behind him in his +dealings with the man he had resolved to fight. It was a relief to +convince himself now that Barrett was his implacable foe. Any other +belief would have made him less courageous. + +And when John Barrett, at sound of the tramp of many feet in the outer +room, opened the door of his private office and stood framed there, +Dwight Wade welcomed the spectacle of his antagonist. Barrett's face was +saturnine when he surveyed the group. + +"I do not understand this, Mr. Wade," he said. "You and I arranged a +conference. But there was no arrangement for a general hearing." + +"The question of conditions on the Umcolcus is a question that takes in +all of us who operate there, Mr. Barrett," said Wade. "I'm present to +answer to matters that can be charged to my individual responsibility, +but the interests of all of us have a bearing on that responsibility, +and we are here to have a fair understanding." + +Barrett stepped back, and motioned the young man to enter the private +office. + +"If you have come to speak for these men," he said, "you may step in +here, and we will see if we can arrange to have the directors meet them +later." + +"Well, Mr. Wade," he remarked, when they were alone, "so you have become +a magnate in the north country in strictly record time!" + +"Sarcasm won't help us any in settling this matter!" cried the young +man, warmly. "I can understand very well, Mr. Barrett, how you from your +position look down on me in mine. But I have at least become some sort +of a business man, and I--" + +"You have become an almighty good business man," declared the land +baron, with such a ring of sincerity in his voice that the young man +stared at him in sudden astonishment, "and in a little while we will +talk business." + +"That is all I'm here to talk," said Wade, the red coming into his +cheeks. + +When he had left the group of the lumbermen he noticed that some of them +bent lowering looks upon him. They had seen other men invited apart and +bought from their purpose. Wade wondered if the Honorable John Davis +Barrett was not about to trade amnesty on the Blunder dam charge for +betrayal of the men who had come at his back to "Castle Cut 'Em." + +Then a sense of shame at such suspicion came to him, as John Barrett +began to speak: + +"Mr. Wade," said he, "you are more of a chap in every way than you were +the last time you were in this office, but--you are still young." From +that moment the older man had the advantage. And yet Barrett was not +calm. He sat down at his desk, and tossed his papers as he talked. His +gaze wavered. His jowls hung heavy and flabby. The marks of his +prostrating illness had not left him. But in the gloom of his face there +was depression that did not arise from physical causes. Barrett's bitter +experience had drawn its black cloud around him. He pulled out the shelf +of his desk, set his elbows upon it as though to steady his nerves, and +faced Wade. + +"Young man," he began, "the way the world looks at those things--from +the stand-point of some one who hasn't been through the fire--I can +afford to look down on you from my height as a moneyed man, and as +something more in this State. An outsider might think so. But, by ----, +you are the one that can look down on me, for you are square and clean!" + +He would not allow Wade to interrupt. + +"I haven't called you in here to buy or bulldoze you. There is a matter +between us that hasn't been settled. I made you a promise on Jerusalem +Mountain that I didn't keep. I had excuses that seemed good to me then. +They don't look that way now. They didn't look good to me when I got off +my sick-bed at Castonia. Did Rodburd Ide tell you anything about my talk +with the girl?" + +"He told me, Mr. Barrett." + +The magnate plunged on desperately. + +"I don't think you're dull, Mr. Wade, but you can't understand what it +meant to me when my child turned on me, spat in my face, and left me. It +wasn't merely the bitterness of that one moment--the blistering memory +of it goes to sleep with me and wakes up with me. It's with me in every +look my daughter Elva gives me, though the poor child tries to hide from +me that her old faith and trust have left her. I'm not going to whine, +young man, but I'm in hell--in hell!" + +His voice broke weakly. Then there was silence in the room. Wade heard +only the yell of the distant saws and the shuffle of the woodsmen's feet +as they paced the big reception-hall of King Spruce. + +Between the two men there was too much understanding for empty words of +sympathy. + +"Lane is dead," blurted the millionaire, at last. "What will become of +the girl?" + +"MacLeod is to marry her. She nursed him through his sickness at +Castonia; they love each other very sincerely, Mr. Barrett, and you need +have no trouble about her future. Neither of them will ever trouble you; +in fact, MacLeod asked me to say as much for him." + +Barrett was silent a long time, his gaze on the floor. He looked up at +last, and his eyes shone as though a comforting thought had come to him. + +"There's one thing I can do. I've got money enough to make them +independent for life. Be my agent in that, Mr. Wade, and--" + +"I have another message from MacLeod. I have grown to know the man +pretty well, and you'd best take my advice. He says it will be dangerous +business for any man to put out a hand to him with anything in it." + +"You mean they won't take a fortune when I am ready to hand it to them?" + +"I mean it, Mr. Barrett. There are strange notions among some of the +folks of the big woods. Your money is of no use. I advise you frankly +not to offer it. At any rate, I'll not insult MacLeod by being your +messenger." + +The timber magnate whirled his chair and gazed away from Wade, looking +into the depths of his big steel vault. + +At the end of a few minutes Wade spoke to him, but he did not reply. +When the young man accosted him again, after a decent pause, Barrett +spoke over his shoulder without turning his face. + +"The directors and myself will meet your party in the board-room across +the hall in half an hour, Mr. Wade." + +It was not the voice of John Barrett. It was the thin, quavering tone of +a man who was mourning, and wished to be left alone. + +Wade went quietly away. + +He was John Barrett once more when Wade saw him half an hour later at +the head of the big table in the directors' room. All the board was +there except Britt. + +The lumbermen whom Wade headed stood in solid phalanx at the foot of the +room. There were no chairs for them. But they accepted this fact +patiently. + +Wade, a little in advance of his associates, looked into the face of the +Honorable John Barrett, now impassive once more. But there was a strange +gleam in the eyes. In the hush it seemed that the directors were waiting +for Wade to speak--it was the coldly contemptuous silence of King Spruce +ready to hearken. + +The young man accepted this waiting as his challenge. He stepped to the +lower end of the huge table; John Barrett arose at the other end, and +bent forward, leaning on his knuckles. + +"Gentlemen," he said, his tone courteous, his air pacificatory, "Mr. +Dwight Wade, of the Enchanted Lumber Association is here to-day to +confer with us on those matters that have already been considered by us +in executive session. I wish first, with your permission, to inform him +on one point that we have already decided. My statement will enable us +to avoid discussion of an unpleasant matter--I may say, an unprofitable +matter." + +It was plain to be seen that Mr. Barrett was dominating this session, as +he had undoubtedly dominated the preliminary session in which the +sentiment of King Spruce towards Dwight Wade had been crystallized. +Somehow the young man understood that the strange look in Barrett's eyes +meant reassurance. + +"The destruction of Blunder Lake dam was a mistake," continued Barrett, +but without even a note of reproach in his voice. + +"I am ashamed to have to fight that way for common rights that have been +stolen," said the young man. "It's nasty fighting, and I don't want to +fight that way any more." + +"We don't, either," broke in a director, bluntly. "There's no money in +it." + +"A moment, gentlemen," interposed Barrett, "I have the floor. I don't +propose to speak any ill of an associate--an unfortunate associate. I +refer to Mr. Britt, who has for so many years been our executive in the +north woods. But I can say frankly, as I have said to his face, that we +have deplored some of his measures as unwise. We have tried to restrain +him, but we have not been able to hold him back. Let us be charitable, +gentlemen, and say merely that old-fashioned lumbering in this State has +been conducted on wrong ideas. The manner of putting in Blunder Lake dam +is a case in point. In compromising the present disputes between the +timber interests and the other tax-paying interests of the State, I'll +be frank to say that the history of that dam would not be helpful. +Prosecuting you, Mr. Wade, would entail going into the history of that +dam. Therefore, we shall not prosecute you; and an arrangement has +already been made by which you are purged of contempt of court in the +matter of the injunction." + +He grew earnest. + +"You have undoubtedly come here to tell us, Mr. Wade, that the woods are +being butchered for immediate profit; that the present system of +lumbering forces operators to use destructive measures. But we can't +enter into argument on that. We admit it. We have been slow about +getting together to correct those abuses. We also admit that the time +seems to have arrived when we must have a different system. I have been +upon my timber tracts during the past year, and have received new light +on a great many matters that I had not taken pains to inform myself on. +I now view the situation differently, and my associates have coincided +with my views." + +For the others it was merely a business confession of error, an appeal +for compromise. To Dwight Wade, looking into the eyes of John Barrett +and studying his strange expression, it was much more, and his heart +beat quickly. "The whole situation will undoubtedly take a new aspect +from now on. We propose, on our part, to leave the past just as it is; +set mistakes against mistakes, gentlemen, and clean the slates." + +He straightened, dropping his air of confidential appeal. + +"Next week, gentlemen, the convention of my party will nominate me to be +the next governor of this State. I need not tell you that the nomination +means election. I fully realize my responsibilities. I propose to assume +them, and to execute them honestly. I declare here before my associates, +as I shall later to the people of the State, that if I am elected I +shall be a governor of the whole people, and not of any faction. +Personally I shall be glad, Mr. Wade, to have you and all others +interested come before the next legislature, present complaints and +arguments, and let this whole matter be settled justly. You will find +that you and your supporters, as well as we, have interests to protect +against the demagogues. In the new conditions that are coming to +prevail in public matters, those who manage to keep the full measure of +their rights are exceedingly fortunate. Against those new conditions it +is folly to fight. But in correcting abuses the pendulum sometimes +swings too far. I think we can fairly ask you, Mr. Wade, and those +operators who may follow your leadership, to join us in protecting what +rightfully belongs to us--to all of us. You will understand that I am +offering no hint of bulldozing nor inviting corrupt collusion. It has +come to a time when we cannot afford to jeopardize our party or our +property, and the safety of both is concerned in a full and frank +settlement of this question of the timber lands." + +He gazed inquiringly at this young man who had come up to the fortress +to fight, and now found fortress and foe dissolving like a mirage. There +was but one manly attitude to take towards a public pledge of that sort. + +"Mr. Barrett," declared Wade, earnestly, "on that basis you have my +honest co-operation." He took his hat. There was no excuse for remaining +longer in a directors' meeting of the Umcolcus Lumbering Association. +His head whirled with the suddenness of this new situation. + +There was a general mumble of indorsement from the men massed at the +rear of the room, but one of the group spoke out after a moment's +hesitation: "I'm glad to hear you talk of a square deal before next +legislature, Mr. Barrett, but I can't help rememberin' that when some of +us went up to the state-house two years ago, to see if we couldn't get a +few rights, we butted square up against a lobby that was handlin' some +fifteen thousand dollars of King Spruce's money to beat us with, and to +keep things right where they were." + +There was no mistaking Barrett's sincerity now. + +"Gentlemen," he cried, "I have just been admitting that there have been +mistakes made in handling this matter. I didn't intend to go into +details. It is not a pleasant task. But when I say that this matter +shall have fair and square hearing in future, I mean it. And I pledge +for myself and my associates--call us 'King Spruce,' if that means most +to you--that not one dollar will be used by us in the next legislature, +except for expenses of counsel and witnesses before the committees--the +same legitimate expenses that you of the opposition will incur." + +There was no Thomas among them who could persist in the face of a +declaration like that. They dispersed. + +Barrett overtook Wade in the corridor, slipped his hand beneath the +young man's arm, and, without a word, led him back into the private +office. + +"I want to ask you a question, Mr. Wade," he said, still holding him by +the arm. "Once, in stress of feelings and under peculiar circumstances, +I promised certain things and did not fulfil them. You therefore have a +perfect right to be sceptical as to my good faith now. I ask you--are +you?" + +"No, Mr. Barrett, I am not," returned Wade, with simple earnestness. + +"Thank you, my boy!" His voice broke on the words. "When even a square +and clean man gets to my age he begins to realize that the world is a +bigger creditor of his than he had figured in the past," he went on, +after a pause. "In the last few months I have had some bills presented +to me that have found me a miserable bankrupt in spite of what my vault +holds. You know what my debts are. Linus Lane was right when he told me +that my kind of currency couldn't pay those debts. The dead have gone, +leaving me their debtor; the living hold me their debtor still. My boy, +when I realize what I owe and how useless that stuff is in there"--he +shook his hand at the open door of the vault--"I loathe my money! You +know what I owe to one child, and you have brought me word that I can +never pay her. You know just as well what I owe to another child--I have +taken from her most of her faith and love and happiness. Thank God, I +can pay that debt in part, and I know the human heart well enough now to +understand that I shall be paying the greater part." + +He left Wade abruptly, and walked to the window and looked down into the +street. He beckoned to the young man without turning his head. Wade, +coming to his side, saw Elva Barrett's pony phaeton. + +"I told my creditor to come here, and you see she is prompt," said +Barrett, with a wistful smile. "She has accepted what I offer in +settlement of my debt, and I offer you my hand, and tell you, with all +the earnestness of my soul, that since I have come to realize values I +approve my creditor's judgment. I have agreed to pay promptly on demand. +Don't keep her waiting." + +He pushed his "collateral" out into the corridor, and shut the door +behind him. + +Wade ran down the stairway, his hat in his hand, and came upon the +sidewalk into the glare of the June sunshine. She was there! The silk of +the phaeton's parasol strained a soft and tender light upon her face, +and her glorious eyes received him, coming towards her, as though into +an embrace. He swayed a little as he crossed the sidewalk, for his eyes +swam. And before he reached her he turned and cast one look back at the +great building behind him. He seemed to want to reassure himself about +something--to see solid bricks and stone--to convince himself that it +was not a fairy palace in which he had so amazingly and suddenly found +the full fruition of all his hopes. + +"What have they been doing to you in the ogres' den, Dwight, boy?" she +asked, a ripple of laughter in her voice. + +"I--I don't know!" he stammered. "It all happened so suddenly. Take me +away, sweetheart, where I can see a tree. I want to find my bearings +once more!" + +The pony trotted away demurely--so demurely that the girl surrendered +one hand to him, and he held it tight-clutched between them, wordless, a +mist in his eyes. + +"Then it did astonish you, after all?" she ventured, breaking the +silence. + +For reply he pressed her hand. She was first to speak again. + +"I know what a strange boy you are, Dwight," she said, with a touch of +humor in her tones. "For the peace of your soul for ever and ever, and +the satisfaction of your pride, I want to tell you that my father +offered me to you--I did not beg you from my father; but"--she hesitated +and looked at him slyly--"I didn't question the legal tender! Now that +you are a business man, I suppose we ought to use business terms!" + +But with his great love shining in his eyes, he pointed away from the +staring houses, where the road wound on under the trees and the peace of +perfect understanding lay beneath. + + THE END + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + +Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise, +every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and +intent. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of King Spruce, A Novel, by Holman Day + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KING SPRUCE, A NOVEL *** + +***** This file should be named 34948-8.txt or 34948-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/9/4/34948/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, D Alexander and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: King Spruce, A Novel + +Author: Holman Day + +Release Date: January 13, 2011 [EBook #34948] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KING SPRUCE, A NOVEL *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, D Alexander and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><a name="Cover" id="Cover"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 319px;"> +<img src="images/icover.jpg" width="319" height="500" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox bbox"> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 45px;"> +<img src="images/i001topright.jpg" width="45" height="50" alt="" title="" /> +</div><div class="figleft" style="width: 56px;"> +<img src="images/i001topleft.jpg" width="56" height="50" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h1><span class="smcap">King Spruce</span></h1> + +<h2><span class="smcap">A Novel</span></h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">By</span></h4> + +<h2><span class="smcap">Holman Day</span></h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Author of</span></p> + +<h4>“<span class="smcap">Squire Phin</span>” “<span class="smcap">Up in Maine</span>”<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Kin o’ Ktaadn” Etc.</span></h4> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Illustrated by</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">E. Roscoe Shrader</span></h4> + +<p class="smallgap"> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 66px;"> +<img src="images/i001logo.jpg" width="66" height="80" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="smallgap"> </p> + +<h3><span class="smcap">New York and London</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers Publishers</span></h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 45px;"> +<img src="images/i001bottomleft.jpg" width="45" height="50" alt="" title="" /> +</div> <div class="figright" style="width: 56px;"> +<img src="images/i001bottomright.jpg" width="56" height="50" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p class="center">Copyright, 1908, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.</p> + +<hr class="tiny" /> + +<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved.</i><br /> +<br /> +Published April, 1908.</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p><a name="Frontispiece" id="Frontispiece"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 319px;"> +<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" class="ispace" width="319" height="500" alt="“‘I KNOW YOUR HEART’”" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“‘I KNOW YOUR HEART’” [<i>See p. <a href="#Page_289">289</a></i></span> +</div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p class="center">TO<br /> +<br /> +A. B. D.<br /> +<br /> +MY COMRADE OF<br /> +TRAIL AND CAMP</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="80%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr> +<td align="left"><small>CHAP.</small></td> +<td align="left"> </td> +<td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">I.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Up in “Castle Cut ’Em”</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">II.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Heiress of “Oaklands”</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">III.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Making of a “Chaney Man”</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">IV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Boss of the “Busters”</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">V.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">During the Pugwash Hang-up</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">VI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">As Fought before the “It-’ll-git-ye Club”</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">VII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">On Misery Gore</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">VIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Torch, and the Lighting of It</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">IX.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">By Order of Pulaski D. Britt</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">X.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">“Ladder” Lane’s Soirée</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">In the Barony of “Stumpage John”</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Code of Larrigan-land</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Red Throat of Pogey</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XIV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Message of “Prophet Eli”</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Between Two on Jerusalem</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XVI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">In the Path of the Big Wind</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XVII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Affair at Durfy’s Camp</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XVIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Old Soubungo Trail</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XIX.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Home-makers of Enchanted</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XX.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Ha’nt of the Umcolcus</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XXI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Man Who Came from Nowhere</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XXII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Hostage of the Great White Silence</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XXIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">In the Matter of John Barrett’s Daughter</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XXIV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Cheese Rind that Needed Sharp Teeth</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XXV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sharpening Teeth on Pulaski Britt’s Whetstone</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XXVI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Devil of the Hempen Strands</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_312">312</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XXVII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The “Canned Thunder” of Castonia</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_324">324</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XXVIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">“’Twas Done by Tommy Thunder”</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XXIX.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Parade Past Rodburd Ide’s Platform</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_352">352</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">XXX.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Pact with King Spruce</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_361">361</a></td></tr> + +</table></div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="80%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="ILLUSTRATIONS"> + +<tr> +<td align="left">“‘I KNOW YOUR HEART’”</td> +<td align="left"> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Frontispiece"><small><i>Frontispiece</i></small></a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">“WADE STOOD ABOVE THE FALLEN FOE”</td> +<td align="right"><small><i>Facing p.</i></small></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Illo1">70</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">“WRITHING AT HIS BONDS, HIS CONTORTED FACE<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">TOWARDS THE RED FLAMES GALLOPING UP THE</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">VALLEY”</span></td> +<td align="right"> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Illo2">172</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">“‘WHAT I SAY ON THIS RIVER GOES!’”</td> +<td align="right"> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Illo3">334</a></td></tr></table></div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2>NOTE</h2> + +<p>When the trees have been cut and trimmed in the winter’s work in the +woods the logs are hauled in great loads to be piled at “landing-places” +on the frozen streams, so that the spring floods will move them. Most of +the streams have a succession of dams. On the spring drive the logs are +floated to the dams, and then the gates are raised and the logs are +“sluiced” through with a head of water behind them to carry them +down-stream. Thus the drive is lifted along in sections from one dam to +another. It will be seen that Pulaski D. Britt’s series of dams on +Jerusalem constituted a valuable holding, and enabled him to control the +water and leave the logs of rivals stranded if he wished. The collection +of water and quick work in “sluicing” are most important, for the +streams give down only about so much water in the spring.</p> + +<p>When a load of logs is suddenly set free from the cable holding it back +on a steep descent, as in Chapter XXVI., it is said to be “sluiced.”</p> + +<p>When there is a jam of entangled logs as they are swept down-stream, if +it is impossible to find and pry loose the “key-log,” it is sometimes +necessary to blow up the restraining logs with dynamite.</p> + +<p>When the floating logs are caught upon rocks, and the men are prying +them loose, they are said to be “carding” the ledges.</p> + +<p>A “jill-poke,” a pet aversion of drivers, is a log with one end lodged +on the bank and the other thrust out into the stream.</p> + +<p>The “cant-dog” is illustrated on the cover of the book.</p> + +<p>The “peavy” is the Maine name for a slightly different variety of +“cant-dog,” which takes its title from its maker in Old Town.</p> + +<p>The “pick-pole” is an ashen pole ten to twelve feet long, shod with an +iron point with a screw-tip, which enables a driver to pull a log +towards him or to push it away.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h1>KING SPRUCE</h1> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>UP IN “CASTLE CUT ’EM”</h3> + +<div class="centerbox3 bbox3"><p>“Oh, the road to ‘Castle Cut ’Em’ is mostly all uphill.<br /> +You can dance along all cheerful to the sing-song of a mill;<br /> +King Cole he wanted fiddles, and so does old King Spruce,<br /> +But it’s only gashin’-fiddles that he finds of any use.<br /> +<br /> +“Oh, come along, good lumbermen, oh, come along I say!<br /> +Come up to ‘Castle Cut ’Em,’ and pull your wads and pay.<br /> +King Cole he liked his bitters, and so does old King Spruce,<br /> +But the only kind he hankers for is old spondulix-juice.”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—From song by Larry Gorman, “Woods Poet.”</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dct.jpg" title="T" height="90" width="90" alt="T" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">T</span>he young man on his way to “Castle Cut ’Em” was a clean-cut picture of +self-reliant youth. But he was not walking as one who goes to a welcome +task. He saw two men ahead of him who walked with as little display of +eagerness; men whose shoulders were stooped and whose hands swung +listlessly as do hands that are astonished at finding themselves idle.</p> + +<p>A row of mills that squatted along the bank of the canal sent after them +a medley of howls from band-saws and circulars. The young man, with the +memory of his college classics sufficiently fresh to make him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>fanciful, +found suggestion of chained monsters in the aspect of those shrieking +mills, with slip-openings like huge mouths.</p> + +<p>That same imagery invested the big building on the hill with attributes +that were not reassuring. But he went on up the street in the sunshine, +his eyes on the broad backs of the plodders ahead.</p> + +<p>King Spruce was in official session.</p> + +<p>Men who were big, men who were brawny, yet meek and apologetic, were +daily climbing the hill or waiting in the big building to have word with +the Honorable John Davis Barrett, who was King Spruce’s high +chamberlain. Dwight Wade found half a dozen ahead of him when he came +into the general office. They sat, balancing their hats on their knees, +and each face wore the anxious expectancy that characterized those who +waited to see John Barrett.</p> + +<p>Wade had lived long enough in Stillwater to know the type of men who +came to the throne-room of King Spruce in midsummer. These were stumpage +buyers from the north woods, down to make another season’s contract with +the lord of a million acres of timber land. Their faces were brown, +their hands were knotted, and when one, in his turn, went into the inner +office he moved awkwardly across the level tiles, as though he missed +the familiar inequalities of the forest’s floor.</p> + +<p>The others droned on with their subdued mumble about saw-logs, sleeper +contracts, and “popple” peeling. The young man who had just entered was +so plainly not of themselves or their interests that they paid no +attention to him.</p> + +<p>This was the first time Wade had been inside the doors of “Castle Cut +’Em,” the name the humorists of Stillwater had given the dominating +block on the main street of the little city. The up-country men, with +the bitterness of experience, and moved by somewhat <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>fantastic +imaginings, said it was “King Spruce’s castle.”</p> + +<p>In the north woods one heard men talk of King Spruce as though this +potentate were a real and vital personality. To be sure, his power was +real, and power is the principal manifestation of the tyrant who is +incarnate. Invisibility usually makes the tyranny more potent. King +Spruce, vast association of timber interests, was visible only through +the affairs of his court administered by his officers to whom power had +been delegated. And, viewed by what he exacted and performed, King +Spruce lived and reigned—still lives and reigns.</p> + +<p>Wade, not wholly at ease in the presence, for he had come with a +petition like the others, gazed about the reception-room of the Umcolcus +Lumbering and Log-driving Association, the incorporators’ more decorous +title for King Spruce. It occurred to him that the wall-adornments were +not reassuring. A brightly polished circular-saw hung between two +windows. It was crossed by two axes, and a double-handled saw was the +base for this suggestive coat of arms. The framed photographs displayed +loaded log-sleds and piles of logs heaped at landings and similar +portraiture of destruction in the woods. Everything seemed to accentuate +the dominion of the edge of steel. The other wall-decorations were the +heads of moose and deer, further suggestion of slaughter in the forest. +A stuffed porcupine on the mantel above the great fireplace mutely +suggested that the timber-owners would brook no rivalry in their +campaign against the forest; they had asked the State to offer a bounty +for the slaughter of this tree-girdler, and a card propped against the +“quill-pig” instructed the reader that the State had already spent more +than fifty thousand dollars in bounties.</p> + +<p>The deification of the cutting-edge appealed to Wade’s abundant fancy. +He had noticed, when he came past <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>the windows of the lumber company’s +outfitting store on the first floor of the building, that the window +displays consisted mostly of cutting tools.</p> + +<p>When the door of the inner office opened and one of those big and +awkward giants came out, Wade discovered that King Spruce had evidently +placed in the hands of the Honorable John Davis Barrett something sharp +with which to slash human feelings, also. The man’s face was flushed and +his teeth were set down over his lower lip with manifest effort to dam +back language.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t he renew?” inquired one of the waiting group, solicitously.</p> + +<p>“He turned me down!” muttered the other, scarcely releasing the clutch +on his lip. “I’ve wondered sometimes why ‘Stumpage John’ hasn’t been +over his own timber lands in all these years. If he has backed many out +of that office feelin’ like I do, I reckon there’s a good reason why he +doesn’t trust himself up in the woods.” He struck his soft hat across +his palm. He did not raise his voice. But the venom in his tone was +convincing. “By God, I’d relish bein’ the man that mistook him for a +bear!”</p> + +<p>“Give any good reason for not renewin’?” asked a man whose face showed +his anxiety for himself.</p> + +<p>“Any one who has been over my operation on Lunksoos,” declared the +lumberman, answering the question in his own way—“any fair man knows I +haven’t devilled: I’ve left short stumps and I ’ain’t topped off under +eight inches, though you all know that their damnable scale-system puts +a man to the bad when he’s square on tops. But I ’ain’t left tops to rot +on the ground. I’ve been square!”</p> + +<p>Wade did not understand clearly, but the sincerity of the man’s distress +appealed to him.</p> + +<p>One of the little group darted an uneasy look towards <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>the door of the +inner office. It was closed tightly. But for all that he spoke in a +husky whisper.</p> + +<p>“It must be that you didn’t fix with What’s-his-name last spring—I +heard you and he had trouble.”</p> + +<p>The angry operator dared to speak now. He looked towards the door as +though he hoped his voice would penetrate to King Spruce’s throne-room.</p> + +<p>“Trouble!” he cried. “Who wouldn’t have trouble? I made up my mind I had +divided my profits with John Barrett’s blackmailin’ thieves of agents +for the last time. I lumbered square. And the agent was mad because I +wasn’t crooked and didn’t have hush-money for him. And he spiked me with +John Barrett; but you fellows, and all the rest that are willin’ to +whack up and steal in company, will get your contracts all right. And +I’m froze out, with camps all built and five thousand dollars’ worth of +supplies in my depot-camp.”</p> + +<p>“Hold on!” protested several of the men, in chorus, crowding close to +this dangerous tale-teller. “You ain’t tryin’ to sluice the rest of us, +are you, just because you’ve gone to work and got your own load busted +on the ramdown?”</p> + +<p>“I’d like to see the whole infernal game of graft, gamble, and +woods-gashin’ showed up. Let John Barrett go up and look at his woods +and he’ll see what you are doin’ to ’em—you and his agents! And the man +that lumbers square, and remembers that there are folks comin’ after us +that will need trees, gets what I’ve just got!” He shook his crumpled +hat in their faces. “And I’m just good and ripe for trouble, and a lot +of it.”</p> + +<p>“Here, you let me talk with you,” interposed a man who had said nothing +before, and he took the recalcitrant by the arm, led him away to a +corner, and they entered into earnest conference. At the end of it the +destructionist drove his hat on with a smack of his big palm and strode +out, sullen but plainly convinced.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p><p>The other man returned to the group and spoke cautiously low, but in +that big, bare room with its resonant emptiness even whispers travelled +far.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take a double contract and sublet to him,” he explained. “Barrett +won’t know, and after this Dave will come back into line and handle the +agent. I reckon he’s got well converted from honesty in a lumberin’ +deal. It’s what we’re up against, gents, in this business; the patterns +are handed to us and we’ve got to cut our conduct accordin’ to other +men’s measurements. Barrett gets <i>his</i> first; the agent gets <i>his</i>; we +get what we can squeeze out of a narrow margin—and the woods get hell.”</p> + +<p>A man came out of the inner office stroking the folds of a stumpage +permit preparatory to stuffing it into his wallet, and the peacemaker +departed promptly, for it was now his turn to pay his respects to King +Spruce.</p> + +<p>In what he had seen and what he had heard, Dwight Wade found food for +thought. The men so manifestly had accepted the stranger as some one +utterly removed from comprehension of their affairs or interest in their +talk that they had not been discreet. It occurred to him that his own +present business with John Barrett would be decidedly furthered were he +to utilize that indiscretion.</p> + +<p>This thought occurred to him not because he intended for one instant to +use his information, but because he saw now that his business with John +Barrett was more to John Barrett’s personal advantage than that +gentleman realized. This knowledge gave him more confidence. He was +proposing something to the Honorable John Barrett that the latter, for +his own good, ought to be pressed into accepting.</p> + +<p>The earlier reflection which had made him uneasy, that a millionaire +timber baron would not listen patiently to suggestions about his own +business offered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>by the principal of the Stillwater high-school, had +now been modified by circumstances. Even that lurking fear, that awe of +John Barrett which he had his peculiar and private reason for feeling +and hiding, was not quite so nerve-racking.</p> + +<p>Barrett left it to his clients to manage the order of precedence in the +outer office. It was only necessary for the awaiting suppliant to note +his place between those already there and those who came in after him; +and Wade was prompt to accept his turn.</p> + +<p>He knew the Honorable John Barrett. As mayor that gentleman had +distributed the diplomas at the June graduation. And Mr. Barrett, after +one first, sharp, scowling glance over his nose-glasses, hooking his +chin to one side as he gazed, rose and greeted the young man cordially.</p> + +<p>Then he wheeled his chair away from his desk to the window and sat down +where he could feel the breeze.</p> + +<p>Looking past him Wade saw the Stillwater saw-mills. There were five of +them in a row along the canal. Each had a slip-opening in the end and it +yawned wide like a mouth that stretched for prey.</p> + +<p>The two windows pinched together in each gable gave to the end of the +building likeness to a hideous face. From his seat Wade heard the +screech of the band-saws. The sounds came out of those open mouths. The +dripping logs went up the slips and into those mouths, like morsels +sliding along a slavering tongue. Mingled with the fierce scream of the +band-saws there were the wailings of the lath and clapboard saws. In +that medley of sound the imagination heard monster and victims mingling +howl of triumph and despairing cry.</p> + +<p>The breeze that ruffled the awnings stirred the thin, gray hair of John +Barrett, brought fresh scents of sawdust and sweeter fragrance of +seasoning lumber. And <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>fainter yet came the whiff of resinous balsam +from the vast fields of logs that crowded the booms.</p> + +<p>With that picture backing him in the frame of the open window—mutilated +trees, and mills yowling in chorus, and with the scent of the riven logs +bathing him—the timber baron politely waited for the young man to +speak. He had put off the brusqueness of his business demeanor, for it +had not occurred to him that the principal of the Stillwater high school +could have any financial errand. He played a little tattoo with his +eye-glasses’ rim upon the second button of his frock-coat. One touch of +sunshine on Barrett’s cheek showed up striated markings and the faint +purpling that indulgence paints upon the skin. The way in which the +shoulders were set back under the tightly buttoned frock-coat, the +flashing of the keen eyes, and even the cock of the bristly gray +mustache that crossed the face in a straight line showed that John +Barrett had enjoyed the best that life had to offer him.</p> + +<p>“I’ll make my errand a short one, Mr. Barrett,” began Wade, “for I see +that others are waiting.”</p> + +<p>“They’re only men who want to buy something,” said the baron, +reassuringly—“men who have come, the whole of them, with the same growl +and whine. It’s a relief to be rid of them for a few moments.”</p> + +<p>Frankly showing that he welcomed the respite, and serenely indifferent +to those who waited, he brought a box of cigars from the desk, and the +young man accepted one nervously.</p> + +<p>“I think I have noticed you about the city since your school closed,” +Mr. Barrett proceeded. And without special interest he asked, whirling +his chair and gazing out of the window at the mills: “How do you happen +to be staying here in Stillwater this summer? I supposed pedagogues in +vacation-time ran away from their schools as fast as they could.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>If John Barrett had not been staring at the mills he would have seen the +flush that blazed on the young man’s cheeks at this sudden, blunt demand +for the reasons why he stayed in town.</p> + +<p>“If I had a home I should probably go there,” answered Wade; “but my +parents died while I was in college—and—and high-school principals do +not usually find summer resorts and European trips agreeing with the +size of their purses.”</p> + +<p>“Probably not,” assented the millionaire, calmly. A sudden recollection +seemed to strike him. “Say, speaking of college—you’re the Burton +centre, aren’t you—or you were? I was there a year ago when Burton +clinched the championship. I liked your game! I meant to have said as +much to you, but I didn’t get a chance, for you know what the push is on +a ball-ground. I’m a Burton man, you know. I never miss a game. I’m glad +to have such a chap as you at the head of our school. These pale fellows +with specs aren’t my style!”</p> + +<p>He turned and ran an approving gaze over Wade’s six feet of sturdy young +manhood. With his keen eye for lines that revealed breeding and +training, Barrett usually turned once to look after a handsome woman and +twice to stare at a blooded horse. Men interested him, too—men who +appealed to his sportsman sense. This young man, with the glamour of the +football victories still upon him, was a particularly attractive object +at that moment. He stared into Wade’s flushed face, evidently accepting +the color as the signal that gratified pride had set upon the cheeks.</p> + +<p>“You’ll weigh in at about one hundred and eighty-five,” commented the +millionaire. It seemed to Wade that his tone was that of a judge +appraising the points of a race-horse, and for an instant he resented +the fact that Barrett was sizing him less as a man than as a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>gladiator. +“Old Dame Nature put you up solid, Mr. Wade, and gave you the face to go +with the rest. I wish I were as young—and as free!” He gave another +look at the mills and scowled when he heard the mumble of men’s voices +in the outer room. “When a man is past sixty, money doesn’t buy the +things for him that he really wants.” It was the familiar cant of the +man rich enough to affect disdain for money, and Wade was not impressed.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to take my daughter across the big pond this summer,” the land +baron grumbled, discontentedly, “but I never was tied down so in my +life. I am directing-manager of the Umcolcus Association, and I’ve got +all my own lands to handle besides, and with matters in the lumbering +business as they are just now there are some things that you can’t +delegate to agents, Mr. Wade.”</p> + +<p>This man, confiding his troubles, did not seem the ogre he had been +painted.</p> + +<p>The young man had flushed still more deeply at mention of Barrett’s +daughter, but Barrett was again looking at his squalling mills.</p> + +<p>The pause seemed a fair opportunity for the errand. The mention of +agents revived the recollection that he was proposing something to John +Barrett’s advantage.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barrett, you know it is pretty hard for any one to live in +Stillwater and not take an interest in the lumbering business. I’ll +confess that I’ve taken such interest myself. A few of my older boys +have asked me to secure books on the science of forestry and help them +study it.”</p> + +<p>“A man would have pretty hard work to convince me that it is a science,” +broke in Barrett, with some contempt. “As near as I can find out, it’s +mostly guesswork, and poor guesswork at that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, the fact remains,” hastened Wade, a little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>nettled by the +curtness that had succeeded the timber baron’s rather sentimental +courtesy, “my boys have been studying forestry, and I have been keeping +a bit ahead of them and helping them as I could. Now they need a little +practical experience. But they are boys who are working their way +through school, and as I had to do the same thing I’m taking an especial +interest in them. They have been in your mills two summers.”</p> + +<p>“Why isn’t it a good place for them to stay?” demanded Barrett. “They’re +learning a side of forestry there that amounts to something.”</p> + +<p>“The side that they want to learn is the side of the standing trees,” +persisted Wade, patiently. “I thought I could talk it over with you a +little better than they. I hoped that such a large owner of timber land +had begun to take interest in forestry and would, for experiment’s sake, +put these young men upon a section of timber land this summer and let +them work up a map and a report that you could use as a basis for later +comparison, if nothing else.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, that I’m going to hire them to do it—pay them +money?” demanded the timber baron, fixing upon the young man that stare +that always disconcerted petitioners. At that moment Wade realized why +those men whom he had seen waiting in the outer office were gazing at +the door of the inner room with such anxiety.</p> + +<p>“The young men will be performing a real service, for they will plot a +square mile and—”</p> + +<p>“If there’s any pay to it, I’d rather pay them to keep off my lands,” +broke in Barrett. “Forestry—”</p> + +<p>He in turn was interrupted. The man who came in entered with manifest +belief in his right to interrupt.</p> + +<p>“Forestry!” he cried, taking the word off Barrett’s lips—“forestry is +getting your men into the woods, getting grub to ’em, hiring bosses that +can whale spryness <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>into human jill-pokes, and can get the logs down to +Pea Cove sortin’-boom before the drought strikes. That’s forestry! +That’s my kind. It’s the kind I’ve made my money on. It’s the kind John +Barrett made his on. What are you doin’, John—hirin’ a perfesser?” The +new arrival asked this in a tone and with a glance up and down Wade that +left no doubt as to his opinion of “perfessers.” “Are you one of these +newfangled fellers that’s been studyin’ in a book how to make trees +grow?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>Wade had only a limited acquaintance with the notables of the State, but +he knew this man. He had seen him in Stillwater frequently, and his +down-river office was in “Castle Cut ’Em.” He was the Honorable Pulaski +D. Britt. He had acquired that title—mostly for newspaper use—by +serving many years in the State senate from Umcolcus County.</p> + +<p>Wade gazed at the puffy red face, the bristle of gray beard, the hard +little eyes—pupils of dull gray set in yellow eyeballs—and remembered +the stories he had heard about this man who yelped his words with canine +abruptness of utterance, who waved his big, hairy hands about his head +as he talked, and with every gesture, every glance, every word revealed +himself as a driver of men, grown arrogant and cruel by possession of +power.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Britt is executive officer for the lumber company in the north +country,” explained Barrett, dryly. “We are all associated more or less +closely, though many of our holdings are separate. We think it is quite +essential to confer together when undertaking any important step.” His +satiric dwelling on the word “important” was exasperating. “This young +gentleman is the principal of our high-school, Pulaski, and he wants me +to put a bunch of high-school boys in my woods as foresters—and pay ’em +for it. You came in just as I was going <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>to give him my opinion. But it +may be more proper for you to do it, for you are the woods executive, +and are better posted on conditions up there than I am.” His drawled +irony was biting.</p> + +<p>The Honorable John Barrett enjoyed sport of all kinds, including +badger-baiting. Now he leaned back in his swivel-chair with the air of a +man about to enjoy the spectacle of a lively affair. But Wade, glancing +from Barrett to Britt, was in no humor to be the butt of the +millionaire.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I care to listen to Mr. Britt’s opinions,” he said, +rising hastily.</p> + +<p>“Why? Don’t you think I know what I’m talking about?” demanded the +lumberman. He had missed the point of Barrett’s satire, being himself a +man of the bludgeon instead of the rapier.</p> + +<p>“I’m quite sure you know, Mr. Britt,” said the young man, bowing to +Barrett and starting away.</p> + +<p>“I’ve hired more men than any ten operators on the Umcolcus, put ’em all +together,” declared Britt, following him, “and I’d ought to know +something about whether a man is worth anything on a job or not. And +rather than have any one of those squirt-gun foresters cuttin’ and +caliperin’ over my lands, I’d—”</p> + +<p>Wade shut the door behind him, strode through the outer office, and +hurried down-stairs, his face very red and his teeth shut very tight. He +realized that he had left the presence of King Spruce in most +discourteous haste, but the look in John Barrett’s eyes when he had +leaned back and “sicked on” that old railer of the rasping voice had +been too much for Wade’s nerves. To be made an object of ridicule by +<i>her</i> father was bitter, with the bitterness of banished hope that had +sprung into blossom for just one encouraging moment.</p> + +<p>When he came out into the sunlight he threw down the fat cigar—plump +with a suggestion of the rich man’s <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>opulence—and ground it under his +heel. In the anxiety of his intimate hopes, in the first cordiality of +their interview, it had seemed as though the millionaire had chosen to +meet him upon that common level of gentle society where consideration of +money is banished. Now, in the passion of his disappointment, Wade +realized that he had served merely as a diversion, as a prize pup or a +game-cock would have served, had either been brought to “Castle Cut ’Em” +for inspection.</p> + +<p>Walking—seeking the open country and the comforting breath of the +flowers—away from that sickly scent of the sawdust, his cheeks burned +when he remembered that at first he had fearfully, yet hopefully, +believed that John Barrett knew the secret that he and Elva Barrett were +keeping.</p> + +<p>Hastening away from his humiliation, he confessed to himself that in his +optimism of love he had been dreaming a beautiful but particularly +foolish dream; but having realized the blessed hope that had once seemed +so visionary—having won Elva Barrett’s love—the winning of even John +Barrett had not seemed an impossible task. The millionaire’s frank +greeting had held a warmth that Wade had grasped at as vague +encouragement. But now the clairvoyancy of his sensitiveness enabled him +to understand John Barrett’s nature and his own pitiful position in that +great affair of the heart; he had not dared to look at that affair too +closely till now.</p> + +<p>So he hurried on, seeking the open country, obsessed by the strange +fancy that there was something in his soul that he wanted to take out +and scrutinize, alone, away from curious eyes.</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had watched that hasty exit with sudden +ire that promptly changed to amusement. He turned slowly and gazed at +the timber baron with that amusement plainly showing—amusement spiced +with a bit of malice. The reverse of Britt’s <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>hard character as bully +and tyrant was an insatiate curiosity as to the little affairs of the +people he knew and a desire to retail those matters in gossip when he +could wound feelings or stir mischief. If one with a gift of prophecy +had told him that his next words would mark the beginning of the crisis +of his life, Pulaski Britt would have professed his profane incredulity +in his own vigorous fashion. All that he said was, “Well, John, your +girl has picked out quite a rugged-lookin’ feller, even if he ain’t much +inclined to listen to good advice on forestry.”</p> + +<p>Confirmed gossips are like connoisseurs of cheese: the stuff they relish +must be stout. It gratified Britt to see that he had “jumped” his +friend.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know but you had him in here to sign partnership papers,” +Britt continued, helping himself to a cigar. “I wouldn’t blame you much +for annexin’ him. You need a chap of his size to go in on your lands and +straighten out your bushwhackin’ thieves with a club, seein’ that you +don’t go yourself. As for me, I don’t need to delegate clubbers; I can +attend to it myself. It’s the way I take exercise.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Pulaski,” Barrett replied, angrily, “a joke is all right +between friends, but hitching up my daughter Elva’s name with a beggar +of a school-master isn’t humorous.”</p> + +<p>Britt gnawed off the end of the cigar, and spat the fragment of tobacco +into a far corner.</p> + +<p>“Then if you don’t see any humor in it, why don’t you stop the +courtin’?”</p> + +<p>“There isn’t any courting.”</p> + +<p>“I say there is, and if the girl’s mother was alive, or you ’tending out +at home as sharp as you ought to, your family would have had a stir-up +long ago. If you ain’t quite ready for a son-in-law, and don’t want that +young man, you’d better grab in and issue a family bulletin to that +effect.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p><p>“Damn such foolishness! I don’t believe it,” stormed Barrett, pulling +his chair back to the desk; “but if you knew it, why didn’t you say +something before?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m no gossip,” returned Britt, serenely. “I’ve got something to do +besides watch courtin’ scrapes. But I don’t have to watch this one in +<i>your</i> family. I know it’s on.”</p> + +<p>Barrett hooked his glasses on his nose with an angry gesture, and began +to fuss with the papers on his desk. But in spite of his professed +scepticism and his suspicion of Pulaski Britt’s ingenuousness, it was +plain that his mind was not on the papers.</p> + +<p>He whirled away suddenly and faced Britt. That gentleman was pulling +packets of other papers from his pocket.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Britt, about this lying scandal that seems to be snaking +around, seeing that it has come to your ears, I—”</p> + +<p>“What I’m here for is to go over these drivin’ tolls so that they can be +passed on to the book-keepers,” announced Mr. Britt, with a fine and +brisk business air. He had shot his shaft of gossip, had “jumped” his +man, and the affair of John Barrett’s daughter had no further interest +for him. “You go ahead and run your family affairs to suit yourself. As +to these things you are runnin’ with me, let’s get at ’em.”</p> + +<p>In this manner, unwittingly, did Pulaski D. Britt light the fuse that +connected with his own magazine; in this fashion, too, did he turn his +back upon it.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THE HEIRESS OF “OAKLANDS”</h3> + +<div class="centerbox4 bbox3"><p>“Pete Lebree had money and land, Paul of Olamon had none,<br /> +Only his peavy and driving pole, his birch canoe and his gun.<br /> +But to Paul Nicola, lithe and tall, son of a Tarratine,<br /> +Had gone the heart of the governor’s child, Molly the island’s<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">queen.”</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—<i>Old Town Ballads.</i></span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dct.jpg" title="T" height="90" width="90" alt="T" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">T</span>he coachman usually drove into town from the “Oaklands” to bring John +Barrett home from his office, for Barrett liked the spirited rush of his +blooded horses.</p> + +<p>But when his daughter occasionally anticipated the coachman, he resigned +himself to a ride in her phaeton with only a sleepy pony to draw them.</p> + +<p>Once more absorbed in his affairs, after the departure of Pulaski Britt, +Barrett had forgotten the unpleasant morsel of gossip that Britt had +brought to spice his interview.</p> + +<p>But a familiar trilling call that came up to him stirred that unpleasant +thing in his mind. When Barrett walked to the window and signalled to +her that he had heard and would come, his expression was not exactly +that of the fond father who welcomes his only child. It was not the +expression that the bright face peering from under the phaeton’s parasol +invited. And as he wore his look of uneasiness and discontent when he +took his seat beside her, her face became grave also.</p> + +<p>“Is it the business or the politics, father?” she asked, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>solicitously. +“I’m jealous of both if they take away the smiles and bring the tired +lines. If it’s business, let’s make believe we’ve got money enough. +Haven’t we—for only us two? If it’s politics—well, when I’m a +governor’s daughter I’ll be only an unhappy slave to the women, and you +a servant of the men.”</p> + +<p>But he did not respond to her rallying.</p> + +<p>“I can’t get away from work this summer, Elva,” he said, with something +of the curtness of his business tone. “I mean I can’t get away to go +with you.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t want you to go anywhere, father,” protested the girl.</p> + +<p>She was so earnest that he glanced sidewise at her. His air was that of +one who is trying a subtle test.</p> + +<p>“I feel that I must go north for a visit to my timber lands,” he went +on; “I have not been over them for years. I’ve had pretty good proof +that I am being robbed by men I trusted. I propose to go up there and +make a few wholesome examples.”</p> + +<p>He was accustomed to talk his business affairs with her. She always +received them with a grave understanding that pleased him. Her dark eyes +now met him frankly and interestedly. Looking at her as he did, with his +strange thrill of suspicion that another man wanted her and that she +loved the man, he saw that his daughter was beautiful, with the +brilliancy of type that transcends prettiness. He realized that she had +the wit and spirit which make beauty potent, and her eyes and bearing +showed poise and self-reliance. Such was John Barrett’s appraisal, and +John Barrett’s business was to appraise humankind. But perhaps he did +not fully realize that she was a woman with a woman’s heart.</p> + +<p>The pony was ambling along lazily under the elms, and the reflective +lord of lands was silent awhile, glancing at his daughter occasionally +from the corner of his eye. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>He noted, with fresh interest, that she had +greeting for all she met—as gracious a word for the tattered man from +the mill as for the youth who slowed his automobile to speak to her.</p> + +<p>“These gossips have misunderstood her graciousness,” he mused, the +thought giving him comfort.</p> + +<p>But he was still grimly intent upon his trial of her.</p> + +<p>“Because I cannot go with you, and because I shall be away in the woods, +Elva,” he said, after a time, “I am going to send you to the shore with +the Dustins.”</p> + +<p>There was sudden fire in her dark eyes.</p> + +<p>“I do not care to go anywhere with the Dustins,” she said, with +decision. “I do not care to go anywhere at all this summer. Father!” +There was a volume of protest in the intonation of the word. She had the +bluntness of his business air when she was aroused. “I would be blind +and a fool not to understand why you are so determined to throw me in +with the Dustins. You want me to marry that bland and blessed son and +heir. But I’ll not do any such thing.”</p> + +<p>“You are jumping at conclusions, Elva,” he returned, feeling that he +himself had suddenly become the hunted.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got enough of your wit, father, to know what’s in a barrel when +there’s a knot-hole for me to peep through.”</p> + +<p>“Now that you have brought up the subject, what reason is there for your +not wanting to marry Weston Dustin? He’s—”</p> + +<p>“I know all about him,” she interrupted. “There is no earthly need for +you and me to get into a snarl of words about him, dadah! He isn’t the +man I want for a husband; and when John Barrett’s only daughter tells +him that with all her heart and soul, I don’t believe John Barrett is +going to argue the question or ask for further reasons or give any +orders.”</p> + +<p>He bridled in turn.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p><p>“But I’m going to tell you, for my part, that I want you to marry Weston +Dustin! It has been my wish for a long time, though I have not wanted to +hurry you.”</p> + +<p>She urged on the pony, as though anxious to end a <i>tête-à-tête</i> that was +becoming embarrassing.</p> + +<p>“It might be well to save our discussion of Mr. Dustin until that +impetuous suitor has shown that he wants to marry me,” she remarked, +with a little acid in her tone.</p> + +<p>“He has come to me like a gentleman, told me what he wants, and asked my +permission,” stated Mr. Barrett.</p> + +<p>“Following a strictly business rule characteristic of Mr. Dustin—‘Will +you marry your timber lands to my saw-mill, Mr. John Barrett, one +daughter thrown in?’”</p> + +<p>“At least he didn’t come sneaking around by the back door!” cried her +father, jarred out of his earlier determination to probe the matter +craftily.</p> + +<p>“Intimating thereby that I have an affair of the heart with the iceman +or the grocery boy?” she inquired, tartly.</p> + +<p>She was looking full at him now with all the Barrett resoluteness +shining in her eyes. And he, with only the vague and malicious +promptings of Pulaski Britt for his credentials, had not the courage to +make the charge that was on his tongue, for his heart rejected it now +that he was looking into her face.</p> + +<p>“In the old times stern parents married off daughters as they would +dispose of farm stock,” she said, whipping her pony with a little +unnecessary vigor. “But I had never learned that the custom had obtained +in the Barrett family. Therefore, father, we will talk about something +more profitable than Mr. Dustin.”</p> + +<p>Outside the city, in the valley where the road curved to enter the gates +of “Oaklands,” they met Dwight Wade returning, chastened by +self-communion.</p> + +<p>Barrett did not look at the young man. He kept his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>eyes on his +daughter’s face as she returned Wade’s bow. He saw what he feared. The +fires of indignation quickly left the dark eyes. There was the softness +of a caress in her gaze. Love displayed his crimson flag on her cheeks. +She spoke in answer to Wade’s salutation, and even cast one shy look +after him when he had passed. When she took her eyes from him she found +her father’s hard gaze fronting her.</p> + +<p>“Do you know that fellow?” he demanded, brusquely.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, her composure not yet regained; “when he was a student +at Burton and I was at the academy I met him often at receptions.”</p> + +<p>“What is that academy, a sort of matrimonial bureau?” His tone was +rough.</p> + +<p>“It is not a nunnery,” she retorted, with spirit. “The ordinary rules of +society govern there as they do here in Stillwater.”</p> + +<p>“Elva,” he said, emotion in his tones, “since your mother died you have +been mistress of the house and of your own actions, mostly. Has that +fellow there been calling on you?”</p> + +<p>“He has called on me, certainly. Many of my school friends have called. +Since he has been principal of the high-school I have invited him to +‘Oaklands.’”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t invite him again. I do not want him to call on you.”</p> + +<p>“For what reason, father?” She was looking straight ahead now, and her +voice was even with the evenness of contemplated rebellion.</p> + +<p>“As your father, I am not obliged to give reasons for all my commands.”</p> + +<p>“You are obliged to give me a reason when you deny a young gentleman of +good standing in this city our house. An unreasonable order like that +reflects on my character or my judgment. I am the mistress of our home, +as well as your daughter.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>“It’s making gossip,” he floundered, dimly feeling the unwisdom of +quoting Pulaski Britt.</p> + +<p>“Who is gossiping, and what is the gossip?” she insisted.</p> + +<p>“I don’t care to go into the matter,” he declared, desperately. “If the +young man is nothing to you except an acquaintance, and I have reasons +of my own for not wanting him to call at my house, I expect you to do as +I say, seeing that his exclusion will not mean any sacrifice for you.”</p> + +<p>He was dealing craftily. She knew it, and resented it.</p> + +<p>“I do not propose to sacrifice any of my friends for a whim, father. If +your reasons have anything to do with my personal side of this matter, I +must have them. If they are purely your own and do not concern me, I +must consider them your whim, unless you convince me to the contrary, +and I shall not be governed in my choice of friends. That may sound +rebellious, but a father should not provoke a daughter to rebellion. You +ought to know me too well for that.”</p> + +<p>They were at the house, and he threw himself out of the phaeton and +tramped in without reply. During their supper he preserved a resentful +silence, and at the end went up-stairs to his den to think over the +whole matter. It had suddenly assumed a seriousness that puzzled and +frightened him. He had been routed in the first encounter. He resolved +to make sure of his ground and his facts—and win.</p> + +<p>Usually he did not notice who came or who went at his house. The still +waters of his confidence in his daughter had never been troubled until +the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had breathed upon them.</p> + +<p>This evening, when he heard a caller announced, he tiptoed to the head +of the stairs and listened.</p> + +<p>It was Dwight Wade, and at sight of him his pride took alarm, his anger +flared. After the afternoon’s exasperating <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>talk, this seemed like open +and insulting contempt for his authority. It was as though the man were +plotting with a disobedient daughter to flout him as a father. His +purpose of calm thought was swept away by an unreasoning wrath. +Muttering venomous oaths, he stamped down the stairs, whose carpet made +his approach stealthy, though he did not intend it, and he came upon the +two as Wade, his great love spurred by the day’s opposition, despondent +in the present, fearing for the future, reached out his longing arms and +took her to his heart.</p> + +<p>They faced him as he stood and glowered upon them, a pathetic pair, +clinging to each other.</p> + +<p>“You sneaking thief!” roared Barrett.</p> + +<p>The girl did not draw away. Wade felt her trembling hands seeking his, +and he pressed them and kept her in the circle of his arm.</p> + +<p>“I don’t care to advertise this,” Barrett went on, choking with his +rage, “but there’s just one way to treat you, you thief, and that’s to +have you kicked out of the house. Elva, up-stairs with you!”</p> + +<p>She gently put away her lover’s arm, but she remained beside him, strong +in her woman’s courage.</p> + +<p>“I have always been proud of my father as a gentleman,” she said. “It +hurts my faith to have you say such things under your own roof.”</p> + +<p>“That pup has come under my roof to steal,” raged the millionaire, “and +he’s got to take the consequences. Don’t you read me my duty, girl!”</p> + +<p>Even Barrett in his wrath had to acknowledge that simple manliness has +potency against pride of wealth. Wade took two steps towards him, the +instinctive movement of the male that protects his mate.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barrett,” he said, gravely, “give me credit for honest intentions. +If it is a fault to love your daughter with all my heart and soul, I +have committed that fault. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>For me it’s a privilege—an honor that you +can’t prevent.”</p> + +<p>“What! I can’t regulate my own daughter’s marriage, you young hound?”</p> + +<p>“You misunderstand me, Mr. Barrett. You cannot prevent me from loving +her, even though I may never see nor speak to her again.”</p> + +<p>And Elva, blushing, tremulous, yet determined, looked straight in her +father’s eyes, saying, “And I love him.”</p> + +<p>Barrett realized that his anger was making a sorry figure compared with +this young man’s resolute calmness. With an effort he held himself in +check.</p> + +<p>“We won’t argue the love side of this thing,” he said, grimly. “I +haven’t any notion of doing that with a nineteen-year-old girl and a +pauper. But I want to inform you, young man, that the marriage of John +Barrett’s only child and heir is a matter for my judgment to control. +I’m taking it for granted that you are not sneak enough to run away with +her, even if you have stolen her affections.”</p> + +<p>The millionaire understood his man. He had calculated the effect of the +sneer. He knew how New England pride may be spurred to conquer passion.</p> + +<p>“These are wicked insults, sir,” said the young man, his face rigid and +pale, “but I don’t deserve them.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you here before my daughter that I have plans for her future +that you shall not interfere with. This is no country school-ma’am, down +on your plane of life—this is Elva Barrett, of ‘Oaklands,’ a girl who +has temporarily lost her good sense, but who is nevertheless my daughter +and my heiress. She will remember that in a little while. Take yourself +out of the way, young man!”</p> + +<p>The girl’s eyes blazed. Her face was transfigured with grief and love. +She was about to speak, but Wade hastened to her and took her hand.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>“Good-night, Elva.”</p> + +<p>She understood him. His eyes and the quiver in his voice spoke to her +heart. She clung to his hands when he would have withdrawn them. The +look she gave her father checked that gentleman’s contemptuous +mutterings.</p> + +<p>“I am ashamed of my father, Mr. Wade,” she said, passionately. “I offer +you the apologies of our home.”</p> + +<p>“Say, look here!” snarled Barrett, this scornful rebelliousness putting +his wits to flight, “if that’s the way you feel about me, put on your +hat and go with him. I’ll be d—d if I don’t mean it! Go and starve.”</p> + +<p>He realized the folly of his outburst as he returned their gaze. But he +persisted in his puerile attack.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you don’t want her that way, do you?” he sneered. “You want her to +bring the dollars that go along with her!”</p> + +<p>Then Wade forgot himself.</p> + +<p>He wrested one hand from the gentle clasp that entreated him, and would +have struck the mouth that uttered the wretched insult. The girl +prevented an act that would have been an enormity. She caught his wrist, +and when his arm relaxed he did not dare, at first, to look at her. Then +he gave her one quick stare of horror and looked at his hand, dazed and +ashamed.</p> + +<p>Barrett, strangely enough, was jarred back to equanimity by the threat +of that blow. He folded his arms, drew himself up, and stood there, the +outraged master of the mansion restored to command, silent, cold, rigid, +his whole attitude of indignant reproach more effective than all the +curses in Satan’s lexicon.</p> + +<p>Talk could not help that distressing situation. The young man’s white +lips tried to frame the words “I apologize,” but even in his anguish the +grim humor of this reciprocation of apology rose before his dizzy +consciousness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p><p>“Good-night!” he gasped.</p> + +<p>Then he left her and went into the hall, John Barrett close on his +heels. The millionaire watched him take his hat, followed him out upon +the broad porch, and halted him at the edge of the steps.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wade,” he said, “you’d rather resign your position than be kicked +out, I presume?”</p> + +<p>“You mean that it is your wish that I should go away from Stillwater?”</p> + +<p>“That is exactly what I mean. You resign, or I will have your +resignation demanded by the school board.”</p> + +<p>“I think my school relations are entirely my own business,” retorted the +young man, fighting back his mounting wrath.</p> + +<p>“I’ll make it mine, and have you kicked out of this town like a cur.”</p> + +<p>Wade remembered at that instant the face of the man whom he had seen +leave John Barrett’s office that morning. He recollected his words—“I’d +relish bein’ the man that mistook him for a bear!” He knew now how that +man felt. And feeling the lust of killing rise in his own soul for the +first time, he clinched his fists, set his teeth, and strode away into +the night.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE MAKING OF A “CHANEY MAN”</h3> + +<div class="centerbox5 bbox3"><p>“We’re bound for the choppin’s at Chamberlain Lake,<br /> +And we’re lookin’ for trouble and suthin’ to take.<br /> +We reckon we’ll manage this end of the train,<br /> +And we’ll leave a red streak up the centre of Maine.”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—Murphy’s “Come-all-ye.”</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dca.jpg" title="A" height="90" width="90" alt="A" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">A</span> company of reserves posted in a thicket, after valiantly withstanding +the hammering of a battery, were suddenly routed by wasps. They broke +and ran like the veriest knaves.</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade had determined to face John Barrett’s battery of +persecution. But at the end of a week he realized that the little city +of Stillwater was looking askance at him. He knew that gossip attended +his steps and stood ever at his shoulders, as one from the tail of the +eye sees shadowy visions and, turning suddenly, finds them gone.</p> + +<p>That John Barrett would deliberately start stories in which his +daughter’s affairs were concerned seemed incredible to the lover who, +for the sake of her fair fame and her peace of mind, had resolved to +make fetish of duty, realizing even better than she herself that Elva +Barrett’s sense of justice would weigh well her duties as daughter +before she could be won to the duties of wife.</p> + +<p>Yet Wade could hardly tell why he determined to stay in Stillwater. He +wanted to console himself with the belief that a sudden departure would +give gossip the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>proof it wanted. For gossip, as he caught its vague +whispers, said that John Barrett had kicked—actually and violently +kicked—the principal of the Stillwater high-school out of his mansion. +Wade did not like to think that Barrett, by himself or a servant, +started that story. Yet the thought made Wade suspect that the +bitterness of the night at “Oaklands” still rankled, and that he was +remaining in Stillwater for the sake of defying John Barrett, and was +not simply crucifying his spirit for the sake of the peace of John +Barrett’s daughter.</p> + +<p>For he confessed that his stay there would be martyrdom. He had resolved +that he would not try to see her; that would only mean grief for her and +humiliation for him. He was proud of his love for Elva Barrett, in spite +of her father’s contempt and insults. He found no reproach for himself +because he had loved her and had told her so. But for the rôle of a +Lochinvar his New England nature had no taste. He realized, without +arguing the question with himself, that Elva Barrett was not to be won +by the impetuous folly that demanded blind sacrifice of name and +position and father and friends.</p> + +<p>There was no cowardice in this realization. It was rather a pathetic +sacrifice on the part of simple loyalty and a love that was absolute +devotion. In deciding to remain in Stillwater he kept his love alight +like a flame before a shrine. But beyond his daily work and the +unflinching purpose of his great love he could not see his way.</p> + +<p>It was because his way was so obscure that the wasps found him an easier +victim.</p> + +<p>He heard the buzzings at street corners as he passed. There were stings +of glances and of half-heard words.</p> + +<p>Like the pastor of a church in a small place, the principal of a +high-school is one in whom the community feels a sense of +proprietorship, with full right to canvass his goings and comings and +liberty to circumscribe and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>control. For is he not the one that should +“set example”?</p> + +<p>The wasps would not accept his silent surrender. They suspected +something hidden, and their imaginings saw the worst. They buzzed more +busily every day. That they would not allow him the peace and the +pathetic liberty of renunciation drove Wade frantic. With all the +courage of his conscience, he still faced John Barrett’s battery. But +the wasps he could not face.</p> + +<p>And he fled. In the end it was nothing but that—he was put to flight! +The people of Stillwater accepted it as flight, for he placed his +resignation in the hands of the school board barely a week before the +date for the opening of the autumn term. And on the train on which he +fled was the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt, still unconscious that the word +of gossip he had dropped was the match that lighted a fuse, and that the +fuse was briskly burning.</p> + +<p>Above the rumble of the starting car-wheels Wade heard the mills of +Stillwater screaming their farewell taunt at him.</p> + +<p>Then the Honorable Pulaski Britt came and sat down in his seat, penning +him next to the window.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Britt, with keen memory as to where he had left off in +his previous conversation and with dogged determination to have his say +out, “a man that reads a book written by a perfesser that don’t know the +difference between a ramdown and a dose of catnip tea, and then thinks +he understands forestry of the kind that there’s a dollar in, needs to +have his head examined for hollows. Do you find anything in them books +about how to get the best figgers on dressed beef?—and when you are +buyin’ it in fifty-ton lots for a dozen camps a half a cent on a pound +means something! Is there anything about hirin’ men and makin’ ’em stay +and work, gettin’ cooks and saw-filers that know their business, chasin’ +thieves away from depot-camps, keepin’ crews <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>from losin’ half the +tools? Forestry! Making trees grow! Gawd-amighty, young man, Nature will +attend to the tree-growin’. That’s all Nature has got to do. She was +doin’ it before we got here, and doin’ it well, and do you reckon we +have any right to set up and tell Nature her business? I’ve got +something else to think of besides tellin’ Nature how to run her end. +I’d like to know how to grow men instead of trees. My Jerusalem boss, +MacLeod, writes me he has been two weeks getting together his hundred +men for that operation. He’ll meet me at the Umcolcus junction, up the +line here a hundred miles. And I’ve been tryin’ most of that time to get +hold of the right sort of a ‘chaney man.’”</p> + +<p>Wade, in his resentment at Britt’s intrusion on his thoughts, was in no +mood for philological research, but sudden and rather idle curiosity +impelled him to ask what a “chaney man” was.</p> + +<p>“Why, a clerk—a camp clerk, time-keeper, wangan store overseer, supply +accountant, and all that,” snapped Britt, with small patience for the +young man’s ignorance.</p> + +<p>At that instant it came more plainly to Wade that he was a fugitive. +When he had left Elva Barrett behind he had let go the strongest cable +of hope. A day before—the day after—his manly spirit probably would +not have allowed him to become a clerk for Pulaski Britt. This day the +impetuous desire to hide in the woods, to escape the wasps of humanity, +to be in some place where sneers and false pity and taunt could not +reach him—that desire was coined into performance.</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t I fit into a job of that sort, Mr. Britt?” he asked, blurting +the question. And when the lumberman stared at him with as much +astonishment as Pulaski Britt ever allowed himself to display, Wade +added, “I have given up school-teaching because—well, I want to get +into the woods for my health!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p><p>“It will be healthy, all right, but it won’t be dude work,” said Britt. +“You’ll have to hump ’round on snow-shoes or a jumper to five camps. +Board and thirty-five a month! What’s the particular ailment with you?” +he demanded, rather suspiciously. “You look rugged enough.”</p> + +<p>The young man did not reply, and the Honorable Pulaski stared at him, +his eyes narrowing shrewdly. Mr. Britt had no very delicate notions of +repressing an idea when it occurred to him “Say, look here, young man,” +he cried, “I reckon I understand! The Barrett girl, hey? And John got +after you! Well, he can make it hot for any one he takes a niff at.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t I have that job, Mr. Britt, without a general discussion of my +affairs?” asked Wade, with temper.</p> + +<p>“You’re hired!” There was the click of business in Britt’s tone, but his +gossip’s nature showed itself in the somewhat humorous drawl in which he +added: “I’m glad to know that it’s only love that ails you. Outside of +that, you strike me as bein’ a pretty rugged chap, and it’s rugged chaps +we’re lookin’ for in ‘Britt’s Busters.’ If it’s only love that ails you, +I reckon we won’t have any trouble about sendin’ you out cured in the +spring.”</p> + +<p>But noting the glitter in Wade’s eyes, Mr. Britt chuckled amiably and +took himself off down the car to talk business with a man.</p> + +<p>During the long ride to Umcolcus Junction, Wade sat revelling in the +bitterness of his thoughts. He was not disturbed because he had given up +his school. There was a relief in escaping from meddlesome backbiters. +The school had been only a means to an end: it afforded revenue to +attain certain cherished professional plans that loomed large in Wade’s +prospects. Money earned honorably in any other fashion would count for +as much. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>But the fact remained that he was fleeing, was hiding. Britt’s +rough and somewhat contemptuous proprietorship, so instantly displayed, +wounded his pride. When he had passed the station to which he had +purchased his ticket before he met Britt, he offered more pay to the +conductor. He had seen Britt talking with the conductor a moment before, +brandishing a hairy hand in his direction.</p> + +<p>“It’s all settled by Mr. Britt,” the train officer stated, passing on. +“You’re one of his men, he says.”</p> + +<p>He growled under his breath as he accepted that label—“One of Britt’s +men.”</p> + +<p>There were one hundred more waiting for them at Umcolcus Junction, where +they changed to the spur line that ran north.</p> + +<p>Most of the men were in a state of social inebriety. A few fighters were +sitting apart on their dunnage-bags, nursing bruises and grudges. +Mindful of the State law that forbade the wearing of calked boots on +board a railroad train, the men who owned only that sort of footgear +were in their stocking feet. They carried their boots strung about their +necks by lacings. Many were bareheaded, having thrown away their hats in +their enthusiasm. Wade was not in a frame of mind to see any +picturesqueness in that frowsy crowd. He was one of them; he walked +dutifully behind his master, the Honorable Pulaski Britt.</p> + +<p>A little man, with neck wattled blue and red with queer suggestion of a +turkey’s characteristics, lurched out of a group and came at Pulaski +Britt with a meek and watery smile of welcome. His knees doubled with a +drunkard’s limpness, and he had to run to keep from falling. Britt +evidently did not propose to serve as dock for this human derelict. He +stepped to one side with an oath, and the man made a dizzy whirl and +dove headforemost under the train on the main track, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>at that moment +the train started. The man rolled over twice, and lay, serenely +indifferent to death, on the outer rail.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>After it was all over Wade sourly told himself that he acted as he did +simply to avoid witnessing a hideous spectacle.</p> + +<p>For, in spite of Britt’s yells of protest, he went under the car, missed +the grinding wheels by an inch, and rolled out on the other side with +the drunken man in his arms.</p> + +<p>And when the train had drawn out of the station he came back across the +track, lugging the little man as he would carry a gripsack, tossed him +into the open door of the baggage-car of the waiting train, spatted the +dust off his own clothes, and went into the coach, casting surly looks +at the sputtering inebriates who attempted to shake hands with him.</p> + +<p>When the train started Britt came again and penned the young man in his +seat against the window-casing.</p> + +<p>“You’ve started in makin’ yourself worth while, even if you are only the +chaney man,” vouchsafed his employer. “You did an infernal fool trick, +but you’ve saved me Tommy Eye, the best teamster on the Umcolcus waters. +As he lies there now he ain’t worth half a cent a pound to feed to cats; +when he’s on a load with the webbin’s in his hands I wouldn’t take ten +thousand dollars for him.”</p> + +<p>“Is he a sort of personal property of yours?” asked Wade, sullenly. He +was venting his own resentment at Pulaski Britt’s airs of general +proprietorship over men.</p> + +<p>“Just the same as that,” replied Britt, complacently. “I’ve had him more +than twenty years, and I’d like to see him try to go to work for any one +else, or any one else try to hire him away.” He struck his hand on the +young man’s knee. “Up this way, if you don’t make men know you own ’em, +you’re missin’ one of the main <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>points of forestry!” He sneered this +word every time he used it in his talk with Wade. The new chaney man +began to wonder how much longer he could endure the Honorable Pulaski D. +Britt without rising and cuffing those puffy cheeks.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE BOSS OF THE “BUSTERS”</h3> + +<div class="centerbox3 bbox3"><p>“If you don’t like our looks nor ain’t stuck on our kind,<br /> +Git back with the dames in the next car behind.”</p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dco.jpg" title="O" height="90" width="91" alt="O" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">O</span>n and on went the yelping staccato of the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt. +The Honorable Pulaski D. was discoursing on his favorite topic, and his +voice was heard above the rattle and jangle of the shaky old +passenger-coach that jolted behind some freight-cars.</p> + +<p>“Forty years ago I rolled nigh onto a million feet into that brook +there!” shouted the lumber baron of the Umcolcus. His knotted, hairy +fist wagged under the young man’s nose as he pointed at the car window, +his unwholesome breath fanned warmly on Wade’s cheek, and when he +crowded over to look into the summer-dried stream his bristly +chin-whiskers tickled his seat-mate’s ear. The September day was muggy +and human contact disquieting. Wade shrank nearer the open window. The +Honorable Pulaski did not notice the shrinking. He was accustomed to +crowd folks. His self-assertiveness expected them to get out of the way.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, nigh onto a million in one spring, and half of it ‘down pine’ +and sounder’n a hound’s tooth. Nothing here now but sleeper stuff. It’s +a good many miles to the nearest saw-log, and that’s where I’m cutting +on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>Jerusalem. I tell you, I’ve peeled some territory in forty years, +young man.”</p> + +<p>Wade looked at the red tongue licking lustfully between blue lips, and +then gazed on the ragged, bush-grown wastes on either side. While he had +been crowding men the Honorable Pulaski had been just as industriously +crowding the forest off God’s acres. The “chock” of the axe sounded in +his abrupt sentences, the rasp of saws in his voice.</p> + +<p>“We left big stumps those days.” The hairy fist indicated the rotten +monuments of moss-covered punk shouldering over the dwarfed bushes. +“There was a lot of it ahead of us. Didn’t have to be economical. Get it +down and yanked to the landings—that was the game! We’re cutting as +small as eight-inch spruce at Jerusalem. Ain’t a mouthful for a +gang-saw, but they taste good to pulp-grinders.”</p> + +<p>The train began to groan and jerk to a stand-still, and the old man dove +out of his seat and staggered down the aisle, holding to the backs of +the seats. At the last station he had spent ten minutes of +hand-brandishing colloquy on the platform with a shingle-mill boss whom +he had summoned to the train by wire. He was to meet a birch-mill +foreman here. Wade looked out at the struggling cedars and the white +birches, “the ladies of the forest,” pathetic aftermath which was now +falling victim to axe and saw, and wondered with a flicker of grim humor +in his thoughts why the Honorable Pulaski did not set crews at work +cutting the bushes for hoop-poles and then clean up the last remnant +into toothpicks.</p> + +<p>“He’s a driver, ain’t he?” sounded a voice in his ear. An old man behind +him hung his grizzled whiskers over the seat-back and pointed an +admiring finger at the retreating back of the lumber baron.</p> + +<p>Wade wished that people would let him alone. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>had some thoughts—some +very bitter thoughts—to think alone, and the world jarred on him. The +yelp of the Honorable Pulaski’s monologue, that everlasting, insistent +bellow of voices in the smoking-car ahead, where the ingoing crew of +Britt’s hundred men were trying to sing with drunken lustiness, and now +this amiable old fool of the grizzled whiskers, stung the dull pain of +his resentment at deeper troubles into sudden and almost childish anger.</p> + +<p>“Once when I was swamping for him on Telos stream, he says to me, ‘Man,’ +he says, ‘remember that the time that’s lost when an axe is slicin’ air +ain’t helping me to pay you day’s wages!’ And I says to him, ‘Mister +Britt,’ says I—”</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade, college graduate, former high-school principal, and at all +times in the past a cultured and courteous young gentleman, did the +first really rude and unpardonable act of his life. He twisted his chin +over his shoulder, scowled into the mild, dim, and watery eyes of his +interlocutor, and growled:</p> + +<p>“Oh, cut it short! What in—” He checked the expletive, and snapped +himself up and across the aisle, and slammed down into another seat. The +red came over his face. He did not dare to look back at the old man. He +hearkened to the rip-roaring chorus in the smoking-car, and reflected +that as the new time-keeper he was now one of “Britt’s Busters,” and +that the demoralizing license of the great north woods must have entered +into his nature thus early. He grunted his disgust at himself under his +breath, and hunched his head down between his shoulders.</p> + +<p>In his nasty state of mind he glowered at a passenger who came into the +car at the front. It was a girl, and a pretty girl at that. She nodded a +cheery greeting to the old man of the grizzled whiskers, and with a +smile still dimpling her cheeks flashed one glance at Wade. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>It was not +a bold look, and yet there was the least bit of challenge in it. The +sudden pout on her lips might have been at thought of confiding her +fresh, crisp skirts to the dusty seat; and yet, when she turned and shot +one more quick glance at the young man’s sour countenance, the pout +curled into something like disdain, and a little shrug of her shoulders +hinted that she had not met the response that she was accustomed to find +on the faces of young men who saw her for the first time.</p> + +<p>While Wade was gazing gloomily and abstractedly at the fair profile and +the nose, tip-tilted a wee bit above the big white bow of her veil tied +under her chin, one of the crew lurched from the door of the +smoking-car, caught off his hat, and bowed extravagantly. It was Tommy +Eye. He had to clutch the brake-wheel to keep himself from falling. But +his voice was still his own. He broke out lustily:</p> + +<div class="centerbox6 bbox3"><p>“Oh, there ain’t no girl, no pretty little girl,<br /> +That I have left behind me.<br /> +I’m all cut loose for to wrassle with the spruce,<br /> +Way up where she can’t find me.<br /> +Oh, there ain’t no—”</p></div> + +<p>An angry face appeared over his shoulder in the door of the smoker, two +big hands clutched his throat, jammed the melody into a hoarse squawk, +and then the songster went tumbling backward into the car and out of +sight.</p> + +<p>Almost immediately his muscular suppressor crossed the platform and came +into the coach, snatching the little round hat off the back of his head +as he entered. Wade knew him. His employer had introduced them at the +junction as two who should know each other. It was Colin MacLeod, the +“boss.”</p> + +<p>“And Prince Edward’s Island never turned out a smarter,” the Honorable +Pulaski had said, not deigning <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>to make an aside of his remarks. “Landed +four million of the Umcolcus logs on the ice this spring, busted her +with dynamite, let hell and the drive loose, licked every pulp-wood boss +that got in his way with their kindlings, and was the first into Pea +Cove boom with every log on the scale-sheet. That’s this boy!” And he +fondled the young giant’s arm like a butcher appraising beef.</p> + +<p>Wade paid little attention to him then. With his ridged jaw muscles, his +hard gray eyes, and the bullying cock of his head, he was only a part of +the ruthlessness of the woods.</p> + +<p>But now, as he came up the car aisle, his face flushed, his eyes eager, +his embarrassment wrinkling on his forehead, Wade looked at him with the +sudden thought that the boss of the “Busters” was merely a boy, after +all.</p> + +<p>“It was only Tommy Eye, Miss Nina,” explained MacLeod, his voice +trembling, his abashed admiration shining in his face. “He’s just out of +jail, you know.” He looked at Wade and then at the old man of the +grizzled whiskers, and raised his voice as though to gain a +self-possession he did not feel. “Tommy always gets into jail after the +drive is down. He’s spent seventeen summers in jail, and is proud of +it.”</p> + +<p>“But there ain’t no better teamster ever pushed on the webbin’s,” said +the old man, admiration for all the folks of the woods still unflagging.</p> + +<p>The girl did not display the same enthusiasm, either for Tommy Eye’s +mishaps or for the bashful giant who stood shifting from foot to foot +beside her seat.</p> + +<p>“Crews going into the woods ought to be nailed up in box-cars, that’s +what father says. And when they go through Castonia settlement I wish +they were in crates, the same as they ship bears.”</p> + +<p>“How is your father since spring?” asked the young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>boss, stammeringly, +trying to appear unconscious of her scorn.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’s all right,” she returned, carelessly, patting her hand on her +lips to repress a yawn.</p> + +<p>“And is every one in Castonia all right?”</p> + +<p>“You can ask them when you get there,” she replied, a bit ungraciously.</p> + +<p>“I tell you, I was pretty surprised to see you get aboard the train down +here at Bomazeen. I—”</p> + +<p>She canted her head suddenly, and looked sidewise at him with an +expression half satiric, half indignant.</p> + +<p>“Do you think that all the folks who ever go anywhere in this world are +river drivers and”—she shot a quick and disparaging glance at the still +glowering Wade—“drummers?”</p> + +<p>MacLeod noticed the look and its scorn with delight, and grasped at this +opportunity to get outside the platitudes of conversation. But in his +eagerness to be news-monger he did not soften his “out-door voice,” +deepened by many years of bellowing above the roar of white water.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that ain’t a drummer! That’s Britt’s new chaney man—the +time-keeper and the wangan store clerk.” MacLeod knew that a girl born +and bred in Castonia settlement, on the edge of the great forest, needed +no explanation of “chaney man,” the only man in a logging crew who could +sleep till daylight, and didn’t come out in the spring with callous +marks on his hands as big as dimes. But he seemed to be hungry for an +excuse to stay beside her, where he could gaze down on the brown hair +looped over her forehead and her radiantly fair face, and could catch a +glimpse of the white teeth. “Britt was tellin’ me on the side that he’s +been teachin’ school or something like that, and—say, you’ve heard of +old Barrett, who controls all the stumpage on the Chamberlain +waters—that rich <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>old feller? Well, Britt, being hitched up with +Barrett more or less, and knowin’ all about it—”</p> + +<p>Wade was now upright in his seat, but the absorbed foreman, catching at +last a gleam of interest in the gray eyes upraised to his, did not +notice.</p> + +<p>“—Britt says that Mister School-teacher there went to work and fell in +love with Barrett’s girl, and now she’s goin’ to marry a rich feller in +the lumberin’ line that her dad picked out for her, and instead of goin’ +to war or to sea, like—”</p> + +<p>Wade, maddened, sick at heart, furious at the old tattler who had thus +canvassed his poor secret with his boss, had tried twice to cry an +interruption. But his voice stuck in his throat.</p> + +<p>Now he leaped up, leaned far over the seat-back in front of him, and +shouted, with face flushed and eyes like shining steel:</p> + +<p>“That’s enough of that, you pup!”</p> + +<p>In the sudden, astonished silence the old man dragged his fingers +through his grizzled whiskers and whined plaintively:</p> + +<p>“Ain’t he peppery, though, about anybody talking? He shet me up, too!”</p> + +<p>“It’s my business you’re talking!” shouted Wade, beating time with +clinched fist. “Drop it.”</p> + +<p>MacLeod, primordial in his instincts, lost sight of the provocation, and +felt only the rebuff in the presence of the girl he was seeking to +attract. He had no apology on his tongue or in his heart.</p> + +<p>“It will take a better man than you to trig talk that I’m makin’,” he +retorted. “This isn’t a district school, where you are licked if you +whisper!” He sneered as he said it, and took one step up the aisle.</p> + +<p>With the bitter anger that had been burning in him for many days now +fanned into the white-heat of Berserker rage, Wade leaped out of his +seat. Between them <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>sat the girl, looking from one to the other, her +cheeks paling, her lips apart.</p> + +<p>At the moment, with a drunken man’s instinctive knowledge of ripe +occasions, Tommy Eye lurched out once more on the smoker platform and +began to carol the lay that had consoled him on so many trips from town:</p> + +<div class="centerbox6 bbox3"><p>“Oh, there ain’t no girl, no pretty little girl,<br /> +That I have left behind me.”</p></div> + +<p>There sounded the clang of the engine bell far to the front. There was +the premonitory and approaching jangle of shacklings, as car after car +took up its slack.</p> + +<p>“Look after your man there, MacLeod!” cried the girl. “The yank will +throw him off.”</p> + +<p>“Let him go, then!” gritted the foreman. The flame in Wade’s eyes was +like the red torch of battle to him. Not for years had a man dared to +give him that look.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the car sprang forward under their feet as the last shackle +snapped taut. The boss was driven towards Wade, and let himself be +driven. The other braced himself, blind in his fury, realizing at last +the nature of the blood lust.</p> + +<p>A squall, fairly demoniac in intensity, stopped them. MacLeod recognized +the voice, and even his passion for battle yielded. When the Honorable +Pulaski D. Britt, baron of the Umcolcus, yelled in that fashion it meant +obedience, and on this occasion the squall was reinforced by a shriek +from the girl. And MacLeod whirled, dropping his fists.</p> + +<p>There on the platform stood Britt, clutching the limp and soggy Tommy +Eye by the slack of his jacket. The Honorable Pulaski, jealous of every +second of time, had remained in conversation to the last with his birch +foreman. He stepped aboard just as Tommy, jarred from his feet, was +pitching off the other side of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>platform. The Honorable Pulaski +snatched for him and held on, at the imminent risk of his own life. +Already both of them were leaning far out, for Tommy Eye, in the +blissful calm of his spirit, was making no effort to help himself.</p> + +<p>In an instant MacLeod was down the car aisle and had pulled both back to +safety.</p> + +<p>“Why in blastnation ain’t you staying in this hog-car here, where you +belong, you long-legged P.I. steer?” roared the old man, his anger ready +the moment his fright subsided. “What do I hire you for? You came near +letting me lose the best teamster in my whole crew. Now get into that +car and stay in that car till we get to the end of this railroad.”</p> + +<p>He put his hands against MacLeod’s breast and shoved him backward into +the door, where Tommy Eye, grinning in fatuous ignorance of the danger +he had passed through, had just disappeared ahead of him. The angry +shame of a man cruelly humiliated twisted MacLeod’s features, but he +allowed his imperious despot to push him into the car, casting a last +appealing look at the girl. Britt slammed the door and stood on the +platform, bracing himself by a hand on either side the casing, and +peered through the dingy glass to make sure that his crew was now under +proper discipline.</p> + +<p>“He’s a driver and a master,” piped up Grizzly Whiskers, with the +appositeness of a Greek chorus.</p> + +<p>“There’s the song about him, ye know:</p> + +<div class="centerbox7 bbox3"><p>“Oh, the night that I was married,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The night that I was wed,</span><br /> +Up there come Pulaski Britt<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And stood at my bed-head.</span><br /> +Said he, ‘Arise, young married man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And come along with me.</span><br /> +Where the waters of Umcolcus<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">They do roar along so free.’”</span></p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p><p>“I’ll bet he went, at that,” volunteered a man farther back in the car. +“When Britt is after men he gits’ em, and when he gits ’em he uses ’em.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Britt,” he shouted down the car aisle as the old man entered, “that +was brave work you done in savin’ Tommy’s life!”</p> + +<p>“Go to the devil with your compliments!” snapped Britt. “If it wasn’t +that I was losing my best teamster I wouldn’t have put out my little +finger to save him from mince-meat.”</p> + +<p>He saw the girl, turned over a seat to face her, and began to fire rapid +questions at her regarding her father and mother and the latest news of +Castonia settlement. When the conversation languished, as it did soon on +account of the inattention of the young woman, the Honorable Pulaski +caught the still flaming eye of Dwight Wade, and crooked his finger to +summon him. Wade merely scowled the deeper. The Honorable Pulaski +serenely disregarded this malevolence as a probable optical illusion, +and when Wade did not start beckoned again.</p> + +<p>“Come here, you!” he bellowed. “Can’t you see that I want you?”</p> + +<p>With new accession of fury at being thus baited, the young man started +up, resolved to take his employer aside and free his mind on that matter +of news-mongering. But the bluff and busy tyrant was first, as he always +was in his dealings with men.</p> + +<p>“Here, Wade,” he shouted, “you shake hands with the prettiest girl in +the north country! This is Miss Nina Ide, and this is my new +time-keeper, Dwight Wade. He’s going to find that there’s more in +lumbering than there is in being a college dude or teaching a school. +Sit down, Wade.”</p> + +<p>He pulled the young man into the seat.</p> + +<p>“Entertain this young lady,” he commanded. “She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>don’t want to talk with +old chaps like me. Her father—well, I reckon you know her father! Oh, +you don’t? Well, he’s first assessor of Castonia settlement, runs the +roads, the schools, and the town, has the general store and post-office, +and this pretty daughter that all the boys are in love with.”</p> + +<p>And at the end of this delicate introduction he pushed brusquely between +them, and went back to talk with his elderly admirer in the rear of the +car.</p> + +<p>Wade looked into the gray eyes of the girl sullenly. There was an angry +sparkle in her gaze.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Wade, you may think from what that old fool said that I’m +suffering to be entertained. If you think any such thing you can change +your mind and go back.”</p> + +<p>She had not a city-bred woman’s self-poise, he thought. Her manner was +that of the country belle, spoiled the least bit by flattery and +attention. And yet, as he looked at her, he thought that he had never +seen fairer skin to set off the flush of angry beauty. For others there +was something alluring in the absolute whiteness of her teeth, peeping +under the curve of her lip, in the nose (the least bit <i>retroussé</i>), in +the looped locks of brown hair crossing her temples. Yet there was no +admiration in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“I hope you won’t hold me guilty of being the intruder,” he said, +coldly.</p> + +<p>“Not if you move your brogans over to some seat where there is more room +for them,” she returned, with a click of her white teeth that showed +mild savagery. This young man who was in love with some one else, and +who had scowled at her, was decidedly not to her liking, she thought, in +spite of his regular features, his firm chin, his clean-cut mouth +unhidden by beard, and his brown eyes.</p> + +<p>Wade flushed, rose, bowed with hat lifted to a rather <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>ironical height, +and took his seat alone, well to the front of the car. He saw MacLeod’s +baleful face framed in the little window of the smoking-car’s door. For +mile after mile, as the train jangled on, it remained there.</p> + +<p>The menace of the expression, the challenge in the attitude, and this +insolent espionage, all following the insults of his gossiping tongue, +wrought upon the young man’s feelings like a file on metal. As his +resentment gnawed, it was in his mind to go and smash his fist through +the little window into the middle of that lowering countenance.</p> + +<p>To him came the Honorable Pulaski, bristling and bustling.</p> + +<p>“They’re telling me back there, young man, that you and Colin came near +to having some sort of rumpus a little while ago. Now, I can’t have +anything of that sort going on among my men. You mind <i>your</i> business. +I’ll make <i>him</i> mind <i>his</i>. But what’s it all about, anyway? Why were +you going to fight like roosters at sight?”</p> + +<p>Wade looked at his pompous red face and into his eyes with their +yellowish sclerotic, and choked back the recrimination he had intended. +The thought of opening his heart’s poor secret by bandying words with +this man made him quiver.</p> + +<p>“As well to talk to a Durham bull,” he reflected.</p> + +<p>“Why, you poor college dude,” went on his employer, scornfully, “Colin +MacLeod would break you in two and use you to taller his boots, a piece +in each hand. You’re hired to keep books and peddle wangan stuff +according to the prices marked! Keep your place, where you belong. Don’t +go to stacking muscle against the boss of the Busters.”</p> + +<p>The former centre of Burton College’s football eleven stiffened his +muscles and set his nails into his palms to keep from hot retort. What +was the use? What did <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>college training avail if it didn’t help a +gentleman to hold his tongue at the right time?</p> + +<p>“Now, remember what I’ve told you,” ordered Britt, “and I’ll go and set +MacLeod to the right-about, so that you won’t have to be afraid of him +if you mind your own business.”</p> + +<p>He went away into the smoking-car. Between the opening and the closing +of the door there puffed out a louder jargon from the orgy. It then +settled into its dull diapason of maudlin voices.</p> + +<p>For the rest of the journey, to the end of the forest railroad spur, +Wade sat and looked out into the hopeless and ragged ruin left by the +axes. The sight fitted with his mood. Britt, back from his interview +with MacLeod, and serene in the power of the conscious autocrat, sat by +himself and figured endlessly with a stubby lead-pencil. Wade looked +around only once at the girl. When he did he caught her looking at him, +and she immediately snapped her eyes away indignantly.</p> + +<p>At last the engine gave a long shriek that wailed away in echoes among +the stumps. It was a different note from its careless yelps at the +infrequent crossings.</p> + +<p>“Here we are!” bellowed Britt, cheerfully, stuffing away his papers and +coming up the car for his little bag. He stopped opposite Wade.</p> + +<p>“Remember what I told you about minding your business,” he commanded, +brusquely. “You may be a college graduate, but MacLeod is your boss. He +won’t hurt you if you keep your place!”</p> + +<p>In medicine there are cumulative poisons—the effect of small doses at +intervals amounting in the end to a single large dose.</p> + +<p>In matters of heart, temper, and moral restraint there are cumulative +poisons, too. Dwight Wade, struggling up as the train jolted to a halt, +felt that this last insult, coming as it did out of that brusque, +rough-sneering, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>culture-despising spirit of the woods, exemplified in +Pulaski D. Britt, had put an end to self-restraint.</p> + +<p>It was the same brusque, money-worshipping, intolerant spirit of the +woods that sounded in John Barrett’s voice when he had sneered at Wade’s +pretensions to his daughter’s hand. There it was now in those roaring +voices in the smoking-car. And yet he had come to it—hating it—fleeing +from the sight of men of his kind when his little temple of love seemed +closed to him, and the world had jeered at him behind his back! He +looked through the dirty car windows at the little shacks of the +railroad terminus, heard the bellow of voices, gritted his teeth in +ungovernable rage at Britt’s last words, and determined to—well, he +hardly knew what he did propose to do.</p> + +<p>But it should be something to show them all that he could no longer be +bossed and insulted and jeered at—all in that bumptious, braggadocio, +bucko spirit of the woods!</p> + +<p>Both platforms of the cars were swarming with men—men rigged in queer +garb: wool leggings, wool jackets striped off in bizarre colors or +checked like crazy horse-blankets. Each man in sight carried his heavy +brogan shoes hung about his neck.</p> + +<p>They were singing in fairly good time, and Wade listened to the words +despite himself:</p> + +<div class="centerbox6 bbox3"><p>“Oh, here I come from the Kay-ni-beck,<br /> +With my old calk boots slung round my neck<br /> +Here we come—yas, a-here we come—<br /> +A hundred men and a jug of rum.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">WHOOP-fa-dingo!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">Old Prong Jones!”</span></p></div> + +<p>The girl passed Wade, going down the aisle before he left his seat. He +came behind her. But they were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>obliged to wait at the door. The men +crowded close upon both platforms. Each man had a meal-sack stuffed with +his possessions. They were all elbowing each other, and the result was a +congestion that the kicks of the Honorable Pulaski and the cuffings of +Colin MacLeod did little to break.</p> + +<p>The boss of the Busters kept stealing glances at the girl, as though to +challenge her notice, and perhaps her admiration, as she saw him thus a +master of men.</p> + +<p>It was then that the spirit of anger and rebellion seething in Dwight +Wade—the cumulative poison of his many insults—stirred him to bitter +provocation in his own turn.</p> + +<p>The girl carried a heavy leather suit-case, and now, waiting for the +press of men to escape from the car, she rested it against a seat, and +sighed in weariness and vexation.</p> + +<p>With quiet masterfulness Wade took it from her hand and smiled into the +astonished gray eyes that flashed back over her shoulder at him. It was +a smile that not even a maiden, offended as she had been, could resist.</p> + +<p>“I will assist you to—to—I believe it is a stage-coach that takes us +on,” he said. “Let me do this, so that you won’t remember me simply as a +man whose own troubles made him a boor.”</p> + +<p>MacLeod’s look of fury as he saw the act fell full upon them both, and +the girl resented it.</p> + +<p>“I thank you,” she returned, smiling at her squire with a little +exaggeration of cordiality. And when at last the platforms were cleared +they stepped out, still talking.</p> + +<p>All about them men were kneeling, fastening the latchets of their +spike-sole shoes.</p> + +<p>“Rod Ide’s gal has got a new mash!” hiccoughed one burly chap, leering +at them as they passed. At the instant MacLeod, at their heels, struck +the man brutally <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>across the mouth, shouldered Wade roughly, and spoke +to the girl, his round hat crumpled in his big fist.</p> + +<p>“Miss Nina,” he stammered, “I’m—I’m sorry for forgetting that you were +in that car awhile back. But you know I ain’t used to takin’ talk of +that sort. So, let me see you safe aboard the stage, like an old friend +should.”</p> + +<p>“This gentleman will look after me,” said the girl. She tried to be +calm, but her voice trembled. A city woman, confident of the regard due +to woman, would not have feared so acutely. But Nina Ide, bred on the +edge of the forest, was accustomed to see the brute in man spurn +restraint. The passions flaming in the eyes of these two were familiar +to her. She expected little more from the gentleman in the way of +consideration for her feelings than she did from the lumber-jack. “You +go along about your business, Colin,” she said, hastily. “I can attend +to mine.”</p> + +<p>“Give me that!” snarled the boss, his eyes red under their meeting +brows. In his rage he forgot the deference due the woman.</p> + +<p>“See if you can take it!” growled back the other. With him the girl was +only the means to the end that his whole nature now lusted for. He +forgot her.</p> + +<p>Wade looked for the young giant to strike. But the woods duello has its +vagaries.</p> + +<p>MacLeod lifted one heavy shoe and drove its spiked sole down upon Wade’s +foot, the brads puncturing the thin leather. With his foe thus anchored, +he clutched for the valise. But ere his victim had time to strike, the +furious, flaming, bristling face of the Honorable Pulaski was between +them, and his elbows, hard as pine knots, drove them apart with wicked +thrustings. As they staggered back the old lumber baron, used to playing +the tyrant mediator, grabbed an axe from the nearest man of the crew.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>“I’ll brain the one that lifts a finger!” he howled. “What did I tell +you about this? Who is running this crew? Whose money is paying you? Get +back, you hounds!”</p> + +<p>Once more, though he gasped in the pure madness of his rage, MacLeod was +cowed by his despot. He turned and began marshalling the crew aboard +great wagons that were waiting at the station.</p> + +<p>“You take your seat in that wagon, young man!” roared Britt, shaking +that hateful, hairy fist under Wade’s nose. “We’ll see about all this +later! Get onto that wagon!”</p> + +<p>At the opposite side of the station was the mail-stage, a dusty, rusty +conveyance with a lurching canopy of cracked leather above its four +seats, and four doleful horses waiting the snap of the driver’s whip.</p> + +<p>Without a word to Britt, Wade led the way to the coach, and set the +suit-case between the seats. He limped as he walked, and his teeth were +set in pain.</p> + +<p>He gave his hand to the girl, and she silently accepted the assistance +and took her place in the coach.</p> + +<p>Then he turned to meet the fiery gaze of the Honorable Pulaski, who had +followed close on their heels, choking with expletives.</p> + +<p>“I reckon I see through this now,” he growled. “Tryin’ to cut out the +cleanest feller in the Umcolcus with your dude airs! But Rod Ide’s girl +ain’t to be fooled by city notions. She knows a man when she sees him.” +He chucked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of MacLeod, busy +with the laggard men. “Go aboard, and let this be an end of your +meddling, young man.”</p> + +<p>“You just speak for yourself and attend to your business, Mr. Britt!” +cried the girl, with a spirit that cowed even the tyrant’s bluster. +“‘Rod Ide’s girl,’ as you call her, can choose all her own affairs, and +you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>needn’t scowl at me, for I’m not on your pay-roll and I’m not +afraid of you!”</p> + +<p>She turned to Wade with real gentleness in her tones.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid he hurt you. It’s a rough country up here. If you hadn’t +been trying to help me it wouldn’t have happened. He had no right to—” +She checked herself suddenly, and her cheeks flamed.</p> + +<p>“That wasn’t a fair twit about my sticking my nose into your affairs, +Miss Nina,” protested Britt, and turning from her he visited his rage +vicariously on his time-keeper, taking him by the arm and starting to +drag him. “I told you to get aboard!” he rasped. “And when my men that I +hire don’t do as I tell ’em to do, I kick ’em aboard—and a time-keeper +is no better than a swamper with me when he leaves this railroad. You +want to understand those things and save lots of trouble.”</p> + +<p>“You take your hand off my arm, Mr. Britt,” said the young man. He did +not speak loudly, but there was something in his voice that impressed +the Honorable Pulaski, who knew men.</p> + +<p>“Now,” resumed Wade, “for reasons of my own and that I don’t propose to +explain, I am going to ride to Castonia settlement on this mail-stage.”</p> + +<p>“It’s safe to go on the wagon,” persisted Britt, more mildly. “I tell +you, if you mind your own business, I won’t let him lick you.”</p> + +<p>With face gray and rigid at an insult that the old man couldn’t +understand, Wade opened his mouth, then shut it, turned his back, and +climbed aboard the coach. The girl moved along to the farther end, and +gropingly and blindly, without thought as to where he was sitting, he +took the place beside her.</p> + +<p>He remembered that as they drove away Britt shook that hairy fist at +him, and that some rude roisterer on the wagons lilted some doggerel +about “the chaney <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>man.” And through a sort of red mist he saw the face +of Colin MacLeod.</p> + +<p>They were miles along the rough road before he looked at the girl. At +the movement of his head she turned her own, and in the piquant face +above the big white bow of the veil he saw real sympathy.</p> + +<p>He did not speak, but he looked into her clear eyes—eyes that had the +country girl’s spirit and a resourcefulness beyond her years—and from +them he drew a certain comfort.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wade,” she said, at last, “I’m only nineteen years old, but up in +Castonia settlement we see what men are without the wrappings on them. I +don’t know much about real society, but I’ve read about it, and I guess +society women get sort of dazzled by the outside polish and don’t see +things very clear. But up our way, with what they see of men, girls get +to be women young. You are a college graduate and a school-teacher and +all that, and I’m only nineteen, but—well, it just seems to me I can’t +help reaching over like this—”</p> + +<p>She patted his arm.</p> + +<p>“—And what I feel like saying is, ‘Poor boy!’”</p> + +<p>There was such vibrant sympathy in her voice that though he set his +teeth, clinched his hands, and summoned all his resolution, his nervous +strain slackened and the tears came into his eyes—tears that had been +slowly welling ever since he had turned from John Barrett’s door.</p> + +<p>It was woman’s attempt at consolation that broke through his restraint.</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame you much for squizzlin’ a little,” broke in the +stage-driver, who saw this emotion without catching the conversation. +“He did bring his huck down solid when he stamped. But I’ve been calked +myself, and a tobacker poultice allus does the business for me—northin’ +better for p’isen in a wound.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>The chaney man reached his hand to the girl under the shelter of the +seat-back.</p> + +<p>“Shake!” he said, simply. “I’ve come up here to stay awhile, and it’s +good to feel that I’ve got one friend that’s—that’s a woman.”</p> + +<p>“And you—” She faltered and paused to listen, lips apart.</p> + +<p>“I’ve come to stay,” he repeated, grimly.</p> + +<p>He listened too.</p> + +<p>Far behind them they heard the dull rumble of the heavy wagons over the +ledges. The raucous howling of the revellers had something wolf-like +about it. It seemed to close the line of retreat. Ahead were the big +woods, looming darkly on the mountain ridges—that vast region of man to +man, and the devil take the weak.</p> + +<p>And again he said, not boastingly, but with a quiet setting of his tense +jaw muscles:</p> + +<p>“I’ve come to stay.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>DURING THE PUGWASH HANG-UP</h3> + +<div class="centerbox8 bbox3"><p>“With eddies and rapids it’s middlin’ tough,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To worry a log-drive through.</span><br /> +But to manage a woman is more than enough<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For a West Branch driving crew.”</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—Leeboomook Song.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcj.jpg" title="J" height="90" width="90" alt="J" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">J</span>ust how Tommy Eye escaped so nimbly from the ruck of the fight at the +foot of Pugwash Hill he never knew nor understood, his wits not being of +the clearest that day—and the others being too busy to notice.</p> + +<p>But he did escape. One open-handed buffet sent him reeling into and +through some wayside bushes. He sat on his haunches on the other side a +moment like a jack-rabbit and surveyed the stirring scene, and then made +for higher ground. At the end of an enervating sixty-days’ sentence in +the county jail—his seventeenth summer “on the bricks” for the same old +bibulous cause; second offence, and no money left to pay the fine—Tommy +did not feel fit for the fray.</p> + +<p>He sat on a bowlder at the top of the rise for a little while and gazed +down on them—the hundred men of “Britt’s Busters,” bound in for the +winter cutting on Umcolcus waters. They were fighting aimlessly, “mixing +it up” without any special vindictiveness, and Tommy, an expert in +inebriety, sagely concluded that they were too drunk to furnish +amusement. So he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>rolled over the bowlder and nestled down to ease his +headache, knowing, as a teamster should know, that Britt’s tote wagons +were to hold up at the Pugwash for a half-hour’s rest and bait.</p> + +<p>For that matter, a fight at the Pugwash was no novel incident—not for +Tommy Eye, at least, veteran of many a woods campaign.</p> + +<p>The hang-up at the hill is a teamster’s rule as ancient as the tote +road.</p> + +<p>And the fight of the ingoing crew is as regular as the halt. All the way +from the end of the railroad the men have been crowded on the wagons, +with nothing to do but express personal differences of opinion. Every +other man is a stranger to his neighbor, for employment offices do not +make a specialty of introductions. As the principal matter of argument +on the tote wagons is which is the best man, the Pugwash Hill wait, +where there is soft ground and elbow-room, makes a most inviting +opportunity to settle disputes and establish an <i>entente cordiale</i> that +will last through all the winter.</p> + +<p>Two other men—two men who had been on the outskirts of the fray from +its beginning—came leisurely up the hill, and sat down on the bowlder +behind which was couched Tommy Eye.</p> + +<p>One was the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt; the other was Colin MacLeod.</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski tucked the end of a big cigar into the opening in +his bristly gray beard where his mouth was hidden, and lighted it. As an +after-thought he offered one to MacLeod. The young man, his elbows on +his knees, his flushed face turned aside, shook his head sullenly.</p> + +<p>“Well, you’re having a run of cuss-foolishness that even our champion +fool, Tommy Eye himself, couldn’t match,” snorted the old man, rolling +his tongue around his cigar.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>Tommy, behind the rock, tipped one ear up out of the moss.</p> + +<p>“Here you go pouncing into that car to-day, where my new time-keeper +was, and go to picking a fuss with him, and—”</p> + +<p>“He was the one that started it, Mr. Britt,” said the boss, in the dull +monotone of one who has said the same thing many times before.</p> + +<p>“Don’t bluff me!” snapped the Honorable Pulaski. “You were gossiping +over a lot of his private business with that Ide girl—and bringing me +into it, too. You can’t fool me! Old Jeff back in the car heard it all. +The young feller had a right to put in an oar to stop you, and he did +it, and I’ll back him in it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and you went and introduced him to Miss Ide—that’s some more of +your backin’,” said MacLeod, bitterly.</p> + +<p>“Just common politeness—just common politeness!” cried Britt, waving +his cigar impatiently. “That girl hasn’t said she’d marry you, has she? +No! I knew she hadn’t. Well, she’s got a right to talk with nice young +men that I introduce to her, and there’s nothing to it to make a fuss +over, MacLeod—only common politeness. You’re making a fool of yourself, +and setting the girl herself against you by acting jealous like that +before the face and eyes of every one. That’s enough time and talk +wasted on girls. Now, quit it, and get your mind on your work. You +understand that I won’t have any more of this scrapping in my crew.”</p> + +<p>With a blissful disregard of consistency, he gazed through smoke-clouds +down at the men below, who were listlessly exchanging blows or rolling +on the ground, locked in close embrace.</p> + +<p>MacLeod stood up, and tugged the collar of his wool jacket away from his +throat.</p> + +<p>“I ain’t much of a man to talk my business over with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>any one, Mr. +Britt,” he said. “But you are putting this thing on a business basis, +and you don’t have the right to do it. I ain’t engaged to Nina Ide, and +I ’ain’t asked her to be engaged to me, for the time ’ain’t come right +yet. But there ain’t nobody else in God’s world goin’ to have her but +me. She ain’t too good for me, even if her father is old Rod Ide. I’ll +have money some day myself. I’ve got some now. I can buy the clothes +when I need ’em, if that’s all that a girl likes. But it ain’t all they +like—not the kind of a girl like Nina Ide is. She knows a man when she +sees him. She knows that I’m a man, square and straight, and one that +loves her well enough to let her walk on him, and that’s the kind of a +man for a girl born and bred on the edge of the woods.”</p> + +<p>He drew up his lithe, tall body, and snapped his head to one side with +almost a click of the rigid neck.</p> + +<p>“Along comes that college dude,” he snarled, “just thrown over by a city +girl and lookin’ for some one else to make love to, and he cuts in”—his +voice broke—“you see what he done, Mr. Britt! He helped her off the +train before I could get there. He put her on the stage, and rode away +with her while you were makin’ me handle the men. And he’s ridin’ with +her now, damn him, and he’s a-talkin’ with her and laughin’ at me behind +my back!” He shook both fists at the road to Castonia settlement, +winding over the hill, and there were tears on his cheeks.</p> + +<p>“He probably isn’t laughing very much,” replied Britt, dryly. “Not since +you plugged that spike boot of yours down on his foot there on the depot +platform. A nasty trick, MacLeod, that was.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I’d ’a’ ground it off,” muttered the boss. He struck his spikes +against the bowlder with such force that a stream of fire followed the +kick.</p> + +<p>“He can’t do it—he can’t do it, Mr. Britt! He can’t <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>steal her! I’ve +loved her too long, and I’ll have her. You just gave off your orders to +me about fighting. You don’t say anything to those cattle down there +fighting about nothin’. You let them settle their troubles. Here I am!” +He struck his breast. “For five years, first up in the dark of the +mornin’, last to bed in the dark of the night. I’ve sweat and swore and +frozen in the slush and snow and sleet, driving your crew to make money +for you. And I’ve waded from April till September, I’ve broken jams and +taken the first chance in the white water, so that I could get your +drive down ahead of the rest. And now, when it comes to a matter of hell +and heaven for me, you tell me I can’t stand like a man for my own. You +call it wastin’ time!”</p> + +<p>He bent over the Honorable Pulaski, his face purple, his eyes red. Britt +took out his cigar and held it aside to blink up at this disconcerting +young madman.</p> + +<p>“I tell you, you are taking chances, Mr. Britt. You have bradded me on, +and told me that a man of the woods always gets what he wants if he goes +after it right. Twice to-day you have stood between me and what I want. +You’ve let a college dude take the sluice ahead of me. I know you pay me +my money, but don’t you do that again. I’m going to have that girl, I +say! The man that steps in ahead of me, he’s goin’ to die, Mr. Britt, +and the man that steps between me and that man, when I’m after him, he +dies, too. And if that sounds like a bluff, then you haven’t got Colin +MacLeod sized up right, that’s all!”</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski winked rapidly under the other’s savage regard. He +knew when to bluster and he knew when to palter.</p> + +<p>“MacLeod,” he said, at last, getting up off the rack with a grunt, “what +a man that works for me does in the girl line is none of my business. +But after that kind <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>of brash talk I might suggest to you that a cell in +state-prison isn’t going to be like God’s out-doors that you’re roaming +around in now.”</p> + +<p>The boss sneered contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“Furthermore, this college dude, that you are talking about as though he +were a water-logged jill-poke, was something in the football line when +he was in college—I don’t know what, for I don’t know anything about +such foolishness—but, anyway, from what I hear, it was up to him to +break the most arms and legs, and he did it, I understand. This is only +in advice, MacLeod—only in advice,” he cried, flapping a big hand to +check impatient interruption. “You saw when Tommy Eye, the drunken fool, +fell under the train at the junction to-day, as he is always doing, that +feller Wade picked him up with one hand and lugged him like a pound of +sausage-meat—saved the fool’s life, and didn’t turn a hair over it. So, +talk a little softer about killing, my boy, and, best of all, wait till +you find out that he wants the girl or the girl wants <i>you</i>!”</p> + +<p>He walked down the hill.</p> + +<p>“Go to blazes with your advice, you old fool!” growled MacLeod, under +his breath. “He’s lookin’ for it; he’s achin’ for it! He gave me a look +to-day that no man has given me in ten years and had eyes left open to +look a second time. He’ll get it!”</p> + +<p>As he turned to follow his employer he saw the recumbent Tommy, and went +out of his way far enough to give him a vicious kick.</p> + +<p>“Get onto the wagons, you rum-keg, or you’ll walk to Castonia!”</p> + +<p>“Be jigged if I won’t walk!” groaned Tommy, surveying the retreating +back of the boss with sudden weak hatred. “So there was a man who saved +my life to-day when I didn’t know it! And there was another man who +kicked me when I did know it! It’s the chaney <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>man he’s after, and the +chaney man was good to me! I’ll make a fair fight of it if my legs hold +out, and that’s all any man could do.”</p> + +<p>The horses were still munching fodder, and the gladiators, thankful for +an excuse to stop the fray, were stupidly listening to a harangue by the +Honorable Pulaski, who was explaining what would be allowed and what +would not be allowed in his camps.</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye ducked around the bushes and took the road with a woodsman’s +lope, his wobbly knees getting stronger as the exercise cleared his +brain.</p> + +<p>A woodman’s lope is not impressive, viewed with a sprinter’s eye. Nor is +a camel’s stride. But either is a great devourer of distance. So it +happened that Tommy Eye, sweat-streaked and breathing hard, caught up +with the sluggish Castonia stage while it was negotiating the last +rock-strewn hill a half-mile outside the settlement.</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade, time-keeper of the Busters, heard the stertorous puffing, +and looked around to see Tommy Eye clinging to the muddy axle and towing +behind. Tommy divided an amiable and apologetic grin between Wade and +the girl beside him.</p> + +<p>“I’m only—workin’ out—the—the budge!” Tommy explained, between the +jerks of the wagon. “Don’t mind me!”</p> + +<p>Down the half-mile of dusty declivity into Castonia, the only smooth +road between the railroad and the settlement, the stage made its usual +gallant dash with chuckling axle-boxes and the spanking of splay hoofs.</p> + +<p>And Tommy Eye came limply slamming on behind.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>AS FOUGHT BEFORE THE “IT-’LL-GIT-YE CLUB”</h3> + +<div class="centerbox4 bbox3"><p>“We dug him out of his blankets, and hauled him out to the<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">light—</span><br /> +His eyes were red with the tears he had shed, but now he<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">wanted to fight.</span><br /> +And screaming a string of curses, he struck as he raved and<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">swore—</span><br /> +Floored Joe Lacrosse and the swamping boss and announced<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">he was ready for more.”</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—The Fight at Damphy’s.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcc.jpg" title="C" height="90" width="91" alt="C" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">C</span>ivilization sets her last outpost at Castonia in the plate-glass +windows of Rodburd Ide’s store. Civilization had some aggravating +experiences in doing this. Four times hairy iconoclasts from the deep +woods came down, gazed disdainfully at these windows as an effort to put +on airs, and smashed them with rocks dug out of the dusty road. Four +times Rodburd Ide collected damages and renewed the windows—and in the +end civilization won out.</p> + +<p>Those experienced in such things can tell a Castonia man anywhere by the +pitch of his voice. Everlastingly, Umcolcus pours its window-jarring +white waters through the Hulling Machine’s dripping ledges. Here enters +Ragmuff stream, bellowing down the side of Tumbledick, a mountain that +crowds Castonia close to the river. Most of the men of the settlement do +their talking on the platform of Ide’s store, with the spray <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>spitting +into their faces and the waters roaring at them. And go where he will, a +Castonia man carries that sound in his ears and talks like a fog-horn.</p> + +<p>The satirists of the section call Ide’s store platform “The Blowdown.” +In the woods a blowdown is a wreck of trees. On Ide’s platform the +loafers are the wrecks of men. Here at the edge of the woods, at the +jumping-off place, the forest sets out its grim exhibits and mutely +calls, “Beware!” There are men with one leg, men with one arm, men with +no arms at all; there are men with hands maimed by every vagary of +mischievous axe or saw. There are men with shanks like broomsticks—men +who survived the agonies of freezing. There is always a fresh +subscription-paper hung on the centre post in Ide’s store, meekly +calling for “sums set against our names” to aid the latest victim.</p> + +<p>Wade, looking at this pathetic array of cripples as he slowly swung +himself over the wheel of the stage, felt that he was in congenial +company; for the foot that MacLeod had so brutally jabbed with his +spikes had stiffened in its shoe. It ached with a dull, rancor-stirring +pain. When he limped across the platform into the store, carrying the +girl’s valise, he hobbled ungracefully. The loungers looked after him +with fraternal sympathy.</p> + +<p>“The boss spiked him down to the deepo,” advised Tommy, slatting sweat +from his forehead with muddy forefinger. “He’s the new time-keeper.”</p> + +<p>“Never heard of the boss calkin’ the chaney man before,” remarked Martin +McCrackin, rapping his pipe against his peg-leg to dislodge the dottle.</p> + +<p>Tommy twisted his face into a prodigious wink, jabbed a thumb over his +shoulder towards the store door, and gazed archly around at the circle +of faces.</p> + +<p>“He cut the boss out with the Ide girl!” He whispered this hoarsely.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p><p>The listeners looked at the door where Wade and the girl had +disappeared, and then stared at one another. They had viewed the arrival +of the stage with the dull lethargy of the hopelessly stranded. Now they +displayed a reviving interest in life.</p> + +<p>“And that was all he done to him—step on his foot?” demanded a thin +man, impatiently twitching the stubs of two arms, off at the elbows.</p> + +<p>“Old P’laski got in!” said Tommy, with meaning. “Used his old elbows for +pick-holes and fended Colin off.”</p> + +<p>“It will git him, though!” said another. He had shapeless stumps of legs +encased in boots like exaggerated whip-sockets.</p> + +<p>“You bet it will git him!” agreed McCrackin.</p> + +<p>Rodburd Ide, busy, chatty, accommodating little man, trotted out of the +store at this instant with a handful of mail to distribute among his +crippled patrons.</p> + +<p>“That’s what the river boys call this crowd here,” he said, over his +shoulder, to Wade, who followed him. “The ‘It-’ll-git-ye Club.’ I guess +It <i>will</i> get ye some time up in this section! Here’s the last one, Mr. +Wade. Aholiah Belmore—that’s the man with the hand done up. Shingle-saw +took half his fin. Well, ’Liah, don’t mind! No one ever saw a whole +shingle-sawyer. It’s lucky it wasn’t a snub-line that got ye. There’s +what a snub-line can do, Mr. Wade.”</p> + +<p>He pointed to the armless man and to the man with the shapeless legs.</p> + +<p>“All done at the same time—bight took ’em and wound ’em round the +snub-post.”</p> + +<p>“And it’s a pity it wa’n’t our necks instead of our legs and arms,” +growled one of the men—“trimmed like a saw-log and no good to nobody!”</p> + +<p>“Never say die—never say die!” chirruped the jovial “Mayor of +Castonia.” He threw back his head in his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>favorite attitude, thrust out +his gray chin beard and tapped his pencil cheerily against the obtrusive +false teeth showing under his smoothly shaven upper lip. “Your +subscription-papers are growing right along, boys. The first thing you +know you’ll have enough to buy artificial arms and legs, such as we were +looking at in the advertisements the other day. It beats all what they +can make nowadays—teeth, arms, legs, and everything.”</p> + +<p>“They can’t make new heads, can they?” inquired Tommy Eye, whose mien +was that of a man who had something important to impart and was casting +about for a way to do it gracefully.</p> + +<p>“Who needs a new head around here?” smilingly inquired the “mayor.”</p> + +<p>“Him,” jerked out Tommy, pointing to Wade. “Leastwise, he will in about +ten minutes after the boss gits here.” And having thus delicately opened +the subject, Tommy’s tongue rushed on. “He was good to me when I didn’t +know it!” His finger again indicated the time-keeper. “I ain’t goin’ to +see him done up any ways but in a fair fight. But <i>he’s</i> comin’. There’s +blood in his eyes and hair on his teeth. I heard him a-talkin’ it over +to himself—and he’s goin’ to kill the ‘chaney man’ for a-gittin’ his +girl away from him. Now,” concluded Tommy, with a hysterical catch in +his throat, “if it can be made a fair fight, knuckles up and man to man, +then, says I, here’s your fair notice it’s comin’. But there’s a girl in +it, and girls don’t belong in a fair fight—and I’m afeard—I’m afeard! +You’d better run, ‘chaney man.’”</p> + +<p>Nina Ide was in the door behind her father. Her face was crimson, and +she winked hard to keep the tears of vexed shame back—for the faces of +the loungers told her that Tommy had been imparting other confidences. +She did not dare to steal even a glance at Wade. She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>was suffering too +much herself from the brutal situation.</p> + +<p>“‘A girl!’ ‘His girl!’” repeated Ide, seeing there was something he did +not understand. “Whose—”</p> + +<p>“Father!” cried his daughter. And when he would have continued to +question, snapping his sharp eyes from face to face, she stamped her +foot in passion and cried, “Father!” in a manner that checked him. He +stood surveying her with open mouth and staring eyes.</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade had fully understood the quizzical glances that were +levelled at him. It was not a time—in this queer assemblage—for the +observance of the rigid social conventions. Taking the father aside +would be misconstrued—and slander would still pursue the girl.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Ide,” he cried, his eyes very bright and his cheeks flushing, “I +want you and the others to understand this thing. It’s all a mistake. +Mr. Britt introduced me to your daughter, and I paid her a few +civilities, such as any young lady might expect to receive. But I seem +to have stirred up a pretty mess. It’s a shameful insult to your +daughter—this—this—oh, that man MacLeod must be a fool!”</p> + +<p>“He is!” said the girl, indignantly.</p> + +<p>“And he’s a fighter,” muttered Tommy Eye.</p> + +<p>Rodburd Ide clutched his beard and blinked his round eyes, much +perplexed.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t a very nice thing, any way you look at it—this having two +young men scrapping through this region about my girl. It isn’t that I +don’t expect her to get some attention, but this is carrying attention +too far.” He took her by the arm and led her to one side. “Nina, there +is nothing between you and Colin MacLeod?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, father. We have danced together at the hall, and he has walked +home with me—and that’s the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>only excuse he has for making a fool of +himself in this way.”</p> + +<p>“And—and this new man, here?”</p> + +<p>“I never saw him till this very day! And he’s in love with John +Barrett’s daughter. Oh, what an idiot MacLeod is! This stranger will +think we’re all fools up here!” Tears of rage and shame filled her eyes.</p> + +<p>Ide’s gaze, wandering from her face to Wade and then to the loafers, saw +one of Britt’s great wagons topping the distant rise, and he heard a +wild chorus of hailing yells.</p> + +<p>“You run up to the house, girl,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I’ll not,” she replied. And when he began to frown at her she clasped +his arm with both her hands and murmured: “He’s a stranger and a +gentleman, father, and they’re abusing him. He is nothing to me. He’s in +love with another girl. It was through being obliging and kind to me +that this horrible mistake has been made. Now, I’ll not run away and +leave him to suffer any more.”</p> + +<p>Rodburd Ide, an indulgent father, scratched his nose reflectively.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t the style of the Ide family to leave friends on the chips, +Nina,” he said—“not even when they’re brand new friends. We know what +an ingoing lumber crew is, and he probably doesn’t, and it’s the green +man that always gets the worst of it. So I’ll tell you what to do: +Invite him up to the house, and you entertain him until P’laski and I +can get this thing smoothed over.”</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye, hovering near in piteous trepidation lest his kindly offices +should miscarry, overheard the invitation that father and daughter +extended to the young man, who was gloomily eying the approach of the +wagon.</p> + +<p>“Yess’r, they’ve got the right of it,” stammered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>Tommy, unluckily. +“You’ll git it if ye don’t—and the ‘It-’ll-git-ye Club’ will see ye git +it. Ye’d best run!”</p> + +<p>Wade looked into the flushed face of the girl, at the officious father +of commiserating countenance, and at the loungers who had heard Tommy’s +condescending counsel and were looking at him with a sort of scornful +pity.</p> + +<p>Again that strange, sullen, gnawing rage at the general attitude of the +world seized upon him. He felt a bristling at the back of his neck and +in his hair—the primordial bristling of the beast’s mane.</p> + +<p>“It is kind of you to invite a stranger,” he said, “but I fear that +among these peculiar people even that kindness would be misconstrued. I +belong with Britt’s crew. I’ll stay here.”</p> + +<p>There was that in his voice which checked further appeal. The girl stood +back against the wall of the store.</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski was the first off the wagon, and he greeted Ide +with rough cordiality. When the latter began to whisper rapidly in his +ear, he shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I’ve wasted a good deal of valuable time and some temper holding those +two young fools apart to-day,” he snapped. “The last thing MacLeod +wanted to do was to lick me. Now, I’m too old to be mixed up in love +scrapes. I’m going over to measure that spool stock, and the one that’s +alive when I get back, I’ll load him onto the wagon and we’ll keep on up +the river.” He strode away, leaving the “mayor” champing his false teeth +in resentful disappointment.</p> + +<p>But the autocrat of Castonia had a courage of his own. He set back his +head and marched up to MacLeod, who was standing in the middle of the +road, his jacket thrown back, his thumbs in his belt.</p> + +<p>“Colin,” he demanded, indifferent as to listeners, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>“what’s all this +about my girl? Can’t she come along home, minding her own business like +the good girl that she is, without a fuss that has set all the section +wagging tongues? I thought you were a different chap from this!”</p> + +<p>“He had his lie made up when he got here, did he?” growled MacLeod.</p> + +<p>“I believe what my own girl says,” the father retorted.</p> + +<p>“So he’s got as far as that, has he? I tell ye, Rod Ide, if you don’t +know enough—don’t care enough about your own daughter to keep her out +of the clutches of a cheap masher like that—the kind I’ve seen many a +time before—then—it’s where I grab in. Ye’ll live to thank me for it. +I say, ye will! You don’t know what you’re talking about now. But you’ll +know your friends in the end.”</p> + +<p>He put up one arm, stiffened it against Ide’s breast, and slowly but +relentlessly pushed him aside.</p> + +<p>Viewed in the code of larrigan-land, the situation was one that didn’t +admit of temporizing or mediation. The set faces of the men who looked +on showed that the trouble between these two, brooding through the hours +of that long day, was now to be settled. As for his men, Colin MacLeod +had his prestige to keep—and a man who had suffered a stranger to carry +off the girl he loved without fitting rebuke could have no prestige in a +lumber camp. And it was prestige that made him worth while, made him a +boss who could get work out of men.</p> + +<p>The uncertain quantity in the situation was the stranger.</p> + +<p>With one movement of heads, all eyes turned to him.</p> + +<p>He was not a woodsman, and they expected from him something different +from the usual duello of the woods.</p> + +<p>They got it!</p> + +<p>For instead of waiting for the champion of the Umcolcus <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>to take the +initiative, this city man calmly walked off the store platform at this +juncture and bearded the champion.</p> + +<p>“And there ye have it—two bucks and one doe!” grunted old Martin. “The +same old woods wrassle.”</p> + +<p>The boss dropped his hands at his side as the time-keeper approached. He +grinned evilly when he noted the limp. Wade came close and spoke without +anger.</p> + +<p>“I see you are still determined to be a fool, MacLeod. I want no trouble +with you. Aren’t you willing to settle all this fuss like a man?”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I’m here for,” replied the boss, with grim significance.</p> + +<p>“Then go and offer an apology to that young lady. Do it, and I’ll cancel +the one you owe to me.”</p> + +<p>If Wade had been seeking to provoke, he could have chosen no more +unfortunate words.</p> + +<p>“Apology!” howled MacLeod. “Do ye hear it, boys? Talkin’ to me like I +was a Micmac and didn’t know manners! Here’s an Umcolcus apology for ye, +ye putty-faced dude!”</p> + +<p>His lunge was vicious, but in his contempt for his adversary it was +wholly unguarded. A woodsman’s rules of battle are simple. They can be +reduced to the single precept: Do your man! Knuckles, butting head, a +kick like a game-cock with the spiked boots, grappling and choking—not +one is called unfair. MacLeod simply threw himself at his foe. It was +blood-lust panting for the clutch of him.</p> + +<p>Those who told it afterwards always regretfully said it was not a +fight—not a fight as the woods looks at such diversions. No one who saw +it knew just how it happened. They simply saw that it had happened.</p> + +<p><a name="Illo1" id="Illo1"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 344px;"> +<img src="images/i070.jpg" class="ispace" width="344" height="500" alt="“WADE STOOD ABOVE THE FALLEN FOE”" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“WADE STOOD ABOVE THE FALLEN FOE”</span> +</div> + +<p>To the former football centre of Burton it was an opening simple as “the +fool’s gambit” in chess. His tense arms shot forward, his hands clasped +the wrists <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>of the flying giant with snaps like a steel trap’s clutch, his head +hunched between his shoulders, he went down and forward, tugging at the +wrists, and by his own momentum MacLeod made his helpless somersault +over the college man’s broad back.</p> + +<p>And as he whirled, up lunged the shoulders in a mighty heave, and the +woodsman fell ten feet away—fell with the soggy, inert, bone-cracking +thud that brings a groan involuntarily from spectators. He lay where he +fell, quivered after a moment, rolled, and his right arm twisted under +his body in sickening fashion.</p> + +<p>The girl gave a sharp cry, gathered her skirts about her, and ran away +up the street.</p> + +<p>“He’s got it!” said ’Liah Belmore, with the professional decisiveness of +the “It-’ll-git-ye Club.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve read about them things bein’ done by the Dagoes in furrin’ parts,” +remarked Martin McCrackin, gazing pensively on the prostrate boss, “but +I never expected to see it done in a woods fight.”</p> + +<p>There was silence then for a moment—a silence so profound that the +breathing of the spectators could be heard above the summer-quieted +murmur of the Hulling Machine. Wade walked over and stood above the +fallen foe. He was not gainsaid. Woods decorum forbids interference in a +fair fight.</p> + +<p>As he stood there a rather tempestuous arrival broke the tenseness of +the situation. From the mouth of a woods road leading into the tangled +mat of forest at the foot of Tumbledick came a little white stallion +drawing a muddy gig.</p> + +<p>Under the seat swung a battered tin pail in which smouldered dry fungi, +giving off a trail of smoke behind—the smudge pail designed to rout the +black-flies of summer and the “minges” of the later season.</p> + +<p>An old man drove—an old man, whose long white hair fluttered from under +a tall, pointed, visorless wool <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>cap with a knitted knob on its apex. +Whiskers, parted by his onrush, streamed past his ears.</p> + +<p>He pulled up so suddenly in front of Ide’s store that his little +stallion skated along in the dust.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” he chirped, cocking his head to peer, “Cole MacLeod down!”</p> + +<p>He whirled, leaped off the back of the seat, and ran nimbly to the +prostrate figure.</p> + +<p>“Broken!” he jerked, fumbling the arm. “No—no! Out of joint!”</p> + +<p>“Let the man alone,” commanded Wade. “He’ll need proper attendance.”</p> + +<p>“Proper attendance!” shrilled the little old man, with snapping eyes. +“Proper attendance! And I guess that you haven’t travelled much that you +don’t know me. Here, two of you, come and sit on this man! I’ll have him +right in a jiffy. Don’t know me, eh?” He again turned a scornful gaze on +the time-keeper. “Prophet Eli, the natural bone-setter, mediator between +the higher forces and man, disease eradicator, the ‘charming man’—I +guess this is your first time out-doors! Here, two of you come and hold +Cole MacLeod!”</p> + +<p>When Wade, knitting his brows, manifested further symptoms of +interference, Rodburd Ide took him by the arm and led him aside.</p> + +<p>“Let the old man alone,” he said. “He’ll know what to do. A little +cracked, but he knows medicine better than half the doctors that ever +got up as far as this.”</p> + +<p>They heard behind them a dull snap and a howl of pain from MacLeod.</p> + +<p>“There she goes back,” said Ide. “He’s lived alone on Tumbledick for +twenty years, and I suppose there’s a story back of him, but we never +found it out this way. We just call him Prophet Eli and listen to his +predictions and drink his herb tea and let him set broken <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>bones and +charm away disease—and there’s no kick coming, for he will never take a +cent from any one.”</p> + +<p>Four men had carried MacLeod to the wagon. His forehead was bleeding but +he was conscious, for the sudden wrench and bitter pain of the +dislocated shoulder had stirred his faculties.</p> + +<p>“Well, you’ve had it out, have you?” demanded the Honorable Pulaski, +coming around the corner of the store and taking in the scene. “What did +I tell you, MacLeod? Listen to me next time!”</p> + +<p>“And you listen to me, too!” squalled MacLeod, his voice breaking like a +child’s. “This thing ain’t over! It’s me or him, Mr. Britt. If he goes +in with your crew, I stay out. If you want him, you can have him, but +you can’t have me. And you know what I’ve done with your crews!”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean that, Colin,” blustered Britt.</p> + +<p>“God strike me dead for a liar if I don’t.”</p> + +<p>“It’s easier to get time-keepers than it is bosses,” said the Honorable +Pulaski, with the brisk decision natural to him. He whirled on Wade. +“You’d better go home, young man. You’re too much of a royal Bengal +tiger to fit a crew of mine.” He turned his back and began to order his +men aboard the tote teams.</p> + +<p>Wade stood looking after them as the wagons “rucked” away, his face +working with an emotion he could not suppress.</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s Pulaski all over!” remarked Ide at his elbow. “He’ll fell +a saw-log across a brook any time so as to get across without wetting +his feet, and then go off and leave the log there.”</p> + +<p>He stood back and looked the young man over from head to feet, with the +shrewd eye of one appraising goods.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wade,” he said, at last, “will you step into my back office with me +a moment?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>When they were there, the store-keeper perched himself on a high stool, +hooked his toes under a round, thrust his face forward, and said:</p> + +<p>“Here’s my business, straight and to the point. I’m a little something +in the lumbering line up this way, myself. What with land, stumpage +rights, and tax titles I’ve got two townships, but they’re off the main +river, and I haven’t done much with ’em. I’m going to be honest, and +admit I can’t do much with ’em so long as Britt and his gang control +roll-dams, flowage, and the water for the driving-pitch the way they do. +They haven’t got the law with ’em, but that makes no difference to that +crowd, the way they run things. Now, you don’t know the logging +business, but a bright chap like you can learn it mighty quick. And +you’ve shown to-day that there are some things you don’t have to learn, +and that’s how to handle men—and that’s the big thing in this country +as things are now. What I want to ask you, fair and plain, is, do you +want a job?”</p> + +<p>“What, as a prize-fighter?” asked the young man, surlily.</p> + +<p>“No, s’r, but as a boss that can boss, and has got the courage to hold +up his end on this river! I know this all sounds as though I were +temporarily out of my head in a business way, but you’ve made a +reputation in the last half hour here that’s worth ten thousand to the +man that hires you. There’s money in the lumbering business, Mr. Wade. +The men that are in it right are getting rich. But you’ve got to get +into it picked end to. Here’s the way you and I are fixed: you might +wait for ten years and not find the opportunity I’m offering you. I +might wait ten years and not find just the man I could afford to take in +with me. I’ve sized you. I know what sort your references will be when I +ask for ’em. You seem right. Are you interested enough to listen to +figures?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p><p>And then Ide, accepting amazed silence as assent, rattled off into his +details. At the end of half an hour Wade was listening with a new gleam +of resolution in his eyes. At the end of an hour he was blotting his +signature at the bottom of a preliminary article of agreement that was +to serve until a lawyer could draw one more ample.</p> + +<p>“And now,” said Ide, slamming his safe door and whirling the knob, “it’s +past supper-time and my folks are waitin’. And it’s settled that you +stay. I say, it’s settled! Where else would you stop in this +God-forsaken bunch of shacks? I’ve got a big house and something to eat. +Come along, Mr. Wade! I’m hungry, and we’ll do the rest of our talkin’ +on the road.”</p> + +<p>The young man followed him without a word. And thus entered Dwight Wade +into the life of Castonia, and into the battle of strong men in the +north woods.</p> + +<p>In front of the store, as they issued, the “It-’ll-git-ye Club” was +still in session, as though waiting for something. They got what they +were waiting for.</p> + +<p>“Boys,” announced their satisfied “mayor,” “I want to introduce to you +my new partner, Mr. Dwight Wade—though he don’t really need any +introduction in this region after to-day. Bub!” he called to a +youngster, “get a wheelbarrow and carry Mr. Wade’s duffle up to my +house.” He pointed to the young man’s meagre baggage that had been +thrown off the tote wagon.</p> + +<p>As Wade turned away he caught the keen eye of Prophet Eli fixed on him. +The eye was a bit wild, but there was humor there, too. And the cracked +falsetto of the old man’s voice followed him as he walked away beside +his new sponsor:</p> + +<div class="centerbox3 bbox3"><p>“Oh, the little brown bull came down from the mountain,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">Shang, ro-ango, whango-wey!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>And as he was feelin’ salutatious,<br /> +Chased old Pratt a mile, by gracious,<br /> +Licked old Shep and two dog Towsers,<br /> +Then marched back home with old Pratt’s trousers.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">Whango-whey!”</span></p></div> + +<p>“Yes, as I was tellin’ you a spell ago—just a little cracked!” +apologized Ide. “There’s my house, there! The one with the tower. It +would look better to me, Mr. Wade, if only my wife had lived to enjoy it +with me.” But his eyes lighted at sight of his daughter. She was +standing at the gate waiting for them. “Her own mother over again, and +the best girl in the whole north country, sir! It was man’s work you did +there to-day for the sake of my girl and her good name—I only wish her +father had the muscle to do as much for her.” He stretched out his puny +arms and shook his head wistfully. “But there’s one thing I can do, Mr. +Wade. It can’t be said that Rod Ide stood by and saw you get thrown out +of a job for his daughter’s sake, and didn’t make it square with you!”</p> + +<p>“Is that the reason you are offering this partnership to me?” inquired +the young man, his pride taking alarm.</p> + +<p>“No, sir!” replied the little man, with emphasis. But he added, out of +his honesty: “It’s straight business between us, sir, but it wouldn’t be +human nature if your best recommendation to me wasn’t the fact that +you’ve done for my girl the service that her father ought to have done, +and I’m not goin’ to try to separate that from our business. But before +I get done talking with you, I’ll show you that by the time you’ve +helped me to win out against Pulaski Britt and old King Spruce you’ll +have earned your share in this partnership.”</p> + +<p>And then, with an air that was distinctly triumphant, he pushed Wade +ahead of him through the gate, chatting <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>voluble explanation to a girl +who listened with a welcoming light in her gray eyes. It was a light +that cheered a roving young man who had acquired friends by such a +dizzying train of circumstances.</p> + +<p>They talked until far into the night, he and Rodburd Ide.</p> + +<p>The next day Christopher Straight was called into the conference.</p> + +<p>“There ain’t any part of the north country that Christopher don’t know,” +eulogized Ide, caressing the woodsman’s arm. “Forty years trapper, +guide, and explorer—that’s his record.”</p> + +<p>Wade gazed into the quiet eyes of the veteran as he grasped his hand, +and needed no further recommendation than the look old Christopher +returned. There are few men in the world with such appealing qualities +as those who have passed their lives in the woods and know what the +woods mean. Wade realized now, after his talk with Ide, the nature of +the task that he faced. Knowing that Christopher Straight was to be his +companion and guide, he was heartened, having seen the man.</p> + +<p>And with intense eagerness to be away, he completed his modest +preparations for the exploring trip, and set forth towards the great +unknown of the north. He had Rodburd Ide’s parting hand-clasp for +reassurance, his daughter’s sincere godspeed for his comfort, and the +chance to do battle for his love. And he walked with Christopher +Straight with head erect and a heart full of new hope.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>ON MISERY GORE</h3> + +<div class="bbox3 centerbox8"><p>“I reckon if gab had been sprawl,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He’d have climb’ to the very top notch.</span><br /> +As it was, though, he made just one crawl<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To a perch in a next-the-ground crotch.”</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—The Pauper.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dct.jpg" title="T" height="90" width="90" alt="T" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">T</span>he two men “hopped” the broad expanse of Patch Dam heath, springing +from tussock to tussock of the sphagnum moss. In that mighty flat they +seemed as insignificant as frogs, and their progress suggested the +batrachian as they leaped and zigzagged.</p> + +<p>Ahead bounced Christopher Straight, the few tins of his scanty +cooking-kit rattling in the meal-bag pack on his back.</p> + +<p>At his heels came Dwight Wade, blanket-roll across his shoulders and +calipers and leather-sheathed axe in his hands. Sweat streamed into his +eyes, and, athlete though he was, his leg muscles ached cruelly. The +September sunshine shimmered hotly across the open, and the young man’s +head swam.</p> + +<p>Old Christopher’s keen side glance noted this. With the veteran guide’s +tactful courtesy towards tenderfeet, he halted on a mound and made +pretence of lighting his pipe. There was not even a bead of perspiration +on his face, and his crisp, gray beard seemed frosty.</p> + +<p>“I’m ashamed of myself,” blurted the young man <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>in blunt outburst. His +knees trembled as he steadied himself after his last leap.</p> + +<p>“It ain’t exactly like strollin’ down the shady lane, as the song says,” +replied old Christopher, with gentle satire. He looked away towards the +fringe of distant woods.</p> + +<p>“We could have kept on around by the Tomah trail, Mr. Wade, but I reckon +you got as sick as I did of climbin’ through old Britt’s slash. And +until he operated there last winter it used to be one of the best trails +north of Castonia. I blazed it myself forty years ago.”</p> + +<p>“And just a little care in felling it would have left it open,” cried +the young man, indignantly.</p> + +<p>“There was orders from Britt to drop ev’ry top across that trail that +could be dropped there, Mr. Wade. So, unless they come in +flyin’-machines, there’s been few fishermen and hunters up the Tomah +trail this season to build fires and cut tent-poles.”</p> + +<p>“Does the old hog begrudge that much from the acres he stole from the +people of the State?” demanded Wade.</p> + +<p>“He’d ruther you’d pick your teeth with your knife-blade than pull even +a sliver out of a blow down,” replied Christopher, mildly. He tossed his +brown hand to point his quiet satire, and Wade’s eyes swept the vast +expanse of wood, from the nearest ridges to the dim blue of the +tree-spiked horizon.</p> + +<p>Christopher put his hand to his forehead and gazed north.</p> + +<p>“I can show you your first peek at it, Mr. Wade,” he said, after a +moment. “That’s old Enchanted—the blue sugar-loaf you see through Pogey +Notch there. Under that sugar-loaf is where we are bound, to Ide’s +holdin’s.”</p> + +<p>There was a thrill for the young man in the spectacle—in the blue +mountains swimming above the haze, and in the untried mystery of the +miles of forest that still <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>lay between. Even the word “Enchanted” +vibrated with suggestion.</p> + +<p>The zest of wander-lust came upon him later—a zest dulled at first by +two days of perspiring fatigue, uneasy slumbers under the stars, +breathless scrambles through undergrowth and up rocky slopes.</p> + +<p>“That’s Jerusalem Mountain, layin’ a little to the right,” went on +Christopher. “That’s Britt’s principal workin’ on the east slope of that +this season. He’ll yard along Attean and the other streams, and run his +drive into Jerusalem dead-water—and that’s where you and Ide will have +a chore cut out for you.” The old man wrinkled his brows a bit, but his +voice was still mild.</p> + +<p>The romance oozed from Wade’s thrill. The thrill became more like an +angry bristling along his spine. During the days of his preparation for +this trip into the north country, Rodburd Ide—suddenly become his +partner by an astonishing juncture of circumstances—had spent as much +time in setting forth the character of the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt as +he had in instructing his neophyte in the duties of a timber explorer. +As a matter of fact, Ide left it mostly to old Christopher to be mentor +and instructor in the art of “exploring,” as search for timber in the +north woods is called. Ide was better posted on the acerbities and +sinuosities of Britt’s character than he was on the values of standing +timber and the science of economical “twitch-roads,” and, with sage +purpose, he had freely given of this information to his new partner.</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry about the explorin’ part—not with Christopher postin’ +you,” Ide had cheerfully counselled, when he had shaken hands with them +at the edge of Castonia clearing. “You and he together will find enough +timber to be cut. But you can’t get dollars for logs until they’re +sorted and boomed—and that part means dividin’ white water with Britt +next spring. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>So, don’t spend all your time measuring trees, Wade. +Measure chances!”</p> + +<p>Now, with his eyes on the promised field of battle, Wade growled under +his breath.</p> + +<p>Britt!</p> + +<p>For four days now he had struggled behind old Christopher through +tangled undergrowth of striped maple, witch hobble, and mountain +holly—Mother Nature’s pathetic attempt to cover with ragged and stunted +growth the breast that the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had stripped bare.</p> + +<p>“He cut her three times,” Christopher explained. “First time the virgin +black growth—and as handsome a stand of timber as ye ever put calipers +to; second time, the battens—all under eleven inches through; third +time, even the poles. That’s forestry as he practises it! He’s robbin’ +the squirrels!”</p> + +<p>Britt!</p> + +<p>Wade had seen rotting tops that would have yielded logs—the refuse of +the first reckless and wasteful cutting. He had passed skidways and +toiled over corduroy in which thousands of feet of good spruce had been +left to decay. The deploring finger of the watchful Christopher pointed +out butts hacked off head high.</p> + +<p>“The best timber in the log left standin’ there, Mr. Wade. But Pulaski +Britt ain’t lettin’ his men stop to shovel snow away.”</p> + +<p>Britt behind him, in the tangled undergrowth! Britt about him, in the +straggle of trees on the hard-wood ridges! Britt ahead of him, where the +black growth shaded the mountains in the blue distance! The same Britt +who had so contemptuously tossed him aside as useless baggage when +Foreman Colin MacLeod had demanded his discharge!</p> + +<p>Wade clutched calipers and axe, and went leaping after old Christopher +with new strength in his legs.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p><p>But in spite of the vigor that resentment lent him, he was glad when the +guide tossed off his pack beside a brook that trickled under mossy rocks +on the hard-wood slope. It was good to hear the tinkle of water, to feel +the solid ground after the weird wobbling of the sphagnum moss, and to +snuff the smoke of the handful of fire crackling under the tea-pail.</p> + +<p>They were munching biscuits and bacon, nursing pannikins of tea between +their knees, when Christopher cocked an ear, darted a glance, and +mumbled a mild oath as savor to his mouthful of biscuit.</p> + +<p>“Set to eat a snack within a mile of Misery Gore and one of them crows +will appear to ye. And that’s the old he one of them all.”</p> + +<p>The old man who came shuffling slowly down the path was gaunt with the +leanness of want, and unkempt with the squalor of the hopelessly +pauperized.</p> + +<p>“It’s one of the Misery Gore squatters, Mr. Wade. All Skeets and +Bushees, and married back and forth and crossways and upside down till +ev’ry man is his own grandmother, if he only knew enough to figger +relationship. All State paupers, and no more sprawl to ’em than there is +to a fresh-water clam.”</p> + +<p>Old Christopher, with Yankee contempt of the thrifty for the willing +pauper, grumbled on in his scornful explanations after the old man sat +down opposite them. Wade, accustomed to politer usages, winced before +this brutal frankness. He plainly felt worse than the subject, who +looked from one to the other, his blue lips slavering at sight of the +food.</p> + +<p>“It ain’t no use to set there and drool like a hound pup, Jed,” snapped +old Christopher, cutting another slice of bacon. “We’re bound in for a +fortnit’s explorin’ trip, and we ain’t got no grub to spare.”</p> + +<p>The patriarch of Misery Gore drew a greasy bit of brown paper from his +ragged vest, unfolded it, and took <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>out what was apparently a long hair +from his grizzly beard. He pinched the thicker end between his dirty +thumb and forefinger, stroked the whisker upright, and held it before +his gaping mouth. The whisker slowly bent over towards Christopher.</p> + +<p>“’Lectric!” announced the experimenter, in thick, stuffy tones, as +though he were talking through a cloth.</p> + +<p>Again he gaped his toothless mouth, and the whisker bent towards the +uninviting opening.</p> + +<p>“’Lectric!” He grinned at them, rolling his watery eyes from face to +face to seek appreciation. It was evident that he considered the feat +remarkable.</p> + +<p>“Full of it! Er huh! Full of it!” He stroked his thin fingers down his +arm and slatted into the air. “Storms, huh? I know. Fair weather, huh? I +know. Things to happen, huh? I know. I can tell.”</p> + +<p>He hitched nearer, and looked hungrily at the bread and bacon which +Christopher immediately and ruthlessly began to wrap up.</p> + +<p>“Them wireless-telegraph folks ought to know about you,” grunted the +guide. “Don’t pay any attention to the old fool, Mr. Wade. He don’t have +to beg of us. Rod Ide furnishes supplies to these critters. Law says +that the assessor of the nearest plantation shall do it, and then Ide +puts in his bill to the State. You needn’t worry about their starvin’.”</p> + +<p>“You’d all see us starve on Misery Gore,” wailed the old man. “You’d all +see us starve!” His tone changed suddenly to weak anger. “Ide’s an old +hog. No tea, no tobarker.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and he ain’t been so lib’ral with turkeys, plush furniture, and +champagne as he ought to be,” growled Christopher, relishing his irony.</p> + +<p>“If there’s anything that you really need, Mr.—Mr.—”</p> + +<p>“Skeet,” snapped the guide.</p> + +<p>“—Mr. Skeet, I’ll speak to Mr. Ide about it when—”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p><p>“Mr. Wade,” broke in Christopher, “what’s the need of wastin’ good +breath on that sculch? They get all they deserve to have. They’re too +lazy to breathe unless it come automatic. They let their potatoes rot in +the ground, and complain about starvin’. They won’t cut browse to bank +their shacks, and complain about freezin’. The only thing they can do to +the queen’s taste is steal, and it’s got so in this section that there +ain’t a sportin’-camp nor a store wangan that it’s safe to leave a thing +in.”</p> + +<p>He began to stuff tins into the mouth of the meal-sack, glowering at the +ancient pauper.</p> + +<p>“They nigh put me out of bus’ness guidin’ hereabouts. Stole everything +from my Attean camp that I left there—and it ain’t no fun to tugger-lug +grub for sports on your back from Castonia.”</p> + +<p>When the last knot in the leather thong was twitched close and the +bountiful meal-bag was closed, old Jed abandoned hope and wheedling. He +brandished the whisker at Christopher, his moth-speckled hand quivering.</p> + +<p>“Old butcherman!” he screamed. “’Twas my Jed. Off here!” He set the edge +of his palm against his arm.</p> + +<p>Christopher’s face grew hard under his frosty beard, but his cheeks +flushed when Wade gazed inquiringly at him.</p> + +<p>“It’s a thief’s lookout when there’s a spring-gun in a camp,” he +muttered. “There was a sign on the door sayin’ as much. It ain’t my +fault if folks has been too busy stealin’ to learn to read. If you ever +hear anything about it up this way, Mr. Wade, you needn’t blame me. They +had their warnin’ by word o’ mouth. I’m sorry it happened, but—”</p> + +<p>“What happened?”</p> + +<p>“Young Jed Skeet joined the ‘It-’ll-git-ye Club’ a year ago with a fin +shot off at the elbow.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p><p>Christopher swung his pack to his back, thrust his arms through the +straps, and marched away. Wade followed with a new light on some of the +accepted ethics of human combat in the big woods. Old Jed shuffled +behind, a toothless Nemesis gasping maledictions in stuffy tones.</p> + +<p>“We’ll swing over the ridge and go through Misery Gore settlement, Mr. +Wade,” said the old guide, after a time, divining the reason for his +companion’s silence. “It may spoil your appetite for supper, but it’ll +prob’ly straighten out some of your notions about me and that +spring-gun.”</p> + +<p>On the opposite slant of the ridge a ledge thrust above the hard-wood +growth, and Christopher led the way out upon this lookout.</p> + +<p>“There! Ain’t that a pictur’ for a Sussex shote to look at, and then +take to the woods ag’in?” he inquired, with scornful disregard for any +civic pride the patriarch of Misery might have taken in his community.</p> + +<p>The few miserable habitations of poles, mud, and tarred paper were +scattered around a tumble-down lumber camp, relic of the old days when +“punkin pine” turreted Misery Gore.</p> + +<p>“I suppose the man who named it stood here and looked down,” suggested +Wade.</p> + +<p>“It was named Misery fifty years before this tribe ever came here. I +reckon they heard of it, and it sounded as though it might suit ’em. +They’re a tribe by themselves, Mr. Wade. They’ve been driven off’n a +dozen townships that I know of. Land-owners keep ’em movin’. I reckon +this is their longest stop. This Gore is a surplus left in surveying +Range Nine. Sort of a no man’s land. But they hadn’t ought to be left +here.”</p> + +<p>There was so much conviction in the old guide’s tone, and the contrast +of utter ruin below was so great, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>its last touch added by the pathetic +old figure in rags at the foot of the ledge, that the young man’s temper +flamed. He had been pondering the spring-gun episode with no very +tolerant spirit.</p> + +<p>“For God’s sake, Straight, show some man-feeling. Is the selfishness of +the woods down to the point where you begrudge those poor devils that +wallow of stumps and rocks?”</p> + +<p>Christopher received this outburst with his usual placidity—the +placidity that only woodsmen have cultivated in its most artistic sense.</p> + +<p>“Look, Mr. Wade!” He swept his hand in the circuit that embraced the +panorama of ridges showing the first touches of frost, the hills still +darkling with black growth, the valleys and the shredded forest.</p> + +<p>“There she lays before you, ten thousand acres like a tinder-box in this +weather, dry since middle August. You’ve seen some of the slash. But +you’ve seen only a little of it. Under those trees as far as eye can see +there’s the slash of three cuttin’s. Tops propped on their boughs like +wood in a fireplace. Draught like a furnace! It’s bad enough now, with +the green leaves still on. It’s like to be worse in May before the green +leaves start. And about all those dod-fired Diggers down there know or +care about property interests is that a burn makes blueberries grow, and +blueberries are worth six cents a quart! They have done it in other +places. They’re inbred till they’ve got water for blood and sponges for +brains. When the hankerin’ for blueberries catches ’em they’ll put the +torch to that undergrowth and refuse, and if the wind helps and the rain +don’t stop it they’ll set a fire that will run to Pogey Notch like +racin’ hosses, roar through there like blazin’ tissue-paper in a chimbly +flue, and then where’ll your black growth on Enchanted be—the growth +that’s goin’ to make money for you and Rod Ide? I tell ye, Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>Wade, +there’s more to woods life than roamin’ through and cuttin’ your gal’s +name on the bark. There’s more to loggin’ than the chip-chop of a sharp +axe or the rick-raw of a double-handled gashin’-fiddle. And when it +comes down to profit, you can’t be polite to a porcupine when he’s +girdlin’ your spruce-trees, nor practice society airs and Christian +charity with damn fools, whether they’re dude fishermen tossin’ +cigar-stubs or such spontaneously combustin’ toadstools as them that +live down yonder eatin’ the State’s pork and flour. I’m up here with ye +to tell ye something about the woods, Mr. Wade. And it ain’t all goin’ +to be about calipers, the diffrunce between the Bangor and New Hampshire +scale, and how stumpage ain’t profitable under nine inches top +measure—no, s’r, not by a blame sight!”</p> + +<p>There was no passion in the old man’s remonstrance, but there was an +earnestness that closed the young man’s lips against argument. He +followed silently when Christopher led the way down towards the +settlement. Old Jed took up his position at the rear.</p> + +<p>The first who accosted them was a slatternly woman, her short skirts +revealing men’s long-legged boots. She rapped the bowl of a pipe smartly +in her palm, to show that it was empty, and demanded tobacco. She +scowled, and there was no hint of coaxing in her tones.</p> + +<p>When Wade looked at her with an expression of shocked astonishment that +all his resolution could not modify, she sneered at him.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you think we don’t know northin’ here—ain’t wuth noticin’ ’cause +we live in the woods, hey? Well, we do know something. Here, Ase, tell +this sport the months of the year, and then let’s see if he’s stingy +enough to keep his plug in his pocket.”</p> + +<p>Ase, plainly her son, lubberly and man-grown, roared without +bashfulness:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p><p>“Jan’warry, Feb’darry, Septober, Ockjuber, Fourth o’ July, St. Padrick’s +Day, and Cris’mus—gimme a chaw!”</p> + +<p>Two or three men lounged out-of-doors—one with his arm significantly +off at the elbow. But there was not even a shadow on his vapid face when +he looked at Christopher, author of his misfortune.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t ye goin’ to give me a piece of your plug, Chris?” he whined. +“Seem’s if ye might. You ’n’ me’s square now—I got your pork and you +got my arm.”</p> + +<p>“There! Hear that?” growled Straight, in Wade’s ear. “Put your +common-sense calipers on this stand of human timber and see what ye make +of it.”</p> + +<p>Wade, looking from face to face, as the frowsy population of Misery +lounged closer about him, half in indolence, half in the distrustful +shyness that the stupidly ignorant usually assume towards superior +strangers, noted that though the men displayed an almost canine desire +to fawn for favors, the women were sullen. The only exception was a very +old woman who hobbled close and entreated:</p> + +<p>“Ain’t you got northin’ good for Abe, nice young gentleman? Poor Abe! +Hain’t got no friend but his old mother.” She hooked a hand as blue and +gaunt as a turkey’s claw into Wade’s belt and held up her spotted face +so close to his that he turned his head in uncontrollable disgust.</p> + +<p>“Your hands off the gentleman, Jule,” commanded Christopher, brusquely. +“It’s old Jule, mate of the old he one that has been chasin’ us,” he +explained, with more of that blissful disregard for the feelings of his +subjects that had previously shocked the young man. “There’s old Jed and +young Jed—old Jule and young Jule. They ’ain’t even got gumption enough +here to change names. And that’s Abe—the choice specimen <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>that she’s +beggin’ for. Look at him and wish for a pictur’-machine, Mr. Wade!”</p> + +<p>He had thought there could be no worse in human guise than those he had +seen. But this huge, hairy, shaggy, almost naked giant, cowering against +the side of a shack with all the timidity of a child, marked a climax +even to such degeneracy as he had quailed before.</p> + +<p>“Mind in him about five years old, and will always stay five years old,” +said the guide, pointing to the wistful, simpering face. “Body speaks +for itself. Look at them muscles! I’ve seen him ploughin’ hitched with +their cow. Clever as a mule. He’s the old woman’s hoss. Hauls her on a +jumper clear to Castonia settlement.”</p> + +<p>“An animal!” Wade gasped.</p> + +<p>“Not much else. Afraid of the dark, of shadows, and women mostly. +Strange women! Once a woman scared him in Castonia and he ran away like +a hoss, draggin’ the jumper. Old Jule hitched him to a post after that.”</p> + +<p>Cretinism in any form had always shocked Dwight Wade inexpressibly. He +turned away, but the old woman was in his path, begging.</p> + +<p>The next moment a tall, lithe girl ran swiftly out of a hut, seized the +whimpering old woman, tossed her over her shoulder as a miller would +up-end a bag of meal, and staggered back into the hut, kicking the frail +door shut with angry heel. Wade got an astonished but a comprehensive +view of this “kidnapper.” There was no vacuity in her face. It was +brilliant, with black eyes under a tangle of dark hair disordered but +not unkempt like that of the females he had seen in Misery. Her lips +were very red, and the color flamed on her cheeks above the brown of the +tan. In that compost heap of humanity the girl was a vision, and Wade +turned to old Christopher with unspoken questions on his parted lips.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p><p>“Don’t know,” said the guide, laconically, wagging his head. “No one +knows. She’s with ’em. But you and me can see that she ain’t one of ’em. +She’s always been with ’em as fur back’s I know of her—and that was +sixteen years ago, when she was in a holler log on rockers for a +cradle.”</p> + +<p>“Stolen!” suggested Wade, desperately. The thought had a morsel of +comfort in it. That a girl like that could belong by right of birth in +this tribe, that a girl with—ah, now he realized why his heart had +throbbed at sight of her—that a girl with Elva Barrett’s hair and eyes +could be doomed to this existence was a knife-thrust in his +sensibilities.</p> + +<p>And the toss of her head and the rebelliousness in the gesture—the +defiance in the upward flash of the sparkling eyes—subdued in Elva +Barrett’s case by training—the mnemonics of love, whose suggestions are +so subtle, thrilled him at the sudden apparition of this forest beauty. +Reason angrily rebuked this unbidden comparison. He bit his lips, and +flushed as though his swift thought had wronged his love. Old +Christopher put into blunt woods phrase the pith of the thoughts that +struggled together in Wade’s mind. The guide was looking at the closed +door.</p> + +<p>“There’s lots of folks, Mr. Wade, that don’t recognize plain white birch +in some of the things that’s polished and set up in city parlors. I’ve +wondered a good many times what a society cabinet-shop, as ye might say, +would do to that girl.”</p> + +<p>“They must have stolen her,” repeated Wade.</p> + +<p>Old Christopher tucked a sliver of plug into his cheek.</p> + +<p>“That would sound well in a gypsy fairy-story, but it don’t fit the +style of the Skeets and Bushees. They’re too lazy to steal anything +that’s alive. They want even a shote killed and dressed before they’ll +touch it. Near’s I can find out, the young one was handed to ’em, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>they was too dadblamed tired to wake up and ask where it came from. +They didn’t even have sprawl enough to name her. I did that,” he added, +calmly. “Yes,” he proceeded, smiling at Wade’s astonished glance; “I was +guidin’ a sport down the West Branch just before they drove the tribe +out of the Sourdnaheunk country—under old Katahdin, you know! I see her +in that log cradle, and they was callin’ her ‘it.’ So me ’n’ the sport +got up a name for her—Kate Arden, for the mountain. ’Tain’t a name for +a Maine girl to be ashamed of.”</p> + +<p>It suddenly occurred to Wade, gazing at the old man, that the quizzical +screwing-up of his eyes was hiding some deeper emotion; for +Christopher’s voice had a quaver in it when he said:</p> + +<p>“Poor little gaffer! Some one ought to have taken her away from ’em. But +it’s hard to get folks interested in even a pretty posy when it grows in +a skunk-cabbage patch.”</p> + +<p>He looked away, embarrassed that any man should see emotion on his face, +and uttered a prompt exclamation.</p> + +<p>Threading their way in single file among the blackened stumps that +bordered the Tomah trail to the north came a half-dozen men.</p> + +<p>“That’s Bennett Rodliff ahead, and he’s the high sheriff of this +county,” growled the old man. “There’s two deputies and two game-wardens +with him—and old Pulaski Britt bringin’ up in the rear. Knowin’ them +pretty well, I should say that it spells t-r-u-b-l-e, in jest six +letters. I ain’t a great hand to guess, Mr. Wade, but if some one was to +ask me quick, I should say it was the same old checker-game that the +Skeets and Bushees have been playin’ for all these years, and that it’s +their turn to move.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE TORCH, AND THE LIGHTING OF IT</h3> + +<div class="bbox3 centerbox6"><p>“We know how to riffle a log jam apart,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though it’s tangled and twisted and turned;</span><br /> +But the love of a woman and ways of the heart<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are things that we never learned.”</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—Leeboomook Song.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dct.jpg" title="T" height="90" width="90" alt="T" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">T</span>he sheriff and his men tramped into the little clearing and gave the +usual greeting of woods wayfarers—the nod and the almost voiceless +grunt. The Honorable Pulaski was a little more talkative. He was also in +excellent humor.</p> + +<p>“Hear you and Rod Ide have hitched hosses, Wade!” he cried. “Sheriff +here was tellin’ me. I’m mighty glad of it. That lets me out of thinkin’ +I got you up here on a wild-goose chase. I was sorry to dump you, but it +would take nine time-keepers to make a foreman like Colin MacLeod, and +when he put it up to me you had to go. It was business, and business +beats fun up this way.”</p> + +<p>The young man did not reply. Words seemed useless just then.</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski turned from him briskly and ran an appraising eye +over the miserable huddle of huts. With the true scent of primitive +natures for impending trouble, the population of Misery edged around +this group of new arrivals—the men in advance and wistful, the women +behind and sullen.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>“Well, boys,” said the Honorable Pulaski, “it’s just this way about it, +and we can all be reasonable and do business like business men.” His air +was that of a man dealing with children or savages. “As far as I’m +personally concerned, I hate to bother you. But I represent the other +owners of this township, and the other owners aren’t as reasonable about +some things as I am.”</p> + +<p>He paused to light a long cigar. No one spoke. He proffered one to Wade, +who shook his head with a little unnecessary vigor.</p> + +<p>Britt talked as he puffed.</p> + +<p>“Now—pup—pup—now, boys—pup—you know as well as I do that you’ve +squatted right in the middle of a lot of slash that we had to leave, and +it lays in a bad way for fire. You ain’t so careful about fire as you +ought to be.” He held up his cigar. “Here’s my style. I don’t smoke till +I’m out of the trail. I—pup—pup—own land, and that makes a +difference. You don’t own land. I don’t want to bring up old stories, +but you know and I know that the prospects of six cents a quart for +blueberries makes you forgetful about what’s been said to you. You’ve +started some devilish big fires. Here’s the September big winds about +due—and this one that’s just springing up to-day is a fair sample—and +all is, the owners can’t afford to run chances of a fire that will stop +God knows where if it gets running in this five thousand acres of dry +tops and slash.</p> + +<p>“Here’s Mr. Ide’s representative,” he continued, flapping a hand towards +Wade. “They’ve got black growth to the north, and he’ll tell you just +the same thing.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mister Mealy-mouth,” sneered young Jule, over the heads of the +others, “git to where you’re goin’ to. We don’t want no sermons. It’s +move ag’in, hey?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p><p>“It’s move,” snapped the Honorable Pulaski, his ready temper starting at +the woman’s insolent tone, “and it’s move damn sudden.”</p> + +<p>Whether it was a groan or growl that came from the wretched huddle, +Wade, looking on them with infinite pity, could not determine.</p> + +<p>“I could put ye plumb square out of the county,” roared Britt; “I’ve got +land jurisdiction enough to do it. But you be reasonable and I’ll be +reasonable. I won’t drive ye too far. I’ll have four horses over from my +cedar operation to tote what duds you want to take and haul the old +women. Sheriff Rodliff and his men here will go along, and see that you +have grub and don’t have to light fires. In fact, everything will be +arranged nice for you, and you’ll like it when you get there.”</p> + +<p>“Where?” asked young Jed.</p> + +<p>“On Little Lobster—the old Drake farm,” said the Honorable Pulaski, +trying to speak enthusiastically and signally failing.</p> + +<p>“O my Gawd!” moaned young Jed; “most twenty miles to hoof it, and when +ye git there no wood bigger’n alder-withes, and all the stones the devil +let drop when his puckerin’-string bruk! Hain’t a berry. Hain’t northin’ +to earn a livin’.”</p> + +<p>“You never earned your living, and you don’t want to earn your living,” +retorted Britt. “You just want to stay up here in the big timber and +start fires.”</p> + +<p>“No, Mr. Britt, we just want the chance to be human beings!” cried a +tense and piercing voice. The girl had reappeared in the door of the +hut. Above the meek lamentations of those about her, her voice was as +the scream of a young hawk above the baaing of sheep. She pushed her way +through them and stood before the Honorable Pulaski, palpitating, +glowing, splendid in her fury. But she propped her brown hands on her +hips—a woman of the mob—and Wade noted the attitude, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>and flushed at +the shamed thought of the likeness to Elva Barrett.</p> + +<p>In this crisis, by right of her intelligence, her daring, her +superiority, the girl seemed to take her place at the head of the +pathetic herd.</p> + +<p>“That’s what we want, Mr. Britt. You’re driving us down to the +settlements again. And then some bow-legged old farmer will lose a sheep +by bears or a hen by hawks, and we’ll be set upon and driven back once +more to the woods. And then you’ll come and huff and puff and blow our +house down and chase us away to the settlement. ‘The law! The law!’ you +keep braying like a mule. You kick us one way; the settlements kick us +another. Mr. Britt, I didn’t ask to be put on this earth! But now that +I’m here I’ve a right to ground enough to set my feet on, and so have +these people. We are using no more of your stolen ground here than we’d +be using in another place, and here we stay!” She stamped her foot.</p> + +<p>“You young whippet,” snorted the Honorable Pulaski, “don’t sneer to me +about the law when I’ve got eviction-papers in my pocket and the high +sheriff of this county at my back.”</p> + +<p>“How about the law that makes wild-land owners pay squatters for +improvements to land?” demanded the girl. “I know some law, too.”</p> + +<p>“Do you call those hog-pens improvements?” He swept his fat hand at the +huts.</p> + +<p>“You may pay some one a dollar an acre for that blue sky above us and +claim that, too. You may claim all of God’s open country here in the big +woods. But I know that you can’t shut even paupers out from the lakes +and the streams any more than you can take away the sunlight from us.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know where you got your law, young woman, but I’d advise you to +get better posted on the difference <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>between right of way to State +waters and squatting on private land. Now, I ain’t got time to—”</p> + +<p>“We’ll not go back to the settlement—not one of us.” She set her feet +apart and bent a fiery gaze on him.</p> + +<p>Britt looked away from her to his circle of supporters. The deputies +stooped over their gun-barrels to hide furtive grins at sight of the +timber baron thus baited by a girl on his preserves. Even the broad face +of the sheriff was crinkled suspiciously. The tyrant flamed with the +quick passion for which he was noted in the north country.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Rodliff!” His voice was like cracking twigs. “Pile the +dunnage out of those huts. If any one gets in your way drive a stake and +tie ’em to it.” He thrust his bulgy nose into the air to sniff the +direction of the wind. “Then set fire to every d—n crib. The wind’s all +right to carry it towards the bog.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe you’ve got law enough in your pocket to do a thing like +that, Mr. Britt,” broke in Wade, with heat.</p> + +<p>“You don’t, hey?”</p> + +<p>“Not to throw old men and women and children out of their houses and +leave them shelterless a dozen miles from a building. There must be +another way of getting at this eviction matter, Mr. Britt—one that’s +different from burning a hornet’s nest.”</p> + +<p>“This don’t happen to be any of your special business!” roared the +tyrant. “If it was, you’d stand by property interests instead of backing +State paupers.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Sheriff, are you going to do that thing?”</p> + +<p>“I’m here by order of the court, to do what Mr. Britt wants done to +protect his property,” replied the officer. “I’m to execute, not to plan +nor ask questions.”</p> + +<p>“King Spruce runs this country up here, not human feelin’s,” muttered +old Christopher in Wade’s ear. “You won’t get any satisfaction by +buttin’ in. I’m <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>ready to move. I don’t like to see such things done, +and I don’t believe you do. Come on!” He swung his meal-bag upon his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>But the young man lingered doggedly, his eyes on the face of the girl.</p> + +<p>“Buckin’ a high sheriff and his posse ain’t ever been reckoned as a +profitable business speculation in these parts,” mumbled the guide. “It +wouldn’t amount to a hoorah in tophet, and you’d probably wind up in the +county jail.”</p> + +<p>The girl was gazing shrewdly at this sudden champion. There was no shade +of coquetry in her glance. It was the frank gaze of man to man.</p> + +<p>“I protest, Mr. Britt!” cried Wade.</p> + +<p>“And that’s all the good it will do,” snorted that angry master of the +situation. “Rodliff, you’ve got my orders!”</p> + +<p>Young Jed, sidling near Britt, with the mien of a Judas and with +manifest intent to curry favor, whimpered:</p> + +<p>“We don’t back her up in all she says, Mr. Britt. We ain’t got rights +and we know it, but we’ve got feelin’s. Be ye goin’ to do the us’al +thing about damages, Mr. Britt?”</p> + +<p>“Why,” roared the tyrant, bluffly, “ain’t the land-owners always made it +worth your while to move? It’s all business, boys! Don’t let fools bust +in. We don’t want fire here. Get to Little Lobster as quick as the +Lord’ll let ye. We’ll have six months’ supply of pork, flour, and plug +tobacco there waitin’ for ye—all with the land-owners’ compliments. +We’ve always believed that the easiest way is the best way, but you +don’t buy that way by buckin’. Buck, and the trade is all off—and you +get thrown into another county. Close your girl’s mouth and keep it +shut.”</p> + +<p>“There!” grunted old Christopher, “if ye haven’t <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>got any more sympathy +to waste on critters like that”—a jab of his thumb at young Jed—“you’d +better come along.”</p> + +<p>But at sight of woe on the faces of the women, and mute entreaty in the +eyes of the girl, Wade still lingered.</p> + +<p>“She’s speakin’ for herself,” whispered young Jed, hoarsely. “She don’t +want to leave the woods because your boss, Colin MacLeod, is courtin’ +her, and she’s waitin’ to see him, now that he’s back from +down-country.”</p> + +<p>Riotous laughter “guffled” in the throat of Pulaski Britt as he stared +from the scarlet face of the girl to Wade’s confusion.</p> + +<p>“Courtin’ her, hey? Another case of it? I say, Rodliff, pretty soon +there won’t be a whole arm or leg left on my boss if this young man here +keeps chasin’ him round the country and breaks a bone on him for ev’ry +girl the two of ’em get against together.”</p> + +<p>He laughed to the full content of his soul, and then turned on the girl.</p> + +<p>“Why, you ragged little fool, Colin MacLeod is crazier than a hornet in +a thrashin’-machine over Rod Ide’s girl. He’s up in camp now with an arm +in a sling to make him remember a fight he and this young dude here got +into over her. And he’s up there beyond Pogey Notch sitting on a stump +swearing at the choppers and bragging with every other breath that he’ll +kill the dude and marry the girl—and I don’t reckon he’s changed his +mind in two days since I saw him last.”</p> + +<p>“You lie!” screamed the girl.</p> + +<p>“Hold on, there, Miss Spitfire,” broke in the sheriff, himself highly +amused by the humor of the situation as it appeared to him, “there isn’t +a man between Castonia and Blunder Lake but what is talking about it. A +hundred men saw the fight. I reckon five hundred have heard MacLeod +ravin’ about how much he loves the Ide girl. So if he ever courted you +it must have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>been just for the sake of getting used to the game.” Even +the fawning male citizens of Misery Gore cackled their little chorus in +the laughter that followed the high sheriff’s jest.</p> + +<p>She drew back slowly and gazed on them all, her lips rolled away from +her white teeth. Those jeering faces from “outside” represented +property, law, the smug self-satisfaction of all who despised Misery +Gore’s squalid breed.</p> + +<p>They stood there in the midst of the land they so arrogantly claimed, +ready to toss her away once more in the everlasting game of battledore +and shuttlecock. They were afraid for the dollars that made them +different from the wretches of Misery. They gloried in their +dollars—they mocked her in that moment, the bitterness of which only +her heart understood. Let them look out for their dollars, then!</p> + +<p>Up there where the blue hills divided was sitting Colin MacLeod calling +on the name of another woman and nursing a wound received for that +woman’s sake. Let him look out for himself!</p> + +<p>“We can make the Blake-cutting camps with you to-night,” said Britt, his +mind on business once again. “We’ll take good care of you, and you might +as well start one time as another. Out with the stuff and down with the +houses, Rodliff.”</p> + +<p>At the orders the men began to busy themselves, paying no further +attention to Misery’s inhabitants.</p> + +<p>The girl ran into the hut, lifted one of the cedar splints that made the +floor, and took out a section of iron gas-pipe—the most prized +possession of the tribe. It was their wand of plenty. It was Mother +Nature’s crutch. Out of it flowed bounty.</p> + +<p>Into the unplugged end she poured all the kerosene there was in a +battered can. Then she stuffed into the tube a mass of wicking.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>It was a torch—the torch for the blueberry barrens. Dragged after one, +it left a blazing trail such as no other form of fire could produce.</p> + +<p>There was a flicker of fire in the rusty stove. She thrust the wicking +into the coals, and on the iron stalk a flame-flower sprang into huge +blossom.</p> + +<p>She burst through the hut’s rear window and ran straight for the edge of +the clearing, towards the fuel piled high in the forest aisles.</p> + +<p>In that moment of blind and desperate fury she realized that the wind +was swinging into the north. It was there that MacLeod was sitting at +the foot of Pogey Notch. Ah, what a furnace-flue that would make!</p> + +<p>She did not pause to reason. Her single wild desire was to send the fire +leaping towards him.</p> + +<p>The roar of voices behind—voices entreating, voices of +malediction—made her smile. Above all was the Honorable Pulaski’s bull +roar. She began to drag the torch.</p> + +<p>“Catch her! Damnation, catch that girl!” howled Britt.</p> + +<p>She reached the edge of the distant woodland.</p> + +<p>Immediately his cry changed to “Shoot her!” He did not mean it the first +time he cried it. He did mean it the second time. The deputies stared +after her and joggled their weapons on their arms.</p> + +<p>“Shoot her, or fifty thousand acres of timber are gone!”</p> + +<p>But that was quarry before which official guns quailed.</p> + +<p>In his fury and his panic and his desperate fear for his fortune, Britt +seized a gun from the nearest deputy and aimed it.</p> + +<p>Wade struck it up, muttering an indignant oath. Britt made as though to +club him out of the way. The young man clutched the gun and twisted it +from Britt’s <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>quivering clutch. When Britt lunged forward to seize +another rifle Wade struck him under the jaw, and he went down like a +felled ox.</p> + +<p>The girl was out of sight in the woods, but yellow smoke shot with +bright flame marked her course.</p> + +<p>“I could have told him,” mused old Christopher, looking on the Honorable +Pulaski, struggling dizzily to his feet, “havin’ watched her more or +less since I named her, that she wa’n’t a real sociable kind of a girl +to joke with on matters that’s as serious to women as love is.”</p> + +<p>Sheriff Bennett Rodliff spoke the prologue to that conflagration:</p> + +<p>“There is h—l in the core of that fire,” he said.</p> + +<p>Sometimes a little mischief, started by chance down the slopes of +events, gathers like a rolling snowball into a vast bulk of evil. But +more often in matters of evil it is the intent of the impulse that +governs. It seems at such times as though inanimate nature were +responding to human malevolence.</p> + +<p>The fire that started that day on Misery leaped to its grim business +with a spontaneity as fierce as the mad hate behind it.</p> + +<p>One man acts in a crisis with more directness and efficiency than many +men, each of whom waits on the other. They had stood and stared after +the girl when she ran into the woods with the hissing fire streaming +behind her. The pursuers that finally did start stopped promptly to +witness the fight between the young man and the baron of the Umcolcus. +Human fists in play afford more of a spectacle than even an incipient +conflagration. When the man who goes down is a man who in the past has +always been aggressor and victor, interest is more acute.</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade did not linger to prolong the conflict to which the furious +Britt invited him. Christopher <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>Straight had started for the woods on +the track of the fugitive girl, and Wade ran after him, his knuckles +tingling gloriously. The thrill of that one moment, when his fist met +the flesh of the man who had insulted him, made him realize that when +one searches the depths of human nature hate, as well as love, has its +delights.</p> + +<p>Pressing closely on the heels of Christopher, who had waited for him, he +dove into the yellow smoke.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to find that young she-devil!” gasped the old man. “It’s +better for us to find her than for Britt to get hold of her.”</p> + +<p>But by that time the quest was an uncertain one.</p> + +<p>There is craftiness in a woods fire when it is seeking to establish +itself.</p> + +<p>The fire sent up first from the crackling slash thick, rolling, bitter +clouds of smoke to veil its beginnings. Running to the left, where the +fresher clouds seemed to be springing, the two men caught sight of the +girl. But she was already far to the right, running and leaping like a +deer, her hideous torch still flaming. Then the smoke shut down and she +was hidden.</p> + +<p>A blazing mass of tops, twisted in a blowdown, fronted them, and they +were forced to make a long detour. They saw the wind wrench torches out +of the mass, torches that whirled aloft and went scaling away to the +north. Puffs of smoke showed where they had alighted. Here and there the +tops of little spruces and firs set a net for the torches, afforded +roosting-places for the flame birds that winged their red flight across +the sky. The flame did not merely burn these trees; the trees fairly +exploded; their resinous fronds and tassels were like powder grains.</p> + +<p>A wind gust rent the smoke for an instant and showed the pursuers the +spread of the growing destruction. It already was sprinkled over acres.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p><p>“She’s started fair, and the devil’s helpin’ her!” mourned the old man.</p> + +<p>At that moment the huge bulk of a man went lurching past them. It was +Abe, the foolish giant of the Skeets. In the glimpse they caught before +the smoke swallowed him, in his hairy nakedness, he seemed a gigantic +satyr; he leaped here and there to avoid the blazing patches in the leaf +litter and humus, and his movements seemed like a grotesque dance.</p> + +<p>“The old woman has sent him after the girl,” explained Christopher, with +quick comprehension. “Come on!”</p> + +<p>Dodging, choking, crouching for air, they followed him. At last they +overtook the author of all the mischief. She threw away her torch when +they came upon her, and faced them without shame. She was panting in +utter exhaustion, and clung to a tree for support.</p> + +<p>“Bring her, Abe!” commanded Christopher, in a tone that the giant +understood, and he took her up in his brawny arms despite her angry +struggles. “No, not that way!” shouted the old man, when Abe whirled to +make his way back through the fire zone. “It’s spread too far,” he +explained to Wade; “we’ve got to keep ahead of it.” With a blow to +emphasize his order, he drove Abe ahead of him, and they hurried towards +the north, the conflagration at their heels.</p> + +<p>Far ahead of them Jerusalem Mountain lifted the poll of its gray ledge. +It blocked the broad valley to the north. For those in the van of that +fire it was the rock of refuge. The tote road led that way. The +fugitives crashed through the undergrowth into the road. The fire had +already crossed it to the south of them. They took their way to the +north, their eyes on Jerusalem Mountain.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>BY ORDER OF PULASKI D. BRITT</h3> + +<div class="centerbox7 bbox3"><p>“Twinkle, twinkle, ‘Ladder’ Lane,<br /> +With your wavin’ winder-pane,<br /> +Up above the world so high,<br /> +Like a flash-bug in the sky.”</p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dct.jpg" title="T" height="90" width="90" alt="T" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">T</span>he fire-lookout at the Attean station winked this ditty humorously with +playful heliograph to “Ladder” Lane, lookout on the high, bald poll of +old Jerusalem Knob. The Attean lookout got it by telephone from +Castonia. Lyrist unreported.</p> + +<p>Jerusalem station is more serene in its isolation than the other five +lookouts on the mountains of the north country. It has no telephone. +Lane allowed to his lonely self that he got more news than he really +wanted, anyhow. And most of the news was of the sort that the humorous +Attean lookout, or the equally humorous Squaw Mountain man, considered +likely to tease the cranky solitary on the highest and farthest outpost +of the chain of lookouts. They whiled away their solitude by gossipy +chattings over the wire. Lane confined himself to terse winkings that +would have been gruff were it possible for a heliograph to be gruff. He +seemed to take a certain grim pride in the fact that he was a thousand +feet higher than any of them and commanded three hundred thousand acres.</p> + +<p>Sitting now in the glare of the September sunshine <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>on the flat roof of +his cabin, he gravely and stolidly scrawled down the words of the verse +as the Attean heliograph, blinking and glaring, spoke to him in the +Morse code.</p> + +<p>“Huh!” he grunted, and went on writing with stubby pencil his +interrupted day’s entry in his official diary. For the twenty-fifth time +he wrote:</p> + +<p>“Clear, bright, and still dry.”</p> + +<p>He screwed his eyelids close to peer into the heavens bending over him, +hard as the bottom of a brass kettle. He took off his hat and held it +edgewise at his forehead while his gaze swept the mighty range of his +vision. An imaginative person might have smiled at the likeness between +his brown and bald poll, thrust above the straggle of hair, and the bare +and bald poll of old Jerusalem, rounding above the straggle of growth on +its lower slopes.</p> + +<p>Some one bawled at him from the ground below. Lane did not start, though +that was the first human voice he had heard in two months.</p> + +<p>The young man who stood there, and who had come across the gray ledges +from the edge of the timber growth, carried an arm in a sling.</p> + +<p>“Do you ever look at anybody if they’re nearer than ten miles away?” +inquired the visitor, with the teasing irony that it seemed popular in +the Umcolcus region to employ with “Ladder” Lane.</p> + +<p>When the old man stood up the fitness of his sobriquet was apparent. He +unfolded himself, joint by joint, like a carpenter’s rule, and stood +gaunt as a bean pole and well towards seven feet in height.</p> + +<p>The name painted on the door of the photograph “saloon” that even now +lies rotting on the banks of Ragmuff in Castonia settlement is: “Linus +Lane. Tintypes and Views.” No one in Castonia ever knew whither he had +come. Oxen or horses and a teamster <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>hired for each trip had dragged the +rumbling van from settlement to settlement at the edge of the woods, and +finally to Castonia, where it arrived hobbling on three wheels, one +corner supported by a dragging sapling. Lane strode ahead, swearing over +his shoulder at the driver, and his ill-temper did not seem to leave him +even when he had opened his door for business. It is remembered that his +first customer was old Bailey, who was corresponding with an unknown +woman down-country, and who came for a tintype with hair and whiskers +colored to the hue of the raven’s wing, evidently desiring to make an +impression on his correspondent. And when old Bailey, shocked and +disappointed at the painful verity of the tintype, had muttered that it +didn’t seem to be a very pretty picture, Lane, who was doubled like a +jack-knife under the saloon’s low roof, had yelled at him:</p> + +<p>“Pretty picture! You come to me with a face like a scrambled egg dropped +into a bucket of soot and complain because you don’t get a pretty +picture! Get out of here!”</p> + +<p>And he stopped slicing up the sheet of tintypes, slammed it on the +floor, drove out old Bailey, nailed up the door of the saloon, and +started for the big woods with his few possessions on his back.</p> + +<p>To those who remonstrated on behalf of the offended old Bailey, Lane +said he had been feeling like that for some time, and was taking to the +woods before he expressed his disgust by killing some one.</p> + +<p>Therefore, the job on the top of Jerusalem that fell to him quite +naturally, after his many years’ sojourn as a recluse at its foot, was a +job that fitted admirably with his scheme of life.</p> + +<p>“And it looks up there like it must have looked when Noah said, ‘All +ashore that’s goin’ ashore,’ on Mount Ariat, or wherever ’twas he +throwed anchor,” announced <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>Tommy Eye, of Britt’s crew, returning once +from a Sunday trip to the fire station.</p> + +<p>For, painfully acquired, with gouges, clawings, and scratches to show +for it all, “Ladder” Lane had accumulated companions of his loneliness, +to wit:</p> + +<p>One bull moose, captured in calfhood in deep snow; two bear cubs; a +raccoon; a three-legged bobcat, victim of an excited hunter; two horned +owls; and a fisher cat.</p> + +<p>On this menagerie, variously tethered or crated in sapling cages, the +visitor with the disabled arm bestowed a contemptuous side glance while +he blinked at the tall figure on the cabin’s flat roof.</p> + +<p>Without haste Lane worked himself through the roof-scuttle like an +angle-worm drawing into his hole; without cordiality he appeared at the +cabin door, lounging out into the sunshine.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you are still doing the second-hand swearing for Britt, +MacLeod,” he suggested.</p> + +<p>The young man grunted.</p> + +<p>“How did ye hurt your arm? Britt chaw it?”</p> + +<p>“Peavy-stick flipped on me,” growled the young man, willing to hide his +humiliation from at least one person in the world—and the hermit of the +Jerusalem station seemed to be the only one sufficiently isolated.</p> + +<p>“Huh! I thought his name was Wade.” There was no spirit of jest in the +tone. The old man surveyed him sourly. “That’s what the Attean helio +said.”</p> + +<p>“Is that what you use them things for—to pass gossip like an old maid’s +quiltin’-bee?”</p> + +<p>“There’s a good deal in this world in letting a man place his own self +where he belongs,” remarked Lane, with calm conviction. “I’ve let you +prove yourself a liar.”</p> + +<p>He turned and went into the cabin and back up the stairs to the roof, +picking up a huge telescope as he went. Something in the valley seemed +to have attracted his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>attention. MacLeod followed, his face red, oaths +clucking in his throat.</p> + +<p>In the nearer middle ground of the great plat of country below Patch Dam +heath was set into the green of the forest like a medallion of rusty +tin. To the west of it smoke began to puff above the tree-tops.</p> + +<p>“On Misery,” mumbled Lane, his long arms steadying his instrument. Then, +with the caution of a man of method, he went into the scuttle-hole and +secured his range-finder.</p> + +<p>“What’s the good of tinker-fuddlin’ with that thing?” demanded MacLeod; +“it’s on Misery, as you said.”</p> + +<p>“Two hundred and fifty-nine degrees,” muttered the fire-scout, booking +the figures in his dog’s-eared diary.</p> + +<p>“Say, about that fire, Mr. Lane,” blurted MacLeod, nervously. “I’m up +here to-day by Mr. Britt’s orders to tell you not to report it. It’s on +Misery Gore, and he’s there looking after it, and it ain’t goin’ to be +worth while to report. I know all about it, and that’s the truth.”</p> + +<p>Lane, without bestowing a glance on the speaker, was setting up his +heliograph tripod. At the young man’s last words he grunted over his +shoulder:</p> + +<p>“So it was a peavy-stick! But they told me his name was Wade.”</p> + +<p>“Now you look here,” stormed the timber baron’s boss, “you can slur all +you want to about my lyin’, but I tell you, Lane, this is straight +goods. You report that fire, after the orders you’ve got from Britt, and +you’ll lose your job. I know what I’m talkin’ about.”</p> + +<p>Lane kneeled, his thin trousers hanging over his slender shanks like +cloth over broomsticks. MacLeod stifled an inclination to take him in +one hand and snap him like a whip-lash. The old man was peering through +the centre hole in the sun-mirror, bringing his disks into alignment.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p><p>“Britt has got orders from the court, and he’s there to put the Skeets +and Bushees out and torch off their shacks. That’s all there is to that +fire, Lane, and Britt don’t want a stir and hoorah made about it. He +told me to tell you that. He says the cussed newspapers get a word here +and a word there, and they’re always ready to string out a lot of lies +about King Spruce and wild-landers, and how they abuse settlers, and all +that rot—and it hurts prominent men, like Mr. Britt and his associates, +because folks get wrong ideas from the papers. Now you know that! Don’t +report that fire, Lane.”</p> + +<p>It was fulsome appeal and eager appeal, and MacLeod was apparently +obeying some very emphatic orders from his superior, who had supplied +language as well as directions of procedure.</p> + +<p>But the old fire-warden kept on with his preparations, exact, careful, +without haste.</p> + +<p>“He said you understood—Britt did,” clamored MacLeod, hastening around +in front of the heliograph. “You know it ain’t right to have those +people there in this dry time, with all that slash about ’em. Mr. Britt +will make it all right with them—the same as the land-owners always do. +It will be the papers that will lie and call the land-owners names for +the sake of stirrin’ up a sensation about leadin’ men—makin’ politics +out of it, and gettin’ the people prejudiced so as to put more taxes +onto wild lands.” More of Britt’s ammunition! “Mr. Britt said you’d +understand—and you do understand—and you can’t report that fire.”</p> + +<p>Lane set his gaunt grasp about the handle of the screen, ready to tilt +it for the first flash.</p> + +<p>“I understand just this, MacLeod—that I’m a fire-warden of the State, +sworn to do my duty as my duty is spread before me.” He swept his left +arm in impressive gesture. “Look behind you! Do you see that?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p><p>Smoke was ballooning from the notch of the woods below them. Round puffs +seemed to be dancing in fantastic ballet from tree-top to tree-top.</p> + +<p>“That’s a fire, MacLeod. I take no man’s say-so as to what and why. That +may be Pulaski Britt smoking a cigar. It may be Jule Skeet’s new spring +bonnet on fire. I don’t care what it is. It’s a fire, and it’s going to +be reported. Stand out of range.”</p> + +<p>His code-card was in the top of his hat. He waved the headgear +impatiently at MacLeod, his right hand still on the handle of the +screen.</p> + +<p>MacLeod knew what the orders of Pulaski D. Britt meant. Britt had not +hesitated to rely upon the loyalty of “Ladder” Lane, for Britt, when +State senator, had caused Lane to be appointed to the post on Jerusalem. +MacLeod reflected, with fury rising like flame from the steady glow of +his contemptuous resentment at this old recalcitrant, that Pulaski Britt +would never make allowance for failure under these circumstances. To be +sure, that fire yonder didn’t look like a carefully conducted +incineration of the dwellings of Misery Gore, and it was a little ahead +of time—that time being set for the calm of early evening. But orders +from Britt were—to his men—orders from the supreme tribunal.</p> + +<p>“Britt put you here!” stuttered MacLeod.</p> + +<p>“I’m working for the State, not Pulaski D. Britt,” replied the old man.</p> + +<p>“And I’m working for Britt, and, by —— he runs the State in these +parts! Him and you and the State can settle it between you later, but +just now”—he swung to one side, leaned back, and drove his foot with +all the venom of his repressed rage against the apparatus—“that fire +report don’t go!”</p> + +<p>“Ladder” Lane, serene in his proud conjuration, “The State,” had +expected no such enormity. The heliograph skated on its spider legs, +went over the edge <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>of the roof, and, after a hushed moment of drop, +crashed upon the ledge with shiver and tinkle of flying glass.</p> + +<p>The boss of “Britt’s Busters” turned and darted through the scuttle and +down the stairs, excusing this flight to himself on the ground of his +out-of-commission arm.</p> + +<p>He leaped out into the sunshine and clattered away over the ledges, the +spikes in his shoes striking sparks.</p> + +<p>He had made half a dozen rods when he heard the old man scream “Halt!” +MacLeod kept on, with a taunting wave of his well hand above his head. +The next moment a rifle barked, and the bullet chipped the ledge in +front of him.</p> + +<p>“The next one bores you in the back, MacLeod!”</p> + +<p>He stopped then, and whirled in his tracks.</p> + +<p>Lane stood at the edge of his roof, his rifle-butt at his cheek.</p> + +<p>“Come back here!”</p> + +<p>“You ain’t got the right to hold me up, Lane. I’ll have the law on ye!”</p> + +<p>“Come back here!”</p> + +<p>There was a grate in the tone, a menace not to be braved.</p> + +<p>The young man shuffled slowly towards the cabin, roaring oaths and +insults to which Lane deigned no reply.</p> + +<p>MacLeod did not try to run when the warden disappeared for his trip to +the door. He waited sullenly.</p> + +<p>Near the door was a good-sized, empty cage of strong saplings, built in +“Ladder” Lane’s abundant leisure, for the reception of any new candidate +for the menagerie. The old man jerked his head sideways at it. There was +a gap of three saplings in the side, and the poles stood there ready to +be set in.</p> + +<p>“I won’t be penned that way!” yelled MacLeod. “I ain’t no raccoon!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>But the bitter visage of the warden, the merciless flash of his gray +eyes, and the glint of the rifle-barrel, swinging into line with his +face, combined with the sudden remembrance that it was hinted that +“Ladder” Lane was not always right in his head, drove the stubborn +courage out of MacLeod. He slunk rather than walked into the cage with +the mien of a whipped beast. The old man set the saplings one by one +into place, and nailed them with vigorous hammer-blows.</p> + +<p>“How long have I got to stay here, Lane?” he pleaded.</p> + +<p>“Till I can turn you over to them who will put you where you belong for +destroying State’s property and interfering with a State officer.”</p> + +<p>The old man turned away and gazed out over the forest stretches between +Jerusalem and Misery. MacLeod, clutching the bars of his cage with his +left hand, looked, too.</p> + +<p>It was no puny torching of the Misery huts that he was looking on, and +he realized it with growing apprehensiveness as to his zeal in +suppressing news.</p> + +<p>Vast volumes of yellow smoke volleyed up over the crowns of the green +growth. It was a racing fire—even those on Jerusalem could see that +much across the six miles between. Spirals waved ahead like banners of a +charging army. Its front broadened as the fire troops deployed to the +flanks. Ahead and ever ahead fresh smoke-puffings marked the advance of +the skirmish-line. Now here, now there, drove the cavalry charges of the +conflagration, following slash-strewn roads and cuttings, while the dun +smoke ripped the green of the maples and beeches.</p> + +<p>“It’s liable to interest Pulaski D. Britt somewhat when he finds out why +Jerusalem lookout ain’t callin’ for a fire-posse,” Lane remarked, +bitterly.</p> + +<p>The situation seemed to overwhelm the boss. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>looked with straining +gaze at the rush of the conflagration, and had no word for reply.</p> + +<p>“But it may not all be loss for you,” the old man proceeded, grimly. +“Perhaps the girl will be burned up—perhaps that was in your trade with +Britt.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you mean about any girl,” mumbled MacLeod, looking +away from the old man’s boring eyes.</p> + +<p>“You’re a liar again as well as a dirty whelp of a sneak.”</p> + +<p>Lane spat the words over his shoulder, stumping away, the bristle of his +gray beard standing out like an angry porcupine’s quills.</p> + +<p>“I don’t allow anybody to put them words on me!” roared MacLeod.</p> + +<p>“You don’t, heh?” Lane whirled and stumped back. He bent down and set +his face close to the saplings, his eyes narrowing like a cat’s, his +nose wrinkling in mighty anger. “You can steal time paid for by Pulaski +D. Britt, and hang around Misery Gore, and coax on an ignorant girl into +a worse hell than she’s living in now”—he pointed a quivering finger at +the smoke-wreathed valley—“when you know and I know, and everyone on +these mountain-tops of the Umcolcus knows and gossips it with the +settlements, that you’ve picked her up only to throw her farther into +the wallow where you found her. It’s the Ide girl you’re courtin’. It’s +poor little Kate of Misery that you’re killin’. There isn’t another man +in the north woods mean enough to steal from a girl as poor as she +is—steal love and hope and faith. It’s all she’s got, MacLeod, and +you’ve taken all.”</p> + +<p>The young man grunted a sullen oath.</p> + +<p>“There’s a lot I could say to you,” raged Lane, “but I ain’t going to +waste time doing it. I’ll simply express my opinion of you by—”</p> + +<p>He spat squarely into the convulsed face of MacLeod, and went away into +his cabin.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>“LADDER” LANE’S SOIRÉE</h3> + +<div class="centerbox9 bbox3"><p>“And down from off the mountains in the shooting sheets of flame<br /> +The devils of Katahdin come to play their reg’lar game.<br /> +So ’tis: men hold tight! Pray for mornin’ light!<br /> +Katahdin’s caves are empty and hell’s broke loose to-night!”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—Ha’nt of Pamola.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dca.jpg" title="A" height="90" width="90" alt="A" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">A</span>s the hours of the day went on, Colin MacLeod, caged, helpless, set +high on the bald brow of old Jerusalem, where every phase of the great +fire was spread before his eyes, found abundant opportunity to curse +himself for a fool. In time, of course, Attean or some other point would +realize the extent of the conflagration and call for help. But now, +hidden under Jerusalem and confined to the slash under the green trees, +it was a racing ground-fire that crouched and ran. It came rapidly, but +in a measure secretly. It showed a subtility of selection. It did not +waste time on the green forest of beeches and maples. It was hurrying +north towards its traditional prey. That prey was waiting for it, rooted +on the slopes of Jerusalem and the Umcolcus, on the Attean and the +Enchanted—the towering black growth of hemlock, pine, and spruce—the +apple of Pulaski Britt’s commercial eye—the hope of his associates. +Once there, it would spring from its crouching race on the ground. It +would climb the resinous trunks and torch <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>and flare and rage and roar +in the tinder-tops—a dreaded “crown-fire” that only the exhaustion of +fuel or the rains of God would stop.</p> + +<p>Attean would see that fire leaping past Jerusalem, and would swear and +wonder and report too late.</p> + +<p>Just now hours were as precious as days.</p> + +<p>Men could do nothing at mid-day with the wind lashing behind. MacLeod +knew well how that fire should be fought. But with men on the way ready +to flank it at nightfall and work ahead of it with pick and shovel and +beating branches of green—the winds stilled and the dews condensing—it +could be conquered—it must be conquered then, if at all.</p> + +<p>Woods fires sleep at night. The men who fight them may as well sleep at +mid-day.</p> + +<p>With the dropping of the sun and the sinking of the winds the fires +drowse and flicker and smoulder. Then must one attack the monster; for +at daybreak he is up, ravening and roaring and hungry.</p> + +<p>And now—not even Britt’s own crew of loggers at the foot of Jerusalem +had word and warning. MacLeod bellowed appeals to be let out. He +besought Lane to hurry down the mountain to camp. He howled frightful +oaths and threats and abject promises.</p> + +<p>At dusk the old man came out of his cabin, and brought bread and water +and bacon to his captive without a word. He fed him with as much +unconcern as he brought browse to the tethered bull moose and +distributed provender suited to the various tastes of his menagerie.</p> + +<p>The darkness settled in the valleys first, and one by one fire-dottings +pricked out—blazing junipers and the stunted new growth of evergreen. +From Jerusalem the great expanse seemed like a mighty city, its windows +alight, its streets and avenues illuminated gloriously.</p> + +<p>MacLeod, silenced except for an occasional hoarse quack of appeal, paced +his little cage, despairing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p><p>“Ladder” Lane sat on the flat roof silent as a spectre. So the hours +dragged past.</p> + +<p>“I thought so!” grunted the old man at last. “That’s what I’ve been +sitting up for.”</p> + +<p>From his eyry he saw a light flickering in the stunted growth far down +Jerusalem, zigzagging nearer. At last it emerged and came across the +ledges—a flare of hissing birch bark stuck into a cleft stick. There +were several men hastening along in the circle of its radiance. Lane +could hear from afar their gruntings of exhaustion.</p> + +<p>“If I ain’t mistook, it’s your friend Britt,” remarked the old man, +maliciously, as he passed MacLeod’s cage on his way to meet the +visitors.</p> + +<p>And it was Britt—Britt with his hat in his hand, perspiration streaming +into his beard, his stertorous breath rumbling in his throat. Lane knew +the man who bore the torch as Bennett Rodliff, high sheriff of the +county.</p> + +<p>“It’s been—God!—awful work—but we’ve—come round the east—edge of +it, Lane,” panted Britt. Commanding general in the grim conflict, he had +been willing to burst his heart in order to establish headquarters in +the one spot from which he could mobilize his forces and direct their +tactics. “How many men have you ordered in, Lane?”</p> + +<p>“Not a man!”</p> + +<p>“Not a—not a—you stand there and tell me you haven’t reported and +called for every man that Attean and Squaw can reach!” He began to curse +shrilly.</p> + +<p>“You’d better save your wire edge, Mr. Britt,” counselled Lane. “You’re +going to need it. Come here till I show you something.”</p> + +<p>One of the sheriff’s men lighted a fresh sheet of bark at the dying +flare of the other, and Lane led the way to the cage, where MacLeod +peered desperately between the saplings.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p><p>“Just a moment, Mr. Britt!” broke in the warden, again checking the +lumber baron’s fury. “This man came up here to-day with what he said +were your orders not to report that fire, and—”</p> + +<p>“That fire!” roared Britt, fairly beside himself. “Why, you devilish, +infernal—”</p> + +<p>“A moment, I say! When I set up my heliograph he kicked it off the roof. +There it lies just as it fell. You and he can settle your part of it! As +for my part of it, I have arrested him by my authority as a fire warden. +The sheriff, here, can take him whenever he gives me a receipt and makes +note of my complaint.”</p> + +<p>“I did what you told me to, Mr. Britt,” protested MacLeod, his voice +breaking. “He was reportin’ the first puff of smoke, and said that you +and your orders could go to thunder. He didn’t pay any attention—and I +just did what you told me to. I—”</p> + +<p>“Shut up!” The Honorable Pulaski, crimson with anger, fearful of his own +part in this conspiracy, and shamed by the exposure of his methods, +bellowed his order. “We’ll settle this later. Knock away those saplings, +some one. MacLeod, get down this mountain, even if you break your neck +doing it, and get your crew to the front of that fire! I—I—haven’t got +breath to talk to you the way you need to be talked to. As you stand, +you’re only half a man on account of a girl.” He darted a quivering +finger at the disabled arm.</p> + +<p>“And it’s your other little d—n fool of a girl at Misery that torched +that fire when she heard that you’d jilted her. Now, is it women or +woods after this?”</p> + +<p>“Woods, Mr. Britt!” stammered the boss, eager to conciliate this raging +bull.</p> + +<p>“Then get to the front of that fire and stop it, even if you have to lie +down and roll over on it. It’s a fire your pauper sweetheart started, +and you’ve arranged, by your infernal bull-headedness, to let it burn. +Stop <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>it or keep going! It won’t be healthy in my neighborhood.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll stop it or die tryin’, Mr. Britt.”</p> + +<p>Lane leaned his back against the cage and faced the group, his gaunt +arms reaching from side to side.</p> + +<p>“You can’t free a prisoner that way, Mr. Britt,” he said, firmly. “You +take this man away from me—or if the high sheriff, here, lets him +go—I’ll report the thing under oath to the governor and the people of +this State; and I reckon you can’t afford to have that done. I propose +to have it known why Linus Lane didn’t do his duty in reporting that +fire.”</p> + +<p>“Take that old fool away from there and let that man out,” commanded +Britt, his passion blind to consequences. He could see no way out of his +muddle. He seemed to be in for wicked notoriety, anyway. Just now his +one thought was to get “Roaring Cole MacLeod,” master of men, at the +head of that fire, to hold it in leash until more assistance came. He +knew his man. He understood that MacLeod, bitter in the consciousness of +his blunder, was now worth six men. “Rodliff, I’ll take the +consequences!” he shouted. “Let my boss out.”</p> + +<p>But the high sheriff seemed to be doubtful as to the consequences that +he also would have to accept. Just then he had clearer notions of +official responsibility than did the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt.</p> + +<p>“This man is under arrest all regular,” protested Rodliff, “and I’ve +just the same as heard him own up that he interfered with Warden Lane in +his duty. The governor himself wouldn’t have the right to order me to +let a prisoner go before a hearing on the case. That’s law, Mr. Britt, +and—”</p> + +<p>“Talk that south of Castonia,” broke in the Honorable Pulaski. “Just now +law won’t put that fire out and save a fifty-thousand-acre stand of +black growth. Lane, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>you’ve got to be reasonable. There’ve been +mistakes, but they’ll be made good. You can’t afford to be bull-headed +in this thing.”</p> + +<p>But the old man did not move from the cage. The flaring of the torch +lighted his solemn and unrelenting face. The worried face of MacLeod +peered out over one of the extended arms.</p> + +<p>“What—what was it happened to ’em on Misery, Mr. Britt?” he asked, +humbly.</p> + +<p>“I told you!” snapped Britt, glad of a momentary excuse to cover +embarrassment of this general defiance of his dignity. “Your black-eyed +beauty there, that you’ve been fooling with when my back’s been turned, +is jealous of Rod Ide’s girl, and took to the bush with a +blueberry-torch dragging at her heels to show her feelings. I’d have +shot her like I would a rabbit if it hadn’t been for your particular +friend Wade.” The wrathful sneer of the Honorable Pulaski was a snarl +that would have done credit to “Ladder” Lane’s bobcat. “When you come to +settle accounts with that critter, MacLeod, break his leg, and charge it +on my side of the ledger.”</p> + +<p>“So he was there, hey?” asked the boss, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“He was there long enough to hit me like a prize-fighter when I was +protecting my property.”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you kill him?” demanded the boss, with venom.</p> + +<p>“By the time I got a gun he was out of sight at the tail of the fire, +chasing the girl—he and old Chris Straight. I believe they were +proposing to rescue the girl,” concluded Britt, with a mirthless +chuckle. “The only consolation I’m getting out of that fire down there +is that maybe it’s burning that Wade and the girl, whatever they call +her, and will chase the Skeets and Bushees south and catch them, too. If +it does I’ll be willing to let a thousand more acres burn.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p><p>But it appeared that the choicest section of the Honorable Pulaski’s +charitable hopes was doomed to disappointment.</p> + +<p>A torch, tossing from the edge of the stunted growth, marked the +approach of some one.</p> + +<p>“The top of Jerusalem seems liable to be a popular roosting-place for +all them that ain’t wearing asbestos pants,” remarked the high sheriff, +dryly. “A rush of excursionists during the heated spell, as the +summer-boarder ads say! Lane, can you give the crowd anything to eat at +your tavern except broiled moose and fricasseed bobcat?”</p> + +<p>The pleasantry evoked no smile. For the little group at the cabin, +Pulaski Britt first of all, with his keener eyes of hate, recognized +those who were approaching.</p> + +<p>Old Christopher Straight came ahead with the torch. The girl of Misery +Gore, moving more slowly now that she saw the group at the top of +Jerusalem, her face sullen, her head cocked defiantly, was at his back, +and Dwight Wade was at her side. Far behind, at the edge of the torch’s +radiance, slouched a huge figure of a man. It was foolish Abe, the +hirsute giant of the Skeets.</p> + +<p>“And now, speaking of arresting in the name of the law,” snarled the +lumber baron, “and your duty that you seem so fond of, Rodliff, get out +your handcuffs for something that’s worth while. It’s three years in +state-prison for maliciously setting fires on timber lands. It’s a long +vacation in the county jail for assaulting a man without provocation. +There’s the girl who set that fire; there’s the man that struck me. So +you see, Lane, your prisoner is going to have company.”</p> + +<p>Lane came suddenly away from the cage. The torch showed his face working +with strange emotion.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Britt,” he said, appealingly, to the astonishment of the senator, +who understood this sour woods cynic’s <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>nature, “there are crimes that +ain’t crimes in this world—not even when they’re judged by God’s own +scale. There’s your fire yonder! Some one is responsible for it—but not +that poor girl!”</p> + +<p>“I saw her set it myself, you devilish idiot!”</p> + +<p>“Not that poor girl, I say. Those that threw her—her, with the pride of +good blood that she felt but didn’t understand—her, with her hopes and +brains that her blood gave her—”</p> + +<p>“Blood!” roared the Honorable Pulaski. “What do you know about her +pedigree?”</p> + +<p>“Those that threw her into that pen of swine are responsible,” went on +the warden. “Men like you, that have persecuted her and wonder why she +doesn’t squeal like the rest of those idiots; men like the whelp in that +cage, trying to wrong her and throw her back into hell—all of you are +responsible for that fire. You bent the limb. It has snapped back and +struck you in your faces. It’s the way of the woods.”</p> + +<p>“Well, of all the infernal nonsense I ever listened to, this sermon on +Mount Jerusalem clears the skidway,” blurted Britt. “You stand up at the +trial and repeat that, Lane, and you’ll get your picture into the +newspapers.”</p> + +<p>“And I guess a lot of the rest of us will before this scrape gets +straightened out,” muttered the high sheriff, bodingly.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Britt, you’re going to be sorry for it if you drag that poor abused +girl to prison,” said Lane, with such fire of conviction that the timber +baron, cautious in his methods, and always fearing the notoriety that +would embroil the great secrets of the timber interests with public +opinion, blinked at the oracular old warden and then at the still +defiant face of the girl. Like most untrained natures in whom passion +has unleashed natural high spirit, she seemed incapable of calm +reconsideration. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>She had made such protest against the enormity of her +persecution as opportunity had put into her heart as right and into her +hands as feasible.</p> + +<p>“We were fools to bring her here and toss her into the old hyena’s +claws,” muttered Wade in Christopher’s ear. “We might have known that he +and his crowd would make for Jerusalem.”</p> + +<p>“I did know it,” returned the old guide, quietly. “And I knew just as +well what would happen to us in the runway of that fire to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Lane,” broke in the Honorable Pulaski, with decision, “two trials won’t +stir this thing any worse than one. You’ve arranged for one. Go ahead +with MacLeod. I’ll have the girl.”</p> + +<p>Those who looked on Lane’s face only knew that mighty passions were +shaking him. His voice broke and quavered.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Britt, things have been mixed for me in this world till I don’t +hardly know what is right. I’ve tried to do my duty as it’s been laid +out for me. But in climbing up to it there’s some things I haven’t got +the heart to step on. Perhaps in this thing we’re mixed in now we’ve all +been more or less wrong. I don’t know. I haven’t got the head to-night +to figure it out. Perhaps it’s best that what has happened on Jerusalem +to-day don’t get out. I don’t know as that’s right. But I’ll say this: +give me the girl; you can take MacLeod.”</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski hesitated, “hemmed” hoarsely in his throat, +clutched at his beard, looked significantly at the high sheriff, and +then called him apart by a nod of his head.</p> + +<p>When he returned to the group he said, crisply: “It’s a trade! Under the +circumstances, I don’t suppose even such a little tin god as you will +have anything to say about it outside,” he sneered, running his red eye +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>over Dwight Wade. The young man did not reply, but his face gave +assent.</p> + +<p>Lane pried away the saplings, and MacLeod stepped out.</p> + +<p>“Give him a camp lantern,” commanded Britt. “Get your men into that fire +at daylight.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me that they’ve all been lying about you, Colin,” cried the girl, +her cheeks crimson, her heart going out to him at sight of his face, +“and I’ll go with you! I’ll work with you! I’m sorry for it if it’s made +you mad with me.” All her sullen anger was gone. She leaned towards him +as though she yearned to abase herself.</p> + +<p>With Britt’s flaming eyes on him, MacLeod only moved his lips without +words.</p> + +<p>“Ladder” Lane came out of the cabin with two lanterns. A set of +lineman’s climbers jangled dully at his belt.</p> + +<p>“No, you’ll not go, girl!” he cried, brusquely.</p> + +<p>With hands on her hips, she threw back her head, her nostrils dilating.</p> + +<p>“I’ve paid a big price for you this night,” he went on, more gently, +“and it isn’t to a cur of that kind that I’ll be giving you. MacLeod, +here’s your lantern! Away, now!”</p> + +<p>“And I’ll go, I say, if you’ll tell me they’ve lied. Colin, darling, +tell me!” But he started away, spurred by a ripping oath from the +Honorable Pulaski. She tore herself from the restraining grasp of Wade +and ran after her lover.</p> + +<p>At her movement, Abe, cowering in the gloom away from the torch-lighted +area of ledge, started behind her with canine loyalty. He had followed +her into the fire zone when his mother had screamed command into his +ear. His mother and this girl, her protégée, were the only ones who ever +looked at him without disgust.</p> + +<p>“Abe!” shouted “Ladder” Lane. He spoke in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>peculiar tone—a tone in +which the fool evidently recognized something of an old-time authority; +for he uttered a little bleat, in curious contrast with his giant bulk, +and halted. “Fire, Abe!” cried Lane, brandishing his arm in the +direction of the distant flamings. “Mother want her saved from fire. +Fetch, Abe!”</p> + +<p>It was a tone of authority that the witling recognized, and it commanded +his weak will and giant strength. He sped after the girl, seized her in +spite of her furious protest, and bore her back to the cabin, her +struggles exciting only his amiable grins.</p> + +<p>Lane rushed him and his burden into his hut.</p> + +<p>“Now, Abe, mother say watch her. No go into the fire! Watch till I +come!” He came out with placid confidence that his order would be +obeyed, and the mien of the giant gave excellent confirmation.</p> + +<p>“Men,” he said, grimly, looking round on their faces, “I’d rather trust +that girl to the fool than to all of the rest of humankind; but I’ve had +reasons in my life to distrust men, and the higher the men the more I +distrust them. Don’t any of you interfere in that duet in there. There’s +only one thing that I ask you to do here till I come back—whoever stays +here—feed the animals. You can’t corrupt them.” He was “Ladder” Lane +once more, sour in his satire.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going, Lane?” demanded Britt.</p> + +<p>The old man shook a telephone cut-in sender at him.</p> + +<p>“I’m going through the woods ahead of that fire to tap the Attean line +and send my report and call for men,” he said, calmly. “I’m still the +fire warden of Jerusalem region.”</p> + +<p>He set away, striding over the ledges, his lantern winking between his +thin legs.</p> + +<p>“Looks like a cross between a lightning-bug and a grampy-long-shanks,” +observed the sheriff, his cheerfulness <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>increased by the happy disposal +of his troublesome prisoners. “Travelling on underpinning like that, +he’ll have his word in before daybreak.”</p> + +<p>But Pulaski Britt had not yet satisfied the curiosity that stirred as +soon as greater matters had been settled. He ran after the warden, +shouting an order to wait.</p> + +<p>The little group heard the colloquy, for Lane did not stop, and the +Honorable Pulaski had to bellow his question.</p> + +<p>“Say, Lane, in case anything should happen to you! Ain’t you going to +let me do the square thing? If this girl is yours, say the word. I’ll +look after her. Is she yours?”</p> + +<p>“No!” yelled the old man, with a fury in his tones like the rasp of a +file on their flesh as they listened. And the next words seemed to be a +cry wrung from him without his will: “If she were, I’d have killed you +and Colin MacLeod before this!”</p> + +<p>He went flitting down the slope of Jerusalem like a will-o’-the-wisp, +and they stood in silence and watched him out of sight.</p> + +<p>That night the tenantry of Jerusalem Knob divided itself silently and +sullenly into groups which ignored each other.</p> + +<p>Britt and his people took blankets from the fire station, and +established makeshift camps down in the fringe of the trees.</p> + +<p>Wade and Christopher Straight went apart, and composed themselves as +best they could on some gray moss that tufted the ledge. Their duty was +plain. That fire threatened Enchanted, once it should sweep through the +chimney draught of Pogey Notch. They must stay there and fight it at the +pass through which it was marching to invade their territory. Rodburd +Ide promised to have the Enchanted crew following them within a week. It +might be that their men were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>already on the way. Their route lay +through Pogey, and Wade would be there ready to captain them.</p> + +<p>The camp was left to the girl and her unkempt guardian. She sat silent +and full of bitter rage; but she understood the vagaries of the fool’s +character well enough to realize that after Lane’s orders to Abe even +her persuasions could have no effect; the valley fires that lighted the +windows of the camp gave effective point to Lane’s commands. The giant +crouched by the open door and gazed upon the sullen glowings in the vast +pit below, muttering his fears to himself.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>IN THE BARONY OF “STUMPAGE JOHN”</h3> + +<div class="centerbox5 bbox3"><p>“Wilderness lord of the olden time,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stalwart and plumed pine;</span><br /> +They have dragged thee down to the roaring town<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the realms that once were thine.</span><br /> +And he who reigns in thy stately stead<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has never a time o’ truce,</span><br /> +For the axe and saw and the grinder’s maw<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have doomed thee, too, King Spruce.”</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—Kin o’ Ktaadn.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dca.jpg" title="A" height="90" width="90" alt="A" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">A</span>t half-past four in the dark of the morning “Dirty-apron Harry’s” +nickel alarm-clock purred relentlessly, and he rolled out of his bunk, +his eyelids sticking like a blind puppy’s. At seventeen, youth relishes +morning naps. But, as cookee of Barnum Withee’s camp on “Lazy Tom” +operation, he was chosen to be the earliest bird to crow. His first duty +as chanticleer was to wake “Icicle Ike” and “Push Charlie,” the +teamsters, whose hungry charges were stamping impatient hoofs in the +hovel. He dressed himself while stumbling across the dingle to the men’s +camp, his eyes still shut. This feat was not as difficult as it sounds. +The difference between Harry’s night-gear and day raiment was merely a +Scotch cap and the canvas robe of office that gave him his title.</p> + +<p>The teamsters grunted when he shook them, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>followed him out of the +frowsy, snore-fretted atmosphere of the big camp. They did their morning +yawnings and stretching as they walked. When Duty calls “Time!” to a +woodsman the body is on the dot, even if the soul lags unwillingly.</p> + +<p>The humorists of the woods have it that the cookee pries up the sun when +he jacks the big pot out of the bean-hole. For such an important +operation, “Dirty-apron Harry” went at it listlessly.</p> + +<p>The bean-hole was beyond the horse-hovel, sheltered in the angle of a +little palisade of poles whose protection would be needed when the +winter’s snows drifted. Harry wearily dragged a hoe in that direction +after he had kindled a fire in the cook-house stove. He did not look up +to the first pearly sheen of sunrise streaming through the yellow of the +frost-touched birches. The glory of the skies would wake him too soon. +He gave up the final fuddle of slumber grudgingly, his dull mind still +piecing the visions of the night, his soul full of loathing for the +workaday world of greasy pots and dirty tins. But when he turned the +corner of the bean-hole shelter he dropped out of dreams with the +suddenest jolt of his life. A black bear was trying to dig up the +bean-pot, growling softly at the heat of the round stones she uncovered. +Two cubs sat near by, watching operations with great interest, their +round ears up-cocked, their jaws drooling expectantly. The big bear +whirled promptly and cuffed the hoe out of Harry’s limp grasp, leaped +past him before his trembling legs could move him, and scuffed away into +the woods, with her progeny crowding close to her sheltering bulk. The +cookee sped in the other direction towards the hovel with as great +alacrity.</p> + +<p>“Bears?” echoed “Push Charlie,” appearing with his pitchfork at the +hovel door. “Stop your squawkin’. I seen half a dozen yistiddy, and all +of ’em streakin’ <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>north up this valley. Heard ’em whooffing and barkin’ +last night, travellin’ past here on the hemlock benches.” He pointed his +fork at the terraced sides of the valley above them.</p> + +<p>“It’s only excursion parties bound for the Bears’ Annooal Convention up +at Telos Gorge,” suggested “Icicle Ike,” rapping the chaff out of a peck +measure.</p> + +<p>The cookee, woods-camp traditional butt of jokes, stared from one to the +other, trying to recover his composure.</p> + +<p>“And Marm Bear there wanted to take along that pot of beans for the +picnic dinner,” added Charlie.</p> + +<p>“I think it’s goin’ to be a general mass-meetin’ to discuss the game +laws,” said Ike. “The boys who were swampin’ the twitch-roads yistiddy +told me that deer kept traipsin’ past all day and—well, there goes +three now.”</p> + +<p>White “flags” flitted through the undergrowth at the edge of the +clearing, and a startled “Whick-i-whick!” further up the valley-side +hinted at the retreat of still others. Their departure was probably +hastened by the cook’s shrill “Who-e-e-e!” the general call for the +camp. He came out of the cook-house scrubbing his hands and bare arms +with a towel.</p> + +<p>“Git that bean-pot here! What are you standin’ round on one foot for?” +he demanded, testily. When the cookee began to stutter explanations, +brandishing freckled arms to point the route of the fugitives, the cook +interrupted, but now there was humor in his tones.</p> + +<p>“Thunderation, you gents is sartinly slow to understand what’s before +your eyes! Don’t you know why all these animiles is runnin’ away from +down there?” He jerked a red thumb over his shoulder towards the south. +“Ain’t ‘Stumpage John’ Barrett down there with Withee, lookin’ over that +tract where we operated last season?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p><p>Sly grins of appreciation appeared on the faces of the teamsters.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t you got any notion of what particular kind of language ‘Stumpage +John’ has been lettin’ out of himself for the last twenty-four hours?”</p> + +<p>“Well, the idee is,” said the cook, “he is down there cussin’ to that +extent that he’s cussed every animile off’n Square-hole township. +Animiles is natcherally timid, delicate in the ears, and hates cussin’. +The deer come first because they can run fastest. Bears left as soon as +they could, and is hurryin’. Rabbits will come next, and the quill-pigs +are on the way. Then I reckon Barnum Withee will fetch up the rear. Oh, +it must be somethin’ awful down there!” He faced the south with grave +mien. His listeners guffawed.</p> + +<p>But a moment later “Push Charlie” stepped clear of the hovel and sniffed +with canine eagerness. There was a subtle, elusive, acrid odor in the +air. It seemed to billow up the valley, whose shoulders circumscribed +their vision so narrowly.</p> + +<p>“I reckon,” he stated, “that he’s throwed so much brimstone around him +reckless that he’s set fire to the woods.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the way with some of these big timber-owners,” remarked the +cook, still in humorous mood. “They raise tophet with a sport because he +throws down a cigar-butt, and they themselves will go out right in a dry +time and spit cuss words that’s just so much blue flame. It’s dretful +careless!” he sighed.</p> + +<p>“But when you come to think of what he found there on that township,” +said Charlie, “you have to make allowances. More’n a third of the board +measure left right there on the ground as slash, and slash that’s +propped on the branches of the tops like powder-houses on stilts. And +the whole township only devilled over at that! Barn only took the stuff +that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>would roll downhill into the water when it was joggled.”</p> + +<p>“You ain’t blamin’ your own boss, be ye?” demanded the cook.</p> + +<p>“Not by a darned sight!” rejoined Charlie, stoutly. “If I was an +operator, doin’ all the hard liftin’, with a rich stumpage-owner with a +rasp file goin’ at me on one end and a log-buyer whittlin’ me at the +other, I’d figger to save myself. But I’ve always lived and worked in +the old woods, gents. I ain’t one of those dudes that never want to see +an axe put in. The old woods need the axe to keep ’em healthy. We, here, +need the money, and the folks outside need the lumber. But when I see +enough of the old woods wasted on every winter operation to make me +rich, and all because the men that are gettin’ the most out of it are +fightin’ each other so as to hog profits, it makes me sorry for the old +woods and sick of human nature.”</p> + +<p>The morning bustle of the camp began in earnest now. Men crowded at the +tin wash-basins on the long shelf outside the log wall. As fast as they +slicked their wet hair with the broken comb they hurried into the meal +camp. There they heaped their tin plates with beans steaming from the +hole where they had simmered overnight, devoured huge chunks of brown +bread deluged with molasses, and “sooped” hot coffee.</p> + +<p>The odor of warm food was good in the nostrils of old “Ladder” Lane, the +fire warden of Jerusalem, as he strode down the valley wall towards the +camp. He hung his extinguished lantern on a nail outside the cook camp +and stooped and entered the low door. Among woodsmen the amenities of a +camp are as scant as welcome is plentiful. Lane seized up a tin plate, +loaded it with what he saw in sight, and began to eat hastily and +voraciously.</p> + +<p>“Fire?” inquired the cook.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>Lane jerked a nod of affirmation.</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p>“Misery.”</p> + +<p>“Big?”</p> + +<p>Another nod.</p> + +<p>“Talk about your bounty on wildcats and porky-pines,” raged the cook, +slamming on a stove-cover to emphasize his remarks, “the State treasurer +ought to offer twenty-five dollars for the scalp and thumbs of every +Skeet and Bushee brought in.”</p> + +<p>The fire warden ran his last bit of brown bread around his plate, +stuffed it dripping into his mouth, and stood up after sixty seconds +devoted to his breakfast.</p> + +<p>“Where’s Withee?” he asked the boss chopper, who had lounged to the camp +door and was stuffing tobacco into his pipe.</p> + +<p>“Off on Square-hole,” replied the boss, with a sideways cant of his head +to show direction.</p> + +<p>“Fire on Misery eating north towards the Notch,” reported Lane, with +laconic sourness. “Withee ought to send twenty-five men.” He was already +starting away.</p> + +<p>“He’ll probably be back by night,” said the boss chopper, “if ‘Stumpage +John’ Barrett gets through swearin’ at him about that last season’s +operation.”</p> + +<p>Lane stopped and whirled suddenly, the lineman’s climbers at his belt +clanking dully.</p> + +<p>“John Barrett in this region!” he blurted.</p> + +<p>“For the first time in a lot o’ years,” returned the boss, with a grin. +“Suspected that Barn devilled Square-hole and wasted in the cuttin’s as +much as he landed in the yards. I reckon it ain’t suspicion any more! +He’s been down there on the grounds two days. But he don’t get any of my +sympathy. A man who stole these lands at twenty cents an acre, buying +tax titles, and has squat on his haunches and made himself <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>rich sellin’ +stumpage,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> has got more’n he deserved, even if half the timber is +rottin’ in the tops on the ground.”</p> + +<p>The gaunt jaws of “Ladder” Lane set themselves out like elbows akimbo. +He whirled and started away again as though he had fresh cause for +haste.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to take any responsibility for sending off any of the +crew,” called the boss. “What particular word do you want to leave for +Withee?”</p> + +<p>Lane settled into his woods lope and darted into the Attean trail +without reply.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be here with my own word,” he muttered, talking aloud, after the +habit of the recluse.</p> + +<p>“And what do you make of that now?” asked the cook of the boss, scaling +Lane’s discarded plate into the cookee’s soapy water. “Why ain’t he up +on his Jerusalem fire station instead of rampagin’ round here in the +woods?”</p> + +<p>“He was rigged out to climb a pole and had a telephone thingumajig with +him,” suggested the boss.</p> + +<p>“He’s strikin’ acrost to tap the Attean telephone and send in an alarm, +that’s what he’s doin’. Prob’ly his old lookin’-glass telegraft is +busted,” he added, with slighting reference to the Jerusalem helio. He +followed his men, who were streaming up the tote road towards the +cuttings. Far ahead trudged the horses, drawing jumpers. From the +cross-bars the bind-chains dragged jangling over the roots and rocks.</p> + +<p>In five minutes only three men were in sight about the camps—the cook, +making ready a baking of ginger-cakes; the cookee, rattling the tins +from the breakfast-table and whistling shrill accompaniment to the +clatter; and the blacksmith, busy at his forge in the “dingle,” the +roofed space between the cook-house and the main camp.</p> + +<p>It was just before second “bean-time” when Lane <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>came back along the +Attean trail and staggered, rather than walked, into the “Lazy Tom” +clearing. His face was gray with exertion, and sweat coursed in the +wrinkles of his emaciated features.</p> + +<p>“Shouldn’t wonder from your looks that you’d made time,” suggested the +cook, cheerfully, as the warden stumbled up to the door. “From here to +the Attean telephone-line and back before eleven is what I call humpin’. +You’ve been to Attean, hey?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” snapped the old man. “I’ve reported that fire and done my duty.”</p> + +<p>“In that case, you’ve prob’ly got a better appetite than you had this +mornin’,” remarked “Beans,” hospitably. He started to ladle from the +steaming kettle of “smother” on the stove.</p> + +<p>“Nothing to eat for me!” broke in Lane, sullenly. “Are Withee and John +Barrett back yet?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, they’ll stay out till dark all right. Barrett will want to count +trees as long as he can see.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll wait, then!” Lane started towards the men’s camp, but the cook +stopped him.</p> + +<p>“If you’re reck’nin’ to lie down for a nap, warden, don’t get into them +bunks. Them Quedaws have brought in the usual assortment of ‘travellers’ +this season, and I don’t want to see a neat man like you accumulate a +menagerie. Now you just go right across there into Withee’s private +camp. He’d say so if he was here. I’ll do that much honors when he ain’t +here. You won’t wake up scratchin’.”</p> + +<p>Without a word Lane turned and strode across to the office camp, went +in, and slammed the door shut after him.</p> + +<p>“He’s about as sour and crabbed an old cuss to do a favor for as I ever +see,” remarked the cook, fiddling a smutty finger under his nose. “But a +man never ought to git discouraged in this world about bein’ <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>polite.” +He caught sight of the advance-guard of returning choppers up the road, +and whirled on the cookee. “You freckle-faced, hump-backed, +dead-and-alive son of a clam fritter, here come them empty nail-kags! +Get to goin’, now, or I’ll pour a dish of hot water down your back.”</p> + +<p>“Is that what you call bein’ polite?” growled the cookee.</p> + +<p>The cook kicked at him as he fled into the meal camp with a pan of +biscuits.</p> + +<p>“They don’t use politeness on cookees any more than they put bay-winders +onto pig-pens!” he shouted.</p> + +<p>There were two bunks in the little office camp, one above the other. +“Ladder” Lane curled his long legs and tucked himself into the gloom of +the lower bunk. His eyes, red-rimmed and glowing with strange fire under +their knots of gray brow, noted a rifle lying on wooden braces against a +log of the camp wall. He rose, clutched it eagerly, and “broke it down.” +Its magazine was full. He jacked in a cartridge, laid the rifle on the +bunk between himself and the wall, and lay down again.</p> + +<p>Most men, after the vigil of a night and bitter struggle of the day, +would have slept. Lane lay with eyes wide-propped. His mind seemed to be +wrestling with a mighty problem. Once in awhile he groaned. At other +times his teeth ground together. Twice he put the rifle back on the +wall, shuddering as though it were some fearsome object. Twice he got up +and retook it, and the last time muttered as though his resolution were +clinched.</p> + +<p>After the resolution had been formed he may have dozed. At any rate, the +first he heard of Barrett and Withee they had sat down on the steps of +the office camp, and the loud, brusque, and authoritative voice of one +of them went on in some harangue that had evidently been progressing for +a long time previously.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p><p>“Damme, Withee, I tell you again that you’ve robbed me right and left! +You left tops in the woods to rot that had a pulp log scale in ’em. You +devilled the township without sense or system. You cut out the stands +near the waterways without leaving a tree for new seed. You left strips +standing that will go down like a row of bricks in the first big gale we +have. But what’s the use in going over all that again? You know you +haven’t used me right. The sum and substance is, you pay me a lump sum +and square me for damages to that township or I’ll cancel this season’s +stumpage contract. I’m using you just as I propose to use the rest of +the thieves up here.”</p> + +<p>There was silence for a little time. The voice of the other man was +subdued, even disheartened.</p> + +<p>“I’ve said about all I can say, Mr. Barrett,” he ventured. “Of course, +you’re rich and I’m poor, and if you cancel the contract I can’t afford +to go to law. But I’ve borrowed ten thousand dollars to put into this +season’s operation, and I’ve got it tied up in supplies and outfit. I’ve +just got located and my camps finished. The way things have worked for +me, I ain’t made any money for three years, and I’ve put my shoulder to +the wheel and my own hands to the axe. The operator can’t make money, +Mr. Barrett, the way he’s ground between the owners of stumpage and the +men down-river who buy his logs in the boom. You talk of closing your +contract with me! Do you know of a man who can afford to do any better +by you than I have—just as long as things are the way they are now?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I reckon you’re about all alike,” returned the lumber baron, +ungraciously. “I’ve been a fool to believe anything stumpage buyers have +told me. I ought to have come up here every year and looked after my +property. But that would be prowling around in these woods that aren’t +fit for a human being to live <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>in, and neglecting my other business to +keep you fellows from stealing. Not for me! I’ve got something better to +do. Clod-hoppers that don’t want to stay in their fields all day with a +gun kill one crow and hang it on a stake for the live ones to see. I’m +sorry for you, Withee, but I’m going to make a special example of you.”</p> + +<p>“It don’t seem hardly fair to pick me out of all the rest, Mr. Barrett.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s business!” snapped the other. “And business in these days +isn’t conducted on the lines of a Sunday-school picnic.”</p> + +<p>“Ladder” Lane, who had been staring straight up at the poles of the bunk +above his head, had not moved or glanced to right or left since the +brusque, tyrannical voice outside had begun to declaim. Now he swung his +feet off the bunk and sat on its edge. He fumbled behind him for the +rifle and dragged it across his knees.</p> + +<p>The night had fallen. The one window of the office camp admitted a +sallow light. From the main camp came the drone of an accordion and the +mumble of many voices. Lane realized that supper had been eaten.</p> + +<p>“You’re right about business, Mr. Barrett,” Withee went on, a touch of +resentment in his voice. “Your Bangor scale is ‘business.’ You talk +about wasting tops! If an operator leaves the taper of the top on a log, +he’s hauling a third more weight to the landing, and then your Bangor +scale gives him a third less measure than on the short log.”</p> + +<p>“The legislature established the scale; I didn’t,” retorted Barrett.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but you rich folks can tell the legislature what to do, and it +does it! We fellows that wear larrigans haven’t anything to say about +it.” In his grief and despair he allowed himself to taunt his tyrant. +“Your legislature has peddled away all the rights on the river <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>to men +with power enough to grab ’em. Look here, Mr. Barrett, while you toasted +your shins last winter we worked here like niggers, in the cold and the +snow, the frost and the wet—and the first man to get his drag out of +our work was you. You got your stumpage-money. And when my logs were in +the water, first the Driving Association that you’re a director in, with +its legislative charter all right and tight, took its toll. Then the +River Dam and Improvement Company took its toll, and you’re a director +in that. Then the Lumbering Association, owned by your bunch, had its +boomage tolls. Then the little private inside clique had its pay for +‘taking care of logs,’ as they call it. Then on top of all the rest, the +gang had its tolls for running and shoring logs in the round-up boom, +and finally the man who bought ’em scaled down the landing-measure on +which you drew stumpage. I couldn’t help myself. None of us fellows that +operate can help ourselves. It’s all tied up. We had to take what was +given. Your tolls for this, that, and the other figured up about as much +as stumpage. And when the last and final drag was made out of my little +profits—there were no profits! I came out in debt, Mr. Barrett. That’s +all there was to show for a winter’s hard work away from my home and +family, in these woods that you say ain’t fit for a human bein’ to live +in. That’s what you’re doin’ to us—and you’re all standin’ together +against us poor fellows to do it.”</p> + +<p>“Same old whine of the old crowd of operators,” drawled Mr. Barrett. “If +you old-fashioned chaps can’t keep up with the modern business +conditions you’d better get into something else and give the young +fellows a chance.”</p> + +<p>“Get into the poor-house, perhaps,” Withee replied, bitterly. “My father +lumbered this river. I worked with him, before the big fellows had to +have both crusts <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>and the middle of the pie. I don’t know how to do +anything else. Every cent I’ve got in the world is tied up in my outfit. +For God’s sake, Mr. Barrett, be fair with me!”</p> + +<p>It was the pitiful appeal of the toil of the woods at its last stand. +But “Stumpage John” Barrett resolutely reflected the autocracy of giant +King Spruce.</p> + +<p>“This whole matter was gone over at our last directors’ meeting, Withee. +We have decided, one and all, that we won’t have our timber lands +butchered and gashed and devilled to make profit for you fellows. Our +charters give us our rights, and business is business. We’ve got to +stand stiff, and we’re going to stand stiff until we show you what’s +what. I told my associates I would come up here and make an example, and +I’m going to do it. Now, that’s all, Withee! It’s no good to argue. The +timber interests can’t afford to do any more fooling.”</p> + +<p>“Gents,” broke in the voice of “Dirty-apron Harry,” “cook sent me to say +that your supper is ready.”</p> + +<p>“Tell cook I’m ready, too,” snapped Barrett, grunting off the step. “I +thought your cattle were never going to get out of that meal camp, +Withee. You feed ’em too much! That’s where your profits are going to.”</p> + +<p>Lane heard him snuffing.</p> + +<p>“This smoke seems to be getting thicker, Withee. It must be something +more than a bonfire, wherever it is.”</p> + +<p>“Cook is waiting to tell you,” said Harry. “He didn’t want to break in +on your business talk, seein’ that you was both so much took up with it. +Warden from Jerusalem was through here this morning to give alarm and +call for fighters. He’s takin’ a nap in the office camp, waitin’ for Mr. +Withee.”</p> + +<p>“A loafer like the rest of ’em!” snorted Barrett, starting away. “Dig +him out, Withee, and send him to me. I’m going to eat.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p><p>At the sound of his retreating footsteps “Ladder” Lane unfolded his +gaunt frame, stood up, and swung the rifle into the hook of his arm. He +opened the office door and came upon Withee standing where Barrett had +left him. In the gloom the operator’s toil-stooped shoulders and bowed +legs were outlined by the flare from the cook-camp. He continued his +mutterings as he turned his head to look at Lane, his gray beard +sweeping his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“It’s runnin’ north from Misery, Mr. Withee,” reported the warden. “It’s +runnin’ in the slash and goin’ fast. If it gets through Pogey Notch it +means a crown fire in the black growth.”</p> + +<p>“I hope it’ll burn every spruce-tree between Misery and the Canada +line!” barked the furious old operator. “If I could stand here and put +it out by spittin’ on it I wouldn’t open my mouth.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve ’phoned the alarm through Attean,” went on Lane, calmly, with no +apparent thought except his duty. “You ought to send twenty-five men.”</p> + +<p>“Not a man!” roared the operator. “Let the infernal hogs save their own +timber lands. They want all the profit in ’em; let ’em stand all the +loss, then.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Withee,” said the warden, implacably, “you know the law as +well as I do. A fire warden has the same right as a sheriff to summon a +posse when a fire is to be fought. Every man that is summoned and don’t +go pays a fine of ten dollars unless he is sick or disabled, and you’ll +have to stand good for your crew.”</p> + +<p>“I know it!” bellowed Withee, beside himself. “Some more of the devilish +law they’ve cooked up to make us work like slaves for their profits. +Talk about monarchies! Talk about freedom, whether it’s in a city or in +the woods! We ain’t anything but cattle. The rich men have stood +together and made us so.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p><p>“I didn’t make the law, Withee. I’m simply delivering my errand as the +State orders me to do. I’ve done my duty. It’s up to you.” He sighed, +shifted the rifle to the other arm, and mumbled behind his teeth, “Now +I’ll attend to a little matter of business that ain’t the State’s.”</p> + +<p>He started for the door of the meal camp, the operator on “Lazy Tom” +stumping angrily at his heels.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE CODE OF LARRIGAN-LAND</h3> + +<div class="centerbox3 bbox3"><p>“Here’s a good health to you, family man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the depths of our hearts and the woods;</span><br /> +Boughs for our bunks and salt hoss in junks<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ain’t hefty in way o’ world’s goods.</span><br /> +Keep your neck near her arms and your cheek near her kiss,<br /> +And don’t ever come here to the troubles o’ This!<br /> +We’ve tasted of This and we know what it lacks—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">We lonesome old baches—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Of peavies and patches,</span><br /> +Bills, Tommies, and Jacks of the Axe.”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—The Family Man.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcb.jpg" title="B" height="90" width="90" alt="B" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">B</span>arrett was at the table, his back towards the door. He was filling a +pannikin with whiskey from a silver-mounted flask. The cook, who had +been silently admiring his smart suit of corduroy, was now more intently +and longingly regarding the amber trickle from the mouth of the flask. +But John Barrett was not a man to ask menials to share his bowl with +him. His shaven cheeks looked too hard even to permit the growth of +beard.</p> + +<p>The cook, whirling at the sound of Lane’s moccasins on the chip dirt, +was officious according to his promulgated code of politeness.</p> + +<p>“Here’s the warden from Jerusalem, Mr. Barrett. I done the honors of +camp the best I could, seein’ that you and Mr. Withee wa’n’t here.” In +mentioning honors, the cook had one lingering hope that the +stumpage-king <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>would share his flask with a State employé, and that he +himself might participate as one present and one willing.</p> + +<p>But the timber baron did not turn his head. He stirred sugar in his +whiskey and growled.</p> + +<p>“Do fire wardens up this way earn their pay, sleeping, like cats, in the +daytime?”</p> + +<p>Lane had stepped just inside the door, his moccasins noiseless on the +shaved poles.</p> + +<p>“How near is that fire to the black growth, and how are they fighting +it?” demanded Barrett.</p> + +<p>“It started on Misery”—Lane began, in the same tone that had +characterized his former reports.</p> + +<p>But at his first word Barrett jerked his head around, stared wildly, +stood up, and then sat down astride the wooden bench. With his eyes +still on the man at the door, he fumbled for the pannikin of whiskey and +gulped it down. Lane went on talking.</p> + +<p>“And if they can get enough men ahead of it perhaps they can stop it in +Pogey Notch,” Lane concluded.</p> + +<p>The hands that clutched the gun trembled, but his eyes were steady, with +a red sparkle in them. The lumber king endured that stare for a few +moments, like one writhing under the torture of a focussed sun-glass. He +glanced to right and left, as though seeking a chance for flight. The +only exit was the door, and the tall, grim man stood there with his +rifle across his arm.</p> + +<p>“Say it, Lane! Say it!” hoarsely cried Barrett, at last, unable to +endure the silence and the doubt.</p> + +<p>“I have nothing to say—not now,” said Lane. “I’ll wait here until you +eat your supper. My lantern is hanging on the nail there, cook. Will you +fill it and light it?”</p> + +<p>There was a subtle, strange menace in his bearing that the cook and +Withee, staring, their mouths gaping, could not understand. But it was +plain that the man at the table understood all too well.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p><p>“Why didn’t you take it when I sent you the offer?” asked Barrett, his +voice beginning to tremble. “I wanted to settle. It was up to me to +settle. It was a bad business, Lane, but I—”</p> + +<p>“It’s a private matter you’re opening up here before listeners, Mr. +Barrett,” broke in Lane. “It’s my business with you, and you haven’t got +the right to do it. Just now you go ahead and eat your supper. You’ll +need it, for you’re going to take a walk with me.”</p> + +<p>In his perturbation, forced to eat, as it seemed, by the quiet +insistence of the warden, Barrett swallowed a few mouthfuls of food. But +he cowered, with side glances at the grim man by the door. Then he +pushed his plate away, choking. Maddened by the silent watchfulness, he +stood up.</p> + +<p>“I’ll see you in the office,” he muttered. “I’ll tell you now and before +witnesses that I’m ready to settle. I’ve always been ready to settle. It +would have been settled long ago if you had let my man talk with you. +Now, let’s not have any trouble, Lane, over what’s past and gone. I’ll +do anything that’s reasonable.”</p> + +<p>He shot an appealing glance at Withee.</p> + +<p>“We’ll take Withee with us,” he declared. “We’ll talk in the office.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll talk under no roof of yours and on no land belonging to you,” +answered Lane, firmly. “We’ll talk private matters before no third +party. If you’re done your supper, Mr. Barrett, you’ll come with me +where we can stand out man to man in God’s open country with no peekers +and listeners—and that’s more for your sake than it is for mine. I’ve +done nothing in this life that I’m ashamed of.”</p> + +<p>“Do you take me for a fool?” roared the land baron, hiding fear under an +assumption of his usual manner. “Do you think I’m going into the woods +alone with you?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p><p>“You are, Mr. Barrett.”</p> + +<p>“By ——, I won’t!”</p> + +<p>“I’m no hand for a threat,” grated Lane, in a low, strange voice, “but +you’ll come with me. You know why you’ll come with me, because you know +what I’m likely to do to you if you don’t come.”</p> + +<p>Barrett looked past the man at the door. The dingle was full of crowding +faces, for the altercation had called every man out. There was some +consolation for Barrett in the spectacle of this silent, wondering mob. +After all, he was on his own land, and these men must acknowledge him as +their master.</p> + +<p>“Here! a hundred dollars apiece to the men who grab that lunatic and +take that rifle away from him!” he shouted, darting a quivering finger +at the warden. But before any one made a move Withee stepped forward +into the lamplight. With open, waving palm he imposed non-interference +on his crew.</p> + +<p>“Hold on, Mr. Barrett,” said he. “Before we run into trouble by +arresting a man that’s an officer, we want to know whys and wherefores.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know why he wants to make me go away into the woods?” bawled +the lumber king.</p> + +<p>“We can’t very well know without bein’ told,” replied Withee, and an +answering grumble from his men indorsed him.</p> + +<p>“He wants to murder me—murder me in cold blood!” Barrett fairly +screamed this. “I know what his reason is,” he added, seeing that their +faces showed no conviction.</p> + +<p>“I’ve known Linus Lane ever since he came into this region,” said +Withee, breaking the awed hush that followed the baron’s startling +words. “I never knew him to be anything but peaceable and square. A +little speck odd, maybe, but quiet and peaceable and square. Most of the +men here know him that way, too.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p><p>Another answering mumble of assent.</p> + +<p>“Odd!” echoed Barrett, grasping at the suggestion. “You’ve said it. He’s +a lunatic. He will kill me.”</p> + +<p>“What for?” called the chopping-boss, bluntly. His natural desire to get +at the meat of things quickly was stimulated by ardent curiosity.</p> + +<p>“You are all sticking your noses into a matter that doesn’t belong to +you!” cried Lane, his well-known crustiness showing itself, though it +was evident that he was hiding some deeper emotion. “I want this man to +go with me. It’s business. And he’s going!” His voice was almost a +snarl, but there was a resoluteness in the tone that awed them more than +violence would have done.</p> + +<p>“Are you going to give me up to a murderer?” bleated Barrett, for his +study of the faces in the lamplight did not reassure him.</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t you better let us step out, and you talk your business over with +him right here, Linus?” inquired Withee, conciliatingly.</p> + +<p>“He’s going with me, and he’s going now!” shouted Lane, his repression +breaking. “The man that gets in our way will get hurt.”</p> + +<p>He banged his rifle-butt on the floor, and those who looked on him +shrank before his awful rage.</p> + +<p>“Put on your hat, Barrett, and walk out!” he shrilled. “Make way, there! +This is my man, by —— and he knows in his dirty heart why he’s mine.”</p> + +<p>But Barnum Withee’s quiet woodsman’s soul was not of a nature to be +intimidated, and his instincts of fairness, when it was between man and +man, had been made acute by many years of woods adjudication.</p> + +<p>“Hold on a minute, Linus!” he entreated, stepping between the two men +with upraised hand. “You are both under my roof, and you’ve both eaten +my bread to-day. I never got between men in a fair, square quarrel. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>I +won’t now. But you’ve got a gun, and he hasn’t. I don’t want to know +your business. But if there’s trouble between you it’s got to be settled +fair. You can’t drag a man out of my camp to do him dirty—and it would +be the same if it was only young Harry there that you were tryin’ to +take.”</p> + +<p>“Good talk!” yelled the boss.</p> + +<p>“I’ll give a hundred dollars—” began Barrett, seeing the advantage +swinging his way; but Withee broke in with indignation.</p> + +<p>“No more of that talk, Mr. Barrett!” he cried. “I’ll run my own crew +when it comes to pay or to orders. Now, Warden Lane, what are you going +to do with this man when you get him where you want to take him?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know!” snapped Lane, to the amazement of his listeners. And he +added, enigmatically, “I can tell better after I’ve asked him some +questions.”</p> + +<p>“Ain’t you ready to tell us that you’ll use him man-fashion?” persisted +Withee.</p> + +<p>The deep emotion which “Ladder” Lane had been trying to hide whetted the +bitterness of his usual attitude towards mankind.</p> + +<p>“I’m not ready to let any fool mix himself into my affairs. We’ve argued +this question long enough, John Barrett. Now you—step—out!” He leaped +aside from the door, cocked the rifle, and motioned angrily with its +muzzle.</p> + +<p>“Stay right where you are, Mr. Barrett,” said the old operator, +resolutely. “I’ll stand for fair play.”</p> + +<p>“And you’ll get your pay for it, Withee, my friend!” stuttered his +creditor, eagerly. “I don’t forget favors. You stand by me, and you’ll +get your pay.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t anything to sell, Mr. Barrett,” said Withee, doggedly.</p> + +<p>“But I’ve got something to give you,” persisted the frightened magnate, +edging near him, and striving to hint <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>confidentially. “You stand by me, +and when it comes to contracts—”</p> + +<p>“I’m not buyin’ anything, Mr. Barrett!” He signalled the lumber king +back with protesting palm. “I’m simply tellin’ Lane that he can’t take a +man out of my camp to do him dirty. And in that there’s no fear and no +favor!”</p> + +<p>Lane gazed at the determined face of the operator and at the massing men +who crowded at the door, and whose nods gave emphatic approval of +Withee’s dictum. No one knew better than he the code of the woods; no +one understood more thoroughly the quixotic prejudices and simple +impulses which moved the isolated communities of the camps. Just then +they would not have surrendered Barrett to an army, and Lane realized +it.</p> + +<p>The eyes focussed on him saw the tense ridges of his seamed face tighten +and the gray of an awful passion settle there.</p> + +<p>“After all the rest of it, you’re forcing me to stand here and put it in +words, are you, you sneak?” he yelped, thrusting that boding visage +towards the timber baron. “You’re hiding behind these men! Well, let’s +see how long they’ll stand in front of you! You’ve got to have ’em hear +it, eh? Then you listen to it, woodsmen!” His voice broke suddenly into +a frightful yell. “He stole my wife! He stole her! I say he stole her! +That’s what I want of him, now that he’s here where I can meet him in +God’s open country, plain man to plain man!”</p> + +<p>“He’s lying to you,” quavered Barrett. But his eyes shifted, and the +keen and candid gaze of the woodsmen detected his paltering.</p> + +<p>“I was away earning an honest living, and he came along with his airs +and his money and fooled her and stole her—stole her and threw her +away. It was play for him; it was death for her, and damnation for me. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>I ain’t blaming her, men”—his voice had a sob in it—“she was too +young for me. I ought to have known better. Our little house was on his +land that he had stolen from the people of this State. Then he came and +stole <i>her</i>!”</p> + +<p>He was now close to Barrett, his bony fist slashing the air over the +baron’s shrinking head.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t that way,” stammered Barrett. “I was up there with some +friends fishing and exploring on my lands. It was years ago. The young +woman cooked meals for us. I went farther north to some other townships +of mine, and she went along to take care of camp. That’s all there was +to it, men!” He spread out his palms and tried to smile.</p> + +<p>“You stole her!” iterated Lane. “I came home, men, and she was gone out +of our little house. I found just four walls, cold and empty, the key +under the rug, and a letter on the table—and I’ve got that letter, John +Barrett! And when you were tired of her up there in the woods you tossed +her away like you tossed the lemon-skins out of your whiskey-glass. You +didn’t wait to see where she fell—she and your child—your child! Curse +you, Barrett, I’ve never wanted to meet you! I sent word to you to keep +out of these woods. I sent that word by the man you asked to bribe +me—as though your money could do everything for you in this world! You +thought you could sneak in here after all these years, because I was +tied on the top of Jerusalem. But I’m here! What do you think, men? The +fire that is roaring up from Misery township was set by this man’s own +daughter—the child that he tossed away in the woods. You that know the +Skeets and Bushees know her. She set the fire! That’s why I’m here. It’s +his child—his and hers. I don’t know whether heaven or hell planned it, +but now that I’ve met you, Barrett, you’re going with me!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p><p>He strode back to the door and stood there, the rifle again across the +hook of his arm. His flaming eyes swept the faces in the dingle. Their +eyes gave him a message that his woodsman’s soul interpreted.</p> + +<p>“There’s the truth for you, men, since you had to have it!” he shouted. +“Once more I’m going to say to John Barrett—‘Step out.’ And if there’s +still a man among you that wants to keep that hound in this camp I’d +like to have that man stand out and say why.”</p> + +<p>There was not a whisper from the throng. They stood gazing into the door +with lips apart. Silently they crowded back, as though to afford free +passage.</p> + +<p>Barrett noted the movement and wailed his terror.</p> + +<p>“It means trouble for you, Withee, if you let him take me.”</p> + +<p>The old operator surveyed him with a lowering and disgusted stare.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barrett,” he said, “I’ve told you that I have nothing to sell. All +that I want to buy of you is stumpage, and I’ve got your figures on that +and your opinion of me. I don’t ask you to change anything.” He turned +away, muttering, “He’ll have to think pretty hard if he can do anything +more to me than what he’s already threatened to do.”</p> + +<p>Calm once more, and inexorable as fate, Lane motioned towards the door.</p> + +<p>“My final word, Barrett: March!”</p> + +<p>As he gazed into the faces about him, not one gleam of friendliness +anywhere, desperation or a flicker of courage spurred the magnate. In +that moment John Barrett had none of the adventitious aids of his +autocracy—none of the bulwarks of “Castle Cut ’Em.” He was only a man +among them—fairly demanded by another man to settle a matter of the +sort where primordial instinct prompts a universal code. He drove his +hat on his head and strode through the door, his head bent.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p><p>Lane took his lighted lantern from the cook’s hand and followed. He had +his teeth set tight, as though resolved to say no more. But at the edge +of the camp’s lamplight he whirled and faced the crew. Barrett halted, +too, as though hoping for some intervention.</p> + +<p>“Look here, men,” said Lane, “I want to thank you for being men in this +thing. And seeing that you’ve been square with me I don’t want to go +away from here leaving any wrong idea behind me. I don’t know just +what’s going to happen between this man and me, for a good deal depends +on him. But you’ve known me long enough to know that I’m not the +crust-hunting kind that cuts a deer’s throat when he’s helpless. You put +your confidence in me when you put this man in my hands. And I’ll say to +you, I’ll do the best I know!”</p> + +<p>“We ain’t givin’ any advice to you that knows your business better’n we +do,” called out the boss of the choppers. “But let it be man to +man—good woods style!”</p> + +<p>“Good woods style!” echoed the crew, in hoarse chorus. It was plain that +their minds were dwelling on only one solution of the difficulty.</p> + +<p>Lane stepped back and set the rifle against the log wall. “I was near +forgetting,” he said, apologetically. “I’m so used to carrying a rifle. +This belongs here.”</p> + +<p>“Take it,” suggested Withee, with a touch of grimness in his tones.</p> + +<p>“I don’t need it,” Lane answered, quietly. He whirled and started away, +and Barrett sullenly preceded him. They clambered up the valley wall, +the pale lantern-light tossing against the hemlock boughs. The crew of +“Lazy Tom” watched in silence until the last flicker vanished among the +trees of the Jerusalem trail.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said the chopping-boss, drawing a long breath, “it appears to me +that there are some things that money can’t do for old ‘Stumpage John,’ +big as he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>is in this world! One is, he’s found he can’t buy up the +‘Lazy Tom’ crew to back him in a dirty job of woman-stealin’.”</p> + +<p>“I’d like to be there when it happens,” panted “Dirty-apron Harry,” +excitedly.</p> + +<p>“When what happens?” demanded the boss.</p> + +<p>“Well—well—I—I dunno!” confessed Harry.</p> + +<p>“Umph!” snorted the boss, “now you’re talkin’ as though you know +‘Ladder’ Lane as well as I know him. The man who can stand here and tell +what old Lane is goin’ to do next can prophesy earthquakes and have ’em +happen.”</p> + +<p>He pulled out his watch.</p> + +<p>“Nine o’clock!” he roared. “Lights out and turn in!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE RED THROAT OF POGEY</h3> + +<div class="centerbox6 bbox3"><p>“Though it ain’t for me nor for any one<br /> +To say how the awful thing was done,<br /> +We know that the hand of a grief-crazed man<br /> +Is set to many a desperate plan.”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—On <i>Isle le Haut.</i></span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dci.jpg" title="I" height="90" width="89" alt="I" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">I</span>t was a saffron dawn. It was a dawn diffuse and weird. A smear of +copper in the east marked the presence of the sun. For the rest, the sky +was a sickly monochrome, a dirty yellow, a boding yellow. It was not a +wind that blew; a wind has somewhat of freshness in it. It was simply +smoky air—air that rolled sullenly—choking, heavy, bitter, acrid air +that was to the nostrils what the sky was to the eye.</p> + +<p>After they had toiled around the base of the mountain and were well into +Pogey Notch, the man ahead, stumbling doggedly and stubbornly, found +water. It was only a little puddle, cowering from the drouth. The trees +had helped it to hide away. They had scattered their autumn foliage upon +it, beeches and birches which were grateful, for the pool had humbly +cooled their feet in the hot summer.</p> + +<p>The man ahead, thirst giving him almost a canine scent, fell rather than +kneeled beside the pool, thrust his face through the leaves, and guffled +the stale water. Then he plunged his smarting eyes, wide open, into the +shallow depths.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p><p>When he faced once more the smother of the smoke and the man who stood +over him, he seemed to have a flash of new courage. His eyes blazed +again, his rumpled gray hair seemed to bristle.</p> + +<p>But his defiance was only the desperation of the coward at bay.</p> + +<p>“You’ve teamed me all night, Lane—from Withee’s camp to here. I have +asked questions, and you haven’t answered me; but now, by ——, say what +you want of me, and let’s have this thing over!”</p> + +<p>It was an air that would have cowed an inferior in John Barrett’s office +in the city, where tyranny swelled the folds of a frock-coat and was +framed in the door of a money vault.</p> + +<p>But this weary man in knickerbockers, his puffy face mottled by the hues +of self-indulgence and haggard after a night of ceaseless tramping along +a woods trail, was not an object of awe as he squatted beside the pool +like a giant frog.</p> + +<p>The woodsman who stood over him, his gaunt face seamed and brown, his +bony frame erect to the height that had won him the sobriquet of +“Ladder” Lane, seemed now the man of dignity and authority. He was of +the woods. He was in the woods. Two nights without sleep, miles of +bitter struggle through the forest to report that conflagration roaring +north to Misery township, and now puffing its stifling breath upon them, +and the agony of recollection that John Barrett’s crossing his path had +dragged out—all these gave no sign in “Ladder” Lane’s features and +mien. Even his voice was steady with a repression almost humble.</p> + +<p>What John Barrett did not know was that this humbleness was that of one +who stood in the presence of a mighty problem, awed by it. In the long +hours of self-communion, as he had plodded on, driving the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>timber baron +before him, he had pondered that problem until his weary brain reeled. +Introspection had always made his simple nature dizzy.</p> + +<p>Now the tumult and torment in his soul frightened him. Over and over +again in the darkness of the night, as he had followed at the heels of +Barrett, he had whispered, in a half-frightened manner, to himself: “I +told him to keep away! And now he’s here!”</p> + +<p>He had looked at the back of the man, stumbling ahead of him in the +lantern-light, and had pitied him in a sort of dull, wondering fashion. +He had pitied him because he knew that Barrett, despoiler of his home, +seducer of his wife, was helpless in his hands. And because “Ladder” +Lane realized that grief and isolation had made him over into such a one +as sane men flout or fear, he was afraid of himself.</p> + +<p>“This here is as good a place as any, Mr. Barrett,” he said.</p> + +<p>By striving to be calm, even to the point of being humble, Lane tried to +tame the dreadful beast that he knew his inner being had become. But +Barrett, pricking his ears at this humbleness, was too foolish to +understand. In the mystery of the night he had feared cruelly. With day +to reinforce his prestige, it occurred to him that the man was cowed by +his presence and by the reflection that a person of influence cannot be +kidnapped with impunity.</p> + +<p>“I can make it hot for you, Lane, for dragging me out of camp and +running me all over creation,” he blustered, grasping at what he +considered his opportunity to regain mastery. “But I’m willing to settle +and call quits. I’ve always been ready to settle. Now, out with it, +man-fashion! How much will it take?”</p> + +<p>Another of those red flashes from the sullen coals of many and long +years’ hatred roared up in Lane like the torching of a pitch-tree. He +had been trying for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>hours to beat those flashes down, for they made him +afraid.</p> + +<p>He trembled, blinking hard to see past the red. His hands fumbled +nervously at his sides, as though seeking something that they could +seize upon for steadiness. If the wind would only blow upon his face—a +wind of the woods, clear, cool, and hale—he felt that he might get his +grip on manhood once more.</p> + +<p>But the woods sent up to him only the fire-breath. It whispered +destruction.</p> + +<p>If he only could look up to a bit of blue sky he felt that it might +charm the red flare from his eyes.</p> + +<p>But the yellow pall that masked the sky was the hue of combat, not +peace.</p> + +<p>All out-doors seemed full of menace. The nostrils found only bitter air. +The smarting eyes saw only the sickly yellow. A normal man would have +cursed at the oppression of it all, without exactly knowing why every +nerve was on the rack. The recluse of Jerusalem Mountain, out of gear +with all the world, with mind diseased by the chronic obsession of +bitter injury, stood there under the glowering sky of that day of ravage +and ruin, and felt himself becoming a madman. And yet he set a single +idea before him for realization, and tried to keep his gaze on that +alone, and to be calm. And the idea was an idea of forcing an atonement. +How crudely conceived, Lane could not realize, for his mind was passing +the stage of clear comprehension.</p> + +<p>“I probably haven’t got enough money with me,” went on the timber baron, +sullenly. “But my word is good in a matter like this. I don’t want it +talked about—you don’t want it talked about. I’ll overlook—you’ll +overlook! Give me your figures, and you’ll get every dollar.”</p> + +<p>And still Lane was calm, and replied in a voice that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>quavered from an +emotion that Barrett failed to understand.</p> + +<p>“When you stole my wife away, Mr. Barrett, there were men that came to +me and advised me what they would do if a rich man came along and took a +woman from them, just to amuse himself for a little.”</p> + +<p>“There are people trying to stick their noses into business that doesn’t +concern them, Lane,” snorted the baron, regardless that one edge of this +apothegm threatened himself.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been alone a good deal since it happened,” went on Lane, in a +curious, dull monotone, “and I’ve spent most of my time thinking what +I’d say to you and do to you if you stood before me. I hoped it never +would happen that you’d stand before me, man to man. I didn’t hunt you +up to find out what I’d do or say, for I was afraid.”</p> + +<p>He shivered, and Barrett, in his fool’s blindness, stiffened his +shoulders with a sudden air of importance, and allowed himself to scowl +with a suggestion that perhaps Lane was wise to avoid him.</p> + +<p>“You see, I was always making it end up in my mind that I should kill +you. There didn’t seem to be any other natural end to it. I had to kill +you to square it. And that’s why I was afraid. It was always one way in +my thoughts. I never could—never can plan out any other way to end it; +and murder is an awful thing, sir.”</p> + +<p>Barrett, who had been straightening, crouched farther back on his +haunches and lost his important air.</p> + +<p>“In my thoughts I always gave you half an hour to think it over, and +stayed looking at you, and then killed you.” There was a sudden +convulsion of Lane’s features, a smoulder in his eyes, that thrilled +Barrett as though some one had whispered in his ear—“Lunatic.”</p> + +<p>The warden’s groping hands had clutched the heavy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>lineman’s climbers +dangling from his belt, and were now set about them so tightly that +muscles were ridged on the bony surface. Barrett became gray with fear. +But Lane’s ferocity disappeared as suddenly as it had flared.</p> + +<p>“It all goes to show that in this world most men don’t do what they +think they’ll do, when it comes to a big matter. I don’t want to kill +you, now that I have you where I want you.” He looked down on the +frightened man with a sort of pitying scorn. “It would be like batting a +sheep to death. I don’t want even to talk about your taking her away. +It—it chokes in my throat! She’s dead—and I guess she wanted to go +away with you that time or she wouldn’t have gone. That’s just the way +it seems to me now! And that’s why I don’t want to talk about it. It +seems funny to feel that way, after all the thinking I’ve done about +what I would do to you.”</p> + +<p>“The idea is, you’re taking the sensible, business man’s view of it,” +stammered Barrett. “I was young then, and up here in the woods, and—oh, +as you say, it is better not to talk it over. We all make mistakes.” He +was pulling his wallet out of his corduroy coat. He evidently felt that +the sight of money would prolong this “sensible, business man’s view” of +the situation. He did not want to take any more chances that the other +and vengeful view would return, which had shown its flame in Lane’s +contorted face. “Now, I’ve got <span style="white-space: nowrap;">here—”</span></p> + +<p>“To hell with your dirty money!” shrieked the warden, in a frenzy that +was a veritable explosion out of his calmness. He kicked the wallet from +the hands of the amazed timber baron. And when Barrett tried to stammer +something, Lane leaned down and yelled, cracking his fists in the +other’s shrinking face:</p> + +<p>“That’s the way you and your kind want to cure <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>everything—a dollar +bill greased with a grin and stuck onto the sore place! Put that kind of +a plaster on your city sneaks if you want to. But do you think I want +it—here?” He swung his arm in a huge gesture and embraced the woods. +“Your money is no good, John Barrett—here!” Another sweep of the long +arm. Then he stooped and scrabbled up a handful of dry leaves. He pushed +them into Barrett’s face. “Here, sell me your soul and your decency for +that! You won’t? Why not? You get your handfuls of greasy money just as +easy! You only grab out and take! I don’t sell for any stuff that’s come +at as easy as that.”</p> + +<p>“Say what you want, Lane,” stuttered the timber baron, huddling back +from this madman.</p> + +<p>“You’ll pay in the way I’ll tell you to pay,” raged the creditor, +thrusting his fierce face close. “You’ll pay out of your pride and your +heart instead of your pocket. That’s the kind of coin you’ve stripped me +of! You stole my wife. She’s dead. Settle your accounts with her in hell +when you meet her there. But the girl—your young one—yours and +hers—that you threw into the woods like you’d leave a blind kitten—”</p> + +<p>“She was left with people who were paid well—” Barrett broke in, but +Lane slapped him across the mouth.</p> + +<p>“I know where she was left—left with a nest of skunks, so that you +could hide your disgrace in the woods. I’ve watched her all these years. +I’ve been waiting for the right time to come. It’s here. Your girl is up +there on the top of Jerusalem Mountain in my camp, Barrett. An idiot—a +dog on two legs—is guarding her. He’s the only friend she’s got. That’s +your daughter. Now, you’re going to take her!”</p> + +<p>“Take her?” echoed the cringing millionaire.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p><p>“Take her—that’s what I said. It belongs to her. Now give it to her.”</p> + +<p>Barrett misinterpreted Lane’s interest. His face lighted with a sudden +thought that to him seemed a happy one.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Lane,” he said, eagerly, “I didn’t realize but what the girl +was getting on all right. I ought to have inquired. But I didn’t dare +to. A man in my position has to be careful. Now she needs some one to +take care of her. I’ll admit it. I’m sorry it hasn’t been attended to +before. Let this matter rest between us two without any stir. I’ll give +you ten thousand dollars to act as the girl’s guardian. Take her out of +these woods. And I’ll put ten thousand more at interest for her.”</p> + +<p>“I take that spawn—<i>I</i> take her?” demanded Lane, beating his thin hand +on his breast. “I’d as soon pick up a wood adder! Take <i>her</i>—the living +reminder of what’s made me what I am? Do you suppose I hate you any +worse than I hate her for being what she is?” But he checked himself; a +sudden emotion—a strange emotion—mastered him, and he sobbed as he +muttered, “Poor little girl!” Then his anger flamed again. “By ——, +Barrett, I ought to kill you now, anyway!” He clutched the irons at his +belt. But after a moment, with a wrench of his shoulders, he pulled +himself out of his frenzy.</p> + +<p>“You are going to take that girl to your home. You are going to +acknowledge her as your daughter. You are going to give her what belongs +to her.” He was grim now, not frenetic.</p> + +<p>Barrett’s whole body quivered. His voice was husky with appeal.</p> + +<p>“I want to talk to you, man to man. I’m going to show you that I have +confidence in you, Lane. I’m not saying this to any one else—only to +you. It’s a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>big matter, Lane. It will prove that I want to be square +with you.”</p> + +<p>“You’re going to take her, I say!”</p> + +<p>“For ten years, Lane, the big lumber interests in this State have been +trying to get the right man into the governor’s chair. You are +interested in timber. You are a State employé. We all need certain +things, and now we are in a way to get them. I’m going to be the next +governor of this State, Lane. I’ve got the pledges, from the State +committee down through the ranks. I’m going to be nominated in the next +State convention. I’ve spent fifty thousand already. Now, you see, I’m +being frank and honest with you.” His voice had a quaver. He was +explaining as he would explain to a child. “All the timber interests are +behind me. See what it means if I am turned down? A scandal would do it. +It’s the petty scandal that kills a man in this State quicker than +anything else—scandal or a laugh! I can’t carry that girl out of the +woods and declare her to be my daughter. It would kill all my chances +for nomination. The papers would be full of it. And think of my family!”</p> + +<p>Lane’s crude idea of an atonement was not so vague now. His brain +whirled more dizzily, for the problem was bigger—and so was the +revenge. He chuckled. It was the spirit of revenge, after all, that was +driving him, and his madman’s soul now realized it and relished it. He +looked up at the saffron sky and snuffed the scorching air. He felt the +impulse seething up from the ruin of the forest, and with almost a sense +of relief loosed the grip that had been holding him above the tide of +his soul’s fire and blood.</p> + +<p>He ran and recovered Barrett’s wallet from among the leaves, and +searched it hastily. He found among the papers a few folded blank sheets +bearing John <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>Barrett’s name and monogram. There was a fountain-pen +stuck in a loop. The paper and the pen he shoved into Barrett’s hands.</p> + +<p>“Write it!” he screamed. “Write it that she is your daughter, and agree +to take her and do right by her. Write it! I wouldn’t take your word. I +want a paper. You’ve got to take her.”</p> + +<p>Barrett went pale, but his thick lips pinched themselves in desperate +resolve. With the aspiration of his life close to realization he knew +all that such a document could do to him. He stood up and tossed the +paper away.</p> + +<p>“I’m willing to do right by the girl in the best way I can,” he said, +firmly; “but as to cutting my throat for her, I won’t do it. You’ve got +my word. That’s all I’ll do for you.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all?” asked Lane, with bitter menace. “All, after what you’ve done +to me?”</p> + +<p>“I won’t do it,” he repeated, stiffly.</p> + +<p>The next instant, and so quickly that a cat could not have dodged, Lane +struck forward with one of the irons. Barrett saw the flash and felt the +impact; his brain clanged once like a great bell, and he crumbled +together rather than fell.</p> + +<p>He was standing when he revived. But his hands were lashed by strips of +his torn corduroy coat—drawn behind him around the trunk of a birch and +tied securely. Other strips of the cloth bound legs and body close to +the tree. Lane mouthed and leaped in front of him—a maniac.</p> + +<p>“Enjoy it!” he screamed. “There’s a thousand-acre fire out in that +level. Here’s its chimney-flue. It’s going through here on its way to +Enchanted. It’s going fast when it comes along, and it will be your +first taste of what’s laid up for you in eternity. Burn! And when you’re +burning just remember that your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>daughter set it—set it because you +left her to grow up a hyena instead of a woman.”</p> + +<p>He whirled and started away at Barrett’s first wild appeal.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t take your word! You wouldn’t write it! You didn’t intend to +keep it!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE MESSAGE OF “PROPHET ELI”</h3> + +<div class="centerbox10 bbox3"><p>“And the good, kind skipper and all his crew<br /> +Got a purse and some medals, tew,<br /> +And a lot o’ praise for a-savin’ me<br /> +From an awful death in the ragin’ sea.<br /> +And I got jawed ’cause I left that way,<br /> +And the boss he docked me tew weeks’ pay.”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—Hired Man’s Sea-song.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcl.jpg" title="L" height="90" width="89" alt="L" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">L</span>ane’s quick ear was the first to catch a new sound. He stopped and +looked down into the Pogey trail. Barrett ceased his wails, and looked +and listened, too.</p> + +<p>Men of the woods who knew Prophet Eli of Tumbledick were never surprised +to see him appear anywhere in the Umcolcus region. And it was usually a +time of trouble that he chose for his appearance. In his twenty years’ +search of the forest he had found trails and avenues that were hidden to +others. In places where veteran guides wandered and blundered, Prophet +Eli knew a short-cut or detour, and moved with wraithlike swiftness, +enjoying his reputation for surprises with the keen relish of the +shatter-pate.</p> + +<p>Those who did not call him “Prophet Eli,” his own choice of title, +dubbed him “Old Trouble,” for he scented disaster with an elfish sense, +and followed it north, east, and west.</p> + +<p>He came down the Pogey Notch on a ding-swingle. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>It was drawn by his +little white stallion. A ding-swingle is the triangle of a trimmed +tree-crotch, dragged apex forward, its limbs sprawling behind. With peak +mounted on a sapling runner it is the woods vehicle that best conquers +tote roads.</p> + +<p>From under the prophet’s knitted woollen cap, with its red knob, his +white hair trailed upon his shoulders. His white beard brushed the oddly +checkered jacket, flamboyant with its bizarre colors.</p> + +<p>“The Skeets and the Bushees are still running south,” he cried at the +two men, in shrill tones. “But I’m around to the front of the trouble, +as usual.”</p> + +<p>He appeared to have no eyes for the plight of the trussed-up Barrett, +who began to shout desperate appeals to him. He cocked shrewd eyes at +“Ladder” Lane, who, with a muttered oath, started to scramble down the +slope towards him. Perhaps he saw a threat in the madman’s face.</p> + +<p>He glanced once more at Barrett, as though interested a bit in that +miserable man’s frantic urgings, and piped this amazing query, “Don’t +you think a stuttering man is an infernal fool to have a name like +McKechnie Connick?”</p> + +<p>Then he lashed his long reins against the side of his stallion and sped +away down the valley.</p> + +<p>Lane followed him, running.</p> + +<p>They left an existent millionaire and a prospective governor helplessly +grinding the skin from his shoulders against a birch-tree, and bellowing +anathema on “lunatics.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt, sweat pouring down his purple face as he +raged from crew to crew on the fire-line, was not surprised to behold +Prophet Eli emerge from the smoke, riding his ding-swingle. In twenty +years Mr. Britt had often beheld the prophet at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>troublous junctures. In +his present state of vehement anxiety the king of the Umcolcus felt his +temper flare at sight of this herald of ill-omen.</p> + +<p>“Met the Skeets and the Bushees, and they’re still running south. Don’t +you think a man with pumple-feet is an infernal fool to try to learn to +skate?”</p> + +<p>Britt, thrusting past through the underbrush of the tote road, whirled +and poised his foot to kick the inoffensive stallion, as mute expression +of his rage and contempt. But he withheld the kick at the apparition of +“Ladder” Lane. The warden came running. He fairly burst out of the +smoke.</p> + +<p>That he was pursuing Prophet Eli for no good to the latter occurred to +the Honorable Pulaski in one startled flash, as he looked at the +warden’s savage face. He stepped between the men. But it was not to +protect the prophet, whom he dismissed from his mind as utterly as +though the forest sage were a fugitive rabbit. Mr. Britt had a pregnant +question to ask of Lane on his own account, and he bellowed it at him, +clutching at his arm.</p> + +<p>“Where did you leave John Barrett?”</p> + +<p>Lane halted at his touch, and glowered on him without reply.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with you, Lane? You look like a crazy man. What did +you want of Mr. Barrett, anyway? What did you drag him out of Barnum +Withee’s camp for? Don’t try to bluff me. I know about it. Barnum got +here with his crew at daylight to fight fire, and his men have been +talking about it. What right have you got to be bothering John Barrett? +I haven’t had time to get facts. I’ve got something else on my mind than +other folk’s troubles. But I know you’ve picked trouble with Barrett. +Why, great Judas, you long-shanked fool, that man is goin’ to be the +next governor of this State! You must have heard of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>John Barrett! +Trying to arrest John Barrett! What did you take him for—a +game-poacher? Or have you gone clean out of your wits? What have you +done with him?”</p> + +<p>During the timber baron’s harangue Lane kept his eyes on the prophet, +meeting the latter’s blinking regard with sullen threat in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Blast ye! Answer me!” roared the Honorable Pulaski. “Where is Mr. +Barrett? I want to discuss this fire situation with him.”</p> + +<p>“Then go find him,” growled the fire warden.</p> + +<p>“Where is he?”</p> + +<p>Lane raised his gaunt arm and swung it the circle of the horizon.</p> + +<p>“There!” he snarled. He still kept his gaze on the prophet, as though to +note the least intention to betray him. But it appeared that the sage of +Tumbledick was in no mood for dangerous revelations. He thrust up one +grimy finger.</p> + +<p>“May be there!” he remarked. He pointed the finger straight down. “May +be there!” He jumped his stallion ahead with a crack of his reins and +disappeared in the smoke. Lane cast after him a look baleful, but +relieved, and whirled and made away in the direction of Jerusalem.</p> + +<p>“Me standing here wasting my time on a couple of whiffle-heads with that +fire waltzing into my black growth!” Britt muttered, turning his wrath +on himself, since there was no one else in sight. “It must be only some +fool scare about Barrett. A man like him can take care of himself.”</p> + +<p>He stumped on, turning to climb a spur of ledge from which, as +commander-in-chief, he might take an observation. Less than a mile to +the south, he spied the thing that he had been dreading.</p> + +<p>The ground fire, lashed by the rising wind of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>morning, had leaped +off the earth and become a crown fire. It had entered the edge of the +black growth.</p> + +<p>One after the other the green tops of the hemlocks and spruces burst +into the horrid bloom of conflagration. They flowered. They seeded. And +the seeds were fire-brands that scaled down the wind, dropping, rooting +instantly, and blossoming into new destruction.</p> + +<p>“She can’t be stopped! She can’t be stopped!” moaned Britt. “She’s +headed for the Notch, and then tophet’s let loose!”</p> + +<p>But with the persistence of his nature he set off to rally the crew to a +flank movement.</p> + +<p>With the inadequate force it was rather a skirmish than a battle for +those who fought in the face of the great fire.</p> + +<p>Through the night, with shovels and green boughs they had attacked the +conflagration’s outposts. The red army of destruction took this +punishment sullenly. The main fire seemed to crouch and doze in the +night, dulled by the condensation of dews and lacking the spur of the +winds.</p> + +<p>At daylight Barnum Withee had arrived with his men and set them to +trenching along the tote road parallel with the advance of the fire. He +had not reconsidered his bitterness against his tyrant John Barrett. But +the unconquerable instinct of the veteran woodsman, anxious to save his +forest, had driven him to the scene.</p> + +<p>To Barnum Withee’s crew Dwight Wade and Christopher Straight attached +themselves by entirely natural selection, having excellent personal +reasons for avoiding the direct commands of the Honorable Pulaski Britt.</p> + +<p>And to Wade, struggling with blistered hands to drive his mattock +through roots and vegetable mould to the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>mineral earth, appeared +Prophet Eli on his ding-swingle. The prophet surveyed him with almost +arch look, and piped, in his shrill tones:</p> + +<div class="centerbox3 bbox3"><p>“Oh, the little brown bull came down from the mountain,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">Shang-roango, whey?”</span></p></div> + +<p>Wade stared at him with a vivid recollection of the first time he had +seen that strange figure and had heard that song.</p> + +<p>“So you didn’t think I knew how to mend bones, eh, young man? Never +heard of Prophet Eli, the charmer-man, the mediator between the higher +and lower forces, natural healer and regulator of the weather? Don’t you +think a man an infernal fool to dig a hole out of the dirt when it is so +much easier to dig a hole out of the air and put dirt around it?”</p> + +<p>Wade, not feeling inclined towards a discussion of this sort, fell to +his labor again.</p> + +<p>“If John Barrett’s daughter set this fire, why ain’t John Barrett here +to help put it out?” shrilled the prophet, and Barnum Withee hearing the +amazing query, came hurrying out of the smoke. He found Wade staring at +the man with astonished inquiry in his face.</p> + +<p>“You heard him say that, did you, Mr. Wade?” demanded Withee, with an +emotion the young man could not understand.</p> + +<p>It was the bare mention of John Barrett’s daughter that had stirred +Dwight Wade; for in his soul’s eye but one picture rose when she was +mentioned—Elva Barrett of the glorious eyes and the loving heart—the +one woman in the world for him—denied to him by the father who ruled +her.</p> + +<p>“I heard him—yes,” said Wade; “but what kind of lunatic’s raving is +it?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p><p>“It may not be a lunatic’s raving, Mr. Wade,” returned Withee, +enigmatically, his face grave.</p> + +<p>The prophet cast a look about, striving to peer into the smoke, as +though apprehensive that some one whom he didn’t want in his confidence +might be listening. In a lower tone he went on:</p> + +<p>“If a man has got a daughter and is tied to a tree, how much will +‘Ladder’ Lane scale to be cut up into bean poles?”</p> + +<p>There was alarm on Withee’s features now. He took Wade by the arm and +led him aside a few steps.</p> + +<p>“That old fellow has got something on his mind, Mr. Wade,” he said, +earnestly, “and it may be bad business. My men have been talking here +to-day, as men will talk, though I advised them to keep their mouths +shut. It may bring the ‘Lazy Tom’ crowd into the thing. If there’s bad +business on, I want you to be able to say outside that I haven’t messed +into affairs that wa’n’t mine. It may have to be proved in court, and +the word of a gentleman like you is worth that of fifty rattle-brained +choppers.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand, Mr. Withee. I can’t appear as witness in matters I +haven’t seen.”</p> + +<p>“You can say I was here on the fire-line attendin’ to my own business +when it happened—if it has happened,” cried Withee. “You can say that I +had no hand in it. It’s this way, Mr. Wade, if you haven’t heard. Did +any of my men tell you that John Barrett—you’ve heard of ‘Stumpage +John’ Barrett—was at my camp last night?”</p> + +<p>“I heard nothing of it,” said Wade. He leaned forward with excitement in +his face, for the tone and the air of the lumberman were ominous.</p> + +<p>“He was at my camp, and Lane, the Jerusalem warden, after having words +with him over an old matter between them, made Mr. Barrett go away into +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>woods with him—and I think Lane was about half crazy at the time.”</p> + +<p>“And you let an insane man force Mr. Barrett into the woods?” demanded +Wade, indignantly.</p> + +<p>Withee straightened, and his face took on a sort of sullen pride. “It’s +on that point that I want to explain to you, for my own sake. I don’t +know whether you’re a friend of John Barrett’s or whether you ain’t. But +when I hear him confess right before me that he has stolen away another +man’s wife and broken up that man’s home forever, and has never done +anything to square himself, then I let that matter alone, for it’s a +matter between man and man. And my men and I let John Barrett and Linus +Lane settle their own business.”</p> + +<p>“How?” cried Wade, his face pale. “My God, man, it can’t be that John +Barrett did a thing like—”</p> + +<p>“I heard him own to it,” persisted Withee. “And what’s more, it’s John +Barrett’s daughter that lived with the Skeets and the Bushees, abandoned +by him. And when I know a thing like that about a man, Mr. Wade, he +can’t look to Barn Withee to stand behind him.”</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade staggered back against the tree and put his arms around it +to steady himself. Had he not seen the girl he might have scorned to +believe such a story. But all his first emotions at sight of her there +in her squalid surroundings rushed back upon him now. He had seen in +this forest waif too many suggestions of Elva Barrett, and had been +ashamed to own to himself that his heart confessed as much, as though it +were an insult to the girl who reigned in his heart.</p> + +<p>“So, I say,” repeated Withee, as if to reassure himself, “I let them +settle their own business.”</p> + +<p>“But how?” gasped the young man.</p> + +<p>“You can prove nothing by me,” said the lumberman, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>with a toss of his +hand and wag of his head, pregnant gestures of disclaimed +responsibility. “But that old fellow sitting on that ding-swingle never +put those hints together without havin’ something about it on his mind. +I never knew trouble to happen in these woods unless he was there to see +some part of it.”</p> + +<p>“What have you seen, old man?” demanded Wade, impetuously.</p> + +<p>“Saw the crow catch the hen-hawk. Isn’t a man with a harelip an infernal +fool to learn to play a fife?”</p> + +<p>But Wade, coming close to the sage, noted a strange twinkle in the blue +eyes under the knots of gray brow. It was a glance so sane, so +significant, so calculating, that the young man had no voice to utter +the angry retort on his lips. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps +Prophet Eli of Tumbledick had not always been understood by those who +jeered him. The keen glance noted Wade’s changing expression and +understood it.</p> + +<p>“It was Rodburd Ide said it to me,” the prophet stated, lowering his +tone. “He said it was between you and John Barrett’s pretty girl until +old John drove you into the woods. Hey?” The young man’s face flushed +redly and he was about to reply, but the prophet put up a protesting +hand. “It was Rodburd Ide said to me that John Barrett didn’t think you +were good enough for his daughter. Now you follow me! I want to hear +John Barrett whine. I want to see John Barrett squirm. Coals of fire! +Coals of fire, young man! What is Prophet Eli’s mission? Coals of fire! +I cure those who have mocked me, don’t I? I like to hear ’em whine. I +want to see them squirm. You follow me. Coals of fire!”</p> + +<p><a name="Illo2" id="Illo2"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 331px;"> +<img src="images/i172.jpg" class="ispace" width="331" height="500" alt="“WRITHING AT HIS BONDS, HIS CONTORTED FACE TOWARDS THE +RED FLAMES GALLOPING UP THE VALLEY”" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“WRITHING AT HIS BONDS, HIS CONTORTED FACE TOWARDS THE +RED FLAMES GALLOPING UP THE VALLEY”</span> +</div> + +<p>And singing this over and over to himself, he whirled his stallion and +hurried away. Wade ran behind him without question, for he guessed while +he feared. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>Withee started, but turned back to his men with a sullen oath.</p> + +<p>It was a long and a bitter chase through the smother of the smoke, and +in the very forefront of the racing conflagration. At last Pogey Notch +had begun to suck at the raging fires with its granite lips. It was the +chimney-flue of the amphitheatre of Misery. The flames roared from tree +to tree. Wade ran, stooping forward, clutching at the cross-bar of the +ding-swingle. Without that help he never would have been able to reach +the spot where at last he found John Barrett, writhing at his bonds, +squealing like an animal—his contorted face towards the red flames +galloping up the valley.</p> + +<p>The prophet had left his vehicle to guide the rescuer up the slope. He +stood by, grinning with enjoyment, when the two men faced each other. He +chuckled when Wade cut the bonds. He laughed boisterously when Barrett, +weeping like a child, threw his arms around the young man’s neck.</p> + +<p>“Coals of fire!” he shrilled. “Heap ’em on! They’re hotter than the +other kind that are dropping on you!”</p> + +<p>Then he ran from them a few steps and rapped his skinny knuckles on a +scar breast high on a tree.</p> + +<p>“Your trail!” he cried. “It’s here! It’s blazed clear to the bald head +of old Jerusalem. Get up there on the granite. Then sit down and talk it +over! Coals of fire!”</p> + +<p>They heard him shrieking it back at them as he fled up the Notch. And +the two men took the trail, strangling, gasping, feeling their direction +from blaze to blaze on the trees, fighting their way up from the Gehenna +of Pogey.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>BETWEEN TWO ON JERUSALEM</h3> + +<div class="centerbox3 bbox3"><p>“So he didn’t have no doctor but a bowl o’ ginger tea,<br /> +And it didn’t seem to help him, not so far as we could see.”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—Gettin’ Larry Home.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcw.jpg" title="W" height="90" width="90" alt="W" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">W</span>hen they came out upon the bare granite, long after mid-day, they fell +upon their faces, and lay there without speaking or the desire to speak. +They did not open their smarting eyes.</p> + +<p>Over and over again Wade heard a dull rumble which his stricken senses +failed to understand. But when a hollow boom reverberated among the +hills and jarred the granite under his face he sat up. He saw the purple +flash shiver across the swaying smoke, heard the splitting crack of the +bolt, and felt a raindrop on his face.</p> + +<p>“Thank God, Mr. Barrett, it has come at last! The rain!” he shouted. And +the timber baron staggered to his feet, and turned a bloodshot gaze on +the panorama of blazing forest and sheeting heavens. Then he looked at +Wade, blinking stupidly and searching his soul for words.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t got the language, Mr. Wade—” he began. But the young man +broke upon his stammering speech.</p> + +<p>“There’s no need of saying anything,” he said, looking away. “I don’t +want to hear any thanks.”</p> + +<p>“I was left there to die—tied up there and left to die by a crazy fool +that tried to blackmail me—that’s it, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>tried to blackmail me. And I’ll +put him where he belongs. It was the most infernal plot ever put up on a +man. Blackmail and murder!” He gabbled his charges hysterically. The +shock of his experience had unmanned him. “You can’t blackmail a man +like me without suffering for it. I’ll put him into the deepest hole in +the insane asylum—with a gag in his mouth.” He was going on to relate +his experience, but Wade again interrupted him.</p> + +<p>“I won’t bother you to tell it, Mr. Barrett,” he said, coldly. “I know +how it happened. Mr. Withee told me this morning.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all lies and blackmail!” screamed Barrett, his fury rising at +thought of this gossip. “Withee is against me, too. I told him I’d take +his stumpage contract away, and this is how he is getting back. I’ll +have him and his whole crew in jail for blackmail if he doesn’t shut his +yawp.”</p> + +<p>A roar of thunder drowned his voice, and he stood, with the rain pelting +on him, shaking his fists above his head. But by the twist of his mouth +Wade saw that he was still cursing “blackmail.”</p> + +<p>The sight angered him. In as insulting a passion had John Barrett railed +at him, Dwight Wade, when he had asked for the hand of John Barrett’s +daughter. The man had tossed his arms in the same way when he called +Wade “a beggar of a school-master.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t call it blackmail and murder—not to me, Mr. Barrett,” he said, +harshly.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know it’s blackmail and a put-up job to ruin me?” roared the +timber baron.</p> + +<p>Wade stood up now and faced him. Torrents of rain beat upon them, and +they took no heed; for the face of the young man was working with a +mighty emotion and the features of the other man showed that sudden fear +had come upon him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>“Have you ever seen that daughter of yours that you left to wallow with +human swine?” demanded Wade, with a fury he could not restrain. “Well, I +have!” Into those words he put all the bitter resentment of months of +remembrance of John Barrett’s insults.</p> + +<p>“And I have seen the daughter you cherish in your home. I don’t need any +man’s say-so to prove to me that they’re both your children, Mr. +Barrett. You stand convicted in the eyes of every man who has eyes and +who sees Elva Barrett and then looks on poor Kate Arden—even her name a +cruel jest! I don’t want to hear a man like you lie, Mr. Barrett. Don’t +talk any more to me about blackmail.” He shook his fist at the roof of +the Jerusalem fire station, just showing above the ledges. “I know that +girl over there is your daughter. Now go slow, Mr. Barrett, with your +threats of what you will do to Lane. If there is any unwritten law, he +deserves to have the forfeit of the life that I’ve helped to save. +That’s still a matter between you two. But as to that girl yonder, I +propose to ask something. What are you going to do with her?”</p> + +<p>Barrett muttered incoherently, dazed by the new light of Wade’s words.</p> + +<p>“Your blackmail story may go with woodsmen, Mr. Barrett. But if Lane +should go out of these woods with his story and that girl to back it he +can hold you up to execration by every decent person in the State. The +girl proves it in every feature of her face.”</p> + +<p>“The lunatic tried to make me take her home, own her publicly, and treat +her as a daughter—and he demanded that to ruin me. It would ruin me in +my political prospects, Wade. You know it. I’m willing to do what’s +right. But I can’t do that.” His courage revived a little. “I’d rather +go down fighting.”</p> + +<p>The young man pondered awhile.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want you to think that I’m persecuting you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>for any of the +trouble between us, Mr. Barrett,” he said, at last. “That is all over +and done with. But as a man who knows what that poor girl has been +condemned to, and like others here who can tell by their own eyes that +Lane is speaking the truth, I’m going to see that she gets a fair show.”</p> + +<p>Barrett concealed his private doubts as to the young man’s animus. But +sudden dread of this new weapon in his foe’s hand mastered him.</p> + +<p>“In the name of God, help me out, Wade!” he pleaded, dropping all his +obstinacy. “I couldn’t argue with that crazy man. I’ll put the girl to +school. I’ll give her money. She shall have everything heart can +wish—except my home. Think of my family, Mr. Wade! Think of my +daughter! I want to have the respect of my family, Mr. Wade, for the few +years that are left to me. Help me, and you won’t be sorry for it. +<span style="white-space: nowrap;">I’ll—”</span></p> + +<p>“I want no pay and no promises,” broke in the young man. “You have been +free with your cry of blackmail. You can never taunt me with that. I’m +simply appealing to your manhood. But I’m going to see that your +daughter gets her rights, and that is no threat—it is justice.”</p> + +<p>“Aren’t those rights enough—what I have said?” urged Barrett.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps they are. They are probably all she can expect. People hardly +ever get all they deserve in this world—either in blessings or +punishments.” His tone was bitter. And he stood apart and gazed out over +the broad expanse to the south, his brow wrinkling. He was trying to +analyze the emotions that made him champion the outcast.</p> + +<p>The thunder-heads had rolled on, but like mighty and noisy engines they +had dragged behind them masses of clouds that covered the skies with a +slaty expanse, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>a storm, settled and steady, poured down its +grateful floods.</p> + +<p>Already the fire was dying. Only here and there scattered flames fought +the streaming skies from the tops of resinous trees.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barrett,” said Wade, at length, “the girl is at Lane’s. You can’t +meet her now. It is not the time and place. Probably Lane has returned +there. I don’t think his mind is right—and after knowing the wrong you +did him, I can understand why. You’ve time to reach Britt’s camp before +night. It is in the clearing to the north. You are an old woodsman. You +can find your way there.”</p> + +<p>Barrett nodded relieved assent.</p> + +<p>“You have asked me to help you. As that includes helping this poor girl +most of all, I am going to do what I can, for the sake of you and your +family.” Barrett gave a quick glance at him, but the young man’s face +was impassive. Perhaps the timber baron had hoped, for his own temporary +guarantee, to see a flash of the old love in Wade’s eyes. “I’m going to +request you to leave this matter in my hands for the present. I will see +Withee, and try to stop gossip in that quarter. Will you give me the +right to—well, to modify some of your threats? And as to Withee—I +believe you spoke of a contract!”</p> + +<p>John Barrett stood straighter now. The sneer of conscious authority, the +frown of tyranny, had gone from his face. There was a frankness in his +face and a sincerity in his tones that few persons had seen or heard +before. But the new inspiration was logical and real. The young man who +stood before him had just waived a mean vengeance so nobly that his +heart swelled. His doubts were quieted.</p> + +<p>“My boy,” he said, softly, pulling off his cap and standing bareheaded +in the rain, “I’m alive now, after <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>the experience of looking straight +into the eyes of death and giving up every hope. And, I tell you, it +seemed hard to die—just now, when the best hopes of my life are coming +true. I had time to think. I thought. I know I talked hard just a bit +ago. But I wasn’t myself then. I was too near the smoke and fire.” He +stopped and put his hand to watering eyes. “I can see clear now. And +I’ve got over my bitterness, and I guess now I can understand the Golden +Rule. That’s my word, and there’s my hand on it. Now talk for me to +those I’ve hurt.”</p> + +<p>They clasped hands. But it was Barrett who made that overture.</p> + +<p>“I’ll wait for you at Britt’s camp—until you come and tell me what I’m +to do,” said the timber baron. And then he turned and trudged away +across the wet ledges.</p> + +<p>Wade gazed after him until he disappeared in the stunted growth. He +gazed sourly into the palm of the hand that the millionaire had +squeezed, and reflected that perhaps Barrett’s precipitate repentance +was off the same piece as his own forgiveness of the bitter matter that +lay between them. Being a young man inclined to be honest with himself, +Dwight Wade confessed that the fabric of his forgiveness had a selvage +that already showed signs of ravelling. He was a little angry at his +state of mind.</p> + +<p>“And yet it sounded like a campaign speech to catch votes,” he muttered.</p> + +<p>He was still angrier at himself then, for, put into words, his doubt +seemed an unjust suspicion.</p> + +<p>“I must have got more of a jolt than I thought when I dropped from +ideals to the real,” he pondered, gazing out through the slanting lines +of rain. “I seem to have about as many grudges against humanity as old +Lane himself.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p><p>When he looked towards the roof of the little fire station he awoke to +the consciousness that the rain was wet and the wind searching. To +himself, in a sudden flash of introspection, he seemed to be as unkempt +within as without. There on the granite of the bare mountain, with the +forces of nature conquering the last embers of the mighty conflagration, +the narrower things of life and living—the amenities, the trammels that +man patiently puts upon himself for the sake of the social +fabric—appeared vain and delusive ideals. It was not thus that the +strong battled and won.</p> + +<p>“Considering what sort of a man they’re making of me up here, where +cast-iron is better than velvet, I think it’s likely, John Barrett, that +it has been lucky for you that you have a daughter away down there.”</p> + +<p>He set his face in long gaze to the southern hills, bulked dimly behind +the mists.</p> + +<p>“As for Kate Arden—” He shook his head despondently, and walked away +across the glistening granite towards “Ladder” Lane’s house.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>IN THE PATH OF THE BIG WIND</h3> + +<div class="centerbox11 bbox3"><p>“So we fellers of the camp, when the wind-spooks rave and ramp,<br /> +We fasten up the dingle-door with spike and extry clamp;<br /> +For it ain’t a mite against ’em if the boldest chaps do hide<br /> +When the big old trees go tumblin’, crash and bang, on ev’ry side.”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—<i>Ha’nt of Pamola.</i></span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcj.jpg" title="J" height="90" width="90" alt="J" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">J</span>ohn Barrett, millionaire, realized rather vaguely that he had left +something on the bald poll of Jerusalem Knob. It was after he had +grasped Dwight Wade’s hand, both of them standing shelterless under the +skies, the welcome rains beating into their faces.</p> + +<p>John Barrett, millionaire, stumbling weariedly to shelter at the foot of +Jerusalem Knob, having left something in that upper vastness where soul +forgot the petty things, realized—vaguely again—that he had found what +he had left. The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt seemed to pass it to him in +a hand-clasp.</p> + +<p>On Jerusalem, John Barrett had left much of his insolence, more of his +selfishness, and all of his vindictiveness. Dwight Wade, generous in his +own triumph, had shamed the baser feelings out of him. And yet that new +poise of a sincerer manliness seemed to be charmed away suddenly by the +mere touch of Pulaski Britt’s big hand. That hand represented the brutal +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>tyranny of the barons of the woods. It was thrust out in welcome over +the threshold of the wangan camp, and Britt hauled in his fellow-baron +with boisterous greeting.</p> + +<p>“It’s been hell for all of us, John, but I reckon you’ve been in the +hottest corner of it if what they tell me is true. I didn’t have time to +ask for any details, not with that infernal fire on my hands, but it +isn’t the first time that rascals have poked up fools in these woods to +pay off old grudges against timber-land owners. I’ve hit back hard a few +times myself. This time we’ll hit hard enough to teach ’em a lesson that +will stick awhile.” He put his head out of the door and yelled an order +to the cook.</p> + +<p>“It—it may not be best to push things too hard,” faltered Barrett, +spreading his wet, blue hands to the blaze of the Franklin stove. +“Things have come up <span style="margin-right: 1em;">that—”</span></p> + +<p>“They’ve tried the same bluff on me,” blustered the host. “They loaded +old Lane up with threats of what he’d do. It’s all conspiracy and +blackmail. There’s more behind it than we realize now. But we’ll dig ’em +out, Barrett. We’ve got to smash the whole thing now or they’ll have us +on the run. I didn’t suppose Barnum Withee was the kind of man to work +out a grudge the way he did, but it shows us the danger in bein’ too +easy with any of ’em. Old Lane is only crazy. It’s this Wade we want to +bang the hardest. I’ll tell you what I believe, John. I’ll bet cents to +saw-logs he’s been hired to come up here and start a rebellion. There +are interests in this State that will do it. By Judas, in twenty-four +hours I’ll show ’em!”</p> + +<p>The tacit partnership of honorable reparation bound by hand-clasp on +Jerusalem had not the elements to make it endure in Pulaski Britt’s +domains, with Pulaski Britt to sound his old-time rallying call of greed +and tyranny. That earlier partnership, sealed by the arms<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> of Old King +Spruce, had never been dissolved, and Barrett was once more becoming +“Stumpage John,” cold and hard and calculating.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Pulaski,” he blurted out, in sudden confidence, “there’s a +little more to this than you understand just now. I’m in a devil of a +position. I—I—” He hesitated, staring into the fire and waving his +hands slowly in the steam that rose from his sodden garments.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t done just right, I suppose, but there are reasons why, that a +man like you will understand. I just left that Wade fellow up on the top +of Jerusalem. We’ve had a talk. He didn’t understand very well.”</p> + +<p>“Did he offer to trade something for the sake of gettin’ that daughter +of yours that he’s in love with?” demanded Britt, maliciously.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” confessed the other. “I’m under obligations to him, +Pulaski. He cut me loose from a tree to-day in Pogey Notch. In another +ten minutes the fire would have got me.”</p> + +<p>“Great Jehosaphat!” exploded the host. “Tried to kill you! A timber +grudge carried that far!” He stamped about the little camp. His face +wrinkled with apprehension and fury. He had a sudden vivid mind-picture +of his own reign of tyranny, and realized that if John Barrett had been +attacked, Pulaski Britt had more reason to fear. “It’s a call for a +lynchin’, John,” he said, hoarsely. “And I’ve got a crew that will do +it.”</p> + +<p>“It was Lane that tied me—the fire-station warden,” Barrett went on.</p> + +<p>“And Withee turned you over to him, knowin’ he’d do it!” stormed the +baron. “His men blabbed it that Lane had taken you. Withee, Wade—we’ll +clean out the whole coop of ’em!”</p> + +<p>But John Barrett did not seem to warm up to this plan of vengeance. He +still kept his eyes on the fire. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>His shoulders were hunched forward +with something of abjectness in their droop.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t got some whiskey handy, have you, Pulaski?” he asked, +plaintively. “I don’t feel well. I’ve had an awful night and day.”</p> + +<p>Britt brought the liquor from a cupboard, cursing soulfully and urging +vengeance. But after Barrett drank from the pannikin he leaned his face +to the blaze again and broke upon the Honorable Pulaski’s vicious +monologue.</p> + +<p>“I’ve told the wrong end first—but there are some things easier to say +than others. It was Linus Lane who tied me to that tree and left me to +die there, but”—Barrett rolled his head sideways and gave Britt a queer +glance from his eye-corners—“did you ever see my daughter Elva, +Pulaski?”</p> + +<p>Britt blinked as though trying to understand this sudden shifting of +topic, and wagged slow nod of assent.</p> + +<p>“Have you ever seen that girl of the Skeet settlement—the one that +doesn’t belong to them?” Barrett half choked over the question.</p> + +<p>“Have I seen her?” roared the Honorable Pulaski, no longer paying +attention to incongruity of questions. “Why, that’s the draggle-tailed +lightnin’-bug that set this fire that we’ve been fightin’ for +forty-eight hours, and that only this rain stopped from bein’ a +fifty-thousand-acre crown-fire! Have I seen her! I was there when she +set it, and only the grace o’ God and that Wade’s fist saved her from +bein’ shot, and shot by me! I would have killed her like I’d kill a +quill-pig!”</p> + +<p>Barrett did not look up from the fire.</p> + +<p>“Then you’ve seen both those girls, you say? I haven’t seen this one in +the woods here. But this Wade told me to-day that they very much +resemble each other. He has heard some gossip and is making <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>threats. He +seems to think I ought to take the girl and care for her.”</p> + +<p>Britt began a bitter diatribe, coupling the name of Wade and the girl as +examples of all that is inimical to timber interests and timber +owners—but he checked himself suddenly as soon as his native shrewdness +mastered his passion. A flicker in his eyes showed that a light had +burst upon his mind. He strode back and forth behind Barrett’s stool, +and gazed down upon the stumpage king’s bent back.</p> + +<p>“Look here, John,” he demanded, bluffly, at last, “was there any truth +in the story that was limpin’ round in these woods about you almost +twenty years ago? There was a woman in it—somebody’s wife. I’ve +forgotten who.”</p> + +<p>“It was Lane’s wife,” admitted Barrett, finding confession good for the +soul of one who stood bitterly in need of practical advice—and Pulaski +Britt was nothing if not practical. “I was up here prospecting, and she +was bound to follow me up to camp, and I was infernal fool enough to let +her. And when it came time for me to go out of the woods I couldn’t take +her—you can see that for yourself! I thought I had provided for her—I +would have done it, but she dropped out of sight, and I couldn’t go +hunting around and stirring up gossip. Same way about the child.”</p> + +<p>“Young one has had a nice, genteel bringin’-up,” remarked the Honorable +Pulaski, sarcastically. Hard though his nature was, he had the sincerity +of the woods, and he felt sudden contempt for this man who had uprooted +for one brief sniff of its perfume a woods blossom that he could not +wear.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t realize it until Lane told me at Withee’s camp. I had hoped +she had fallen into good hands. It’s a devil of a position to be in,” +the other mourned, returning to his prior lament.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>“Well,” remarked Britt, inexorably, “you can’t exactly complain because +you are now gettin’ only a little of what Lane and the girl have been +gettin’ a whole lot of all these years. It ain’t any use to whine to me, +John. I don’t pity you much. I’ve been hard with men, but, by Cephas, +I’ve never been soft with women! It don’t pay.”</p> + +<p>“It seems as though you ought to be willin’ to advise me a little,” +pleaded Barrett. “I’m ready to do what I can for the girl, now that I’ve +found out about her. But Lane insisted on my taking her out with me and +declaring her to the world as my daughter. And when I refused he tied me +to the tree.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ho! It wasn’t just for the old original revenge, then?” queried +Pulaski, his expression indicating a more charitable view of “Ladder” +Lane’s assault on the vested timber interests as represented by Stumpage +John Barrett. “Well, if the girl is your young one she ought to have a +chance!”</p> + +<p>In his turn, Barrett got up and paced the floor. “Such a thing would +kill my chances of being the next governor of this State, and you and +the whole timber crowd have got a lot at stake there.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve got to admit, havin’ played politics myself somewhat,” said +Britt, unconsolingly, “that a quiet little frost of scandal will nip off +a budding leaf that a wind like this wouldn’t start.”</p> + +<p>He tapped the frame of the chattering window. In the hush of their +voices they heard the wind volleying through the trees and roaring high +overhead among the black clouds. Night had fallen. The crew had long +before finished supper, and the cook had twice summoned the inattentive +two in the wangan to a second table spread more sumptuously.</p> + +<p>“And what kind of a trade is it your friend Wade wants to make with +you?” inquired Britt. “Takin’ <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>the thing by and large, you must be in +for a prime hold-up. If he should say, ‘Your daughter or your +life—political life!’—I reckon you’d have to change your mind about +his qualifications as a son-in-law, wouldn’t you?” He eyed Barrett +keenly and heard his oaths with relish. “You see,” persisted the host, +“though old Lane is probably out of this for good, after trying to kill +you, and you can handle Barnum Withee and the rest of these woods cattle +in one way or another, this Wade chap is sittin’ across from you with +about every trump in the deck under his thumb. What does he say he +wants?”</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t say,” muttered Barrett. “He hasn’t asked for anything. He’s +thinking it over.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the cat and the mouse, and him the cat!” suggested the Honorable +Pulaski, with manifest intent to irritate. “I should have most thought +you would have thrown your arms around his neck after your rescue and +yelled in his ear: ‘My daughter is yours, noble man! Take her and my +money, and live happy ever after!’ These fellows that write novels +always have ’em do that sort of thing—and the novel-writers ought to +know!”</p> + +<p>“There’s no novel about this thing!” retorted Barrett, angrily. “My girl +knows whom she is expected to marry—and she’ll marry him when the right +time comes. And it won’t be a college dude without one dollar to rub +against another! I’m in a devil of a hole, Pulaski, but do you think for +one minute that I’m going to let that Wade make a slip-noose of this +thing and hang me up with my heels kicking air? I’ll either choke him +with thousand-dollar bills, <span style="white-space: nowrap;">or—or—”</span></p> + +<p>He glanced at Britt and forbore to finish the sentence.</p> + +<p>The door opened just then and Tommy Eye, teamster, poked in his grizzled +head.</p> + +<p>“Cook has lost his voice hollerin’ ‘Beans!’ gents,” <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>he reported, and +Britt whirled on his heel and led the way out.</p> + +<p>“After supper, after supper, John!” he snapped, testily, when the other +repeated his plea for advice. “We’ll come back here and find a plan +blossoming in our cigar smoke.” They hurried away to the cook-camp, +bending against the rush of the wind. “Put some wood on that fire, +Tommy,” Britt called over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>With the scent of the inebriate, Tommy had sniffed whiskey when he +opened the camp door; his drunkard’s eye caressed the bottle that the +Honorable Pulaski had forgotten to replace in the cupboard. He stood +dusting from his sleeves the bark litter of the wood he had brought and +softly snuffled the moisture at the corners of his mouth as he gazed. +One wild impulse suggested that he take the bottle and run into the +woods.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Tommy, aloud, in order that his voice might brace his +determination. “It would be stealin’, and, bless God, Tommy Eye never +stole when he was sober. I may have stole when I was drunk and didn’t +know it, but I never stole when I was sober.” He paused. “I wish I +wasn’t sober,” he sighed. He took up the bottle, turned it in his grimy +hands, gustfully studied the streakings of its oil on the glass, and at +last sniffed at the open mouth. “Ah-h-h-h, rich men have the best, and +they have plenty. Some people don’t think it is wrong to steal from rich +men. I do. But if he was here he’d probably say: ‘Tommy, you have +brought the wood—you have mended the fire. It is a cold night, and sure +the wind is awful! Tommy, take one drink with me and work the harder for +P’laski Britt on the morrer.’”</p> + +<p>He took the bottle away from his nose, stared at the window’s black +outline, listened to the clattering frame, and muttered, again sighing: +“Sure and them wor-rds <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>don’t sound just like the wor-rds that P’laski +Britt would say, but in a night like this it isn’t always easy to hear +aright. I wouldn’t steal—but I’ll dream I heard him say ’em. ‘One +drink, Tommy,’ I hear him say.”</p> + +<p>He set the bottle to his lips, tipped it, closed his eyes, and drank +until at last, breathless and choking, he felt the bottle suck dry.</p> + +<p>“Bless the saints!” he gasped; “it was one drink he said, and sure with +my eyes shut I couldn’t see how big was the drink.” He felt the thrill +of the mighty potation from head to toes. His meek spirit became +exalted. “If I should go out now,” he mumbled, “he would say that I +stole it. But I will stay here with the bottle in my hand just as it was +when I took the one drink. I will show him. And, after all, it is not +much he can do to me—now!” He rubbed a consolatory palm over his +glowing stomach. He stood there, beginning at last to rock slowly from +heel to toe, until he heard voices and footsteps. The preoccupied barons +had not lingered over their repast. “No, I’ll not run away. I’ll not +steal,” muttered Tommy Eye, “but—but I’ll just crawl under the bunk, +here, to think over the snatch of a speech I’ll make to him. And a bit +later I’ll feel more like bein’ kicked.”</p> + +<p>From the safe gloom of his covert he noted that they had brought back +with them the boss, Colin MacLeod. Britt turned down the wooden button +over the latch of the door and gave his guests cigars.</p> + +<p>They smoked in silence for a while, and then Britt spat with a snap of +decision into the open fire and spoke.</p> + +<p>“MacLeod, a while ago, when we were talkin’ about Rodburd Ide’s girl, +Nina, I told you that I wouldn’t interfere in your woman affairs +again—or you told me not to interfere—I forgot just which!” There was +a little touch of grim irony in his tones—irony that he promptly +discarded as he went on. “About that Ide <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>girl—you ought to know that +you can’t catch her—after what has happened. I know something about +women myself. The girl never took to you. If she had cared anything +about you she would have run to you and cried over you when you were +lying there in the road where Dwight Wade tossed you. That’s woman when +she’s in love with a man. Don’t break in on what I’m saying! This isn’t +any session of cheap men sittin’ down to gossip over love questions. It +may sound like it, but it’s straight business. Don’t be a fool any +longer. But there’s a girl that you have courted and a girl that thinks +a lot of you, because I heard her say so one night on Jerusalem Knob. +You ought to marry that girl.”</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski again checked retort by sharp command.</p> + +<p>“That girl isn’t of the blood of the Skeets and Bushees, and you know +it. She is a pretty girl, and once she is away from that gang and +dressed in good clothes she will make a wife that you’ll be proud of. +Now, what do you say, Colin? Will you marry that girl?”</p> + +<p>MacLeod stared from the face of his employer to the face of John +Barrett, the latter displaying decidedly more interest than the +questioner. Then he stood up and dashed his cigar angrily into the fire. +Blood flamed on his high cheek-bones and his gray eyes glittered.</p> + +<p>“What has marryin’ got to do with my job, or what have you got to do +with my marryin’?” he asked, in hot anger.</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski continued bland and conciliating.</p> + +<p>“Keep on all your clothes, Colin, my boy,” he counselled. “Don’t say +anything to me that you’ll be sorry for after I’ve shown you that I’m +only doin’ you a friendly turn. But I’ve found out a mighty interesting +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>thing about this girl—Kate Arden, they call her. As a friend of yours +I’m givin’ you the tip. It would be too bad to have a girl with a nice +tidy little sum of money comin’ to her slip past you when all you have +to do is to reach and take her.”</p> + +<p>The boss’s face was surly.</p> + +<p>“You must have been talkin’ with some one in Barn Withee’s crew,” he +suggested.</p> + +<p>“And what does Withee’s crew say?” demanded Britt, with heat.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t a sewin’-circle I was attendin’ out on that fire-line,” +retorted MacLeod, with just as much vigor. “There was somethin’ bein’ +talked, but I didn’t stop to listen.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, MacLeod,” cried his employer. Britt came close to him and +clutched the belt of his wool jacket. “There are some nasty liars in +these woods just now. There are some of them that will go to +state-prison for attempted blackmail. You are too bright a man not to +realize which is your own side. I know you well enough to believe that +all the lunatics and slanderers this side of Castonia couldn’t turn you +against your friends. And you’ve got no two better friends than John +Barrett and I.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not gainsaying it, Mr. Britt. But what has joinin’ this matrimonial +agency of yours got to do with your friendship or my work?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve found out, Colin, that this girl has got money comin’ to her from +her folks. She doesn’t know about it yet. No one knows about it, except +us here. She never belonged to the Skeets and Bushees. She was stolen. +This money has been waitin’ for her. Barrett and I are bank-men, and +things like this come to our attention when no one else would hear of +it. There’s—there’s—” Britt paused and slid a look at Barrett from +under an eyebrow cocked inquiringly. Barrett <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>slyly spread ten fingers. +“There’s ten thousand dollars comin’ to her in clean cash, Colin. Now, +what do you think of that?”</p> + +<p>“I think it’s a ratty kind of a story,” said MacLeod, bluntly.</p> + +<p>Britt’s temper flared.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you accuse me of lyin’,” he roared. “The girl has got the money +comin’, I say.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe it <i>is</i> comin’,” replied the boss, doggedly; “but has she got any +name comin’? Has she got any folks comin’? Has she got anything comin’ +except somebody’s hush-money?”</p> + +<p>The woodsman’s keen scenting of the trail discomposed the Honorable +Pulaski for a moment. But after a husky clearing of his throat he +returned to the work in hand.</p> + +<p>“Folks, you fool! You can’t dig folks up out of a cemetery. If her folks +had been alive they’d have hunted up their girl years ago. They were +good folks. You needn’t worry about that. There’s no need now to bother +the girl about her folks or the money. She wouldn’t know how to handle +it if she had it in her own hands. It needs a man to care for her and +the cash. We don’t want a cheap hyena to fool her and get it. You’re the +man, Colin. Marry her, and the ten thousand will be put into your fist +the day the knot is tied.”</p> + +<p>“It sounds snide and I won’t do it,” growled MacLeod, seeming to fairly +bristle in his obstinacy. “Not if she was Queen of Sheby.”</p> + +<p>“Le’ him go, then!” murmured a voice under the bunk. “Here’s a gen’lum +puffick—ick—ly willin’.”</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski turned to behold the simpering face of drunken +Tommy Eye peering wistfully from his retirement.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it ch-cheaper, so ’elp me!” said Tommy, pounding down the empty +bottle to mark emphasis.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>“Yank that drunken hog out o’ there, MacLeod!” roared Britt, after a +preface of horrible oaths. And when Tommy stood before him, swaying +limply in the boss’s clutch, he cuffed him repeatedly, first with one +hand, then with the other. The smile on the man’s face became a sickly +grimace, but he did not whimper.</p> + +<p>“’Spected kickin’,” he murmured. “Jus’ soon be cuffed.” He held up the +empty bottle that he still clung to desperately. “Want to ’splain ’bout +one drink—” he began. But Britt wrenched the bottle from his hand, +raised it as though to beat out Tommy’s brains, and, relenting, smashed +it into a corner.</p> + +<p>“So you’ve laid there and listened to our private business,” he said, +malevolently. “You’ve heard more than is good for you, Eye.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t hear nossin’,” protested Tommy. “Was thinkin’ up speech. Jus’ +heard him say he wouldn’t marry—marry—”</p> + +<p>“Marry who?”</p> + +<p>“‘Queen of Sheby,’ says he, with all her di’monds. I’ll marry her. I’ll +settle down wiz Queen of Sheby.”</p> + +<p>“He’s too drunk to know anything,” said MacLeod. “Open the door, Mr. +Britt, and I’ll toss him out.”</p> + +<p>And he flung the soggy Tommy out on the carpet of pine-needles with as +little consideration as though he were a bag of oats.</p> + +<p>He turned at the door and looked from Britt to Barrett.</p> + +<p>“You’ve put a big thing up to me, gents, and you’ve sprung it on me like +a crack with a sled-stake. If I got dizzy and answered you short it was +your own fault. Give me a night to sleep on it.”</p> + +<p>Outside he twisted his hand into the collar of Tommy Eye and started +towards the main camp, dragging the inebriate. “I’ll see that he keeps +his mouth shut, gents,” he called back to them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>“You needn’t worry, John,” announced Britt, closing the door and pulling +out another cigar. “He’ll do it.” He waited for the sulphur to burn from +the match, and lighted his tobacco, a smile of triumph wrinkling under +his beard.</p> + +<p>“You don’t usually tackle Pulaski D. Britt for good, practical advice +without gettin’ it,” he went on. “The girl is crazy after MacLeod. +You’ll find MacLeod square when he makes a promise. He’s got fool +notions about those things. And when she’s married to him and settled +down here in these woods, where she belongs, the chap that wants to make +her Exhibit A in a slander against John Barrett will find himself up +against a mighty tough proposition. You see that, don’t you? Now the +next thing is to get her out of the hands of that gang that want to use +her against you.”</p> + +<p>He mused a moment.</p> + +<p>“All that we need to do is to send a man up to Jerusalem to-morrow, and +say that you’re all ready to start for outside and propose to take the +girl along. If any one in this world has any rights over her, you have. +They can’t refuse. And now we’ll go to bed, John, for if ever two men +needed sleep, I reckon we’re the ones.”</p> + +<p>But it was not unbroken slumber that came to them. The big winds outside +roared with the sound of a bursting avalanche. Over the camp the sawing +limbs of the interlaced crowns shrieked and groaned. There were deeper, +further, and more mystic sounds, like mighty ’cellos. And when the great +blow was at its height the wangan camp, built upon the roots of the +splay-foot spruces, swayed with the writhing of the roots, creaked in +its timbers, and seemed to toss like a craft on a crazy sea. There were +noises near at hand in the woods like the detonations of heavy guns. +Every now and then the earth shivered, and thunderous echoes boomed down +the forest aisles.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>“Do you hear ’em John?” called Britt, at last. He had long been awake, +and had marked the restless stirrings of the other in the bunk below +him.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been listening an hour,” said Barrett, despondently, “and it’s big +stuff that’s coming down. Our loss by fire was small change to what this +means to us, Pulaski. Withee has devilled my lands until there isn’t a +wind-break left.”</p> + +<p>A roar like the awful voice of a park of artillery throbbed past them on +the volleying wind.</p> + +<p>“I feel as though it was kissing a thousand dollars good-bye every time +I hear one of those noises,” said Britt. “The devil can play jack-straws +in the Umcolcus region after this night, and find a new bunch every +day.”</p> + +<p>At last they looked dismally out on the dawn. The great gale had blown +overhead and away, the rearguard clouds chasing it, and the hard growth, +stripped of every vestige of leaf, gave pathetic testimony to the +bitterness of the conflict of the night.</p> + +<p>The two lumber barons, staring anxiously up at the slopes of the black +growth for signs of ravage, were confronted by Tommy Eye, meek, +repentant, and shaky.</p> + +<p>“Sure, the witherlicks and the swamp swogons did howl last night, gents, +and they all did say as how Tommy Eye ought to be ashamed of the size of +his drink. And I’ve come back to you to get my kick.” He turned humbly.</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt accepted the invitation with alacrity, +and dealt the kick with a vigor that fetched a squawk from the teamster. +The timber tyrant’s mood that morning welcomed such an opportunity, even +as a surcharged cloud welcomes a lightning-rod or a farm-house chimney. +But once the kick had been dealt the Honorable Pulaski felt less wire on +the edge of his meat-axe temper.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p><p>“And now I’ll take my discharge,” said Tommy. “MacLeod gave me an order +on you for my pay.”</p> + +<p>Britt snatched away the paper and tore it up.</p> + +<p>“Get into that hovel and look after your horses.” But when Tommy turned +to go his employer called him back. “I’ve got another job for you just +now, you snake-chaser. You need to chew fresh air, and you’ll find a lot +of it on top of Jerusalem. I don’t know just how much you understood of +our business in the wangan camp last night, Eye, and I don’t care. You +know me well enough to understand that if you ever blab any of it I’ll +have your ha’ slet out of you!” Tommy cringed under a furious glare. “It +will depend on how well you do an errand for me now whether or not I +feed you to bobcats. You get that, do you?”</p> + +<p>Again the teamster bowed his wistful assent.</p> + +<p>“I wish I hadn’t let Sheriff Rodliff and his men leave,” remarked Britt +to “Stumpage John,” eying Tommy with some disfavor. “But perhaps this +fool can do the trick better than a sheriff’s posse. Sending the posse +might make talk and stir suspicions.”</p> + +<p>“The quieter it’s done the better,” suggested Barrett. “After my talk +with Wade—which was pretty soft, as I remember it—it will seem natural +for me to send after the girl—and by just such a messenger as this.”</p> + +<p>“So we’ll send the fool—you’re right!” affirmed Britt. “Tommy,” he +directed, wagging a thick finger under the man’s attentive nose to mark +his commands, “you hump up to that fire station on Jerusalem as quick as +leg-work will get you there, and you’ll find a young girl. There are not +enough young girls up there so that you’ll make any mistake in the right +one. You tell the one that’s in charge, or whoever claims to be in +charge, that the girl has been sent for. You’ll probably find that +fellow Dwight Wade takin’ the responsibility. Tell him that it’s all +right, and that the gentleman he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>made the talk with is prepared to back +up all promises. Bring the girl back with you.”</p> + +<p>“Girls was never much took with me, and I never was handy in makin’ up +to girls,” protested Tommy, his face puckering in alarm. “She prob’ly +won’t come, and then I’ll get kicked again.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll get kicked again mighty sudden if you don’t do as I tell you, +and do it quick and do it right!” roared Britt, starting off the camp +platform. And Tommy, cowed by his tyrant, stood not upon the order of +his going. He was trotting with a dog-waddle when he disappeared up the +Jerusalem trail.</p> + +<p>“He ought to be back by noon,” said Britt. “In the mean time we’ll eat +breakfast and then cruise for blowdowns. And I’m thinkin’ it isn’t goin’ +to be a very humorous forenoon for timber-land owners.”</p> + +<p>Nor was it. Dolefully and silently they traversed wastes of splintered +devastation, blocked ram-downs, choked twitch-roads, and hideous snarls +of cross-piled timber.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE AFFAIR AT DURFY’S CAMP</h3> + +<div class="centerbox11 bbox3"><p>“The boss was a-thinkin’ to swat him, but allowed he had better not,<br /> +For ’twas trouble bad that Dumphy had, whatever it was he’d got.”</p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcw.jpg" title="W" height="90" width="90" alt="W" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">W</span>hen the timber barons came in sight of the camp at noon, Tommy Eye, +returned emissary, was seated on the edge of the wangan platform with +attitude and countenance of alarmed expectancy. By his side was old +Christopher Straight, the guide who had accompanied Dwight Wade from +Castonia settlement.</p> + +<p>“I done it—I said as you said for me to say,” Tommy began, eagerly, +“and Mr. Straight here will tell you the same. I said it first to old +Noah up there, and he was startin’ off with his animiles like as they +done with the ark stranded, and he swore me up hill and down, <span style="white-space: nowrap;">and—”</span></p> + +<p>“Shut up!” barked the Honorable Pulaski, in a perfectly fiendish temper +after the sights of that forenoon. “Did you bring that girl? And if you +didn’t, why not?”</p> + +<p>“I can tell you better, perhaps, Mr. Britt,” broke in old Christopher, +calmly. “She has been left on Mr. Wade’s hands, and Mr. Wade feels that +he ought to be careful. Warden Lane, who had charge of her, seems to +have lost his wits. All last night—it was an awful <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>night, gentlemen, +on Jerusalem—he was out on the ledges raving and howling. I think that +a matter that Mr. Barrett will understand was troubling up his +conscience, if that’s the word for it. This mornin’ he seemed to be +clean out of his head. He knocked the saplin’s off his cages and let out +the animals, and they followed him off down into the woods—”</p> + +<p>“Moose, bobcat, fisher-cat—” But Tommy ceased his enumeration to dodge +a vicious sweep of Britt’s palm.</p> + +<p>“I guess he left the place for good, seeing he took his rifle and his +pack,” continued the guide. “I thought the timber owners might like to +know that their fire station is abandoned. As for the girl,” he hastened +to add, “Mr. Wade told me to say that for reasons that Mr. Britt would +understand he didn’t think she ought to come here.”</p> + +<p>“Because she’s lost her head over my boss, MacLeod, eh?” demanded Britt.</p> + +<p>“You saw yourself that the girl wasn’t to be controlled easily when the +young man was present,” said Christopher, mildly. “So he believes if +there is business to be talked to her and about her it will be better to +meet somewhere else.”</p> + +<p>“The blasted coward is afraid to come with her or let her come,” sneered +the Honorable Pulaski. “Well, we’ll go up there; and we’ll take a few +men along and find out who’s runnin’ this thing—a college dude or the +men who own these timber lands.” Mr. Barrett would have advised more +pacificatory talk. But Mr. Britt was in a mood too generally unamiable +that day to heed prudence and wise counsel.</p> + +<p>“You’ll have only your own trouble for your trip,” remarked Straight. +“This man here said that Mr. Barrett was all ready to leave the woods. +Mr. Wade has left the top of the mountain with the girl, and will meet +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>Mr. Barrett to the south of Pogey Notch. You’ll not have to go out of +your way, sir,” he explained.</p> + +<p>“Well, where?” snapped Britt.</p> + +<p>“I’m here prepared to lead Mr. Barrett to the place, and I suggest that +if he’s ready we’ll be on our way. You’ll probably want to fetch the +Half-way House at nightfall, sir.”</p> + +<p>This patent distrust of Pulaski Britt and his designs angered that +gentleman quite beyond the power of even his profanity. But he knew +Christopher Straight too well to attempt to bulldoze that hard-eyed old +woodsman.</p> + +<p>“Is this select assembly too good to have me come along?” he inquired, +his thick lips curling under his beard.</p> + +<p>“I think Mr. Wade will be glad to have you there,” said Christopher, +mildly. “He didn’t say anything to the contrary. He expects Mr. Barrett +to have some one to keep him company as far as the stage road, though he +thought it probably would be a woodsman. But Mr. Wade gave particular +instructions about any crowd comin’ along, and he’ll not meet any one if +your boss MacLeod is in the party. That’s straight talk. He’s had all +the trouble with your boss that he cares for.”</p> + +<p>After a withering survey of Straight, which the old guide endured with +much composure, Britt beckoned Barrett away with a jerk of his head, and +the two strolled behind the horse-hovel.</p> + +<p>“There you have it, John,” he snarled, more ireful as a champion than +the unhappy principal. “It’s a put-up job. He’s goin’ to plaster the +girl onto you. It’s his play. He’s goin’ to use it for all it’s worth.”</p> + +<p>“It will be better for me to take her out than to have him chase along +after me with the girl and the story—if that’s the way he feels; and +it’s plain that he means to make trouble,” said Barrett, moodily. “I can +put her away somewhere in a boarding-school, and—”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p><p>The Honorable Pulaski broke upon this doleful capitulation with +contemptuous brusqueness.</p> + +<p>“You talk like a fool, John! Take that girl outside these woods and give +her an education? File her teeth so that she can set ’em into your +throat? You teach her to read and to write and to know things, and +that’s what it will amount to in the end. The girl has got to stay +here!” He embraced the big woods in a vigorous gesture. “She belongs +here! And the only way to keep her here is to put her in the hands of a +man that—”</p> + +<p>Colin MacLeod had followed them to their retreat behind the hovel, and +was standing at a little distance, looking at them.</p> + +<p>“Come here, Colin!” And Britt advanced to meet him and clutched his arm, +the arm that Dwight Wade had dislocated in that memorable battle in +Castonia. “Boy, if you are a coward, now is your time to own it. Old +Straight has come down here to tell us that Wade has that girl in his +hands. He knows what she’s worth. He wants to meet Barrett and myself. +You can guess why. He proposes to get hold of that money. He knows we +control it. We can’t help ourselves if she chooses to stay with him.”</p> + +<p>The able old liar of the Umcolcus knew his man as the harper knows his +instrument. He felt the muscles ridge under his clutch.</p> + +<p>“He has sent word that he won’t have you at the meeting. Ask Straight! +He’ll give you the message. The dude knows he wouldn’t stand the show of +a snowball in tophet with you there where the girl could see you. If +you’re a coward, say so, and we’ll look further.”</p> + +<p>“By ——, I’m no coward, and you know it!” growled the boss.</p> + +<p>“He’s licked you once and cut you out with one girl,” persisted Britt. +“The whole Umcolcus knows that! When they find out that he’s got away +with a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>girl that has been in love with you, and with ten thousand +dollars in the bargain, why, boy, even Tommy Eye will dare to put up his +fists to you!”</p> + +<p>In MacLeod’s tumultuous mind it was no longer love’s choice between Nina +Ide and Kate Arden; it was the hard, bitter passion of the primitive +man—the instinct to grasp what a foe is coveting for the sake of +humiliating that foe. Again MacLeod felt himself thrust forth by +circumstances to be the champion of his kind. That man from the city was +of the other sort.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Britt,” he choked, “let me at him once more!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that will be all right!” said the baron; “but we’re not pulling off +a prize-fight, MacLeod. Scraps are interestin’ enough when there isn’t +more important business on hand. There happens to be business just now. +The whole idea is, are you ready to marry the girl?”</p> + +<p>MacLeod had approached them grimly resolved to be defiant on that point. +The flicker in his eyes now was the shadow of that resolution departing.</p> + +<p>“If it’s him against me again,” he snarled, “I’ll marry a quill-pig and +ask no questions.”</p> + +<p>“Not exactly cheerful talk to hear from a prospective bridegroom +marryin’ money and good looks,” commented the Honorable Pulaski, dryly; +“but a promise is a promise, MacLeod, and I never knew you to break one +you made me. Shake!”</p> + +<p>By the way in which both Barrett and MacLeod turned inquiring gaze on +him, the Umcolcus baron understood that he was tacitly elected autocrat +of the situation, and he proceeded about his task with the briskness +characteristic of his habit of command.</p> + +<p>“John, you get your dinner, bid us an affectionate farewell, and go +along with old Straight. Go alone. Tell him you left all your duffel at +Withee’s camp and don’t need any guide. I’ll look after the rest of it. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>Chris Straight can hide his dude and the girl, but he can’t pull up the +ground behind him.”</p> + +<p>They started off promptly after the noon snack, the taciturn Christopher +offering no comment on Mr. Barrett’s amiable compliance, and apparently +blandly unsuspicious that the Honorable Pulaski concealed guile under a +demeanor which had suddenly become pacific.</p> + +<p>Men who had made their warfare more by craft and less by brute strength +would have been more wily. John Barrett and Pulaski Britt had always +been too confident of their own power to think subterfuge necessary. +Barrett, especially, as he strode along at the heels of old Christopher, +was so well content with his own first essay in duplicity that his +taking-down was correspondingly humiliating. They were resting, he and +the old guide, after a tough scramble around a blowdown that they had +encountered a mile or so from Britt’s camps.</p> + +<p>With a jerk of his chin Christopher indicated a far-off sound on the +back trail.</p> + +<p>“Pretty busy, that woodpecker is, Mr. Barrett!”</p> + +<p>“Stumpage John” assented, wondering at the same time how such an old +woodsman could misinterpret that chip-chop. “The fool Indian ought to +make allowance for a blowdown,” he reflected, angrily. “He’s following +too close.”</p> + +<p>“In this world you expect cheap men to lie and cheat,” remarked +Christopher, serenely. “But you don’t hardly expect State senators and +candidates for governor to be that sort.”</p> + +<p>“What the devil do you mean?” demanded Barrett, with heat.</p> + +<p>“I mean that Britt’s Indian, Newell Sockbeson, is following us and +makin’ a double-blaze for—well, I suppose it’s so that Pulaski Britt +and his men can chase <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>us up. As to why, you probably know better than I +do, Mr. Barrett.”</p> + +<p>The timber baron stared at this disconcerting old plain-speaker without +finding fit words for reply.</p> + +<p>“It can hardly be that he’s goin’ to all that trouble simply to get the +girl. Mr. Wade is ready to turn the girl over to you, Mr. Barrett. Why +is it that men ain’t willin’ to play fair in this world? What does +Pulaski Britt want to meddle in this thing for?”</p> + +<p>“I think you’re wrong about the Indian following us,” paltered the +millionaire. “You’re only guessin’ about that, Straight.”</p> + +<p>“When I see Pulaski Britt talk to an Indian, when I see that Indian pack +a lunch, take a camp-axe, and hide at the mouth of the trail, I don’t +have to guess, Mr. Barrett. Some of us old fellows of the woods see a +whole lot of things without seemin’ to take much notice.” He got up off +the tree-trunk where he had been sitting and made ready to take the +trail again, swinging his pack to his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“There wouldn’t have been any misunderstanding if Wade had sent the girl +back by the messenger,” protested Barrett. “And if he didn’t have +something up his sleeve he would have done so. The girl is nothing to +him, and he’s meddling in affairs that are none of his business.”</p> + +<p>“You’d better save that talk and tell it to him,” said the old guide, +grimly. “I’m going to take you to where we arranged to meet if every man +that Britt can rake and scrape on his ten townships comes followin’ at +my back. I’ve thought it over, and the more witnesses there are to some +things the better it is for all concerned—or the worse!”</p> + +<p>And reflecting on what these words might mean, and now a little dubious +as to the sagacity of Pulaski Britt <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>in handling delicate negotiations, +“Stumpage John” plodded on with less content in his heart.</p> + +<p>Two miles farther down the trail, at a place that Barrett recognized as +the old Durfy camps, Straight signalled by discharging his rifle, and +Dwight Wade came into sight with the girl. Foolish Abe of the Skeets +followed far behind like a sheepish dog, uncertain whether to expect +kick or caress.</p> + +<p>“You may as well know first as last that the whole pack is followin’ a +little way behind,” snorted old Christopher, in disgust. “Britt sent an +Indian to snuff the trail and blaze the way. I did your errand, that’s +all. You’ve got time to get away. You may want to keep on tryin’ to do +business with a crowd that ain’t square. I don’t!” He turned and walked +away, sat down, and filled his pipe.</p> + +<p>“I had Straight explain to you why it was better to meet privately +here,” declared Wade, with honest resentment glowing in his eyes. “But +I’m not going to run. I’ve had hard work to get this young woman to +consider your proposition to educate her, Mr. Barrett.” He held her by +the hand, and spoke out with a candor that convinced the lumberman that +here there was neither reservation nor complicity. The girl eyed him +sulkily, without interest, as she looked at all outsiders. “I have told +this young woman that you, as a timber-land owner, are sorry for all the +troubles that the Skeets and Bushees have had in years past, and want to +make up in some way. I’ve told her you’re ready to send her to some good +boarding-school. As she can’t read or write, she doesn’t know what this +means, and she can’t express her thanks. But I’m sure that later she’ll +understand your kindness and generosity. The girl is untrained, and she +knows it. I hope you’ll overlook any lack of gratitude, Mr. Barrett. +She’ll know how to express it some day.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p><p>John Barrett, looking into a face which recalled the face of the +daughter whom he loved and cherished in his city home, felt one throb of +strange emotion, and then realized in all his selfish nature that +affection is more a matter of habit and cultivation than an affair of +instinct. After one thrill his soul shrank from her. He had not expected +the girl to be so like. He caught himself wishing that he had not made +the compact with the inexorable Britt, and listened for the noise of the +men-pack with shame and some regret. On the other hand, this girl, +unkempt for all her beauty, insolent with the insolence of ignorance, +staring at him from under her knitted brows, was impossible, he +reflected, as an asset of a man with a reputation to preserve and an +ambition to fulfil. Instead of feeling the instinct of tenderness, he +looked at this wild young thing of the woods with uneasy fear in his +shifting eyes.</p> + +<p>With honest resentment, Wade noted the baron’s reluctance to make his +word good.</p> + +<p>“You think I’m a meddler, Mr. Barrett,” he said, coming close to the +other, “but don’t think that I’m satisfying any personal grudge when I +ask that you care for this poor girl! Perhaps you would have done so +anyway, without my suggestion. I hope so.”</p> + +<p>“I think I could arrange my own business without any outside help,” said +Barrett, dryly. He began to feel that he could get out of the situation +better if he aroused his own resentment.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barrett, it was chance that put the girl in my way and taught me +her story. I’ve been Don Quixote enough to see her through this thing. +I’m sorry it happens to be you on the other side. I’m afraid you don’t +give me credit for unselfishness.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll allow you all the credit you deserve,” said “Stumpage John,” +sullenly. “I understand, without your telling me, that you are gentleman +enough to keep <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>this matter behind your teeth on account of my family. I +thank you, Wade. I’ll take charge of the girl from now on.”</p> + +<p>He looked back up the trail anxiously, and the young man’s gaze +followed. A man loafed into sight from among stubs blackened by fire.</p> + +<p>“There’s Newell Sockbeson,” remarked old Christopher. “I heard him +making his last blaze a few minutes ago.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know just what your plan is, Mr. Barrett,” said Wade, the red +in his cheeks. “I’ve been hoping that you trusted me to act the +gentleman, even if I couldn’t act the friend. Mr. Straight and I stand +here as witnesses that you have taken charge of this girl.” He now spoke +low. “But you haven’t told me that you indorse the little plan I adopted +to relieve you from any explanations and to make the thing seem natural +to her.”</p> + +<p>Wade’s face showed that he expected a frank promise.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Straight will go to the stage road with you,” added the young man. +At this hint of watchfulness the face of Barrett darkened. “As a +school-teacher, I know something of the boarding-schools of the State, +and I’ll—” The timber baron’s temper flamed at this plain intent to +advise.</p> + +<p>“I’ve taken charge of the girl, I say! Your responsibility ends. You +were apologizing a moment ago for meddling. Now, don’t go to—”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t apologize,” replied Wade, with decision. “And I don’t intend +to. And my responsibility ends only when I know that this unfortunate +creature is placed in a good school to get the advantages that she has +been robbed of all these years.”</p> + +<p>The hot retort from Barrett ended in his throat with a cluck. “The +devil!” he blurted, staring down the trail.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p><p>Dwight Wade, whirling to look to the south, could not indorse that +sentiment. Close at hand was Nina Ide, riding a horse with the grace of +a boy, whose attire she had adopted with a woods girl’s scorn of +conventions. Wade hurried to meet her, cap in hand and eager questions +on his lips. The color mounted to her face, and she shook out the folds +of a poncho, looped across the saddle, and draped it over her knees.</p> + +<p>“No, it’s not strange, either,” she broke in to say. “Your partner—and +that’s father—had to come up here on business, and I’ve come along with +him, just as I always do when he comes here in the partridge season.” +She patted a gun-butt. “But I didn’t expect to find fire and smoke and +lightning and rain and tornadoes up here, any more than I looked for you +at Pogey Notch when you were supposed to be exploring for a winter’s +operation on Enchanted. Now you will have to explain to your partner +here!” And he turned from her smiling face to shake hands with Rodburd +Ide.</p> + +<p>“Every man who can handle brush and mattock is expected to be at the +head of a fire in time of trouble!” chirped the “Mayor of Castonia.” He +tipped back his head to beam amiably on his partner. “Did it get through +onto us, Wade?”</p> + +<p>“The rain stopped it half-way up Pogey.”</p> + +<p>“Then God was good to us! Isn’t that so, Mr. Barrett?” And the cheerful +little man trotted along to grip the hand of “Stumpage John.” That +gentleman glowered sullenly, and tried to explain his gloom by muttering +about “blowdowns” being worse than fires. He looked ill. As he came down +the trail a fever had been rising in his blood. He went away by himself, +and sat down feeling faint and weak.</p> + +<p>“Old Enchanted is all right,” said Ide. “There’s a thousand acres of +black growth there, every tree standin’ <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>with its arm about its brother. +You mustn’t let ’em devil you, Mr. Barrett!” he called.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barrett, his lowering gaze on Wade, agreed mentally.</p> + +<p>“Well, this is certainly a convention of the timber interests!” cried +the brisk little autocrat of Castonia. He pointed up the trail, where +the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt was advancing alone.</p> + +<p>Wade withdrew unobstrusively, and stood beside Nina Ide. Perhaps he +hoped that her talk might bring some word of Elva Barrett.</p> + +<p>But at last even Rodburd Ide’s cheery consciousness became impressed by +the fact that neither Britt nor Barrett seemed to relish any chat on +timber topics. And he broke upon a constrained silence to suggest to +Wade that they proceed—taking it for granted that now his partner’s way +lay to the north, along with his own.</p> + +<p>“There’s—there’s—” Wade stammered, and now for the first time Ide and +his daughter marked the girl of the Skeet settlement leaning moodily +against the side of the Durfy hovel, the unkempt Abe hovering +apprehensively in the background.</p> + +<p>“Ah ha!” piped Ide. “There are the remnants, eh? We met the rest of the +colony hiperin’ out of the woods. They’ve gone to Little Lobster, girl, +and the old woman is worryin’ about you.”</p> + +<p>Wade stared straight at Barrett. The timber baron understood the +challenge of his eyes. He was commanded to declare his intentions. In +spite of himself, he scowled. It was a scowl of recalcitrancy. And the +young man, angered by the presence of Britt and the evident appearance +of treachery, shot his bolt.</p> + +<p>“There is a piece of good-fortune for this poor girl, Mr. Ide. Mr. +Barrett proposes to educate her, and he’s going to take her with him out +of the woods.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p><p>“She has been gettin’ a lot of attention lately,” blurted the Honorable +Pulaski, with malice and derision. “For the past three or four days, +Rodburd, your young partner here has been her steady company. They have +just come strollin’ alone together down the Lovers’ Lane from Jerusalem +Knob.” He fixed his keen eyes on the astonished face of Nina Ide. His +narrow nature believed that, like other girls, she could be stirred to +quick jealousy. And knowing her influence over her father, he foresaw +trouble ahead for the partnership between Ide and Wade. “Seems to be in +the air up this way now for the young men to gallivant through the woods +with the Skeet girl. Wade here seems to have cut out Colin MacLeod.” +Then the coarse old jester sneered into the indignant face Wade turned +to him.</p> + +<p>“It will be a good thing for her to go to school,” said Ide, a little +puzzled by the evident antagonism of these men. “It will be kind of you, +Mr. Barrett.”</p> + +<p>“Say, look here, Ide,” cried Britt, in his irritation suddenly deciding +to play the strong hand with this young interloper, “your friend Wade +here, being a school-teacher, seems to have school on the brain. He also +seems to be full of ready-made plans for men older and better than he +is. From things that come to me, he has picked up a lot of foolishness +about these Skeets and Bushees and this girl since he’s been cruisin’ +round these woods. Mr. Barrett and myself have made arrangements to take +care of the rest of that pauper settlement, and the Skeets probably told +you so when you met them.”</p> + +<p>Ide nodded acknowledgment.</p> + +<p>“We’ll look after the girl, too.” He walked up to Wade and snapped his +fingers, unable to resist his desire to bully. “Now, young fellow, +you’ve been stickin’ your nose pretty deep into other men’s business. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>Take it out, or I’ll twist it off your face. Any one would think that +this girl matter was runnin’ the world in these parts. There’s been too +much talk about what’s of no consequence. Go along with your partner. +You’re on my land. Keep movin’.”</p> + +<p>But all of Dwight Wade’s stubborn obstinacy rose in his breast; all his +youthful chivalry flamed in his face.</p> + +<p>“I’ve no more business with you, Britt!” he said, significantly; and +Britt’s face flamed with the remembrance of a certain knock-down blow. +“My business is with you, Mr. Barrett, and you know what it is. You keep +the word that you’ve given me about this girl, or I’ll set you before +the people of this State in your right colors—and you needn’t croak +blackmail to me, for you can’t frighten me.”</p> + +<p>“I—I—don’t see that it’s any business of yours—of yours, Wade,” +stammered the pacificatory Ide, catching the courage of protest from the +rather indignant face his daughter turned on the young man.</p> + +<p>“And I don’t see that it is the business of any of you!” stormed Kate +Arden. She came close to the group of men and stood with brown hands +propped on her hips, her head thrown back, and the insolent stare of her +black eyes seeking face after face. “I’ll be passed about from hand to +hand no longer. I don’t want any old purple-faced fool to send me to +school.” Barrett winced. “And as for you,” she sneered, turning on Wade, +“you attend to your own business until I ask you to help me in mine.”</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski saw his opportunity.</p> + +<p>“Colin MacLeod!” he bawled.</p> + +<p>And with a rush that betrayed his impatience, the boss of the Busters +came out of his hiding-place up the trail.</p> + +<p>The girl gave a sharp cry of joy at sight of him.</p> + +<p>But MacLeod, half-way to them, saw the girl on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>horse and stopped as +suddenly as he had started. Even at that distance they noted that his +face worked with piteous embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“You’ve given in your promise, MacLeod! Don’t forget that!” roared +Britt. “There’s the boy for you, my girl! He wants to marry you. Go with +him!”</p> + +<p>“And you’ll be a fool of a gir-rl if ye do!” squalled a voice. It was +Tommy Eye, yelling from the top of the Durfy hovel, to which he had +clambered unobserved. “I know I’m a drunk. I know I ain’t worth anything +to anybody!” he gabbled. “But ye saved my life once, Mr. Wade, when I +didn’t know it!” He flapped entreating hands at Wade, and that young man +stepped in front of the furious Britt with such determination on his +face that the woods tyrant halted. “But ye’ll be a fool gir-rl, I say! I +was under the bunk last night when they planned it. He don’t love ye! I +heard him say so. He called you names! Colin MacLeod, ye ain’t the liar +enough to stand out here and say ye didn’t.”</p> + +<p>MacLeod, his adoring eyes on Nina Ide, had no word to say. The features +of Kate Arden, who stared at him with her heart in her eyes, twisted +with a promise of bitter tears. This, then, was the girl of Castonia, +with whom they had taunted her!</p> + +<p>“It’s only for grudge and money he’s goin’ to marry you!” persisted +Tommy. “May I rest forever in purgatory with no masses for my soul if +that ain’t the truth!”</p> + +<p>With the instinct of the animal repulsed, the girl read more in the face +of MacLeod than she understood from the declaration of Tommy Eye.</p> + +<p>She looked from face to face again, but the flame was gone from her +eyes. There they stood, the silent, hostile, bitter phalanx from +outside—oppressors and scorners. There she stood—alone!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p><p>And she fell face down upon the ground—the only mother she had ever +known—a heart-broken, weary, lonely, sobbing child.</p> + +<p>Nina Ide reached her before the others moved. Twice the girl fought her +way out of her arms. Twice the sympathetic little mother-heart of the +Castonia beauty conquered the rebel and retook her, whispering to her +eagerly. And she held her tear-streaked face close to her shoulder, and +patted the grimy little fingers between which tears were trickling. +There was something inexpressibly pathetic even in the unkemptness of +the stricken girl, in her torn dress and the brown skin of face and +hands, touched here and there by the stain of exposure to the blackened +forest. And in her loneliness, feeling for the first time in her life +real sympathy from one of her sex, gathering with grateful nostrils the +faint perfume that whispered of the refinement and comfort that her +heart had sought almost unconsciously and had never found, at last the +girl ceased her struggles and clung to her new friend. The waif’s true +instinct was proving this friend’s sincerity more surely than the +whispered assurances proved it. And Nina Ide bent to her ear, and +murmured:</p> + +<p>“We will hate him together, poor little girl! He is not a good man to +have a girl’s love.”</p> + +<p>“When the hysterics are all over,” remarked the Honorable Pulaski, +sarcastically, “we’ll take the young woman off your hands.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll not take her off <i>my</i> hands!” retorted Nina, with spirit. “She’s +going back home with me.”</p> + +<p>“You haven’t got any rights over her!” barked Britt.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps, then, Mr. Barrett is ready to stand up and say what his rights +are,” suggested Wade, with bitter hint of retaliation in his tones.</p> + +<p>Barrett, pale with the illness that was seizing him, grew paler yet with +anger and terror, for he feared exposure.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p><p>The Honorable Pulaski picked up the gage of battle with all the alacrity +of his irascible nature.</p> + +<p>“For a dog-fight, that girl will be as good a bone as anything else!” he +growled, under his breath. And then he whirled on his heel and bellowed:</p> + +<p>“Wake up there, MacLeod! If you can’t make love to the girl you are +goin’ to marry, I reckon you can at least fight a little to get her! +Call in the crew!”</p> + +<p>He walked up to Ide. “Better call off your girl, Rod,” he advised, +bluffly. “This isn’t any of her business, or yours either.”</p> + +<p>“I figure that a Skeet girl belongs as much to us as to you,” snapped +the doughty little man from Castonia. “If my girl takes interest enough +in her to invite her home, I think you’d better let her go.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve got a crew of a hundred men posted back here a few rods in +the woods to back me up when I say she stays right where she belongs.” +His tone was offensive, and Rodburd Ide’s anger flared.</p> + +<p>“My business just now in here, Britt, is to bring a hundred men for our +Enchanted operation. They’re down there by the brook eating lunch. I +don’t want any trouble over this, but there’s some nasty reason back of +this girl matter, and I won’t stand for any persecution of a helpless +creature. My men back me when I say she goes home with my girl. Hello, +men for the Enchanted! Up this way in a hurry!”</p> + +<p>The look that Nina flashed at her father was inspiration for him!</p> + +<p>As his men came into sight over the bank the crew of Britt tramped +towards them down the trail.</p> + +<p>“Nina,” said Ide, “you’ll have to go back now. Chris Straight will go +with you. Take the girl on the horse with you, and let Chris lead by the +headstall. You’ll go all safe. Hurry away from here! But after you get +started, take your time to the Half-way House. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>There’s no one going to +get past down this trail to chase you and bother you.”</p> + +<p>There was determination in the voice of the little man, and his daughter +kissed him at the same time that Dwight Wade was patting his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Wade ran along by the side of the horse for a little way, and, when he +turned, eagerly kissed Nina Ide’s gloved hand.</p> + +<p>“God bless you for a little saint!” he gasped. “You’ll understand this +some day, perhaps.”</p> + +<p>“I understand that she is alone and needs a friend,” she +responded—“just as you needed a friend when you were only Britt’s +‘chaney man.’” She smiled archly at him and passed out of sight, old +Christopher tugging at the bits of the horse.</p> + +<p>Wade went back in the forefront of the thronging crew of the men for +Enchanted.</p> + +<p>“As I said, Britt, I don’t want trouble,” repeated Rodburd Ide, “but +you’ll please remember that the lower corner of your township is here at +Durfy’s camp. I reckon the men for the Enchanted will camp right here on +the trail for a few hours. The man that tries to push past to trouble my +daughter or her friend will get hurt.”</p> + +<p>“They are goin’ past just the same!” shouted Britt, fiercely.</p> + +<p>“My God, Pulaski, think of consequences!” pleaded “Stumpage John,” in +low tones. He arose with difficulty and staggered to Britt’s side. His +tones quavered with weakness. “I’d be ruined by the story of what it was +all about. I’m sick. I only want to get home. I don’t want to see +trouble here.”</p> + +<p>Britt glared at his associate, at Wade, Ide, and at last at Colin +MacLeod, who was staring in the direction of Nina Ide.</p> + +<p>The tyrant snorted his disgust.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p><p>“Take the combination of a candidate for governor, some fool women, +crazy men, love-sick idiots, and”—his eyes swept the scene in vain +search for Tommy Eye—“a pooch-mouthed blabber, and it’s enough to trig +any decent, honest, sensible woods fight ever yarded down. Barrett, +you’re right! You’d better get home and get on your long-tailed coat and +plug hat as soon as you can. You and your private”—he sneered the +word—“business don’t seem to fit in up here.”</p> + +<p>He folded his arms and, with his men behind him, stood looking over the +crew for the Enchanted, who, cheerfully and without question, stood +blocking the way.</p> + +<p>“It may not happen just now,” he grunted, “but it’s on my mind to say +that some day these two gangs will get together when there isn’t a +governor’s boom to step on, nor women to get mussed up.”</p> + +<p>And the gaze of fury that he bent on Dwight Wade was returned with +interest.</p> + +<p>An imaginative man might have seen the new spirit of the woods facing +the old.</p> + +<p>But there was no imaginative man there—there were only men who chewed +tobacco and wondered what it all meant.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE OLD SOUBUNGO TRAIL</h3> + +<div class="centerbox8 bbox3"><p>“And never a knight in a tournament<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rode lists with a jauntier mien,</span><br /> +Than he of the drive who came alive<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thro’ the hell of the Hulling Machine.”</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—The Spike-sole Knight.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcl.jpg" title="L" height="90" width="89" alt="L" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">L</span>arry Gorman, “the woodsman’s poet,” whose songs are known and sung in +the camps from Holeb to Madawaska, was with Rodburd Ide’s incoming crew. +His three most notable lyrics are these: “I feed P.I.’s on tarts and +pies,” “Bushmen all, your ear I call until I shall relate,” and “The Old +Soubungo Trail.”</p> + +<p>When Rodburd Ide’s hundred men “met up” with the Honorable Pulaski D. +Britt’s hundred men at the foot of Pogey Notch, Larry Gorman displayed a +true poet’s obliviousness to the details of the wrangle between +principals. He didn’t understand why Pulaski Britt, blue with anger +above his grizzled beard, and “Stumpage John” Barrett, mottled with +rage, should object so furiously when Rodburd Ide’s girl took away the +tatterdemalion maid of the Skeets, nor did Larry ask any questions. If +this be the attitude of a true poet, there was evidently considerable +true poetry in both crews, for no one appeared to be especially curious +as to the why of the quarrel. However, the imminence of a quarrel was a +matter demanding woodsmen’s attention. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>It might have been noted that +Poet Gorman cut the biggest shillalah of any of them. And while he +rounded its end and waited for more formal declaration of hostilities, +he lustily sang the solo part of “The Old Soubungo Trail,” with a +hundred hearty voices to help him on the chorus:</p> + +<div class="centerbox8 bbox3"><p>“I left my Lize behind me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, she won’t know what to do,</span><br /> +I left my Lize for the Old Town guys,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I left my watch there, too.</span><br /> +I left my clothes at a boardin’-house,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I reckon they’re for sale,</span><br /> +And here I go, at a heel-an’-toe,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the old Soubungo trail.</span><br /> +Sou-bung-o! Bungo!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">’Way up the Bungo trail!”</span></p></div> + +<p>Spirit rather than melody characterized the efforts of these wildwood +songsters. The Honorable Pulaski Britt, who didn’t like music anyway, +and was trying to talk in an undertone to timber baron Barrett, swore a +deep bass obligato.</p> + +<p>He did not take his baleful gaze from Dwight Wade, who had gone apart, +and was leaning against the mouldering walls of the Durfy hovel.</p> + +<p>“You had your chance to block their game, and you didn’t do it, John. +You make me sick!” muttered the belligerent Britt. “You’ve let that +college dude scare you with threats, and old Ide champ his false teeth +at you and back you down. You don’t get any of my sympathy from now on. +I had a good plan framed. You knocked it galley-west by poking yourself +into the way. They’ve got the girl. They’ll use her against you. You can +fight it yourself after this.”</p> + +<p>Barrett stared uneasily from one crew to the other.</p> + +<p>“It would have been too tough a story to go out of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>these woods,” he +faltered. “Two crews ste’boyed together by us to capture a State +pauper.”</p> + +<p>“A story of a woods rough-and-tumble, that’s all!” snorted Britt. “And +these dogs wouldn’t have known what they were fightin’ about—and would +have cared less. And while they were at it I could have taken the girl +out of sight! You spoiled it! Now, don’t talk to me! You go ahead and +see if you can do any better.” He tossed his big hand into the air and +whirled away, snuffling his disgust.</p> + +<p>Larry Gorman, having peeled a hand-hold on his bludgeon, was moved to +sing another verse:</p> + +<div class="centerbox8 bbox3"><p>“I ain’t got pipe nor ’backer,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor I ain’t got ’backer-box;</span><br /> +I ain’t got a shirt, and my brad-boots hurt,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I ain’t a-wearin’ socks.</span><br /> +But a wangan’s on Enchanted,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where they’ve got them things for sale,</span><br /> +And I don’t give a dam what the price it am<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the old Soubungo trail.</span><br /> +Sou-bung-o! Bungo!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">’Way up the Bungo trail!”</span></p></div> + +<p>Sturdy little Rodburd Ide, magnate of Castonia, bestrode in the middle +of the trail to the south. His head was thrown back, and his mat of +whiskers jutted forward with an air of challenge. To be sure, he did not +exactly understand as yet the full animus of the quarrel. He had heard +his partner, Dwight Wade, announce on behalf of Honorable John Barrett +that the latter proposed to educate the girl protégée of the Skeets’ +tribe. He had noted that the timber baron did not warm to the +announcement in a way that might be expected of the true philanthropist.</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye’s astonishing declaration from the house-top that the timber +magnates of Jerusalem townships <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>were proposing to marry the girl off to +Colin MacLeod, boss of “Britt’s Busters,” and that, too, in spite of +MacLeod’s lack of affection, had some effect in enlisting Ide’s +sympathies and interference. But his daughter’s spirited championship of +the poor girl was really the influence that clinched matters with the +puzzled Mr. Ide.</p> + +<p>“Rodburd,” declared the Honorable Pulaski, approaching him on the +contemptuous retreat from Barrett, “you’ve gone to work and stuck your +nose into matters that don’t concern you. Your man Wade there, instead +of attending to your operation on Enchanted, has been spending his time +beauing that girl around these woods and stirring up a blackmail scheme. +I’m telling you as a friend that you’d better ship him. He’s going to +make more trouble for you than he has yet. He isn’t fit for the woods. I +found it out and fired him. Do the same yourself, or you’ll never get +your logs down and through the Hulling Machine.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean that you’re going to fight him on the drive on account of +your grudge?” demanded Ide.</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean that,” blustered Britt. “It’s the man himself who’ll queer +you.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe it,” replied Ide, stoutly. “There are some things goin’ +on here that I don’t understand the inside of up to now; but as for that +young man, I picked him for square the first time I laid my eyes on him +at Castonia. I’ve had him looked up by friends of mine outside, and now +I know he’s square. You can’t break up our partnership by that kind of +talk, Britt. Now own up! What’s the nigger in the woodpile here, +anyway?” The little man was still unbending, but his eyes snapped with +curiosity.</p> + +<p>But the Honorable Pulaski’s shifty eyes dodged the inquiring stare of +the Castonia man. The view down the tote road in the direction in which +Nina Ide and Kate Arden had disappeared under convoy of Christopher +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>Straight seemed to be a more welcome prospect than that frankly +inquisitive face. And the view down the trail also suggested a safer +topic for conversation.</p> + +<p>“I believe in indulgin’ a girl’s whims, Rod, but this is a time when +you’ve let yourself go too far. That lucivee<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> kitten that your +daughter has lugged off home set this fire that we’ve been fightin’ up +here. She set it maliciously, in the face and eyes of Sheriff Rodliff +and myself. She’s the worst one of the whole lot, and as a plantation +officer you know the Skeets and Bushees pretty well. Are you goin’ to +let your girl take a critter like that back home with her?” He noted a +flicker of consternation in the little man’s eyes. “Now, don’t be a fool +in this thing. Let a half-dozen men run after that girl and fetch her +back. She don’t belong in any decent home. John Barrett and I have +arranged a plan to take care of her and keep her out of mischief.”</p> + +<p>But again the timber magnate’s eyes failed to meet the test of Ide’s +frank stare.</p> + +<p>“I’ve known you a good many years, Pulaski,” said he. “I’ve done a lot +of business with you, and you can’t fool me for a minute. You’ve been +into a milk-pan, for I can see cream on your whiskers.”</p> + +<p>“I’m only warnin’ you not to harbor such a criminal!” stormed the other. +His wrath slipped its leash once more. The presence of Dwight Wade, his +very silence, seemed tacit proclamation of victory and the boast of it. +“The girl belongs back here, and we’re goin’ to have her back. If your +men don’t fetch her, mine will.”</p> + +<p>But Ide set his short legs astride a little more solidly.</p> + +<p>“As first assessor of the nearest plantation, I can handle the State +pauper business of these parts, and do it without help,” he said.</p> + +<p>“You mean that meddlin’ girl of yours is runnin’ it,” taunted Britt.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p><p>In his heart the fond father realized the force of the taunt, and knew +why he was blocking that trail so resolutely. A mother bear would have +shown no more determination in closing the retreat of her cubs.</p> + +<p>“If for any reason that I don’t understand as yet you want the +guardianship of that girl, Britt,” he declared, “come down any time you +want to and get your rights legally. But just now I’m tellin’ you again +that you and your men can’t get past here. And if you do, you’ll go with +cracked heads.”</p> + +<p>And once more Pulaski D. Britt substituted oaths for action.</p> + +<p>Stamping back towards his men, he saw Tommy Eye squatting like a +jack-rabbit on the top of the Durfy camp. That guileless marplot offered +a fair target for his rage against the world in general.</p> + +<p>“MacLeod,” bawled Britt to the boss, who had not yet pulled himself +together after that final flash of scorn from the eyes of Nina Ide, +“pull that drunken loafer off that roof and yard the men back to camp!”</p> + +<p>“I’m discharged out of your crew, Mr. Britt,” squealed Tommy, a quaver +of apprehensiveness in his voice. “I’ve discharged myself. I’ve told the +truth about what you was tryin’ to do. So I ain’t fit for you to hire.”</p> + +<p>It was not the unconscious satire of the statement that put a wire edge +on the Honorable Pulaski’s temper. It was Tommy Eye’s rebelliousness, +displayed for the first time in a long life of utter subservience.</p> + +<p>“You won’t be fit for anything but bait for a bear-trap ten minutes +after I get you back to camp,” bellowed the tyrant. “MacLeod, get that +man down!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you want to hire a teamster, Mr. Ide?” bleated Tommy, crawfishing +to the peak of the low roof. “You know what I be on twitchro’d, ramdown, +or in a yard. You don’t find my hosses calked or shoulder-galled.” He +hastened in nervous entreaty: <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>“You hire me, Mr. Ide. I never had a team +sluiced yet. You know what I can do in the woods.”</p> + +<p>The plaintiveness of the frightened man’s appeal touched Wade. He +realized the weight of misery this pathetic turncoat might expect +thereafter at the hands of Britt and his crew of “Busters.” MacLeod was +advancing towards the ladder that conducted to the roof, his sullen face +lighting with a certain amount of satisfaction. Wade put himself before +the ladder.</p> + +<p>“Hirin’ men out from under isn’t square woods style, Tommy,” said Ide, +shaking his head.</p> + +<p>“That man isn’t a slave,” protested Wade. “He is the only man I’ve found +in these woods with courage enough to stand up for what’s right, Mr. +Ide. I don’t believe in leaving him to those who are going to make him +suffer for it.”</p> + +<p>“Up to now, you dude, you’ve done about everything that shouldn’t be +done in the woods!” cried Britt. “But there’s one thing you can’t do, +and that’s take a man out of my crew.”</p> + +<p>“It’s an unwritten law, Wade,” protested his partner. “It isn’t square +business to meddle with another operator’s crew.”</p> + +<p>“When a case like this comes up, it’s time to change the law, then,” +declared Wade, with savageness of his own, the menacing proximity of +MacLeod acting on his anger like bellows on coals.</p> + +<p>“I can’t afford to be mixed into anything of the sort,” persisted Ide.</p> + +<p>“And nobody but a fool would try it, Rod. I’ve warned you to get rid of +him. You can see for yourself now! He don’t fit. He’s protectin’ +fire-bugs, standin’ out against timber-owners’ interests, and breaking +every article in the code up here.”</p> + +<p>“And I’m likely to keep on breaking the kind of code that seems to go +north of Castonia!” cried the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>young iconoclast. For a moment his +flaming eyes dwelt on the face of the Honorable John Barrett, and that +gentleman, who had been wondering just what shaft his own recalcitrancy +would next draw from this champion of the oppressed, looked greatly +perturbed. “Mr. Ide, do you forbid me to hire this man?”</p> + +<p>“N-no,” admitted his partner, rather grudgingly.</p> + +<p>“Then you’re hired, Eye.” Wade looked up and answered the gratitude in +Tommy’s eyes by a nod of encouragement. “Come down, my man, and get into +our crew. You’ve acted man-fashion, and I’ll back you up in it.”</p> + +<p>“Let it stand—let it stand as it is,” whispered Barrett, huskily, +clutching at the arm of Britt as that furious gentleman surged past him. +“If we tackle the young fool now he’s apt to blab all he knows about me. +It’s a ticklish place. Handle it easy.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll handle it to suit myself!” stormed Britt, yanking himself loose. +“You set back there if you want to, and play dry nurse to your +twins—your family scandal on one arm and your governor’s boom on the +other. But when it comes to my own crew and my private business, by the +Lord Harry, I’ll operate without your advice!”</p> + +<p>He began to call on his men, rallying them with shrill cries. He ordered +them to surround the camp and take the rebel. In the next breath he bade +MacLeod to go up the ladder and pull Tommy down.</p> + +<p>“Poet” Larry Gorman, who had been gradually edging near the spot which +he had sagely picked as the probable core of conflict, set himself +suddenly before Colin MacLeod as the boss advanced towards Wade with a +look in his eye that was blood-lust. MacLeod had a weather-beaten ash +sled-stake.</p> + +<p>“Sure, and a gent like him don’t fight with clubs,” said Gorman. “We’ve +all heard about his lickin’ ye <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>once, and man-fashion, too! Now, go get +your reputation. Start with me.” The redoubtable bard poked his +shillalah into MacLeod’s breast and drove him suddenly back. At this +overture of combat the men for Enchanted came up with a rush. They met +the “Busters” face to face and eye to eye.</p> + +<p>“We’re all axe-tossers together, boys!” cried Gorman. “Ye know me and +you’ve sung my songs, and ye know there’s no truer woodsman than me ever +chased beans round a tin plate. Now, Britt’s men, if ye want to fight to +keep a free man a slave when he wants to chuck his job, then come and +fight. But may the good saints put a cramp into the arm of the man that +fights against the interests of woodsmen all together!”</p> + +<p>Under most circumstances even such a cogent argument as this would not +have stayed their hands. But coming from Larry Gorman, author of +“Bushmen All,” it made even the “Busters” stop and think a moment. And +when MacLeod was first and only in renewing hostilities—obeying Britt’s +insistent commands—Gorman again held him off at the end of his +bludgeon, and shouted:</p> + +<p>“Oh, my cock partridge, you’re only brisk to get into the game because +you’re daffy over a girl. You’d wipe your feet on Tommy Eye or any other +honest woodsman to polish your shoes for the courtin’ of her.”</p> + +<p>It was a taunt whose point the “Busters” realized and relished. It was +even more forceful than Larry’s first appeal. Some of the men grinned. +All held back. But for MacLeod it was the provocation unforgivable. He +drew back his arm and swept his stake at Larry’s head. That master of +stick-play warded and leaped back nimbly.</p> + +<p>“Fair, now! Fair!” he cried. “They’re all lookin’ at us, and there can’t +be dirty work.” Gorman’s face <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>glowed, for he had won his point. His wit +had balked a general combat. His massing fellows had tacitly selected +him as their champion. He had put the thing on a plane where the +“Busters” were a bit ashamed to take part. They turned their backs on +Britt in order to watch the duellists more intently. They knew that +Larry Gorman was vain of two things—his songs and his stick-swinging.</p> + +<p>“What say ye to waitin’ till your shoulder ain’t so stiff?” he inquired, +with pointed reference to the injury MacLeod had received at the hands +of Wade. His mock condolence pricked Colin to frenzy. He drove so +vicious a blow at the bard that when the latter side-stepped the boss +staggered against the side of the camp.</p> + +<p>“But sure I can make it even,” said Larry, facing him again without +discomposure; “for I’ll sing a bit of song for you to dance by.”</p> + +<p>The merry insolence of this brought a hoarse hoot of delight from both +sides. And pressing upon his foe so actively that the crippled MacLeod +was put to his utmost to ward thwacks off his head and shoulders, this +sprightly Cyrano of the kingdom of spruce carolled after this fashion:</p> + +<div class="centerbox7 bbox3"><p>“Come, all ye good shillaly men.<br /> +Come, lis-ten unto me:<br /> +Old Watson made a walkin’-cane,<br /> +And used a popple-tree.<br /> +The knob it were a rouser—<br /> +A rouser, so ’twas said—<br /> +And when ye sassed old Watson<br /> +He would knock ye on the head.”</p></div> + +<p>MacLeod got a tap that made his eyes shut like the snap of a patent +cigar-cutter.</p> + +<p>“Chorus!” exhorted the lyrist. And they bellowed jovially:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p><div class="centerbox7 bbox3"><p>“Knick, knock,<br /> +Hickory dock,<br /> +And he’d hit ye on the head!”</p></div> + +<p>Larry leaped back, whirled his stick so rapidly that its bright peeled +surface seemed to spit sparks, and again got over the boss’s indifferent +guard with a whack that echoed hollowly.</p> + +<p>MacLeod was too angry to retreat. He was too angry to see clearly, and +his brain rang dizzily with the blows he had received. His injured +shoulder ached with the violence of his exertions. But his pride kept +him up, and forced him to meet the fresh attack that Gorman made—an +attack in which that master seemed to be fencing mostly to mark the time +of his jeering song:</p> + +<div class="centerbox8 bbox3"><p>“Old Watson was a good old man,<br /> +And taught the Bible class,<br /> +But he didn’t like the story<br /> +Of the jawbone of the ass.<br /> +‘Why didn’t he make a popple-club,’<br /> +So Uncle Watson said,<br /> +‘And scotch the tribe of the Phlistereens<br /> +By bangin’ ’em on the head?’”</p></div> + +<p>The blow that time staggered MacLeod.</p> + +<p>“Chorus!” called “Poet” Larry. But before he could rap his antagonist at +the end of that roaring iteration the Honorable Pulaski was between +them, having at last contrived to fight his way through the ranks of the +crowding men. He narrowly missed getting the blow intended for the boss. +He yanked the sled-stake out of the nerveless grasp of the sweating and +discomfited MacLeod, and raised it.</p> + +<p>“Be careful, Mr. Britt,” yelped Gorman. His mien changed from gay +insouciance to bitter fury. “You’ve struck me once in my life, and I +took it and went on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>my way, because I was getting your grub and your +pay. You strike me to-day, and I’ll split your head open like a rotten +punkin!”</p> + +<p>Britt had begun to rant that he could thrash the whole Enchanted crew +single-handed. He was maddened by the lamblike demeanor of his own men. +But he knew a desperate and dangerous man when he saw him. At that +moment Larry Gorman was dangerous. The tyrant lowered his club and +backed away, muttering some wordless recrimination at which the poet +curled his lip. Seeing his chance, Tommy Eye hooked his legs about the +uprights and slid down the ladder with one dizzy plunge, struck the +ground in squatting fashion, and shot head-first into the ranks of his +protectors.</p> + +<p>But after that masterly raillery of Gorman’s there was no fight left in +the “Busters.” And his vengeful bearding of the Honorable Pulaski left +the autocrat himself speechless and helpless.</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye’s trembling hand fingered his chin, his wistful eyes peered +over the shoulders of his new friends, and he knew he was safe. The +“Busters,” nudging each other and growling half-humorous comment, began +to sift out of the yard of the Durfy hovel, and lounge back along the +trail towards the Jerusalem camp.</p> + +<p>“D—n ye for cowards!” yelled the Honorable Pulaski, viciously flinging +the ash sled-stake after them.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but they’re not cowards!” cried Larry. In his bushman’s soul he +realized that even now a chance taunt, a random prick of word, might +start the fight afresh. “Every man-jack there is known to me of old, and +the good, brave boys they are! But your money ain’t greasy enough, Mr. +Britt, to make good men as them fight to take away a comrade’s +man-rights.”</p> + +<p>The “Busters” nodded affirmation and kept on. One man stepped back and +hallooed: “Right ye are, Larry <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>Gorman! And when ye try to get your +Enchanted logs first through the Hulling Machine next spring, ye’ll find +that we’re the kind of gristle that can’t be chawed. That’ll be man’s +business, and no Teamster Tommy Eye to stub a toe over!”</p> + +<p>There was a grin on the man’s face, but none the less it was a +challenge, and Larry accepted it.</p> + +<p>“Sure, and we’ll be there!” he called. “We’ll be there with hair a foot +long, pick-pole<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> in one hand, peavy-stick<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> in the other, ready for a +game of jack-straws in the white water and a fist-jig on the bank!”</p> + +<p>“And will ye write it all into a song, Larry Gorman?”</p> + +<p>“All into a song it shall go!”</p> + +<p>And roaring a good-natured cheer over their shoulders, the “Busters” +filed away into the mouth of Pogey Notch.</p> + +<p>“You may as well move, boys,” ordered Rodburd Ide. “This business here +isn’t swampin’ yards nor buildin’ camps!”</p> + +<p>The men for Enchanted cheerfully shouldered dunnage-sacks, and in their +turn set off up the Notch.</p> + +<p>“Here’s Tommy Eye’s bill of his time, Mr. Britt,” said Gorman, holding +out a crumpled paper to the choking tyrant. Tommy himself had prudently +departed, bulwarked by his new comrades.</p> + +<p>“I’ll not pay it!” blustered Britt. “He broke the contract!”</p> + +<p>“No more does he want you to pay it,” replied Larry, serenely, speaking +in behalf of the amiable prodigal. “He says to credit it on that one +drink of whiskey he took out of your bottle, and when he earns more +money workin’ for honest men he’ll pay ye the rest.”</p> + +<p>He tore the paper across and across, snapped the bits in Britt’s face, +turned, and followed the crew.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>THE HOME-MAKERS OF ENCHANTED</h3> + +<div class="centerbox5 bbox3"><p>“The clank of the press and the scream of the saws,<br /> +The grunt of the grinder that slavers and chaws<br /> +At the fibre o’ pulp-wood, the purr of the plane,<br /> +Sing only one song to the big woods o’ Maine.<br /> +So here’s for a billion down race-way and sluice—<br /> +Hell for the hemlock, the pine, and the spruce.”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—Off for the Woods.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcj.jpg" title="J" height="90" width="90" alt="J" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">J</span>ohn Barrett was first to break the embarrassed silence that fell upon +the four men left at the camp. Rodburd Ide’s brows were wrinkled, and +his lips were parting to ask the questions that his curiosity urged. +Britt was wrathfully gazing after the insolent Larry. Dwight Wade had +taken up his pack and calipers, and was waiting for Ide with some +impatience.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wade,” began the Umcolcus baron, nervously, “I hope you will +understand my position in this matter, and see why it was necessary to +make some change in the plan we discussed on Jerusalem.”</p> + +<p>“I sha’n’t try to understand it,” snapped Wade. “You volunteered +promises. I took those promises to the person most interested, and +you’ve seen fit to drop out from under. That ends our business—all the +business we had in common, Mr. Barrett.”</p> + +<p>But the baron was anxious to placate. He began guarded explanations, to +which Ide was listening intently, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>but Wade cut them short with a scorn +there was no mistaking.</p> + +<p>“The only sort of interest I took in that unfortunate girl has been +maliciously misinterpreted, Mr. Barrett. She was thrown on my hands in a +way that you thoroughly understand. Mr. Ide, as a plantation officer, +has relieved me of the responsibility. You can talk with him hereafter.”</p> + +<p>“But what—what are you going to say to him?” faltered Barrett, forced +to show his anxious fear, since Wade was moving away.</p> + +<p>In his physical weakness, in the illness that was sapping his nerve, he +became wistfully paltering.</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” replied the young man, curtly, but with a decisiveness there +was no misunderstanding. “The matter has ceased to be any business of +mine. My business hereafter—and I say this to my partner—is concerned +wholly and entirely with certain lumbering operations on Enchanted +township.”</p> + +<p>He went away, following the crew. Rodburd Ide, eager to be gone, and +seeing in the affair thus flatly dropped by Wade only a phase of the +older animosity between Britt and the young man—a quarrel that might +seek any avenue for expression, even a State pauper—demanded of +Barrett:</p> + +<p>“Do you lay any special claim to the girl?” His tone was that of an +official only.</p> + +<p>“Of course he doesn’t,” broke in Britt, seeing that his associate was +groping for a reply. “We did think of trying to help her, but what’s the +use? There isn’t any more gratitude in that sculch than there is in a +pine knot. Send her back to the tribe.”</p> + +<p>The little Castonia magnate looked relieved.</p> + +<p>“She’s all right with my girl till I get home,” he said. “Then the +affair will take care of itself, like all those things do.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p><p>Barrett had picked up one of the discarded bludgeons and was supporting +himself on it. His legs trembled visibly when he walked to Ide’s side.</p> + +<p>“Rodburd,” he said, appealingly, “I can see that you think this thing +strange. I don’t want you to have wrong ideas. You and I have known each +other too long to get into quarrels. You have seen that I have been +trying to smooth matters here to-day. I can’t talk it over with you now. +I’m sick—I’m a sick man, Rodburd! I’ve been through a dreadful +experience up here.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t look well,” returned Ide, solicitously, his ever-ready +sympathy enlisted.</p> + +<p>Barrett’s face was haggard and his eyes were bloodshot. He wavered on +his feet, tipping from heel to toe like a drunken man.</p> + +<p>“You ought to get out of these woods as quick as you can,” the Castonia +man went on.</p> + +<p>Even Britt saw now that his associate was in a bad way. He gave a keen +glance at him, and shouted to MacLeod, who was waiting at the edge of +the woods, “Send back four of my men!”</p> + +<p>“I feel dreadfully,” mourned Barrett. His grit and his excitement had +been keeping him up. Now, like most strong men who have to confess that +they are conquered, he gave way to his illness with utter abandonment of +courage.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barrett,” said Ide, surveying him pityingly, “I can see that you’re +a sick man. I don’t want to say that to frighten you, but because you +ought to know it. You’d better only try to make Castonia, and have a +doctor sent there. My girl will be there as soon as you are. You go to +my house, and get doctored up before you tackle the trip down-river. +That buckboard ride will kill you if you try it in the shape you’re in +now.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p><p>“You’d better do as he says, John,” advised Britt, checking the timber +baron’s feeble protests. “I’m going to have these four men make a litter +for you and lug you. You can stand that sort of ridin’, but unless you +are in better shape when you get to Castonia you wouldn’t be good for +that stage ride. Use common-sense, and rest up at Rodburd’s house.”</p> + +<p>“Give the men their orders,” whispered the little Castonia magnate in an +aside to Britt. “It’s fever, and a bad one if I ain’t mistaken. By the +time he’s got to my place he’ll probably be too sick to give any orders +of his own. I never saw a man grow sick so fast. Tell the men to leave +him there.” He talked impatiently, for his crew had disappeared up the +trail. “I’ve got to be hurryin’,” he added. “Mr. Barrett, make my home +yours!” he cried over his shoulder, as he trotted off. “I’ll be back in +a few days—as soon as I get this crew of mine located.”</p> + +<p>The four men were already at work securing poles and boughs for the +litter.</p> + +<p>Barrett sat down upon a tussock, and held his throbbing head in his +hands. He began weakly to complain that Britt had made a mistake in +bringing his men and insisting on possession of the girl.</p> + +<p>The Honorable Pulaski promptly checked the incoherent expostulations of +the stumpage baron.</p> + +<p>“No, I haven’t committed you, either,” he blurted. “Bluff it out! It’s +the only way to do. It’s the way I advised you to do in the first place. +The thing looks big to you here in the woods. You’re down on the level +with it. Get back into the city, and get your tail-coat on and your +dignity, and sit up on top of that governor’s boom of yours, and the +story will only be political blackmail if they try it on you. But they +won’t. That Wade fellow is one of those righteous sort of asses that +like to read moral lessons to other people, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>and especially to you, so +he can work out his grudge. But he’s all done. I know the sort. The +thing began to scorch his fingers and he chucked it. He’s got enough to +attend to in these woods. Don’t you worry.”</p> + +<p>“But I do worry,” mourned Barrett. “And there’s the girl to consider. +God save me, Pulaski, she’s mine! Her looks show it. I can’t sleep +nights after this, unless she is taken care of in a decent way.”</p> + +<p>“There’ll be a dozen methods of doin’ it when the time is ripe,” urged +the other, consolingly. “As it is now, you get out of these woods and +stay out, and attend to your business—which is my business, too, when +it comes to the governor matter. By ——, you’ve seen enough in this +trip to understand that we haven’t got any too safe timber laws as it +is. If the farmers get control next trip it means trouble for such of us +as take to the tall timber. Buck up, man! Don’t believe for a minute +that we’re goin’ to let a college dude and a State pauper queer you. The +thing will work itself out.”</p> + +<p>He uttered a sudden snort of disgust, gazing over Barrett’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Foolish Abe” of the Skeets had edged out of the bush, the silence after +the uproar of voices and conflict encouraging him. He seemed pitifully +bewildered. An instinct almost canine prompted him to take the trail to +the south, for his only friend, the girl of the tribe, had gone that +way. But a strange female had gone with her, and of strange females he +entertained unspeakable fear.</p> + +<p>“Here, you cross-eyed baboon,” called the Honorable Pulaski, “go! +Scoot!” He pointed north in the direction in which the Enchanted crew +had disappeared. “Young man want you. Follow him. Stay with him. Run!” +He picked up his discarded sled-stake, and the fool hurried away towards +the Notch. “I’d like to see <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>that human nail-keg plastered onto the +Enchanted crew for the winter,” remarked Britt, with malice. “There’s no +fillin’ him up. He’ll eat as much as three men, and that Wade is just +enough of a soft thing not to turn him out. If I can’t bore an enemy +with a pod-auger, John, I’ll do it with a gimlet—a gimlet will let more +or less blood.”</p> + +<p>Five minutes later Barrett was borne on his way south, his courage +braced by some final arguments from his iron associate, his mind made up +to adopt the course of indignant bluff suggested by the belligerent +Britt.</p> + +<p>And Britt was stumping north, driving the blubbering Abe before him with +sundry hoots and missiles.</p> + +<p>When the poor creature came crawling to the fire on hands and knees at +dusk that evening, hairy, pitiable, and drooling with hunger, Rodburd +Ide accepted him with resignation, though he recognized Britt’s petty +malice; for unless he were driven, Abe Skeet would never have come past +a well-stocked lumber-camp to follow wanderers into the wilderness.</p> + +<p>That night the Enchanted crew camped on Attean Stream, a short day’s +journey from their destination. The tired men snatched supper from their +packs and fell back snoring, their heads on their dunnage-bags.</p> + +<p>They were away in the first flush of the morning, Rodburd Ide leading +with his partner. Wade welcomed the little man’s absorbed interest in +the business ahead of them. Ide asked no questions about the incident at +Durfy’s. Wade put the hideous topic as far behind other thoughts as he +could, and soon other thoughts crowded it out.</p> + +<p>As they passed from the zone of striped maple, round-wood, witch-hobble, +and mountain holly that Mother Nature had drawn across her naked breast +after the rude hand of Pulaski Britt had stripped the virgin <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>growth, +his heart lifted. Under the great spruces of Enchanted the town’s +bricks, streets, and human passions seemed very far away.</p> + +<p>Before he slept that night he had had an experience that thrilled the +sense of the primitive self hidden within him, as it is hidden in all +men, and covered by conventions.</p> + +<p>He had staked the metes and bounds, the corners, the frontage, all the +dimensions of a new home, where no roof except the crowns of trees had +ever shut sunlight off the earth.</p> + +<p>Mankind in general opens eyes within walls that the hands of those +coming before have built.</p> + +<p>Many have no occasion to seek ever for other quarters than those their +fathers have given them. With most the limit of exploration is the quest +for a new rental. Mankind who build, build along settled streets, first +taking note that sewers and water systems have been installed.</p> + +<p>Even in the woods most crews come up to find that the advance +skirmishers have builded main camp, meal camp, horse-hovels, and wangan. +Owing to the sudden forming of Rodburd Ide’s partnership with the young +man whom Fate threw in his way, and his equally sudden determination to +operate on virgin Enchanted, there had been no time for preliminaries. +Even the tote teams with the first of the winter’s supplies were miles +away down the trail, for in the woods the human two-foot outclasses the +equine four-foot.</p> + +<p>Therefore, Wade, perspiring in the forefront of the toilers, saw the +first tree topple, heard it crash outward from the site of the camp, and +tugged with the others when it was set into place as the sill. When he +stood back and wiped his forehead and gazed on that one lonesome log it +made roofless out-doors seem bigger and more threatening. The rain was +pattering from a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>cold sky. The thrall of centuries of housed ancestors +was on him. Roof and walls had attached themselves to his sentiency, +even as the shell of the snail is attached to its pulp.</p> + +<p>But the next moment Larry Gorman started a song, and the rollicking +hundred men about him took it up and toiled with merry thoughtlessness +of all except that God’s good greenwood was about them and God’s sky +above them, and Wade bent again to labor, ashamed that he had counted +shingles and plaster as standing for so much.</p> + +<p>They put up eight-log walls for the main camp, notching the ends. A +hundred willing men made the buildings grow like toadstools. While the +walls were going up men laid floors of poles shaved flat on one side. +Others brought moss and chinked the spaces between the logs of the +walls. The first team up brought tarred paper and the few boards needed +for tables and like uses. The tarred paper and cedar splints roofed all +comfortably.</p> + +<p>The second team brought stove, tin dishes, and raw staples—and cook and +cookee walked behind.</p> + +<p>And when old Christopher Straight came at the tail of the procession as +fast as he could hurry back from Castonia settlement, the camps stood +nearly complete under the frown of Enchanted Mountain, Enchanted Stream +gurgling over brown rocks at the door.</p> + +<p>The distant whick-whack of axes told where the swampers were clearing +the way, and the tearing crash of trees punctuated the ceaseless “ur-r +rick-raw!” of the cross-cut saws. The only axe scarf on Ide’s trees was +the nick necessary to direct their fall. They were felled by the saw.</p> + +<p>Two days of exploration on the spruce benches straight back from the +stream showed up several million feet of black growth easily available +for a first season’s operation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p><p>Ide, Wade, and old Christopher cruised, pacing parallels and counting +trees. And when they sat down on an outcropping of ledge the young man +made so many sagacious observations that Ide’s eyes opened in amazement.</p> + +<p>“Where did you learn lumberin’?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t aware that I knew it—not as it is viewed from a practical +stand-point,” replied Wade, humbly. “I was going to ask you in a moment +if you wouldn’t like to have me keep still so that you and Christopher +could talk sense.”</p> + +<p>“I never heard better opinions on a stand of timber and a lay of land,” +affirmed his partner. “It looks as though you’d been holdin’ out on me,” +he added, with a grim smile.</p> + +<p>The young man smiled back. There was a certain grateful pride in his +expression.</p> + +<p>“I know how old woodsmen look at book-learned chaps, Mr. Ide. Pulaski +Britt told me once. I was simply trying on you a bit of an experiment +with my little knowledge of books. I was waiting to have you and +Christopher pull me up short. I’m rather surprised to find that you +think what I said was good sense. But after a book-fellow has bumped +against practical men like—like Mr. Britt for a time, he begins to +distrust his books. It’s simply this way, Mr. Ide: I had a few young men +in my high-school who were interested in forestry of the modern sort, +and I worked with them to encourage them as much as I could. It is +almost impossible for a reading-man in these days not to take an +interest in the protection of our forests, for the folks at Washington +are making it the great topic of the times.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” remarked Ide, with a sigh of appreciation, “I never read a book +on forestry in my life, and I never heard of a lumberman in these parts +who ever had. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>But if you can get facts like those you’ve stated out of +books, I reckon some of us better spend our winter evenin’s readin’ +instead of playin’ pitch pede.” He got up and gave the young man a +complimenting palm. “Wade,” he said, earnestly, “I’ll own up that I’ve +been a little prejudiced against book-fellows myself. Instead of givin’ +an ignorant man the contents of the book—the juice of it, as you might +say—-in a way that won’t hurt, they are so anxious to have him know +that it’s book-learnin’ they’ve got, they’ll bang him across the face +with it, book-covers and all. I like your knowledge, because it’s goin’ +to help us in handlin’ this thing we’ve bit off up here. But I’ll be +blamed if I don’t like your modesty best of all.”</p> + +<p>He picked up his calipers, stuck them under his arm, and started for +camp with a haste that showed full confidence in his partner’s ability.</p> + +<p>And the next morning he buttoned the camp letters in his coat, and +started south for Castonia with the outgoing tote team.</p> + +<p>“I don’t worry about this end,” he said, at parting, “and you needn’t +worry about mine. Don’t be afraid of going hungry. There’s nothin’ like +full stomachs to make axes and saws run well. It will have to be +hand-to-mouth till snow flies, then I’ll slip you in stores enough to +fill that wangan to the roof. Good heart, my boy! We’re goin’ to make +some money.”</p> + +<p>Wade followed him to the edge of the clearing with his first sense of +loneliness tugging within him.</p> + +<p>“Safe home to you, Mr. Ide,” he said, “and my respectful regards to Miss +Nina, if you will take them. I suppose—she will—probably—the girl she +took away—” he stammered.</p> + +<p>“By thunder mighty!” cried the Castonia magnate, whirling on him, “I’d +forgotten all about that Skeet girl, or Arden girl, or whatever they +call her.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p><p>He eyed the young man with a dawning of his old curiosity, but Wade met +his gaze frankly.</p> + +<p>“The affair of the girl is not mine at all,” he said. “Simply because +she seemed superior to the tribe she was with, I hoped Mr. Barrett would +do as he partly promised—use a few dollars of his money to help her +from the muck. Such cases appeal to me, because I’m not accustomed to +seeing them, perhaps.”</p> + +<p>“If my girl is interested in that poor little wildcat, you needn’t think +twice about her bein’ taken good care of,” cried the admiring father.</p> + +<p>And gazing into the wholesome eyes and candid face of the little man, +Wade reflected that perhaps Fate had handled a problem better for John +Barrett’s abandoned daughter than he himself, in his resentful zeal, had +planned.</p> + +<p>He shook Ide’s hand hard, and, with the picture of John Barrett’s other +daughter in his dimming eyes and the love of John Barrett’s other +daughter burning in his lonely heart, he turned back towards the woods, +whose fronded arms, tossing in the October wind, beckoned him to his +duty.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>THE HA’NT OF THE UMCOLCUS</h3> + +<div class="centerbox6 bbox3"><p>“For even in these days P. I.’s shake<br /> +At word of the phantom of Brassua Lake;<br /> +And all of us know of the witherlick<br /> +That prowls by the shores of the Cup-sup-tic;<br /> +Of the side-hill ranger whose eyeballs gleam<br /> +In the light of the moon at Abol stream.”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—The Ha’nts.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dca.jpg" title="A" height="90" width="90" alt="A" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">A</span> few days after the men of Enchanted were housed, those who gazed +southeast from the mountain shoulder saw a smear of white on the +horizon. It was the first snow on lofty Katahdin.</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye greeted that sight most enthusiastically. Like a good +teamster, he was anxious for “slippin’.”</p> + +<p>“Bless the saints, old Winter has pitched camp down there, and is mixin’ +up a batch of our kind of weather,” he said to Wade. “Injun Summer had +better grab up what’s left of her flounces and get out from under.”</p> + +<p>But Winter proceeded about his business with majestic deliberateness. He +patted down the duff under the big trees with beating, sleety rains; and +when the ground was ready for the sowing of the mighty crop, he piled +his banks of clouds up from the south, and, though he gave the coast +folk rain, he brought the men of the north woods what they were longing +for—snow a-plenty; snow that heaped the arms of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>spruces, filled +all the air with smothering clouds, and blanketed the ground.</p> + +<p>Wade, blinking the big flakes out of his eyes as he breasted the +swirling storm, came across to the main camp from the wangan, his pipe +and tobacco-pouch in hand. He rejoiced in his heart to see the snow +driving so thickly that the camp window was only a blur of yellow light +smudging the whiteness. This first real storm of the winter promised two +feet on a level, and guaranteed the slipping on ram-downs and +twitch-roads.</p> + +<p>The cheer of the storm permeated all the camp on Enchanted. The cook +beamed on Wade with floury face. The bare ground had meant bare shelves. +He predicted the first supply-team for the morrow. He had been thriftily +“making a mitten out of a mouse’s ear” for several weeks. Tommy Eye, +ploughing back from his good-night visit to the horse-hovel, proclaimed +his general pleasure for two reasons: No more bare-ground dragging for +the bob-sleds; no more too liberal dosing of bread dough with soap to +make the flour “spend” in lighter loaves. “Eats like wind and tastes +like a laundry,” Tommy had grumbled.</p> + +<p>The boss of the choppers moved along to give Wade the end of the “deacon +seat,” and grinned amiably.</p> + +<p>“That’s a cheerful old song she’s singing overhead to-night,” he +remarked.</p> + +<p>It needed a lumberman’s interpretation to give it cheer.</p> + +<p>There were far groanings, there were near sighs; there were silences, +when the soft rustle of the snow against the window-glass made all the +sound; there were sudden, tempestuous descents of the wind that rattled +the panes and made the throat of the open stove “whummle” like a +neighing horse.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p><p>Wade lighted his pipe with deep content. He enjoyed the rude fraternity +of the big camp. There was but little garrulity. Those who talked did so +in a drawling monotone that was keyed properly to the monotone of the +soughing trees outside—elbows on knees and eyes on the pole floor. +Clamor would not have suited that little patch of light niched in the +black, brooding night of the forest. But there was comfort within. The +blue smoke from pipe bowls curled up and mingled with the shadows +dancing against the low roof. The woollens, hung to dry on the long +poles, draped the dim openings of the bunks. The “spruce feathers” +within were still fresh, and resinous odors struggled against the more +athletic fragrance of the pipes.</p> + +<p>Most of the men loafed along the “deacon seat,” relaxed in the luxury of +laziness for that precious three hours between supper and nine o’clock. +A few, bending forward to catch the light from the bracket-lamp, +whittled patiently at what lumbermen call “doodahs”—odd little toys +destined for some best girl or admiring youngster at home. “Windy” +McPheters regaled those with an ear for music by cheerful efforts on his +mouth-harp, coming out strong on the tremolo, and jigging the heel of +his moccasined foot for time. And when “Windy” had no more breath left, +“Hitchbiddy” Wagg sang, after protracted persuasion, the only song he +knew—though one song of that character ought to suffice for any man’s +musical attainments.</p> + +<p>Its length may be understood when it is stated that it detailed all the +campaigns of the first Napoleon, and “Hitchbiddy” sang it doubled +forward, his elbows on his crossed knees, and the toe of his moccasin +flapping for the beat. He came down “the stretch” on the last verse with +vigor and expression:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p><div class="centerbox3 bbox3"><p>“Next at Waterloo those Frenchmen fought,<br /> +Commanded by brave Bonaparte [pronounced ‘paught’],<br /> +Assisted by Field Marshal Ney—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He never was bribed by gold.</span><br /> +But when Grouchy let the Prussians in<br /> +It broke Napoleon’s heart within.<br /> +‘Where are my thirty thousand men?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alas, stranger, for I am sold.’</span><br /> +He led one gallant charge across,<br /> +Saying, ‘Alas, brave boys, I fear ’tis lost.’<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The field was in confusion with dead and dying woes.</span><br /> +When the bunch of roses did advance,<br /> +The English entered into France—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The grand Conversation [<i>sic</i>] of Napoleon arose.”</span></p></div> + +<p>To signal that the song was done, “Hitchbiddy” dropped the tune on the +last line, and in calm, direct, matter-of-fact recitative announced that +“the grand Conversation of Napoleon arose.” In the fifty years during +which that song has been sung in the Maine lumber-camps, no one has ever +displayed the least curiosity as to that last line. Away back, +somewhere, a singer twisted a nice, fat word of the original song, and +it has stayed twisted, and no one has tried to trouble it by idle +questions.</p> + +<p>“Hitchbiddy’s” most rapt listener was Foolish Abe of the Skeets. The +shaggy giant squatted behind the stove beside the pile of shavings he +was everlastingly whittling for the cook-fire. It was the only task that +Abe’s poor wits could master, and he toiled at it unceasingly, paying +thus and by a sort of canine gratitude for the food he received and the +cast-off clothes tossed to him.</p> + +<p>A mumbled chorus of commendation followed the song. But the +chopping-boss, his humorous gaze on the witling, remarked:</p> + +<p>“I reckon I’ll have to rule that song out, after this, ‘Hitchbiddy.’”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p><p>“What for?” demanded the amazed songster.</p> + +<p>“It seems to have a damaging and cavascacious effect on the giant +intellect of Perfessor Skeet,” remarked the boss, with irony. “Look at +him!”</p> + +<p>Abe was on his knees, stretching up his neck and twitching his head from +side to side with the air of an agitated fowl.</p> + +<p>“We’ll make it a rule after this to have only common songs, like Larry +Gorman’s,” continued the boss, with a quizzical glance at the woodsman +poet. “These high operas are too thrillin’.”</p> + +<p>But those who stared at Abe promptly saw that his attention was not +fixed on matters within, but without.</p> + +<p>“He heard something,” muttered one of the men. “He’s got ears like a +cat, anyway.”</p> + +<p>If the giant had heard something it was plain that he heard it again, +for he dropped his knife and scrambled to his feet.</p> + +<p>“Me go! Yes!” he roared, gutturally; and, obeying some mysterious +summons, his haste showing its authority, he ran out of the camp.</p> + +<p>“Catch that fool!” yelled the boss. But the first of those who tumbled +out into the dingle after him were not quick enough. The night and the +swirling storm had swallowed him. A few zealous pursuers ran a little +way, trying to follow his tracks, lost them, and then came back for +lanterns.</p> + +<p>“It’s no use, Mr. Wade,” advised the boss. “He’s got the strength of a +mule and the legs of an ostrich. The men will only be takin’ chances for +nothin’. He’s gone clean out of his head, and there’s no tellin’ when +he’ll stop.”</p> + +<p>And Wade regretfully gave orders to abandon the chase. He and the others +stood for a time gazing about them into the storm, now sifting thicker +and swirling more wildly. He was oppressed by the happening, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>as though +he had seen some one leap to death. What else could a human being hope +for in that waste?</p> + +<p>“He’s as tough as a bull moose, and just as used to bein’ out-doors,” +remarked the boss, consolingly. “When he’s had his run he’ll smell his +way back.”</p> + +<p>Teamster Tommy Eye was the most persistent pursuer. He came in, stamping +the snow, after all the others had reassembled in the camp to talk the +matter over.</p> + +<p>“Did ye hear it?” demanded Tommy. “I did, and I run like a tiger so I +could say that at last I’d seen one. But I didn’t see it. I only heard +it.”</p> + +<p>“What?” asked Wade, amazed.</p> + +<p>“The ha’nt,” said Tommy. “I’ve always wanted to see one. I was first +out, and I heard it.”</p> + +<p>“What did it sound like?” gasped one of the men, his superstition +glowing in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“It’s bad luck forever to try to make a noise like a ha’nt,” said Tommy, +with decision. “Nor will I meddle with its business—no, s’r. ’Twould +come for me. Take a lucivee, an Injun devil, a bob-sled runner on grit, +and the gabble of a loon, mix ’em together, and set ’em, and skim off +the cream of the noise, and it would be something like the loo-hoo of a +ha’nt. It’s awful on the nerves. I reckon I’ll take a pull at the old T. +D.” He rammed his pipe bowl with a finger that trembled visibly.</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen one,” declared, positively, the man who had inquired in +regard to the sound. “I’ve seen one, but I never heard one holler. I +didn’t know it was a ha’nt till I’d seen it half a dozen times.”</p> + +<p>“Good eye!” sneered Tommy. “What! did it have to come up and introduce +itself, and say, ‘Please, Mister MacIntosh, I’m a ha’nt’?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen one,” insisted the man, sullenly. “I was teamin’ for the +Blaisdell Brothers on their Telos operation, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>and I see it every day for +most a week. It walked ahead of my team close to the bushes, side of the +road, and it was like a man, and it always turned off at the same place +and went into the woods.”</p> + +<p>“Do you call that a ha’nt—a man walkin’ ’longside the road in +daylight—some hump-backed old spruce-gum picker?” demanded Tommy.</p> + +<p>“The last time I see it I noticed that it didn’t leave any tracks,” +declared the narrator. “It walked right along on the light snow, and +didn’t leave any tracks. Funny I didn’t notice that before, but I +didn’t.”</p> + +<p>“You sartinly ain’t what the dictionary would set down as a hawk-eyed +critter,” remarked Tommy, maliciously. “It must have been kind of +discouragin’, ha’ntin’ you.”</p> + +<p>“It was a ha’nt,” insisted the man, with the same doggedness. “I got +off’n my team right then and there, and got a bill of my time and left, +and the man that took my place got sluiced by the snub-line bustin’, and +about three thousand feet of spruce mellered the eternal daylights out +of him. Say what you’re a mind to—I saw a thing that walked on light +snow and didn’t make tracks, and I left, and that feller got +sluiced—everybody in these woods knows that a feller got killed on +Telos two winters ago.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there’s ha’nts,” agreed Tommy, earnestly. “Mebbe you saw one; only +you got at your story kind of back-ended.”</p> + +<p>The old teamster had been watching incredulity settle on the face of +Dwight Wade, and this heresy in one to whom his affections had attached +touched his sensitiveness.</p> + +<p>“You’re probably thinkin’ what most of the city folks say out loud to +us, Mr. Wade,” he went on, humbly. “They say there ain’t any such things +as ha’nts in the woods. It would be easy to say there ain’t any bull +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>moose up here because they ain’t also seen walkin’ down a city street +and lookin’ into store windows. But I’d like to see one of those city +folks try to sleep in the camp that’s built over old Jumper Joe’s grave +north of Sourdnaheunk.”</p> + +<p>There was a general mumble of indorsement. It became evident to Wade +that the crew of the Enchanted were pretty stanch adherents of the +supernatural.</p> + +<p>“Hitchbiddy” Wagg cleared his throat and sang, for the sake of +verification:</p> + +<div class="centerbox10 bbox3"><p>“He rattled underneath, and he rattled overhead;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never in my life was I ever scared so!</span><br /> +And I did not dast to lay down in that bed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where they laid out old Joe.”</span></p></div> + +<p>“They can’t use that place for anything but a depot-camp now,” stated +Tommy; “and it’s a wonder to me that they can even get pressed hay to +stay there overnight.”</p> + +<p>“Well, from what I know of human nature,” smiled Wade, “I should think +that hay and provisions would stay better overnight in a haunted camp +than in one without protection.”</p> + +<p>He rapped out his pipe ashes on the hearth of the stove and rose to go.</p> + +<p>“And don’t you believe that it was a ha’nt that called out Foolish Abe?” +asked Tommy, eager to make a convert. “You saw that for yourself, Mr. +Wade.”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid to think of what may have happened to that poor creature,” +replied Wade, earnestly, looking into the black night through the door +that he had opened. He heard the chopping-boss call: “Nine! Turn in!” as +he strove with the storm between the main camp and the wangan, and when +he stamped into his own shelter the yellow smudge winked out behind +him—such is the alacrity of a sleepy woods crew when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>it has a boss who +blows out the big lamp on the dot of the hour. He shuddered as he shut +out the blackness. He had no superstitions, but the unaccountable flight +of the witling, and the eerie tales offered in explanation and the +mystic night of storm in that wild forest waste unstrung him. He went to +sleep, finding comfort in the dull glow of the lantern that he left +lighted.</p> + +<p>Its glimmer in his eyes when the cook called shrilly in the gray dawn, +“Grub on ta-a-abe!” sent his first thoughts to the wretch who had +abandoned himself to the storm. He hoped to find Abe whittling shavings +in the cook-house.</p> + +<p>“No, s’r, no sign of him, hide nor hair,” said the cook, shaking his +head. “Reckon the ha’nt flew high with him.”</p> + +<p>The snow still sifted through the trees—a windless storm now. The +forest was trackless.</p> + +<p>“For a man to start out in the woods in that storm was like jumpin’ into +a hole and pullin’ the hole in after him,” observed the chopping-boss. +That remark might have served as the obituary of poor Abe Skeet. The +swampers, the choppers, the sled-tenders, the teamsters, trudging away +to their work, had their minds full of their duties and their mouths +full of other topics during the day.</p> + +<p>And all day the cook bleated his cheerful little prophecy in the ears of +the cookee: “The tote team will be in by night.” That morning, with his +rolling-pin, he had pounded “hungryman’s ratty-too” on the bottom of the +last flour-barrel to shake out enough for his batch of biscuits, and he +burned up the barrel, even though the pessimistic cookee predicted that +“the human nail-kags” would eat both kitchen mechanics if the food gave +out.</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade, at nightfall, surveyed the bare shelves of the cook camp +with some misgivings.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p><p>“Don’t you worry,” advised the master of that domain. “Rod Ide ain’t +waitin’ three weeks for good slippin’ jest for the sake of settin’ in +his store window and singin’ ‘Beautiful snow’! He sure got a load of +supplies started on that first skim o’ snow, and they’re due here +to-night—” The cook paused, kicked at the cookee for slamming the +stove-cover at that crucial moment of listening, and shrilled, “There +she blows!”</p> + +<p>Wade heard the jangle of bells, and hastened to meet the dim bulk of the +loaded sled. The driver did not reply to his delighted hail, but before +he had time to wonder at that silence some one struggled out of the +folds of a shrouding blanket and sprang from the sled. It was a woman; +and while he stood and stared at her, she ran to him and grasped his +hands and clung to him in pitiful abandonment of grief.</p> + +<p>It was Nina Ide. In the dim light Wade could see tears and heart-broken +woe on her face. He had had some experience with the self-poise of the +daughter of Rodburd Ide. This emotion, which checked with sobs the words +in her throat, frightened him.</p> + +<p>“It’s a terrible thing, and I don’t understand it, Mr. Wade,” quavered +the driver. He slipped down from the load and came and stood beside +them. “We was in Pogey Notch, and the wind was blowin’ pretty hard +there, and I told the young ladies they’d better cover their heads with +the blankets. And I pulled the canvas over me, ’cause the snow stung so, +and I didn’t see it when it happened—and I don’t understand it.”</p> + +<p>“When what happened?” Wade gasped.</p> + +<p>“They took her—whatever they was,” stated the driver, in awed tones. “I +didn’t see ’em or hear ’em take her. And I don’t know jest where we was +when they took her. I went back and hunted, but it wasn’t any use. They +was gone, and her with ’em. They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>wasn’t humans, Mr. Wade. It was black +art, that’s what it was.”</p> + +<p>“Probably,” said Tommy Eye, with deep conviction. He had led the group +that came out of the camp to greet the tote team. “There were ha’nts +here last night. They got Foolish Abe.”</p> + +<p>“They sartinly seem to mean the Skeet family this time,” said the +driver. “It was that Skeet girl—the pretty one that’s called Kate—that +they got off’n my team.”</p> + +<p>The men of the camp, surrounding the new arrivals, surveyed Nina Ide +with respectful but eager curiosity.</p> + +<p>“If I was a ha’nt,” growled the chopping-boss, “and had my pick, I +reckon I’d have shown better judgment.” His remark was under his breath, +and the girl did not hear it. She clung to Wade. Her agitation +communicated itself to him. A sense of calamity told him that there was +trouble deeper than the disappearance of the waif of the Skeet tribe.</p> + +<p>Her words confirmed his suspicion. “My God, what are we going to do, Mr. +Wade?” she sobbed. “I planned it; I encouraged her. It was wild, +imprudent, reckless. I ought to have realized it. But I knew how you +felt towards her. I wanted to help her and—and you!”</p> + +<p>Something in the horror of her wide-open eyes told him plainly now that +this could not be merely the question of the loss of one of the Skeets. +And with that conviction growing out of bewildered doubt, he went with +her when she led him away towards the office camp. A suspicion wild as a +nightmare flashed into his mind. In the wangan she faced him, as +woe-stricken, as piteously afraid, as though she were confessing a crime +against him.</p> + +<p>“It was John Barrett’s daughter Elva on that team with me,” she choked. +“She wanted to come—but I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Wade. She wouldn’t +have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>come if I hadn’t encouraged her—yes, put the idea into her head +and the means into her hands. I’ve been a fool, Mr. Wade, but I’ll not +be a coward and lie about my responsibility.”</p> + +<p>He gazed at her, his face ghastly white in the lantern-light.</p> + +<p>“She wanted to—she was coming here—she is lost?” he mumbled, as though +trying to fathom a mystery.</p> + +<p>Infinite pity replaced the distraction in the girl’s face.</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, Mr. Wade!” she cried. “Not for my folly—you can’t overlook +that. Forgive me for wasting time. But I didn’t know how to say it to +you.” She put her woman’s weakness from her, though the struggle was a +mighty one, and her face showed it. “I won’t waste any more words, Mr. +Wade. John Barrett has been at my father’s house for weeks. He has been +near death—he is near death now, but the big doctors from the city say +that he will get well. He must have been through some terrible trouble +up here.”</p> + +<p>She looked at him with questioning gaze, as though to ask how much he +knew of the strain that had prostrated John Barrett, the stumpage king.</p> + +<p>“He was in great danger—and his exposure—” stammered Wade.</p> + +<p>But she went on, hurriedly:</p> + +<p>“It was fever, and it went to his head, and he talked and raved. His +daughter came from the city and nursed him, and she has heard him +talking, talking, talking, all the time—talking about you, and how you +saved him from the fire; talking about a woman who is dead and a man who +is alive, and a girl—”</p> + +<p>“Does Elva Barrett—know?” he demanded, hoarsely.</p> + +<p>“It was too plain not to know—after she saw that girl, Mr. Wade. The +girl was there at our house—she is there now. It isn’t all clear to us +yet. We have only the ravings of a sick man—and the face of that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>girl. +Father doesn’t understand all of it, either. But he knows that you do, +although you haven’t told him.” She clutched her trembling hands to hold +them steady. “And he has talked and talked of other things, Mr. +Wade—the sick man has. He has said that you have his reputation, and +his prospects, and the happiness of his family all in your hands, and +that you are waiting to ruin him because he has abused you; and he has +tossed in his bed and begged some one to come to you and promise +you—buy you—coax you—”</p> + +<p>“It’s a cursed lie—infernal, though a sick man babble it!” Wade cried, +heart-brokenly. “It holds me up as a blackmailer, Miss Nina. It makes me +seem a wretch in Elva’s eyes. And yet—was she—was she coming here +thinking I was that kind—coming here to beg for her father?” he +demanded.</p> + +<p>“We—I—oh, I don’t like to tell you we believed that of you,” the girl +sobbed. “No, I didn’t believe it. But if you had only heard him lying +there talking, talking! And you were the one that he seemed to fear. And +we thought if you knew of it you wouldn’t want him to worry that way. +And if we could carry back some word of comfort from you to him—She +wanted to come to you, Mr. Wade, and I encouraged her and helped her to +come—because—because—” The girl caught her breath in a long sob, and +cried: “She loves you, Mr. Wade! And I’ve pitied you and her ever since +that day in the train when I found out about it.”</p> + +<p>It was not a moment to analyze emotions. Nina Ide, in her ingenuous +declaration of Elva Barrett’s motives in seeking him, had made his heart +for an instant blaze with joy. For that instant he forgot the shame of +the baseless babblings of the sick man, the awful mystery of Elva +Barrett’s disappearance. The blow of it—that Elva Barrett was +gone—that she was somewhere in those woods alone, or worse than alone, +had stunned <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>him at first. Groping out of that misery, striving to +realize what it meant, he had faced first the hideous thought that she +might believe him mean enough to seek revenge. Then came the dazzling +hope that Elva Barrett so loved him that she adventured—imprudently and +recklessly, but none the less bravely—in order to make her love known. +Then over all swept the black bitterness of the calamity.</p> + +<p>“But you must have some suspicion—some hint how she was taken or how +she went!” he cried. “In Heaven’s name, Miss Nina, think! think! You +heard some outcry! There was some hidden rock or stump to jar the sled! +The man did not search along the road far enough! She must be +lost—lost!” and his voice rose almost to a shriek.</p> + +<p>“There was no cry, Mr. Wade. And I went back with the man. We searched; +we called—we even went as far as the place where we covered ourselves +with the blankets. We could find no track, and the snow was driving and +sifting. The man does not know it was Elva Barrett,” she added.</p> + +<p>He suddenly remembered the driver’s statement.</p> + +<p>“She came in Kate Arden’s clothes,” confided the girl. “Those who saw +her ride out of Castonia, Mr. Wade, thought it was Kate Arden. And Kate +Arden, in Elva Barrett’s dress, is sitting now beside John Barrett, +holding his hand, and his daughter’s face has soothed him. He thinks it +is his daughter beside him. They are so like, Kate and Elva. We waited +until we had made sure. It was my plan. And Kate obeyed me. I don’t know +what she is thinking of. She is sullen and silent, but she took the +place by his bed when I told her to. Then it could not be said that John +Barrett’s daughter had come seeking Dwight Wade.”</p> + +<p>Even in this stress he could still feel gratitude for the subterfuge +that checked the tongues of gossip.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p><p>“I wish father had more authority over me,” sobbed the girl. “He +wouldn’t have let us come on such a crazy errand if I hadn’t bossed him +into it.” The lament was so guilelessly feminine that Wade put aside his +own woe for the moment to think of the girl’s distress.</p> + +<p>“This will be your home until I can send you back, Miss Nina,” he said, +gently. “I will have old Christopher bring in your supper and mend your +fire.”</p> + +<p>“And about her, Mr. Wade?” she cried.</p> + +<p>“I’m going,” he said, simply, but with such earnestness that her eyes +flooded again with tears.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>THE MAN WHO CAME FROM NOWHERE</h3> + +<div class="centerbox11 bbox3"><p>“He hadn’t a word for no one, not even for me or Mike,<br /> +And whenever we spoke or tried to joke, he growled like a<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Chessy tyke.”</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcd.jpg" title="D" height="90" width="90" alt="D" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">D</span>wight Wade found a lively conference in progress in the main camp.</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye was doing most of the talking, and it was plain that his +opinions carried weight, for no one presumed to gainsay him.</p> + +<p>“And I’ll say to you what I’m tellin’ to them here, Mr. Wade,” continued +the teamster. “You saw for yourself what happened here last night. A +ha’nt done it. And the ha’nt done this last. They’re pickin’ Skeets +right and left.”</p> + +<p>“Ha’nt must be in the pay of Pulaski D. Britt,” remarked one rude joker. +“He’s been the one most interested in gettin’ the tribe out of this +section.”</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade, love and awful fear raging in his heart, was in no mood to +play dilettante with the supernatural, nor to relish jokes.</p> + +<p>“We’ll have done with this foolishness, men!” he cried, harshly. “A girl +has been lost in these woods.” He was protecting Elva Barrett’s +incognito by a mighty effort of self-repression. The agony of his soul +prompted him to leap, shouting, down the tote road, calling her name and +crying his love and his despair. “I want this crew to beat the woods and +find her.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p><p>“She can’t ever be found,” growled a prompt rebel. “I heard the driver +tell. She was picked right up and lugged off. There ain’t any of us got +wings.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’ve got to admit that there are ha’nts!” persisted Tommy, with +fine relish for his favorite topic. “And they pick up people. I see one, +in the shape of a tree, pick up an ox once and break his neck.”</p> + +<p>“D—n you for drooling idiots!” raved Wade, beside himself. It was the +first outlet for the storm of his feelings.</p> + +<p>He ordered them to get lanterns and start on the search—he strode among +them with brandished fists and whirling arms, and they dodged from in +front of him, staring in amazement.</p> + +<p>“My Gawd,” mourned Tommy, “this camp has had the spell put on it for +sure! The ha’nt has driv’ the boss out of his head, and will have him +next. And if it can drive a college man out of his head, what chance has +the rest of us got?”</p> + +<p>Panic was writ large in the faces of the simple woodsmen, and fear +glittered in their eyes. A single queer circumstance would merely have +set them to wondering; but these unexplainable events, following each +other so rapidly and taking ominous shade from the glass that lugubrious +Tommy Eye held over them, shook them out of self-poise. It needed but +one voice to cry, “The place is accursed!” to precipitate a rout, and +old Christopher Straight had the woodsman’s keen scent for trouble of +this sort.</p> + +<p>“A moment! A moment, Mr. Wade!” he called. He patted the young man’s +elbow and urged him towards the door. “I want to speak to you. Keep +quiet, my men, and go in to your supper.”</p> + +<p>As he passed the cook-house door he sharply ordered the cook to sound +the delayed call—the cook being then engaged in discussing, with +chopping-boss and cookee, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>a certain “side-hill lounger,” a ha’nt that +wrought vast mischief of old along Ripogenus gorge.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wade,” advised the old man, when they were apart from the camp, +“I’m sorry to see you get so stirred up over the Skeet girl, for I don’t +believe she appreciates your kindness. I have this matter pretty well +settled in my own mind. I don’t know just why Miss Nina is up here, nor +why she has brought that girl back—or tried to. It is plain, though, +that the girl has deceived her.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand,” quavered Wade, struggling between his own +knowledge and old Christopher’s apparent certainty.</p> + +<p>“The Skeet girl, having her own reasons for wanting to come this way +from Castonia, got as far as Pogey Notch, slipped off the team, and made +her way to Britt’s camp on Jerusalem to join Colin MacLeod. It’s all a +put-up job, Mr. Wade, and they’ve simply done what they set out to do in +the first place, when Britt and his crew followed John Barrett and me to +Durfy’s. So I wouldn’t worry any more about the girl, Mr. Wade. Let her +stay where she plainly wants to stay.”</p> + +<p>Wade blurted the truth without pausing to weigh consequences. He +bitterly needed an adviser. Old Christopher’s calm confidence in his own +theory pricked him.</p> + +<p>“Great God, man, it isn’t the Skeet girl! It is John Barrett’s +daughter—his daughter Elva!”</p> + +<p>For a moment Christopher gasped his amazement, without words.</p> + +<p>“There have been strange things happening outside since we’ve been +locked in here away from the news,” the young man went on, excitedly. +“It is Elva Barrett, I tell you, Christopher, and she has been stolen.”</p> + +<p>“Then it’s a part of the plot—somehow—someway,” insisted the old man. +“Colin MacLeod, or some one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>interested for Colin MacLeod, saw that +girl, and took her for the Skeet girl. I’ve never seen Elva Barrett, but +you’ve told me that the Skeet girl is her spittin’ image—or words to +that effect,” corrected the old guide.</p> + +<p>“And she was dressed in Kate Arden’s clothes!” groaned Wade, remembering +Nina Ide’s little scheme of deception.</p> + +<p>“Then she’s at Britt’s camp—mistaken for the Skeet girl, as I said,” +declared Straight, with conviction.</p> + +<p>“But hold on!” he cried, grasping Wade’s arm as the young man was about +to rush back into the camp, “that’s no way to go after that girl—hammer +and tongs, mob and ragtag. In the first place, Mr. Wade, those men in +there are in no frame of mind to be led off into the night. I know +woodsmen. They’ve been talkin’ ha’nts till they’re ready to jump ten +feet high if you shove a finger at ’em. This is no time for an army—an +army of that caliber. They know well enough now at Britt’s camp that it +isn’t Kate Arden. And I’ll bet they’re pretty frightened, now that they +know who they’ve got. It’s a simple matter, Mr. Wade. I’ll go to Britt’s +camp and get the young lady. I’ll go now on snow-shoes and take the +moose-sled, and I’ll be back some time to-morrow all safe and happy.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll go with you,” declared Wade.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t best,” protested the old man. “I’ve no quarrel with Colin +MacLeod. It means trouble if you show in sight there without your men +behind you.”</p> + +<p>“But I’m going,” insisted Wade, with such positiveness that old +Christopher merely sighed. “I’ll let you go into the camp alone,” +allowed Wade, “for I am not fool enough to look for trouble just to find +it; but I’ll be waiting for you up the tote road with the moose-sled, +and I’ll haul her home here out of that hell.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t blame you for wantin’ to play hoss for her,” said the woodsman, +with a little malice in his humor. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>“And if she is like most girls +she’ll be willin’ to have you do it.”</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later the two were away down the tote road. They said +nothing of their purpose except to Nina Ide, whom they left intrenched +in the wangan—a woods maiden who felt perfectly certain of the chivalry +of the men of the woods about her.</p> + +<p>The storm was over, but the heavens were still black. Wade dragged the +moose-sled, walking behind old Christopher in the patch of radiance that +the lantern flung upon the snow. Treading ever and ever on the same +whiteness in that little circle of light, it seemed to Wade that he was +making no progress, but that the big trees were silently crowding their +way past like spectres, and that he, for all his passion of fear and +foreboding, simply lifted his feet to make idle tracks. The winds were +still, and the only sounds were the rasping of legs and snow-shoes, and +the soft thuddings of snow-chunks dropped from the limbs of overladen +trees.</p> + +<p>In the first gray of the morning, swinging off the tote road and down +into the depths of Jerusalem valley, they at last came upon the +scattered spruce-tops and fresh chips that marked the circle of Britt’s +winter operation.</p> + +<p>The young man’s good sense rebuked his rebelliousness when Christopher +took the cord of the sled and bade him wait where he was.</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame you for feeling that way,” said the old man, interpreting +Wade’s wordless mutterings; “but the easiest way is always the best. If +she is there she will want to come with me, where Miss Ide is waiting +for her, and the word of the young lady will be respected. I’m afraid +your word wouldn’t be—not with Colin MacLeod,” he added, grimly.</p> + +<p>And yet Dwight Wade watched the lantern-light <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>flicker down the valley +with a secret and shamed feeling that he was a coward not to be the +first to hold out a hand of succor to the girl he loved. That he had to +wait hidden there in the woods while another represented him chafed his +spirits until he strode up and down and snarled at the reddening east.</p> + +<p>At last the waiting became agony. The sun came up, its light quivering +through the snow-shrouded spruces. Below him in the valley he heard +teamsters yelping at floundering horses, the grunting “Hup ho!” of +sled-tenders, and the chick-chock of axes. It was evident that the visit +of Christopher Straight had not created enough of a sensation to divert +Pulaski Britt’s men from their daily toil. Wade’s hurrying thoughts +would not allow his common-sense to excuse the old man’s continued +absence. To go—to tear Elva Barrett from that hateful place—to rush +back—what else was there for Straight to do? In the end the goads of +apprehension were driving him down the trail towards the camp, +regardless of consequences.</p> + +<p>But when, at the first turn of the road, he saw Christopher plodding +towards him, he ran back in sudden tremor. He wanted to think a moment. +There was so much to say. The old man came into sight again, near at +hand, before Wade had control of the tumult of his thoughts.</p> + +<p>The sled was empty.</p> + +<p>Christopher scuffed along slowly, munching a biscuit.</p> + +<p>“They wouldn’t let her go? I—I thought they had made you stay—you were +so long!” gasped the young man, trying by words of his own to calm his +fear.</p> + +<p>“She isn’t there, Mr. Wade,” said the old man, finishing his biscuit, +and speaking with an apparent calmness which maddened the young man. +This old man, placidly wagging his jaws, seemed a part of the stolid +indifference of the woods.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p><p>“I brought you something to eat, Mr. Wade,” Christopher went on. He +fumbled at his breast-pocket. “We’ve got tough work ahead of us. You +can’t do it on an empty stomach.”</p> + +<p>“My God! what are you saying, Straight?” demanded the young man. +“They’re lying to you. She is there. She must be. There’s no one—”</p> + +<p>“And I say she isn’t there,” insisted Christopher, with quiet firmness. +“I know what I’m talking about. You’re only guessin’.”</p> + +<p>“They lied to you to save themselves.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wade, I know woodsmen better than you do. There are a good many +things about Colin MacLeod that I don’t like. But when it came to a +matter of John Barrett’s daughter Colin MacLeod would be as square as +you or I.”</p> + +<p>“You told them it was John Barrett’s daughter?”</p> + +<p>“I did not,” said the old man, stoutly. “There was no need to. If it had +been John Barrett’s daughter she would have been queening it in those +camps when I got there. She hadn’t been there. There has been no woman +there. Colin MacLeod and his men didn’t take Miss Barrett from that tote +team. And I’ve made sure of that point because I knew my men well enough +to make sure. She isn’t there!”</p> + +<p>“There is no one else in all these woods to trouble her,” declared Wade, +brokenly.</p> + +<p>“No one knows just who and what are movin’ about these woods,” said +Christopher, in solemn tones. “In forty years I’ve known things to +happen here that no one ever explained. Hold on, Mr. Wade!” he cried, +checking a bitter outburst. “I’m not talking like Tommy Eye, either! I’m +not talking about ha’nts now. But, I say, strange things have happened +in these woods—and a strange thing has happened this time. Barrett’s +daughter is gone. She’s been taken. She didn’t <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>go by herself.” He gazed +helplessly about him, searching the avenues of the silent woods.</p> + +<p>“North or east, west or south!” he muttered, “It’s a big job for us, Mr. +Wade! I’m goin’ to be honest with you. I don’t see into it. You’d better +eat.”</p> + +<p>The young man pushed the proffered food away.</p> + +<p>“You eat, I say,” commanded old Christopher, his gray eyes snapping. “An +empty gun and an empty man ain’t either of ’em any good on a +huntin’-trip.”</p> + +<p>He started away, dragging the sled, and Wade struggled along after him, +choking down the food.</p> + +<p>When they had retraced their steps as far as the Enchanted tote road, +Christopher turned to the south and trudged towards Pogey Notch. The +trail of the tote team was visible in hollows which the snow had nearly +filled. The snow lay as it had fallen. The tops of the great trees on +either side of the road sighed and lashed and moaned in the wind that +had risen at dawn. But below in the forest aisles it was quiet.</p> + +<p>Had not the wind been at their backs, whistling from the north, the +passage of Pogey Notch would have proved a savage encounter. The stunted +growth offered no wind-break. The great defile roared like a +chimney-draught. As the summer winds had howled up the Notch, lashing +the leafy branches of the birches and beeches, so now the winter winds +howled down, harpers that struck dismal notes from the bare trees. The +snow drove horizontally in stinging clouds. The drifting snow even made +the sun look wan. The quest for track, trail, or clew in that storm +aftermath was waste of time. But the old man kept steadily on, peering +to right and left, searching with his eyes nook and cross-defile, until +at the southern mouth of the Notch they came to Durfy’s hovel.</p> + +<p>Christopher took refuge there, leaning against the log walls, and mused +for a time without speaking. Then <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>he bent his shrewd glance on Wade +from under puckered lids.</p> + +<p>“There’s no telling what a lunatic will do next, is there?” he blurted, +abruptly.</p> + +<p>Wade, failing to understand, stared at his questioner.</p> + +<p>“I was thinkin’ about that as we came past that place where ‘Ladder’ +Lane trussed up John Barrett and left him, time of the big fire,” the +old man went on. “Comin’ down the Notch sort of brought the thing up in +my mind. It’s quite a grudge that Lane has got against John Barrett and +all that belongs to him.”</p> + +<p>Wade was well enough versed in Christopher Straight’s subtle fashion of +expressing his suspicions to understand him now.</p> + +<p>“By ——, Straight, I believe you’ve hit it!” he panted.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been patchin’ a few things together in my head,” said the old man, +modestly, “as a feller has to do when dealin’ with woods matters. I’ve +told you that queer things have happened in the woods. When a number of +things happen you can fit ’em together, sometimes. Now, there wasn’t +anything queer at Britt’s camps to fit into the rest. I came right on +’em sudden, and there wasn’t a ripple anywhere. I didn’t go into the +details, Mr. Wade, in tellin’ you why I knew Miss Barrett wasn’t there. +It would have been wastin’ time. But now take the queer things! Out goes +Abe Skeet into the storm! Who would be mousin’ around outside at that +time of night except a lunatic—such as ‘Ladder’ Lane has turned into +since the big fire? You saw on Jerusalem how Lane could boss Abe—he +jumped when Lane pulled the string.</p> + +<p>“And it was Lane that called him out of our camp,” the old man went on. +“No one else could do it—except that old Skeet grandmother. Lane has +been in these woods ever since he abandoned the Jerusalem fire <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>station. +He’s no ordinary lunatic. He’s cunnin’. He’s only livin’ now to nuss the +grudge. Now see here!” Christopher held up his fingers, and bent them +down one by one to mark his points. “He has ha’nted camps in this +section to locate Abe Skeet. Knowed Abe Skeet could probably tell where +Kate Arden had gone, Abe havin’ been left to guard her. Called Abe out +to go with him to get that girl back—maybe havin’ heard that John +Barrett got out of these woods scot-free and had dumped the girl off +somewhere else. Lane is lunatic enough to think he needs the girl to +carry out his plan of revenge. And he does, if he means to take her +outside and show her to the world as John Barrett’s abandoned daughter, +as it’s plain his scheme is. Lane and Abe started down towards Castonia. +Heard tote team, and hid side of road (would naturally hide). Saw girl +that looked like Kate Arden (even dressed in her clothes, I believe you +told me?). Followed the team, and when she covered herself in the +blanket, as though to make herself into a package ready for ’em, they +grabbed her off the team before she had time to squawk. Had her ready +muzzled and gagged, as you might say! Mr. Wade, as I told you, I’ve been +patchin’ things in my mind. I ain’t a dime-novel detective nor anything +of the sort, but I do know something about the woods and who are in ’em +and what they’ll be likely to do, and I can’t see anything far-fetched +in the way I’ve figgered this.”</p> + +<p>While his fears had been so hideously vague Wade had stumbled on behind +his guide without hope, and with his thoughts whirling in his head as +wildly as the snow-squalls whirled in Pogey. Now, with definite point on +which to hang his bitter fears, he was roused into a fury of activity.</p> + +<p>“We’ll after them, Christopher!” he shouted. “They’ve got her! It’s just +as you’ve figured it. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>They’ve got her! She will die of fright, man! I +don’t dare to think of it!” He was rushing away. Christopher called to +him.</p> + +<p>“Just which way was you thinkin’ of goin’?” he asked, with mild sarcasm. +“I can put queer things together in my mind so’s to make ’em fit pretty +well,” went on the old man, “but jest which way to go chasin’ a lunatic +and a fool in these big woods ain’t marked down on this snow plain +enough so I can see it.”</p> + +<p>Wade, the cord of the moose-sled in his trembling hands, turned and +stared dismally at Straight. The old man slowly came away from the +hovel, his nose in the air, as though he were sniffing for inspiration.</p> + +<p>“The nearest place,” he said, thinking his thoughts aloud, “would be to +the fire station up there.” He pointed his mittened hand towards the +craggy sides of Jerusalem. “They may have started hot-foot for the +settlement. Perhaps ‘Ladder’ Lane would have done that if ’twas Kate +Arden he’d got. But seein’ as it’s John Barrett’s own daughter—” He +paused and rubbed his mitten over his face. “Knowin’ what we do of the +general disposition of old Lane, it’s more reasonable to think that he +ain’t quite so anxious to deliver that particular package outside, +seein’ that he can twist John Barrett’s heart out of him by keepin’ her +hid in these woods.”</p> + +<p>The young man had no words. His face pictured his fears.</p> + +<p>“It’s only guesswork at best, Mr. Wade,” said Christopher. “It’s tough +to think of climbin’ to the top of Jerusalem on this day, but it seems +to me it’s up to us as men.” They looked at each other a moment, and the +look was both agreement and pledge. They began the ascent, quartering +the snowy slope. The dogged persistence of the veteran woodsman animated +the old man; love and desperation spurred the younger. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>climb from +bench to bench among the trees was an heroic struggle. The passage +across the bare poll of the mountain in the teeth of the bitter blast +was torture indescribable. And they staggered to the fire station only +to find its open doors drifted with snow, its two rooms empty and +echoing.</p> + +<p>“I was in hopes—in hopes!” sighed the old man, stroking the frozen +sweat from his cheeks. “But I ain’t agoin’ to give up hopes here, +sonny.” Even Wade’s despair felt the soothing encouragement in the old +man’s tone.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to fetch Barnum Withee’s camp on ‘Lazy Tom’ before we sleep,” +said the guide. “There’ll be something to eat there. There may be news. +We’ve got to do it!” And they plodded on wearily over the ledges and +down the west descent.</p> + +<p>They made the last two miles by the light of their lantern, dragging +their snow-shoes, one over the other, with the listlessness of +exhaustion. The cook of Withee’s camp stared at them when they stumbled +in at the door of his little domain, their snow-shoes clattering on the +floor. He was a sociable cook, and he remarked, cheerily, “Well, gents, +I’m glad to see that you seem to be lookin’ for a hotel instead of a +horsepittle.”</p> + +<p>Not understanding him, they bent to untie the latchets of their shoes +without reply.</p> + +<p>“T’other one is in the horsepittle,” said the cook, jerking his thumb +over his shoulder in the direction of his bunk in the lean-to. “He was +brought in. I’ve been lookin’ for something of the sort ever since he +skipped from the Jerusalem station. Lunatics ain’t fit to fool ’round in +the woods,” he rambled on.</p> + +<p>“Who’ve you got in there?” demanded Christopher, snapping up from his +fumbling at the rawhide strings.</p> + +<p>“Old ‘Ladder’ Lane,” replied the cook, calmly. “Murphy’s down-toter +brought him here just before <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>dark. He’s pretty bad. Froze up +considerable. Toter heard him hootin’ out in the swirl of snow on the +Dickery pond and toled him ashore by hootin’ back at him. No business +tryin’ to cross a pond on a day like this! ’Tain’t safe for a young man +with all his wits, let alone an old man who has beat himself all out +slam-bangin’ round these woods this winter.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he’s pretty bad. Done what I could for him, me and cookee, by +rubbin’ on snow and ladlin’ ginger-tea into him, but when it come to +supper-time them nail-kags of mine had to be ’tended to, and here’s +bread to mix for to-morrow mornin’. We don’t advertise a horsepittle, +gents, but you wait a minute and I’ll scratch <i>you</i> up somethin’ for +supper. The horsepittle will have to run itself for a little while.”</p> + +<p>Wade and the old man stared at each other stupidly while the cook +bustled about his task. For the moment their thoughts were too busy for +words. Even Christopher’s whitening face showed the fear that had come +upon him.</p> + +<p>“Guess old Lane was comin’ out to get a letter onto the tote team,” +gossiped the cook. “I was lookin’ through his coat after I got it off +and found that one up there.”</p> + +<p>He nodded at a grimy epistle stuck in a crevice of the log, and went +down into a barrel after doughnuts which he piled on a tin plate.</p> + +<p>Noiselessly Christopher strode to the log and took down the letter and +stared at the superscription, and without a word displayed the writing +to Wade. It was addressed to John Barrett at his city address.</p> + +<p>The cook was busy at the table.</p> + +<p>“By Cephas, this is <i>our</i> business!” muttered the old man. And, turning +his back on the cook, he ripped open the envelope. On a wrinkled leaf +torn from an account-book was pencilled this message:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p><p>“<i>You stole my wife. I’ve got your daughter. Now, damn you, crawl and +beg!</i>”</p> + +<p>“Look here, cook,” called Straight, sharply, “there’s bad business mixed +up with Lane. Don’t ask me no questions.” He flapped the open letter +into the astonished face of the man to check his words. “We’ve got to +speak to Lane, and speak mighty quick.”</p> + +<p>“He was in a sog when I put him to bed,” said the cook. “Didn’t know +what, who, or where. They say lunatics want to be woke up careful. You +let me go.” He took a doughnut from the plate and started for the +lean-to, grinning back over his shoulder. “He may be ready to set up, +take notice, and brace himself with a doughnut.”</p> + +<p>The two men waited, eager, silent, hoping, fearing—each framing such +appeal as might touch the heart of this revengeful maniac.</p> + +<p>They heard the cook utter a snort of surprise; then they saw the flame +of a match shielded by his palm. A moment later he came out and stood +looking at them with a singularly sheepish expression.</p> + +<p>“Gents,” he blurted, “I’ll be cussed if the joke ain’t on me this time! +I went in there to give the horsepittle patient a fresh-laid doughnut to +revive his droopin’ heart, and—”</p> + +<p>“Is that man gone?” bawled Christopher, reaching for his snow-shoes.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the cook, grimly; “but you can’t chase him on snow—not +where he’s gone. He’s deader’n the door-knob on a hearse-house door.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>THE HOSTAGE OF THE GREAT WHITE SILENCE</h3> + +<div class="centerbox11 bbox3"><p>“Round the bellowin’ falls of Abol we lugged him through the brush,<br /> +And Death had marked his forehead: ‘To a Woman. Kindly Rush!’”</p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcw.jpg" title="W" height="90" width="90" alt="W" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">W</span>hen Christopher and Wade started up and hurried into the lean-to, the +cook of the “Lazy Tom” camp went ahead carrying a lamp to light the +place whose rude interior had so suddenly been made mystic by death.</p> + +<p>“‘Yes, s’r,’ says I to him,” he repeated, with queer, bewildered, +hysterical sort of chuckle. “I says to him, jolly as a chipmunk in a +beech-nut tree, I says, ‘Set up and have a doughnut all fresh laid,’ and +I’ll be bunga-nucked if he wa’n’t dead! And that’s a joke on me, all +right!”</p> + +<p>He held the lamp over the features of old “Ladder” Lane, and Dwight Wade +and Christopher Straight bent and peered.</p> + +<p>“Look; if he ain’t grinnin’!” whispered the cook, huskily. For one +horrid moment it seemed to Wade that the fixed grimace of the death-mask +expressed hideous mirth. The scrawl that the young man still clutched in +his fist held the words that the dead lips seemed to be mouthing: “You +stole my wife. I’ve got your daughter. Now, damn you, crawl and beg!” +And at the thought of Elva Barrett, hidden, lost—worse <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>than +lost—somewhere in that great silence about them, Wade’s agony and anger +found vent in the oath that he groaned above the dead man, who seemed to +lie there and mock him.</p> + +<p>But Christopher Straight gently laid his seamed hand on the shaggy +fringe of the gray poll.</p> + +<p>“It was a hot fire that burned in there, poor old fellow,” he murmured. +“And those that knew you can’t be sorry that it’s gone out.”</p> + +<p>He pressed his hand up under the hanging jaw, and smoothed down the +half-opened eyelids. And when he stepped back, after his sad and kindly +offices, the old man’s face was composed; it was the worn, wasted face +of an old man who had suffered much; grief, hardship, hunger, and all +human misery were writ large there in pitiful characters, in hollow +temple, sunken cheeks, pinched nostrils, and lips drawn as one draws +them after a bitter sob. And over its misery, after a long look of +honest grief, the old woodsman drew up the edge of the bunk’s worn gray +blanket, muttering as soothingly as though he were comforting a sick +man: “Take your rest, old fellow! There’s a long night ahead of you.”</p> + +<p>With bowed head Wade led the way into the main camp. He stumbled along +blindly, for the sudden tears were hot in his eyes. He regretted that +instant of anger as a profanation that even his harrowing fears for Elva +Barrett could not excuse. For Linus Lane, lying there dead, he +reflected, was the spoil of the lust of Elva Barrett’s father, as his +peace of mind and his sanity had been playthings of John Barrett’s +contemptuous indifference; and who was he, Dwight Wade, that he should +sit in judgment, even though his heart were bursting with the agony of +his fears?</p> + +<p>“In the woods a tree falls the way of the axe-scarf, Mr. Wade,” said old +Christopher, patting his shoulder. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>“John Barrett felled that one in +there, and he and his got in the way of it. Don’t blame the tree, but +the man that chopped it.”</p> + +<p>“Where is she, Christopher? What has he done with her?” demanded the +young man, hoarsely. He did not look up. His eyes were full. He was +trying to unfold the scrap of paper, but his fingers trembled so +violently that he tore it.</p> + +<p>They had not marked the hasty exit of the cook. But his return broke in +upon the long hush that had fallen between Wade and the woodsman. He was +bringing Barnum Withee, operator on “Lazy Tom,” and his chopping-boss, +and the men of “Lazy Tom” came streaming behind, moved by curiosity.</p> + +<p>“And I says to him—and these gents here will tell you the same—I says, +‘Set up and have a fresh-laid doughnut!’” babbled the cook, retailing +his worn story over and over.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know you were here,” said the hospitable head of the camp, +“till cook passed it to me along with the other news, that poor Lane had +parted his snub-line. I looked him over when he was brought in, but I +didn’t see any chance for him.” And after inviting them to eat and make +“their bigness” in the office camp, he went on into the lean-to.</p> + +<p>“Put on your cap, boy!” said old Christopher, touching Wade’s elbow. The +grumble of many voices, the crowd slowly jostling into the camp, the +half-jocose comments on “Ladder” Lane disturbed and distressed +Christopher, and he realized that the young man was suffering acutely +from a bitter cause. “Come out with me for a little while.”</p> + +<p>The wind had lulled. The heavens were clear. The Milky Way glowed with +dazzling sheen above the forest’s nicking, where the main road led. +Wherever the eye found interstice between the fronds of spruce <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>and +hemlock the stars spangled the frosty blue. There was a hush so profound +that a listener heard the pulsing of his blood. And yet there was +something over all that was not silence, nor yet a sound, but a +rhythmical, slow respiration, as though the world breathed and one heard +it, and, hearing it, could believe that nature was mortal—friend or +kin.</p> + +<p>Christopher walked to the first turn of the logging-road, and the young +man followed him; and when the trees had shut from sight the snow-heaped +roofs and the yellow lights and all sign of human neighbors, Christopher +stopped, leaned against a tree, and gazed up at the sparkling heavens.</p> + +<p>“I reckoned your feelings was gettin’ away from you a bit, Mr. Wade,” +said the old man, quietly, “and I thought we’d step out for a while +where we can sort of get a grip on somethin’ stationary, as you might +say. In time of deep trouble, when they happen to be round, a chap feels +inclined to grab holt of poor human critters, but they ain’t much of a +prop to hang to. Not when there’s the big woods!”</p> + +<p>“The big woods have got her, Christopher,” choked the young man, +despairingly. “And I’m afraid!”</p> + +<p>“The big woods look savagest to you when you’re peekin’ into them from a +camp window in the night,” declared the old man. “But when you’re right +in ’em, like we are now, they ain’t anything but friendly. Look around +you! Listen! There’s nothing to be afraid of. Let the big woods talk to +you a moment, my boy. Forget there are men for just a little while. I’ve +let the woods talk to me in some of the sore times in my life, and +they’ve always comforted me when I really set myself to listen.”</p> + +<p>“My God, I can only hear the words that are written on this scrap of +paper!” cried Wade. He shook “Ladder” Lane’s crumpled letter before the +woodsman’s face, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>and Christopher quietly reached for it, took it, and +tore it up.</p> + +<p>“When a paper talks louder than the good old woods talk, it’s time to +get rid of it,” he remarked, and tossed the bits over the snow.</p> + +<p>“I ain’t goin’ to tell you not to worry,” Christopher went on, after a +time. “I’m no fool, and you’re no fool. It’s a hard proposition, Mr. +Wade. A lunatic whirling in a snow-cloud like a leaf, round and round, +and then driftin’ out, and no way in the world of tellin’ where he came +from! And there’s some one—off that way he came from—that you want +terrible bad! Yet even that lunatic’s tracks have been patted smooth by +the wind. It’s no time to talk to human critters, Mr. Wade. It would be +‘Run this way and run that!’ Let the woods talk to you! They’ve been +wrastlin’ the big winds all day. They’ll probably have to wrastle ’em +again to-morrow. And they’ll be ready for the fight. Hear ’em sleep? The +same for you and for me, Mr. Wade. Go in and sleep, and be ready for +what comes to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>He walked ahead, leading the way back to camp, and Wade followed, every +aching muscle crying for rest, though his heart, aching more poignantly, +called on him to plunge into the forest in search of the helpless +hostage the woods were hiding.</p> + +<p>It is not in the nature of woodsmen to pry into another’s reason for +this or that. Barnum Withee gave Christopher Straight a chance to tell +why he and his employer were so far off the Enchanted operation; but +when Christopher Straight smoked on without explaining, Barnum Withee +smoked on without asking questions. In one of the dim bunks of the +wangan Wade breathed stertorously, drugged with nature’s opiate of utter +weariness. And after listening a moment with an air of relief, +Christopher broke upon Withee’s meditations.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p><p>“Was you tellin’ me where Lane has been makin’ his headquarters since he +skipped the fire station?” he inquired, innocently.</p> + +<p>“I was thinkin’ about him, too,” returned Withee, promptly. +“Headquarters! Does an Injun devil with a steel trap on his tail have +headquarters while he’s runnin’ and yowlin’? Whether he’s been in the +air or in a hole since he went out of his head, time of the fire, I +don’t know. Eye ain’t been laid on him till he come out of that +snow-squall, walkin’ like an icicle and hootin’ like a barn owl.”</p> + +<p>“Heard of any goods bein’ missed from any depot camps?” pursued the +woodsman, shrewdly. “That might tell where he’s been hangin’ out.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the operator, suddenly brusque. Then he looked up from the +sliver that he had been whittling absent-mindedly, and fixed keen eye on +Straight. “Say, look here, Chris, if you and your young friend are over +here huntin’ for Lane, or for any documents or papers or evidence to +make more trouble for Honorable John Barrett, I’ve got to tell you that +you can’t ring me in. Honorable Barrett and me has fixed!”</p> + +<p>“I reckoned you would,” said Christopher. “Stumpage kings usually get +their own way.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s different in this case,” declared the operator, +triumphantly, “and when I’ve been used square I cal’late to use the +other fellow square, and that’s why I’m tellin’ you, so that you won’t +make any mistakes about how I feel towards Mr. Barrett. I don’t approve +of any move to hector him about that Lane matter. He says to me at +Castonia—”</p> + +<p>“When?”</p> + +<p>“No longer ago than yesterday. I came through from down-river with two +new teamsters and a saw-filer, and hearin’ Mr. Barrett was able to set +up and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>talk a little business for the first time, I stepped into Rod +Ide’s house, and we fixed. He throwed off all claims for extry stumpage +and damages on Square-hole. And when a man gives me more than I expect, +that fixes me with him.”</p> + +<p>“Ought to, for sartin,” agreed Christopher. “Change of heart in him, or +because you knowed about the Lane case?” The tone was rather satirical, +and Withee flushed under his tan.</p> + +<p>“You don’t think I went to a sick man’s bedside and blackmailed him, do +you, like some—”</p> + +<p>“Friend Barn,” broke in the old woodsman, quietly, “don’t slip out any +slur that you’ll wish you hadn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” growled the operator, “it may be that ‘Stumpage John’ Barrett +ain’t always set a model for a Sunday-school, but if I had as pretty a +daughter as that one that was settin’ in his room with him, and as nice +a girl as she seems to be, though of course she didn’t stoop to talk to +a grizzly looservee like me, I’d hate to have an old dead and decayed +scandal dug up in these woods, and dragged out and dumped over my +front-yard fence in the city!”</p> + +<p>And Christopher remembered what he had remarked on one occasion to +Dwight Wade, when they had seen the waif of the Skeet tribe on Misery +Gore, and now he half chuckled as he squinted at Withee and muttered in +his beard, “Lots of folks don’t recognize white birch when it’s polished +and set up in a parlor.”</p> + +<p>“What say?” demanded the operator, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“I’m so sleepy I’m dreamin’ out loud,” explained Christopher, blandly, +“and I’m goin’ to turn in.” And he sighed to himself as he rolled in +upon the fir boughs and pulled the spread about his ears. “There’s some +feller said that good counsel cometh in the morning. Mebbe so—mebbe so! +But it will have to be me and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>the boy here for the job, because old +Dan’l Webster, with all his flow of language, couldn’t convince Barn +Withee now that it’s John Barrett’s daughter that is lost in the woods. +I know now why something told me to go slow on the hue and cry.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>IN THE MATTER OF JOHN BARRETT’S DAUGHTER</h3> + +<div class="centerbox10 bbox3"><p>“Warmth and comfort? Ay, all these<br /> +Under the arch of the great spruce trees;<br /> +But our cup o’ content holds naught but foam!—<br /> +No woman’s hand to make a home.”</p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcw.jpg" title="W" height="90" width="90" alt="W" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">W</span>ade did not wake when the cook’s wailing hoot called the camp in the +morning. It was black darkness still. He slept through all the clatter +of tin dishes, the jangle of bind-chains as the sleds started, the yowl +of runners on the dry snow, and the creaking of departing footsteps. The +sun quivered in his eyes when he rolled in the bunk at touch of old +Christopher’s hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but you needed it all, my boy!” protested the woodsman, checking +the young man’s peevish regrets that he had slept so long. “Come to +breakfast.”</p> + +<p>Barnum Withee had eaten with his men, but he was waiting in solitary +state in the cook camp, smoking his pipe, and moodily rapping the horn +handle of a case-knife on the table.</p> + +<p>“Law says,” he remarked to his guests, continuing aloud his meditations, +“that employer shall send out remains of them that die in camp. But I +ain’t employer in this case, and I’m short of hosses, anyway, and the +tote team only came in yesterday, and ain’t due to go out again for a +week.”</p> + +<p>“It makes a lot of trouble, old critters dyin’ that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>ain’t got friends,” +observed Christopher, spooning out beans.</p> + +<p>“You may mean that sarcastic, but it’s the truth just the same,” +retorted Withee. “He ain’t northin’ to me. What I was thinkin’ of, if +you were bound out—”</p> + +<p>“Ain’t goin’ that way,” said the woodsman, giving Wade a significant +glance.</p> + +<p>“Well, from what things you let drop last night,” grumbled the operator, +“I figured that you were more or less interested in old Lane, and +perhaps were lookin’ him up for somethin’, and if so you ought to be +willin’ to help get him out and buried in a cemetery. He ain’t a friend +of mine and never was, and it ain’t square to have the whole thing +dumped onto me.”</p> + +<p>Wade, his heart made tender by his own grief, gazed towards the lonesome +isolation of the lean-to with moistening eyes. Alone, living; alone, +dead! But Christopher put into cold phrase the burning fact they had to +face.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got business of our own for to-day, Barnum, and mighty important +business, too.”</p> + +<p>And pulling their caps about their ears, and tugging their moose-sled, +they set away, up the tote road to the north, leaving Barnum Withee not +wholly easy in his mind regarding their motives.</p> + +<p>It was from the snow-swirl on Dickery Pond that “Ladder” Lane had +emerged, even then death-struck. It was straight to Dickery that +Christopher led the way, and two hours’ steady trudging brought them +there.</p> + +<p>“So it was from off there he came,” muttered the woodsman, blinking into +the glare of the snow crystals on its broad surface. “But where, in +God’s name, he came from it ain’t in me to say!”</p> + +<p>It was one of those still winter days when even the wind seems to be +bound by the hard frost. The sliding snow-shoes shrieked as shrilly with +the sun high as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>they had in the early morning. There was no hint of +melting.</p> + +<p>“There are five old operations around this pond, and a set of empty +camps on each one,” said Straight. “I’ve been to each one of them in +times past, and I know where the main roads come out to the landings. +But it’s slow business, takin’ ’em one after the other. Perhaps we ought +to go back and beat the truth of this thing into Barnum Withee’s thick +head, and start the hue and cry—but—but—I’d hoped to do it some +better way.”</p> + +<p>“Straight,” panted the young man, “it’s getting to be perfectly +damnable, this suspense! Let’s do something, if it’s only to run up the +middle of that pond and shout!”</p> + +<p>“Well,” snorted the old guide, irrelevantly, “I’ve been lookin’ for old +Red Fins to come along for two days now, and I ain’t disappointed. If +there’s trouble anywhere in this section, old Eli has got a smeller that +leads him to it.” Wade whirled from his despairing survey of the pond +and saw Prophet Eli. He was coming down the tote road on his +“ding-swingle,” urging on his little white stallion with loose, clapping +reins. Huge mittens of vivid red encased his hands, and his conical, +knitted cap was red, and was pulled down over his ears like a +candle-snuffer.</p> + +<p>Wade felt a queer little thrill of superstition as he looked at him, and +then sneered at himself as one who was allowing good wit to be infected +by the idle follies of the woods. And yet there was something eerie in +the way this bizarre old wanderer turned up now, as he had appeared +twice before at times that meant so much, at moments so crucial, in +Wade’s woods life.</p> + +<p>Prophet Eli swung up to them, halted, and peered at them curiously out +of his little eyes.</p> + +<p>“Green, blue, and yellow,” he blurted, patting his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>much-variegated wool +jacket. “And red! Red mittens good for the arterial blood. Why don’t you +wear them?”</p> + +<p>“Say, look here, prophet—” began Christopher, blandly respectful.</p> + +<p>“Green is nature’s color. Calms the nerves. Blue, electricity for the +system—got a stripe of it all up and down my backbone. Good for you. +Ought to wear it. Yellow, kidneys and cathartic. You’d rather be sick, +eh? Be sick. Clek-clek!” He clucked his tongue and clapped his reins. +But Christopher grabbed at the stallion’s headstall and checked him.</p> + +<p>“I believe the idea is all c’rect, prophet, and I’ll use it, and I’ll +try to make it right with you. But just now I’m wantin’ a little +information, and I’ll make it right with you for that, too. You’re +sky-hootin’ round these woods all the time. Now, where’s Lane been +makin’ his headquarters?—you ought to know!”</p> + +<p>“What do you want him for? State-prison or insane asylum?” snapped the +prophet.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want him,” said the woodsman, solemnly. “He’s spoken for, Eli. +He’s down there, dead, in Barn Withee’s camps.”</p> + +<p>The little gray eyes blinked quickly. What that emotion was, one could +not guess. For the voice of the prophet did not waver in its brisk +staccato. “Dead, eh? Hate-bug crawled into him and did it. I told him to +stay in the woods and the hate-bugs couldn’t get him. Told him twenty +years ago. But he wasn’t careful. Let the hate-bug get him at last. +Dead, eh? I’ll go and get him.”</p> + +<p>“Get him?” echoed Christopher.</p> + +<p>“Promised to bury him,” explained the prophet, promptly. “Wanted to be +buried off alone, just as he lived. Rocks for a pillow. Expects to rest +easy. I helped him dig his grave and lay out the rocks a long time ago. +And I’ll tell no one the place—no, sir.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p><p>“Well, that lets Withee out of trouble and expense,” said the woodsman, +“and you’ll get a good reception down that way. Now, prophet, where’s he +been hiding? You know, probably. It’s important, I tell you.” The old +man had struck his stallion, and the animal was trying to get away. But +Christopher held on grimly.</p> + +<p>“You call yourself a good woodsman?” squealed the indignant Eli.</p> + +<p>“I reckon I’ll average well.”</p> + +<p>“If any one wants anything of ‘Ladder’ Lane now,” cried the prophet, “it +must be for something that he’s left behind him! Left behind him!” he +repeated. He stood up on the “ding-swingle,” and ran his keen gaze about +the ridges that circled the lake.</p> + +<p>“Was it something that could build a fire?” he demanded, sharply. +Christopher, in no mood for confidences, stared at the peppery old man. +“You call yourself a good woodsman, and don’t know what it means to see +that!” He pointed his whip at a thin trail of white smoke that mounted, +as tenuous almost as a thread, above the distant shore of Dickery Pond. +“No lumbermen operating there for three years, and you see that, and are +lookin’ for something, and don’t go and find out! And you call yourself +a woodsman!” Without further word or look he lashed the stallion; the +animal broke away with a squeal, and Prophet Eli’s “ding-swingle” +disappeared down the tote road in a swirl of snow.</p> + +<p>“No, I ain’t a woodsman!” snorted Christopher. He started away across +the pond at a pace that left Wade breath only for effort and not for +questions. “I ain’t a woodsman. Standin’ here and not seein’ that smoke! +Not seein’ it, and guessin’ what it must mean! I ain’t a woodsman!” Over +and over he muttered his bitter complaints at himself in disjointed +sentences. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>“I’m gettin’ old. I must be blind. A lunatic can tell me my +business.” His anger rowelled him on, and when he reached the opposite +shore of the lake he was obliged to wait for the younger man to come +floundering and panting up to him.</p> + +<p>“I don’t feel just like talkin’ now, Mr. Wade,” he said, gruffly. “I +don’t feel as though I knew enough to talk to any one over ten years +old.” He strode on, tugging the sled.</p> + +<p>An abandoned main logging-road, well grown to leafless moose-wood and +witch-hobble, led them up from the lake. Christopher did not have to +search the skies for the smoke. His first sight of it had betrayed the +camp’s location. He knew the roads that led to it. And in the end they +came upon it, though it seemed to Wade that the road had set itself to +twist eternally through copses and up and down the hemlock benches.</p> + +<p>The camps were cheerless, the doors of main camp, cook camp, and hovel +were open, and the snow had drifted in. But from the battered funnel of +the office camp came that trail of smoke, reaching straight up. Crowding +close to the funnel for warmth, and nestled in the space that the heat +had made in the snow, crouched a creature that Wade recognized as +“Ladder” Lane’s tame bobcat. This, then, was “Ladder” Lane’s retreat. +Inside there—the young man’s knees trembled, and there was a gripping +at his throat, dry and aching from his frantic pursuit of his grim +guide.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wade,” said Christopher, halting, “I reckon she’s there, and that +she’s all right. I’ll let you go ahead. She knows you. I don’t need to +advise you to go careful.”</p> + +<p>And Wade went, tottering across the unmarked expanse of snow, the pure +carpet nature had laid between him and the altar of his love—an altar +within log walls, an altar whose fires were tended by—He pushed open +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>the door! Foolish Abe was kneeling by the hearth of the rusty Franklin +stove. And even as he had been toiling on Enchanted, so here he was +whittling, whittling unceasingly, piling the heaps of shavings upon the +fire—unconscious signaller of the hiding-place of Elva Barrett.</p> + +<p>For a moment Wade stood holding by the sides of the door, staring into +the gloom of the camp, for his eyes were as yet blinded by the glare of +out-doors.</p> + +<p>And then he saw her. Her white face was peering out of the dimness of a +bunk. Plainly she had withdrawn herself there like some cowering +creature, awaiting a fate she could not understand or anticipate. One +could see that those eyes, wide-set and full of horror, had been +strained on that uncouth, hairy creature at the hearth during long and +dreadful suspense.</p> + +<p>Through all that desperate search, in hunger, weariness, and despair, he +had forgotten John Barrett, contemptuous millionaire; he remembered that +John Barrett’s daughter Elva had confessed once that she returned his +love, and he had thought that when they met again, this time outside the +trammels of town and in the saner atmosphere of the big woods, she might +understand him better—understand him well enough to know that John +Barrett lied when he made honest love contemptible by his sneers about +“fortune-seekers.” They were all very chaotic, his thoughts, to be sure, +but he had believed that the ground on which they would meet would be +that common level of honest, human hearts, where they could stand, eye +to eye, hands clasping hands, and love frankly answering love.</p> + +<p>But love that casts all to the winds, love that forgets tact, prudence, +delicacy, love without premeditation or after-thought, is not the love +that is ingrained in New England character. She gazed at him at first, +not comprehending—her fears still blinding her—and he paused to murmur +words of pity and reassurance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p><p>And then Yankee prudence, given its opportunity to whisper, told him +that to act the precipitate lover now would be to take advantage of her +weakness, her helplessness, her gratitude. If he took this first chance +to woo her, demanding, as it were, that she disobey her father’s +commands, and putting a price on the service that he was rendering her, +might her good sense not suggest that, after all, he was a sneak rather +than a man?</p> + +<p>They call the New England character of the old bed-rock sort hard and +selfish. It is rather acute sensitiveness, timorous even to concealment.</p> + +<p>And in the end Dwight Wade, faltering banal words of pity for her +plight, went to her outwardly calm. And she, her soul still too full of +the horror of her experience to let her heart speak what it felt, took +his hands and came out upon the rough floor.</p> + +<p>The shaggy giant squatting by the hearth bent meek and humid eyes on the +young man. “Me do it—me do it as you told!” he protested. He patted his +hand on the shavings. He was referring to the task to which Wade had set +him on Enchanted. To the girl it sounded like the confession of an +understanding between this unspeakable creature and her rescuer. Wade, +eager only to soothe, protested guilelessly, when she shrank back, that +the man was not the ogre he seemed, but a harmless, simple fellow whom +he had been sheltering and feeding at his own camp. And then, by the way +she stared at him, he realized the chance for a horrible suspicion.</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand,” she moaned. “It’s like a dreadful dream. There was +an old man who sat here and muttered and raved about my father! And +this—this”—she faltered, shrinking farther from Abe—“who brought me +here in his arms! And you say he came from your camp! Oh, these +woods—these terrible woods! Take me away from them! I am afraid!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p><p>She dropped the shrouding blanket from her shoulders, and he saw her now +in the garb of the waif of the Skeets. And under his scrutiny he saw +color in her cheeks for the first time, replacing the pallor of +distress.</p> + +<p>“I had thought there was excuse for this folly—reason for it. I thought +it was my duty to—” She faltered, then set her teeth upon her lower +lip, and turned away from him. “Oh, take me away from these woods! +Something—I do not know—something has bewitched me—made me forget +myself—sent me on a fool’s errand! The woods—I’m afraid of them, Mr. +Wade!”</p> + +<p>It came to him with a pang that the woods were not offering to his love +the common ground of sincerity that he had dreamed of. Elva Barrett, +ashamed of her weakness, would not remember generously an attempt to +take advantage of her distress when every bulwark of reserve lay in +ruins about her, and he felt afraid of his burning desire to take her in +his arms and comfort her. Thus self-convinced, he failed to realise that +the girl with her bitter words was merely striving, blindly and +innocently, to be convinced—and convinced from his own mouth—that she +had been wise in her folly, devoted in her mission, and honest in the +love that had found such heroic expression in her adventuring.</p> + +<p>She looked at him, and saw in his face only the struggle of doubt and +hopelessness and fear, and misinterpreted. “You know what the woods have +done to make shame and wretchedness, Mr. Wade!” she cried, a flash of +her old spirit coming into her eyes. “Men who have been honest with the +world outside and honest with themselves have forgotten all honesty +behind the screen of these savage woods.”</p> + +<p>Her cheeks were burning now. She drew the blanket over herself, hugging +its edges close in front, covering the attire she wore as though it were +nakedness. And <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>in that bitter moment it was nakedness—for the garb she +had borrowed from Kate Arden symbolized for her and for him a father’s +guilty secret laid bare.</p> + +<p>“Take me away from the woods!” she gasped.</p> + +<p>The look that passed between them was speech unutterable. He had no +words for her then. In silence he made the long sledge ready for her. +Christopher helped him, silent with the reticence of the woodsman. If he +had even glanced at Elva Barrett no bystander could have detected that +glance. There were thick camp spreads on the sled. Christopher’s +thoughtfulness had provided them, and when they had been wrapped about +her the two men set away, each with hand on the sled-rope.</p> + +<p>“We’ll go the short way back to Enchanted,” said the old guide, +answering Wade’s glance. “Back across Dickery, up the tote road, and +follow the Cameron and Telos roads. It will dodge all camps, and keep us +away from foolish questions. I’ve got enough in my pack from Withee’s +camp for us to eat.”</p> + +<p>Abe floundered behind, keeping them in sight with the pertinacity of a +dog, and he ate the bread that Straight threw to him with a dog’s mute +gratitude.</p> + +<p>Only the desperation of men utterly resolved could have accomplished the +journey they set before them. The girl rode, a silent, shrouded figure; +the men strode ahead, silent; Abe struggled on behind, ploughing the +snow with dragging feet. When the night fell they went on by the +lantern’s light.</p> + +<p>It was long after midnight when they came at last to the Enchanted +camps, walking like automatons and almost senseless with fatigue. Wade +lifted the girl from the sled when they halted in front of the wangan. +Her stiffened and cramped limbs would not move of themselves. And when +she was on her feet, and staggered, he kept his arm about her, gently +and unobtrusively.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p><p>“This is the best home I have to offer you,” he said. “Nina Ide is here +waiting. We will wake her, and she will do for you what should be done. +Oh, that sounds cold and formal, I know—but the poor girl waiting in +there will put into words all the joy I feel but can’t speak. My head is +pretty light, and my heels heavy, and I don’t seem to be thinking very +clearly, Miss Barrett,” he murmured, his voice weak with pathetic +weariness.</p> + +<p>She was struggling with sobs, striving to speak; but he hastened on, as +though at last his full heart found words.</p> + +<p>“This is—this—I hardly know how to say this. But I understand why you +came.” He felt her tremble. “But, my God, Elva, I don’t dare to believe +that you thought so ill of me that you were coming to plead with me for +your father’s sake.” It was not resentment, it was passionate grief that +burst from him, and she put her hands about his arm.</p> + +<p>“I told you it was folly that sent me,” she sobbed. “But he had been +unjust to you, Dwight. Oh, it was folly that sent me, but I wanted to +know if you—if you—” She was silent and trembled, and when she did not +speak he clasped her close, trembling as pitifully as she.</p> + +<p>“Oh, if you only dared say that you wanted to know whether I still loved +you!” he breathed, in a broken whisper. “And I would say—”</p> + +<p>It seemed that his heart came into his throat, for her fingers pressed +more closely upon his arm. In that instant he could not speak. He +pretended to look for Christopher, but that wise woodsman’s tact did not +fail. He saw Christopher disappearing into the gloom of the dingle, and +heard the careful lisp of the wooden latch in its socket and the +cautious creak of the closing door. There was only the hush of the still +night about <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>him, and when he turned again the starlight was shining on +Elva Barrett’s upraised face. And her dark eyes were imperiously +demanding that he finish his sentence—so imperiously that his tongue +burst all the shackles of his sensitive prudence.</p> + +<p>“And I would say that my love is so far above the mean things of the +world that they can’t make it waver, and it is so unselfish that I can +love you the more be-because you love your father and obey him. And all +I ask is that you don’t misunderstand me.” There was deep meaning in his +tones.</p> + +<p>“Oh Dwight, my boy,” she moaned, “it’s an awful thing for a daughter to +disobey her father. But it’s more awful when she finds that he—” But he +put his fingers tenderly on her lips, and when she kissed them, tears +coursing on her cheeks, he gathered her close, and his lips did the +service that his fingers retired from in tremulous haste.</p> + +<p>“My little girl,” he said, softly, “keep that story off your lips. It is +too hard, too bitter. I may have said cruel things to your father. He +may tell you they were cruel. But remember that she had your eyes and +your face—that poor girl I found in the woods. And before God, if not +before men, she is your sister. And so I gave of my heart and my +strength to help her. And I know your heart so well, Elva, that I leave +it all to you. It’s better to be ashamed than to be unjust.”</p> + +<p>“She <i>is</i> my sister,” she answered, simply, but with earnestness there +was no mistaking. “And you may leave it all in my hands.”</p> + +<p>Then fearfully, anxiously, grief and shame at shattered faith in a +father showing in the face she lifted to him, she asked:</p> + +<p>“It was he, was it not—the old man that took me away and sat before me +and cursed me? He was her—her husband?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p><p>His look replied to her. Then he said, soothingly: “It was not in our +hands, dear. But that which is in our hands let us do as best we can, +and so”—he kissed her, this time not as the lover, but as the faithful, +earnest, consoling friend—“and so—to sleep! The morning’s almost here, +and it will bring a brighter day.”</p> + +<p>She drew his head down and pressed her lips to his forehead.</p> + +<p>“True knighthood has come again,” she murmured. “And my knight has taken +me from the enchanted forest, and has shown me his heart—and the last +was best.”</p> + +<p>Still clasping her, he shook the door and called to the girl within; and +when she came, crying eager questions, he put Elva Barrett into her arms +and left them together.</p> + +<p>As he walked away from the shadow of the camp into the shimmer of the +starlight he felt the wine of love coursing his veins. His muscles +ached, weariness clogged his heels, but his eyes were wide-propped and +his ears hummed as with a sound of distant music. His thoughts seemed +too sacred to be taken just then into the company of other men. He +dreaded to go inside out of the radiance of the night. He turned from +the door of the main camp when his hand was fumbling for the latch, +pulled his cap over his ears, and began a slow patrol on the glistening +stretch of road before the wangan. The crisp snow sang like fairy bells +under his feet. Orion dipped to the west, and the morning stars paled +slowly as the flush crept up from the east. And still he walked and +dreamed and gazed over the sombre obstacles near at hand in his life +into the radiance of promise, even as he looked over the black spruces +into the faint roses of the dawn.</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye, teamster, stumbling towards the hovel for the early +foddering, came upon him, and stopped and stared in utter amazement. He +came close to make <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>sure that the eerie light of the morning was not +playing him false. Wade’s cheerful greeting seemed to perplex him.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t a ha’nt, Tommy,” said the young man, smiling on him.</p> + +<p>“I have said all along as how it had got you,” declared Tommy, with +ingenuous disappointment, looking Wade up and down for marks of +conflict. “But it may be that the ha’nts want only woods folk and are +afraid of book-learnin’! So you’re back, and the girl ain’t, nor +Christopher, nor—”</p> + +<p>“We’re all back,” explained Wade, calculating on Tommy’s news-mongering +ability to relieve him of the need of circulating information. “We found +the—the one that was lost. That was all! She was lost, and we found +her, and we even found Foolish Abe, and he came back with us last night. +There was no mystery, Tommy. They were simply lost, and we found them. +They’re asleep.”</p> + +<p>Tommy fingered the wrinkled skin of his neck and stared dubiously at +Wade.</p> + +<p>“You’ll see Abe whittling shavings just the same as usual this morning,” +added the young man. “By-the-way, you and he may be interested to know +that Lane, the old fire warden, died at Withee’s camp the other day.” +For reasons of his own Wade did not care to make either the news of the +rescue or its place too definite.</p> + +<p>“Then,” declared Tommy, hanging grimly to the last prop left in his +theory, “that accounts for it. ‘Ladder’ Lane is dead, and has turned +into a ha’nt. It was him that called out the fool. And he’ll be making +more trouble yet. You’d better send for Prophet Eli, Mr. Wade, because +the prophet is a charmer-man and can take care of old Lane.”</p> + +<p>“He has taken care of him already,” said the young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>man. “We saw Prophet +Eli, and he started right away to attend to the case.” And Tommy’s face +displayed such eminent satisfaction that Wade had not the heart to +destroy the man’s belief that his book-learned boss had adopted a part +of the woods creed of the supernatural. It was a day on which he felt +very gentle towards the dreams of other persons, for his own beautiful +dream shed its radiance on all men and all of life.</p> + +<p>That she was there, safe, brought by amazing circumstances into the +depths of the woods, and under his protection, seemed like a vision of +the night as he walked back and forth and watched the morning grow.</p> + +<p>When the sun was high and the men had been gone for hours, he put his +dream to the test. He rapped gently on the wangan door, and her voice, a +very real and loving voice, answered. With his own hands he brought food +for the two girls and spread a cedar-splint table, and served them as +they ate, and ministered in little ways, through the hours of the day, +and watched Elva’s pallor and weariness give way before tenderness and +love. With the poor shifts of a lumber-camp he, not intending it, taught +her heart the lesson that love is independent of its housing.</p> + +<p>He rode with them on the tote team to the northern jaws of Pogey Notch +the next day, and sent them on, nestled in a bower of blankets. There +had been no further word between them of the great thing that had come +into their lives. They tacitly and joyously accepted it all, and left +the solution of its problem to saner and happier days. But the face that +she turned back to him as she rode away under the frowning rocks was a +glowing promise of all he asked of life. And as he plodded back up the +trail he went to his toil with tingling muscles and a triumphant soul.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>THE CHEESE RIND THAT NEEDED SHARP TEETH</h3> + +<div class="centerbox3 bbox3"><p>“So, mister, please excuse us, but you open up that sluice,<br /> +Or Gawd have mercy on ye, if I turn these gents here loose!”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—The Rapogenus Ball.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcr.jpg" title="R" height="90" width="90" alt="R" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">R</span>odburd Ide, fresh-arrived from Castonia in hot haste, saw well to it +that he and Dwight Wade were safe from interruption in the wangan camp. +He even drove a sliver from the wood-box over the latch of the door. +Wade, summoned down from the chopping by a breathless cookee to meet his +partner, gazed upon these nervous, eager precautions in some alarm.</p> + +<p>“Now, brace your feet, and get hold of something and hang on hard,” +advised the “Mayor of Castonia.”</p> + +<p>“Good Heavens, Mr. Ide, what has happened to her?” gasped the young man. +His trembling hands clutched at the edge of the splint table, hallowed +by Elva Barrett’s smiles of love across it.</p> + +<p>“Her!” snorted the little man, in indignant astonishment. “You don’t +think I’ve whaled up here hell-ti-larrup on a jumper to sit down and +talk about women, do you?”</p> + +<p>“But Miss Barrett—” gulped Wade.</p> + +<p>“Miss Barrett—” Ide checked himself, discreet even in his impatience. +“Miss Barrett is all right, and the girl is all right, and—say, +look-a-here, my boy, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>don’t you think of a girl, don’t you look at a +girl, don’t you even dream of a girl, for the next two months!” He drove +his hard little fist upon the sacred table.</p> + +<p>He leaned forward, and his very beard bristled at the young man. “Forget +your mother, forget your grandmother, forget that there is anything to +you except grit and muscle. For if ever two men had a man’s work cut out +for ’em we’re the ones. If ever two men found themselves on the outside +of a ripe cheese and needed teeth to gnaw in, we’re the men. Money! I +can’t see anything but dollar bills hangin’ from those spruce-trees. But +you’ve got to put on brad-boots and climb to get them. You’ve got to +walk over men to get ’em!” He was striding about the little room. “I +reckon I seem a little excited,” he added, with a catch in his voice. +“But by the priest that hammered the tail for the golden calf, I’ve got +reasons to be excited. I’ve smelt it comin’ for two years, son! I ’ain’t +said anything. I didn’t say anything to you when I took you into +partnership; I didn’t dare to. But I smelt it all the time. I ’ain’t +watched the comin’s and goin’s of certain men at Castonia for nothin’! +Let ’em bring guns and fishin’-poles! They can’t fool me. I smelt it +comin’. And now, by ——, it’s come!” Again he banged his fist on the +table and glared down on his partner.</p> + +<p>The partner stared back at him with so much dismay and reproachful +inquiry that Ide blew off his superfluous excitement in one vigorous +“Poof!” and sat down.</p> + +<p>“The sum and substance of it is, those old Hullin’ Machine falls ain’t +goin’ to bellow away all them thousands of hoss-power in empty noise any +longer. But they’ve made a noise big enough to reach the crowd that’s +organized to fight the paper trust. See now?”</p> + +<p>Wade’s eyes gleamed in swift comprehension.</p> + +<p>“The independents are goin’ to develop that power. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>They’re goin’ to +build the biggest paper-mill in the world there. They’re goin’ to extend +the railroad up to Castonia. They’re goin’ to do it all on an old +charter that every one had forgotten except the lobby clique that put it +through and has been holdin’ it for speculation. And why I know it all +and no one else knows it on the outside yet, my boy, is because they’ve +had to come to <i>me</i>! They’ve <i>had</i> to come to <i>me</i>!”</p> + +<p>And he promptly answered the eager though mute inquiry in the young +man’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Every dollar that I could save, rake, and borrow for years I’ve been +putting into shore rights and timber. What timber country I couldn’t buy +I’ve leased stumpage on. I’ve smelt it all comin’. And now they’ve had +to come to me, Wade. They’ve bonded the shore rights for a purchase, and +it’s all settled.”</p> + +<p>“With all my heart I’m glad for you, Mr. Ide!” cried the young man, with +a sincerity that put a quiver into his voice. And both hands seized the +hands of the magnate of Castonia in a grip that brought gratified tears +to the other’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“I know it has always been a surprise to you, Wade, that I was so ready +and anxious to give you a lay on the timber end,” the little man went +on. “But I knew it was time to operate on these cuttin’s this season. +There are things you can’t hire done with plain money. I wanted courage, +grit, and honesty. Most of all, I needed absolute loyalty. There’s been +too much buyin’ up of men in these woods. The old gang is a hard one to +fight. I reckon I’ve got you with me.”</p> + +<p>“Heart, soul, and body, now as from the first, Mr. Ide.”</p> + +<p>“And the lay I’ve given you is the best investment I could have made,” +declared the partner. “I want you to feel that it is straight business. +It was no gift. You’re earnin’ it. But the big bunch is ahead of you, +boy!” His tone was serious.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p><p>“Your make will come out of the timber lay. I’ve said I smelt this +comin’. If it hadn’t come this year we should have sent our logs ’way +down-river along with the rest, and done the best we could to steal a +profit after Pulaski Britt and his gang had charged us all the tolls and +fees they could think of, and made us accept their selling-scale. But +now! But now!” His voice became tense, and he leaned forward and patted +the young man’s arm. “The Great Independent—and that’s the name of the +new organization, and it’s a name that’s goin’ to roar like the Hullin’ +Machine in the ears of the trust—wants every log we can hand over to +’em this season. What they don’t use in construction work and in their +new saw-mill they’ll pile to grind into pulp next year.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got their contract, Wade. Every log to be scaled for ’em on our +landings! And I reckon that will be the first time a square +selling-scale was ever made on this river. No Pirate Britt and his gang +of boom-scale thieves for us this time! Every honest dollar we make will +come to us. And there’ll be a lot of ’em, son.”</p> + +<p>Wade, even though Rodburd Ide had so brusquely commanded him to forget +his love, felt that love stirring in the thrill that animated him now. +Did not success mean Elva Barrett? Did not fair return from honest toil +mean that he could face John Barrett, bulwarked by his millions? Forget +his love? Ide couldn’t understand. His love was a spur whose every +thrust was delicious pain. But now that the great secret was out, +Rodburd Ide’s tide of enthusiasm seemed to be in somewhat ominous and +depressing reflux.</p> + +<p>He spread upon the splint table a lumberman’s map, and his hands +trembled as he did so.</p> + +<p>“You’ve done as I told you, and only yarded at the ends of the +twitch-roads, and haven’t hauled to landings?” he inquired.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p><p>Wade nodded.</p> + +<p>“I was waitin’, I was waitin’,” explained the other, nervously scrubbing +his hand over the map. “If nothin’ had happened at Umcolcus Hullin’ +Machine this year we’d have landed our logs on Enchanted Stream and run +’em down into Jerusalem, and taken our chances along with Britt’s logs. +’Twas a hard outlook, Wade. The last time I dared to operate here I did +that, and you’ll find jill-pokes with my mark stranded all along the +stream. The old pirate took my drive because he claimed control of the +dams, charged me full fees, and left behind twenty-five per cent. of my +logs, claiming that the water dropped on him. But I noticed he got all +of his out. It’s what we’re up against, my son. If I’d tried to fight +him with an independent drive he would have had me hornswoggled all the +way to the down-river sortin’-boom, and then would have had my heart out +on the scale. It’s what we’re up against!” he repeated, despondently. +“There isn’t any law to it. It’s the hard fist that makes the right up +this way. I’m tellin’ you this so you can understand. You’ve got to +understand, my boy. I wish it was different. I wish it was all square. I +hate to do dirty things myself. I hate to ask others to do ’em.”</p> + +<p>It was not entirely a gaze of reassurance that the young man turned on +him. Ide avoided it, and with stubby finger began to mark the map to +illustrate his words. Wade leaned close. He realized that a new and +grave aspect of the situation was to be revealed to him. Getting the +timber down off the stumps had absorbed his attention utterly. As to +getting it to market, he had been awaiting the word of his partner and +mentor.</p> + +<p>“Here it is!” growled Ide. “It’s a picture of it! And if it ain’t a good +picture of the damnable reason why no one else but Pulaski Britt and his +crowd can <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>make a dollar on these waters, then I’m no judge. Here we are +on Enchanted—mountain here and pond here! The dam at our pond will give +us water enough to get us down to Britt’s dam on Enchanted dead-water. +Then we’ve got to deal with Britt. Law may be with us, but in dealin’ +with Britt up here in this section law is like a woodpecker tryin’ to +pull the teeth out of a cross-cut saw. Britt has got the foot of +Enchanted Stream, and he controls Jerusalem Stream that gobbles +Enchanted. That’s our outlook to the east of us. Now to the west, and +only two miles from our operation here, is Blunder Stream. Runs into +Umcolcus main river, you see, like Jerusalem Stream away over here to +the east. Straightaway run. Fed by Blunder Lake, up here ten miles to +the north—that is, it ought to be fed! And it ought to be the stream to +take our logs. But more than thirty years ago, without law or justice, +Britt closed in the rightful western outlet of Blunder Lake with a big +dam, and dug a canal from the eastern end to Jerusalem Stream, and every +spring since then he’s used the water for the Jerusalem drive. A half a +dozen small operators have been to the legislature from time to time to +get rights. Did they get ’em? Why, they didn’t even get a decent look! +Old King Spruce doesn’t go to law or the legislature askin’ for things. +King Spruce takes them. Then the laborin’ oar is with the chaps who try +to take ’em away. Even if a thing is unrighteous, Wade, it doesn’t stir +much of a scandal in politics to keep it just as it is. It’s what we’re +up against, I say!”</p> + +<p>He held down the map, his finger on Enchanted, as though typifying the +power that held them and their interests helpless. Wade gazed upon the +finger-end. He felt it pressing upon his hopes. His brows wrinkled, but +he said nothing.</p> + +<p>“The Great Independents will make that name heard <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>by the next +legislature, I’ve no doubt,” Ide went on, “but that’s a year from now. +In the mean time we’ve got five millions or so of timber here at this +end, and its market and the money waitin’ at the other end, which is +Castonia. And there’s another thing, Wade, and it’s the biggest of all: +we’ve got to hold our timber above the Hullin’ Machine. Nature has fixed +the place for us. There’s the dead-water behind Hay Island. With Britt +drivin’ our logs, he’d ram ’em hell-whoopin’ through the Hullin’ +Machine, and find an excuse for it, and then buy ’em in down-river at +his own price. If we undertook to follow him down Enchanted and +Jerusalem, he wouldn’t leave enough water to drown a cat in. I’m taking +the time to show you this thing as it stands, son. You’ve got to see all +sides of it.”</p> + +<p>Ide’s little gray eyes were gleaming at him, and the expression of his +face showed that he was narrowing possibilities to one prospect, and was +wondering whether his partner had grasped the full import of that +prospect.</p> + +<p>“I think I see all sides of it, Mr. Ide,” he said, at last. Then he put +his fingers on the thin thread that marked the course of Blunder Stream. +“And the only side that doesn’t hurt the eyes seems to be this side, +west of Enchanted Mountain.”</p> + +<p>“Well, even then it depends on what kind of specs you’ve got on,” +returned Ide.</p> + +<p>“Suppose we forget that dam at the west end of Blunder and Britt’s canal +to the east for just a moment, Mr. Ide. If we got our logs down the side +of Enchanted Mountain and landed them on Blunder Stream we’d stand our +only show of heading Britt’s drive at the Hulling Machine, wouldn’t we?”</p> + +<p>“You was reckonin’ on havin’ water under ’em, wasn’t you?” inquired the +little man, with good-natured satire. “Wasn’t plannin’ on havin’ ’em +walk like a caterpillar, nor fly down, nor anything of the sort?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p><p>“I was reckoning on water,” returned the young man, flushing slightly, +“but I was not discussing Blunder Lake. I asked you to leave that out +for a moment.”</p> + +<p>“Leave out Blunder Lake, and you haven’t got a brook that will float +chips,” said Ide. Then he jumped up and shot his fists above his head. +“But with a drivin’-pitch in Blunder Stream we can have the head of our +drive down into Umcolcus River and to Castonia logan while Pulaski Britt +is still swearin’ and warpin’ with head-works across Jerusalem +dead-water. We’d have our head there before he had a log down the last +five miles of lower Jerusalem into the main river. We’ll have our sheer +booms set and our sortin’-gap, and we’ll hold our logs and let his +through—his and the corporation drive that he’s master of, and has been +master of for thirty years. He’s been the river tyrant, Wade; but with +our head first at Castonia, and our booms set, and we willin’ to sort +free of expense to them followin’, I’d like to see the man that would +dare to interfere with our common river rights. The old Umcolcus was +rollin’ its waters for the use of the tax-payin’, law-abidin’ citizens +of this State before old Pulaski Britt and his log-drivin’ association +gang of pirates was ever heard of. They’ve usurped, Wade! They’ve +usurped until they’ve made possession seem like ownership. I’ve picked +you as a man that can handle the men that’s under him, and isn’t afraid +of Pulaski Britt. And it’s got to be a case of reach and take what +belongs to you. If they’ve got any law with ’em in this thing, it’s law +they’ve stolen like they’ve stolen the timber lands.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve never intended to break law in my dealings with men,” said Wade, +with a cadence of mournfulness in his tones. “Law up in the big woods +doesn’t seem to be quite as clear-cut as it is in men’s relations +outside. But can there be honest law, Mr. Ide, that will allow men like +Pulaski Britt to step in and deprive a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>man of rightful profits earned +by his own hard labor—to deprive him of—” He was thinking then, +despite of himself, of Elva Barrett, but choked and added, wistfully, +“When it’s only an even show a man asks, a fair chance to travel his own +course, it seems hard that there are men who go out of their path to +trip him.” It was not lament. He had the air of one who displayed his +convictions to have them indorsed.</p> + +<p>“It’s Britt’s way,” retorted the other, curtly. “He’s made money by +doin’ it, and expects to make a lot more by bossin’ the river.”</p> + +<p>“I want to see Mr. Britt,” said Wade, quietly.</p> + +<p>“See Britt! You don’t think for a minute you’re goin’ to induce him to +take our drive or do the square thing on the water question, do you?”</p> + +<p>“But I want to see him for a reason of my own, Mr. Ide. I’m frank to say +I don’t expect any justice from Britt, after my experience with him; but +there is such a thing as justification for myself. I see you don’t +understand.” He noted the little man’s wrinkling brows. “I don’t know +that I’m exactly sure of my own mind. But I can’t seem to bring myself +to fight this thing according to the code of the woods. I’m going into +it with every ounce of strength and hope that’s in me, and there’s just +one preliminary that I want for my peace of soul. I want to see Pulaski +Britt.”</p> + +<p>“If I was gettin’ ready to fight the devil,” remonstrated Ide, “I reckon +I’d keep away from his brimstone-pot. He’s at his Jerusalem camp,” he +added, grudgingly. “He went through two days ago.”</p> + +<p>“Then that’s where I’ll go to find him,” said Wade, decisively.</p> + +<p>Rodburd Ide fingered his nose and gazed on his partner with frank +scepticism. “Whatever you want with Britt, you’re wastin’ your time on +him”—his tone was sullen—“and the wind-up will be another +peckin’-match <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>with that long-legged rooster, MacLeod. I say, save time +and strength for our own business, Wade.”</p> + +<p>“And I say I’ve got business with Pulaski Britt, and propose to go to +him like a man,” declared Wade. “You and I can’t afford to have any +misunderstanding about this, Mr. Ide. You have said you picked me to +handle this end. I’ve got to handle it in my own way, so far as dealings +with men go. I’ll take your advice—I’ll <i>ask</i> your advice on details of +the work, because I don’t know. As to my business with Mr. Britt, there +is no doubt in my mind. I want you to go with me.”</p> + +<p>And in the end Mr. Ide went, nipping his thin lips, not wholly convinced +as to the logic of the step, but with his opinion of Dwight Wade’s +courage and self-reliance decidedly heightened, and he reflected with +comfort that those were the qualities he had sought in his partnership.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>SHARPENING TEETH ON PULASKI BRITT’S WHETSTONE</h3> + +<div class="centerbox4 bbox3"><p>“The people in the city felt the shock of it that day.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And they said, in solemn gloom,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘The drive is in the boom,</span><br /> +And O’Connor’s drawn his wages; clear the track and give<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">him room.’”</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcf.jpg" title="F" height="90" width="90" alt="F" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">F</span>or a long time they rode side by side on the jumper without a word. Mr. +Ide decided that his reticent companion was pondering a plan for the +approaching interview, and was careful not to interrupt the train of +thought. He was infinitely disappointed and not a little vexed when Wade +turned to him at last and inquired, with plain effort to make his voice +calm, whether John Barrett had recovered sufficiently to go home.</p> + +<p>“He? He went two weeks ago—he and his girl,” snapped the little man, +impatiently.</p> + +<p>After a moment he began to dig at the buttons of his fur coat, and +dipped his hand into his breast-pocket. He brought out a letter.</p> + +<p>“Here’s a line Barrett’s girl left to be sent in to you the first +chance.” He met the young man’s reproachful gaze boldly. “When a man’s +got real business to attend to,” he snorted, “he ain’t to blame if he +disremembers tugaluggin’ a love-letter.” He gave the missive into Wade’s +hands, and went on, discontentedly: “What kind of a crazy-headed +performance was it those <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>girls was up to when they came up into these +woods? I’ve had too much on my mind to try to get it out of my girl, and +probably I couldn’t, anyway, if she took a notion not to tell me. She +has her own way about everything, just as her mother did before her,” he +grumbled.</p> + +<p>“I have no possible right to discuss Miss Nina Ide’s movements, even +with her father. Miss Barrett’s affairs are wholly her own. May I read +my letter?”</p> + +<p>“May you read it?” blurted Ide, missing the delicacy of this +conventional request. “What in tophet do you think I’ve got to do with +your readin’ your own letters?” And he subsided into offended silence, +seeking to express in this way his general dissatisfaction with events +as they were disposing themselves.</p> + +<p>Though the cold wind stung bitterly, Wade held the open letter in his +bare hands, for he longed for the touch of the paper where her hand had +rested.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">My dear Dwight</span>,—We are going home. The darkness has not lifted +from us. For my light and my comfort I look into the north, where I +know your love is shining. My sister was sitting by my father’s +side when I returned, and he was awake from his long dream and knew +her, but he had not spoken the truth to her, and if she knows she +has not told. And the cloud of it all is over us, and I cannot +speak to him or open my heart to him. He did not even ask where I +had been. It is as though he feared one word would dislodge the +avalanche under which he shrinks. And I have to write this of my +father! So we are going home. Love me. I need all your love. Take +all of mine in return.”</p></div> + +<p>When Wade folded it he found Rodburd Ide studying his face with shrewd +side glance.</p> + +<p>“Have you any idea what ‘Stumpage John’ is goin’ to do with the other +one—the left-hand one?” he inquired, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>blandly. “Favor each other +considerably, don’t they? It told the story to me the first time I saw +them together, after the right-hand one got there to my place. You can’t +hardly blame John for not takin’ the left-hand one out with him, same as +my girl sort of expected he would, same as his own girl did, too, I +reckon.”</p> + +<p>“Did he say anything to—” stammered Wade, and hesitated.</p> + +<p>“Nothin’ to me,” returned the magnate of Castonia, briskly. “Didn’t have +to. Knowed I knew. Day he left he tramped up and down the river-bank for +more’n two hours, and then come to me with his face about the color of +the Hullin’ Machine froth and asked me to call the girl Kate into the +back office of my store. I wasn’t tryin’ to listen or overhear, you +understand, but I heard him stutter somethin’ about takin’ her out of +the woods and puttin’ her in school, and she braced back and put her +hands on her hips and broke in and told him to go to hell.”</p> + +<p>“What?” shouted Wade, in utter astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Oh, not in them words,” corrected Ide. “But that’s what it come to so +far as meanin’ went. And then she sort of spit at him, and walked out +and back to my house.”</p> + +<p>He clapped the reins smartly on the flank of the lagging horse, as +though this sort of conversation wasted time, and added: “She’s still at +my house, and the girl says she’s goin’ to stay there—so I guess that +settles it. Now let’s get down to some business that amounts to +somethin’! What are you goin’ to say to Pulaski Britt?”</p> + +<p>But if Dwight Wade knew, he did not say. He sat bowed forward, hands +between his knees, the letter between his palms, his jaw muscles ridged +under the tan of his cheeks, and so the long ride ended in silence.</p> + +<p>When they were once in the Jerusalem cutting it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>not necessary to +search long for the Honorable Pulaski Britt, ex-State senator. They +heard him bellowing hoarsely, and a moment later were looking down on +him from the top of a ramdown. A pair of horses were floundering in the +deep snow, one of them “cast” and tangled in the harness. The teamster +stood at one side holding the reins helplessly. The snow was spotted +with blood.</p> + +<p>“You’ve let that horse calk himself, you beef-brained son of a +bladder-fish!” roared Britt. “You ain’t fit to drive a rockin’-horse +with wooden webbin’s!” He dove upon the struggling animal, and, hooking +his great fists about the bit-rings, dragged the horse to his feet. +“Stripped to the fetlocks!” mourned the owner. He surveyed the bleeding +leg and whirled on the teamster. “That’s the second pair you’ve put out +of business for me in a week. Me furnishing hundred-and-fifty-dollar +horses for you to paint the snow with!” He ploughed across to where the +man stood holding the reins, and struck him full in the face, and the +fellow went down like a log, blood flying from his face. “Mix some of +your five-cent blood with blood that’s worth something!” he yelped. “If +there’s got to be rainbow-snow up this way, I know how to furnish it +cheaper.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a nice, interestin’ gent down there for you to tackle just now +on your business proposition,” observed Ide, sourly. “Now, suppose you +use common-sense, and turn around and go back to Enchanted!”</p> + +<p>But the Honorable Pulaski suddenly heard the jangle of their +jumper-bell, and stared up at them.</p> + +<p>“Gettin’ lessons on how to run a crew, Ide?” he asked. And seeing that +the teamster was up and fumbling blindly at the tangled harness, he +advanced up the slope. “I ’ain’t ever forgiven you for takin’ Tommy Eye +away from me. That man’s a <i>teamster</i>! It was a nasty trick, and perhaps +your young whelp of a partner <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>there has found out enough about woods +law by this time to understand it.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Britt—” began Wade.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to talk to you at all!” snapped the tyrant, flapping his +hand in protest.</p> + +<p>“Nor I to you!” retorted Wade, in sudden heat. “But as Mr. Ide’s partner +I have taken charge of the woods end of our operation, and I’ve got +business to talk with you. We haven’t begun to land our logs yet +<span style="white-space: nowrap;">because—”</span></p> + +<p>“It’s a wonder to me that you’ve got any cut down, you dude!” snorted +Britt, contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“Because we haven’t had an understanding about the drive,” went on the +young man, trying to keep his temper. “Now, about logs coming down +Enchanted and into <span style="white-space: nowrap;">Jerusalem—”</span></p> + +<p>“You’ll pay drivin’ fees for every stick.”</p> + +<p>“And you’ll take our drive with yours?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I won’t put the iron of a pick-pole into a log with your mark +on it!” declared Britt.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> + +<p>“Mr. Britt,” said Wade, his voice trembling in the stress of his +emotions, “as an operator in this section, as a man who is asking you +straight business questions as courteously as I know how, I am entitled +to decent treatment, and it will be better for all of us if I get it.”</p> + +<p>“Threats, hey?” demanded Britt, malignantly.</p> + +<p>“No threats, sir. If you won’t take our drive for the usual fees and +guarantee its delivery, will you let us drive it independently?”</p> + +<p>“Not with my water—and you’ll pay fees just the same!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p><p>“<i>Your</i> water! Who made you the boss of God’s rains and rivers? Have you +any charter, giving you the right to turn the State waters of Blunder +Lake from their natural outlet and keep everybody else from using them?”</p> + +<p>Britt clacked his finger in his hard palm and blurted contemptuous +“Phuh!” through his beard.</p> + +<p>“Show me any such charter, Mr. Britt, or tell me where to find the +record of it, and I’ll accept the law.”</p> + +<p>“Hell on your law!” cried the tyrant of the Umcolcus.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you willing to let the law decide it, Mr. Britt?”</p> + +<p>“Hell on your law!”</p> + +<p>Three times more did Wade, his face burning in his righteous anger, his +voice trembling with passion, ask the question. Three times did the +Honorable Pulaski Britt fling those four words of maddening insult back +at him. And Wade, his face going suddenly white, snatched the reins from +Ide’s hands, struck the horse, whirled him into the trail, and drove +away madly. Down the aisles of the forest followed those four words as +long as Pulaski Britt felt that their iteration could reach the ears of +listeners.</p> + +<p>“So you finished your business with him, did you?” inquired Ide, at +last, allowing himself, as a true prophet, a bit of a sneer.</p> + +<p>“I got just what I went after,” snarled the young man. “I got in four +words the fighting rules of these woods, explained by the head devil of +them all, and, by ——, if that’s the only way for an honest man to save +his skin up here, they can have the fight on those lines! Take the +reins, Mr. Ide; I want to straighten this thing in my mind.”</p> + +<p>Little passed between them on the return journey, but they talked far +into the night, leaning towards each other across the little splint +table in the office camp.</p> + +<p>The next morning they climbed the side of Enchanted, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>following the main +road that had been swamped to Enchanted Stream. On the upper slopes they +came upon the log-yards, and heaps of great, stripped spruces piled +ready for the sleds. Farther up the slopes they heard the monotonous +“whush-wish” of the cross-cut saws and the crackling crash of falling +trees.</p> + +<p>In the Maine woods it is not the practice to haul to landings until the +tree crop is practically all down and yarded on the main roads. This +practice in the case of the Enchanted operation that winter was +providential; for in the conference of the night before Rodburd Ide and +his partner had definitely abandoned Enchanted Stream. That decision +left them the alternative of Blunder Stream. It was the only plan that +fitted with Rodburd Ide’s new hopes based on the log contract in his +breast-pocket. For months he had dimly foreseen this crisis without +clear conception as to how it was to be met. But the possibilities of +the gamble had fascinated him.</p> + +<p>In his calculations he had tried to keep prudence to the fore. But he +had been waiting so long that at last prudence became dizzy in the swirl +of possibilities. He had never intended to make Dwight Wade his mere +cat’s-paw. But the vehement courage of that sturdy young man, as +displayed in the battle of Castonia, had touched something in Rodburd +Ide’s soul. All through his quiet life he had seen might and mastery +make money out of the woods. And so at last he himself ventured, +trusting much to the might and mastery he found in this self-reliant +young gentleman whom Fate had flung into his life. Gasping at the +boldness of it, he was willing that the whole winter’s cut of the +Enchanted operation should be landed upon Blunder Stream. That there was +a way to get their water he admitted to himself, but he did not dare to +think much upon the means. Dwight Wade, driven by fierce <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>anger against +Pulaski Britt, who blocked his way to the girl whom his own hands could +win but for Britt, smote the splint table and declared that there should +be a spring flood in Blunder Stream.</p> + +<p>“And if you fear lawsuits, being a man of property, Mr. Ide, you should +not know what I intend to do. You may be held as a partner. Dissolve +that partnership. You may be held as an employer. Discharge me when this +log-cut is landed. Protect yourself. I have only my two hands for them +to attach.”</p> + +<p>The little man blinked at him admiringly, and then patted his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“You needn’t tell me what you intend to do. You are the one for this +end, and I can trust you. But when it comes to responsibility and the +law, Wade, if those thieves try it on, after all they’ve stolen, you’ll +find Rod Ide right with you. You’re my partner, and you’ll stay my +partner,” declared Ide, stoutly.</p> + +<p>He repeated it as they swung around the upper granite dome of Enchanted, +and looked down the western slope into Blunder valley.</p> + +<p>“There’s the place for your main road, Wade,” he said—“down that +shoulder there! Swamp a half-mile of the steep pitch and you’ll come +into the Cameron road, and it will take you to the stream. You’ll need +about fifteen hundred feet of snub-line for that sharp incline there, +and I’ll have it up to you by the time you are ready for it. Put the +swale hay to the rest of the pitches. It will trig better than gravel. +Don’t let ’em put a chain round a runner. You want to keep your road so +smooth that every load of logs will go down there like a boy down a barn +rollway. Sprinkle your levels and keep ’em glare ice. By ——, it’s a +beauty of an outlook for a landing-job! Cut your high slopes this trip. +Keep your logs above the level of that shoulder, and every hoss team +will make a four-turn day <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>of it. We’ll save a dollar a thousand on the +landing-proposition alone, over and above the Enchanted road chance! And +up there—” He gazed to the north up the valley over the wooded ridges, +and then hushed his voice, as though there lay somewhere in that blue +distance a thing that he feared.</p> + +<p>“Up there is a lake of water, Mr. Ide, that God designed to flow down +this valley, and it’s going to find its own channel again—somehow! I +hope that doesn’t sound like cheap boasting. It’s only my idea of the +right.”</p> + +<p>He led the way back around the granite dome above the spruce benches, +and the old man followed in silence.</p> + +<p>Two hours later Rodburd Ide was off and away for Castonia, his +jumper-bell jangling its echoes among the trees. He had hope in his +heart and a letter in his pocket. The hope was his own. The letter was +addressed to John Barrett’s daughter, and the superscription had brought +a little scowl to the brows of the magnate of Castonia. Somehow it +seemed like communication with the enemy. But Dwight Wade, writing it in +the stillness of the night, while the little man snored in his bunk, had +seemed in his own imaginings to be putting into that letter, as one lays +away for safe keeping in a casket, all that heart and soul held of love +and candor and tenderness. It was as though he intrusted those into her +hands to preserve for him against the day when he might take them back +into life and living once more. Just now they did not seem to belong to +this life on Enchanted; they did not harmonize with the bitter +conditions. He pressed down the envelope’s seal with the fantastic +reflection that he was sending out of the conflict witnesses in whose +presence he might stand ashamed.</p> + +<p>Therefore, it was not treason that Rodburd Ide bore in the pocket of his +big fur coat. Dwight Wade had sent tenderer emotions to the rear. He +stood at the front, ready to meet iron with iron and fire with fire.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>THE DEVIL OF THE HEMPEN STRANDS</h3> + +<div class="centerbox10 bbox3"><p>“When the snub-line parts and the great load starts<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s nothing that men may do,</span><br /> +Except to cower with quivering hearts<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While the wreck goes thundering through.”</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—The Ballad of Tumbledick.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcd.jpg" title="D" height="90" width="90" alt="D" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">D</span>ays of winter snow and blow; days of sunshine, hard and cold as the +radiance from a diamond’s facets; days of calm and days of tempest; days +when the snowflakes dropped as straight as plummets, and days when the +whirlwinds danced in crazy rigadoons down the valleys or spun like +dervishes on the mountain-tops! And all were days of honest, faithful +toil in the black growth of Enchanted, and the days brought the +dreamless sleep o’ nights that labor won.</p> + +<p>In those long evenings hope lighted a taper that shone brightly beside +the lantern of the office camp in whose dull beams Dwight Wade wrote +long and earnest letters. But these were not to John Barrett’s daughter; +the conditions of their waiting love had tacitly closed the mail between +them.</p> + +<p>Again Dwight Wade, in the honesty of his soul, had seen a light of hope +that contrasted cheerily with the red glare of might against might which +made his decency quail. He saw a chance to win as a man, not as a thug.</p> + +<p>The most brilliant young attorney of the newer generation in the State +had been Wade’s college mate. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>To him Wade detailed in those long +letters the iniquitous conditions that fettered independent operators in +the north country, and gave the case into his enthusiastic keeping. It +meant digging into the black heart of the State’s political corruption, +timber graft, and land steals. It was a task that the young attorney, +with earnest zeal and new ideals of civic honor, had long before entered +upon. He seized upon this store of new ammunition with delight, and Wade +rejoiced at the tenor of his replies. That the law and the right would +intervene in Blunder valley to preserve him from a conflict in which he +must use the shameful weapons selected by Britt for the duello was a +promise that he cherished. And thus heartened, he toiled more eagerly.</p> + +<p>It was well into February before they began to haul their logs to the +landing-place on Blunder Stream. But even with an estimated five +millions to dump upon the ice of Blunder, time was ample, for the +snub-line down the steep quarter-mile of Enchanted’s shoulder made a +cut-off that doubled the efficiency of the teams. It was the crux of the +situation, that snubbing-pitch. With its desperate dangers, its +uncertainties, its celerity, it was ominous and it was fascinating. But +it was the big end of the great game. Dwight Wade made himself its +captain. Tommy Eye, master of horses, came into his own and was his +lieutenant.</p> + +<p>Those two trudged there together in the gray of the dawn; they trudged +back together in the chilled dusk, still trembling with the racking +strain of it all.</p> + +<p>Wade, cant-dog in hand, stood beside the snubbing-post and gave the word +for every load to start, and watched every inch of its progress with +tense muscles and pounding heart. Tommy Eye mounted the load and took +the reins from the deposed driver as each team came to the top of the +pitch; and the snorting, fearing horses seemed to know his master touch, +and in blind <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>faith went into their collars and floundered down under +the fateful looming of the great load. Thus, every hour of the day, +Tommy Eye silently, boldly ventured his life in the interests of the man +who had once saved it, and Dwight Wade watched over his safety from the +top of the slope. No word passed between the two. But they understood. +There was no other man in the north country with the soothing voice, the +assuring touch on the reins, and the mystic power to inspire confidence +in dumb brutes—no other man that could bring the qualities that Tommy +Eye brought to his task, coupled with the blind courage to perform. The +horses turned their heads to make sure that he held the reins and was +adventuring with them. Then they went on.</p> + +<p>The snubbing-post was a huge beech, sawed to leave four feet of stump. +It had been adzed to the smoothness of an axe-handle. The three-inch +hawser clasped it with four turns, and two men, whose hands were +protected by huge leather mittens, kept the squalling coils loosened and +paid out the slack, when the cable was hooked to the load of logs on its +way down the slope in order to hold it back. And when the coils yanked +themselves loose and the rope ran too swiftly, even making the leather +mittens smoke, Wade, with his cant-dog, threw the hawser hard against +the stump and checked it. It was a trick that Tommy Eye taught him, and +it required muscle and snap. At the instant of peril he drove his +cant-dog’s iron nose into the roots of the stump, surged back on his +lever, and pinched the rope between post and ash handle of the tool. +Friction checked and held the load, but it was muscle-stretching, +back-breaking labor.</p> + +<p>And all the time there was the rope to watch to make sure that no rock’s +edge or sharp stick had severed a strand, for broken strands uncoil like +a spring under the mighty strain. There were the flipping bights of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>coiled hawser to guard against as the men paid it out. Men are caught +by those bights and ground to horrible death against the snubbing-post.</p> + +<p>In time that rope came to have sentiency in the eyes of Wade. Some days +it seemed to be possessed by the spirit of evil. It would not run +smoothly. It fed out by jerks, getting more and more of slack at each +jump. It began to sway and vibrate between post and load, a wider arc +with every jerk, a gigantic cello-string booming horrible music. It +snarled on the post; it growled grim and sinister warning along its +tense length. So terrible are these wordless threats that men have been +known to surrender in panic, flee from the snubbing-post, and let +destruction wreak its will. Hence the silent and understanding +partnership between Tommy Eye, shadowed by death on the load, and Dwight +Wade fiercely alert at the snubbing-post.</p> + +<p>There came a day when the spirit of evil had full sway.</p> + +<p>The weather was hard, with gray skies and a bone-searching chill. The +hawser, made smooth as glass by attrition, was steely and stiff with the +cold. It had new voices. Once it leaped so viciously at the legs of one +of the post-men that he gave a yell and ran. In the tumult of his +passion and fear Wade cursed the caitiff, his own legs in the swirl of +the bights, his cant-dog nipping the rope to the post and checking it +short. And far down the slope Tommy Eye, his teeth hard shut on his +tobacco, waited without turning his head, a mute picture of utter +confidence.</p> + +<p>It was while Wade held the line, waiting for the men to re-coil the +hawser into safe condition to run, that the Honorable Pulaski Britt +appeared. He came trotting his horses down the Enchanted main road and +jerked them to a halt at the top of the pitch. Two men were with him on +the jumper. Each wore the little blue badge of a game warden.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p><p>“We are after a man named Thomas Eye, of your crew,” said one of the +men, catching Wade’s inquiring gaze. “We’ve traced that cow-moose +killing to him—the Cameron case.”</p> + +<p>For an instant Wade’s heart went sick, and then it went wild. Such an +impudent, barefaced plot to rob him of an invaluable man at this crisis +in his affairs seemed impossible to credit. It was vengefulness run mad, +gone puerile.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Britt has signed the complaint and has the witnesses,” said the +warden. “We’ve got a warrant and we’ll have to take the man.”</p> + +<p>“And there he is on that load,” said the Honorable Pulaski, pointing his +whip-butt.</p> + +<p>“Hold that line, men,” commanded Wade, coming away from the post. “Tommy +Eye has not been out of my camp, wardens. He is absolutely indispensable +to me. He has killed no moose. But if it can be proven I’ll pay his +fine.”</p> + +<p>“It takes a trial to prove it,” said the warden, dryly. “That’s why +we’re after him.”</p> + +<p>“Britt, I didn’t think you’d get down to this,” stormed the young man.</p> + +<p>“I’m not a game warden,” retorted the baron of the Umcolcus. “You’re +dealin’ with them, not me.”</p> + +<p>He sat, slicing his whip-lash into the snow, and watched the young man’s +bitter anger with huge enjoyment. And when Wade seemed unable to frame a +suitable retort he went on: “If you think I’ve got anything to do with +taking that crack teamster out of your crew, you’d better thank me. +Anything that interferes with your landing your logs in a blind pocket +like Blunder Stream is a godsend to you and Rod Ide.” His temper began +to flame. “What do you think you’re going to do there? Do you calculate +to steal any of my water? Do you think that whipper-snapper whelp of a +lawyer <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>that you’ve set yappin’ at our heels is goin’ to spin a thread +for you against the men that have run this section for thirty years? If +you’ve only got the law bug in your head, give it up. But if you have +the least sneakin’ idea of troublin’ that dam up there”—he shook his +fist into the north—“coil your snub-line and save time and money; for, +by the eternal Jehovah, blood will run in that valley before water +does!”</p> + +<p>In the pause that followed one of the wardens asked, “Do you propose to +resist the arrest of Eye, Mr. Wade?”</p> + +<p>The question was an incautious one. In a flash the young man saw that +this last sortie of the Honorable Pulaski was not so much an adventure +against Tommy Eye as against himself—with intent to embroil him with +the officers of the law. That might mean more trouble than he dared +reflect upon. He had a very definite apprehension of what the legal +machinery of Britt and his associates might do to him if he afforded any +pretence for their procedure.</p> + +<p>One of the wardens dropped off the jumper at a word from Britt, and the +timber baron urged his horses down the slope, the other officer +accompanying him.</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye sat on his load, still with gaze patiently to the front, +waiting in serene confidence the convenience of his employer. That back +turned to Wade was the back of the humble confider, the back of the +martyr. In his sudden trepidation at thought of his own imperilled +interests, were he himself enmeshed in the law, Wade had thought to +leave Tommy’s possible fate alone. But now, almost without reflection or +plan, he ran down the hill. The martyr’s serene obliviousness struck a +pang to his heart. In those days of strife and toil and understanding +Tommy Eye had grown dear to him. Britt, turning, yelled to the officer +at the top of the slope, “Give that snub-line a half-hitch and hold that +load!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p><p>A bit of a rock shelf broadened the road where the logs were halted. +Britt lashed his horses around in front of the load with apparent intent +to intimidate Tommy. The warden dropped off the jumper and shut off +retreat in the rear. And Wade, running swiftly, carrying his cant-dog, +came and leaped upon the load and stood above Tommy—his protecting +genius, but a genius who had no very clear idea of what he was about to +do.</p> + +<p>No one ever explained exactly how it happened!</p> + +<p>The warden, who was at the top of the pitch and who did it, gazed a +moment, saw what he had done, and fled with a howl of abject terror, +never to appear on Enchanted again. The men at the snub-post stated +afterwards that he came to them, hearing Pulaski Britt’s orders, elbowed +them aside with an oath, and took the hawser. He probably undertook to +loosen the coils to make a half-hitch; but a game warden has no business +with a snub-line when the devil is in it.</p> + +<p>It gave one triumphant shriek at its release, and then—“Toom! Toom! +Toom!”—it began to sing its horrible bass note. It was slipping faster +and faster around the snubbing-post under the strain of Tommy Eye’s +load, which it had been holding back.</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye knew without looking—knew without understanding. He +knew—that most terrible knowledge of all woods terrors—that he was +“sluiced.” He screamed once—only once—and the horses came into their +collars. Their hot breath was on the back of Pulaski Britt’s neck when +he started—started with a hoarse oath above which sang the shrill yelp +of his whip-lash, and behind him, on the icy slope, slid the great load +of logs now released from anchorage to the snubbing-post and guided only +by the nerve of Tommy Eye.</p> + +<p>“Jump, Mr. Wade! Jump!” gasped the teamster. But Wade drove the peak of +his cant-dog into a log and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>clung to the upright handle. He looked +back. The great hawser spun itself off the spindle of the post and +chased down the hill in spirals, utterly loose and free.</p> + +<p>It was no dare-devil spirit that held him on the load. His soul was sick +with horrible fear. It was something that was almost subconsciousness +that kept him there. Perhaps it was pity—pity for Tommy Eye, so brave a +martyr at his post of duty. In the flash of that instant when the great +load gathered speed he stiffened himself to leap, then he looked at +Tommy’s patched coat and remembered his oft-repeated little boast: “I’ve +never left my hosses yet!” And so if Tommy could stay with his horses, +he, Dwight Wade, could stay with Tommy! There was a queer thrill in his +breast and the sting of sudden tears in his eyes as he decided.</p> + +<p>The first rush of the descent was along an incline, steep but even. +There were benches below—each shelf ten feet or so of jutting +level—that broke the descent. Wade saw the jumper of Pulaski Britt +strike the first bench. The old man went off the seat into the air, and +when he fell he dropped his reins, clutched the seat, and kneeled, +facing the pursuers, his face ghastly with terror. He crouched there, +not daring to turn. Even if he had held his reins they would have been +as useless in his hands as strips of fog. Ledges and trees hemmed either +side. There was only the narrow road for his flying horses, and they ran +straight on, needing neither whip nor admonitions.</p> + +<p>The groan of five thousand feet of timber chafing the bind-chains when +their great load struck the shelf was like the groan of an animal in +agony. The chains held. It was Tommy who had seen to every link and +every loop. Then, for the first time in his life, Wade heard the scream +of horses in mortal fear. The lurch of the forward sled lifted the pole, +and for one dreadful instant both animals kicked free and clear in air.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p><p>Tommy Eye shot two words at them like bullets. “Steady, boys!” he +yelled. His head was hunched between his shoulders. His arms were +out-stretched and rigid. Tommy Eye, master of horses! It was his lift on +the bits at just the fraction of a second when they needed it that set +them on their feet when the pole dropped. And down the next descent they +swooped.</p> + +<p>From his height Wade looked straight into the eyes of Pulaski Britt. It +seemed that with every plunge of their hoofs Tommy Eye’s horses would +smash that puffy face. The checks of the benches, when the huge load +struck and staggered from time to time, allowed Britt’s lighter equipage +a little start. But the mighty projectile that drove on him down the +smooth slopes gained with every yard, for the thrusting pole swept the +horses off their feet in plunge after plunge. And then it was Tommy +Eye’s desperate coolness that helped them to their infrequent footing. +All of the man’s face that Wade could see was a ridged jaw muscle above +the faded collar of his coat. The peak of his cap hid all but that.</p> + +<p>There was a curve at the foot of the snub slope. The wall of trees that +closed the vista was disaster spelled by bolled trunk and sturdy limb. +There stood the nether millstone: the upper was rushing down, and the +grist would be flesh of horses and men. No man could see any other +alternative. That horses, shaken every now and then on the up-cocked +pole as helplessly as kittens, could bring that load around the curve +was not a hope; it could be nothing but a dream of desperation.</p> + +<p>As to what Tommy Eye dreamed or thought, his passenger had no hint. +There was only the patch of cheek showing under the tilted cap. But the +reins were just as tight, the out-stretched arms just as steady. Wade +crouched low, his eyes on that rigid jaw muscle.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, with a yell like the cry of something wild, Eye sprang to his +feet, bestriding the logs, bracing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>himself for some mighty effort. They +were at the Curve of Death! There came a surge on the tight reins, eight +hoofs dug the snow in one frantic thrust, and they went around—they +went around! With horses and driver straining to one side the great load +pitched, swerved, and, after one breathless instant, swept on in the +road around the curve.</p> + +<p>Twenty rods farther on they struck the hay, spread thickly for the +trig—the checking of the runners. And the sled-runners, biting it, +jerked and halted, the bind-chains creaked, the chafing logs +groaned—and they were stopped! The lathering horses stood with legs +wide spraddled, their heads lowered, their snorting noses puffing up the +snow.</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye dug the tobacco from his cheek and thoughtfully tossed it +away. Britt’s team had disappeared, reins dragging, the horses running +madly, the whitened, puffy face flashing one last look as it winked out +of sight among the trees.</p> + +<p>“I’ve dreamed of such a thing as this,” observed Tommy, at last, a +strange tremor in his tones. “I’ve dreamed of chasin’ old P’laski Britt, +me settin’ on five thousand feet of wild timber and lookin’ down into +his face and seein’ him a-wonderin’ whether they’d let him into the +front door of hell or make him go around to the back. It’s the first +time he was ever run good and plenty, and I done it—but,” he sighed, +“it was damnation whilst it lasted!”</p> + +<p>He turned now and gazed long and wistfully at Wade.</p> + +<p>“Ye stuck by me, didn’t ye, Mr. Wade?” he said, softly. “Stuck by me +jest like I was a friend, and not old, drunken Tommy Eye! I reckon we’ll +shake on that!” And when they clasped hands he asked, with the wistful, +inexpressible pathos of his simple devotion to duty: “What was it all +about? I jest only know they sluiced me!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p><p>And Wade gasped an explanation, Tommy Eye staring at him with wrinkling +brows and squinting eyes.</p> + +<p>“Come to arrest me for northin’ I hadn’t done?” he shrilled. “Come to +take me off’n a job where I was needed, and where I was earnin’ my +honest livin’?”</p> + +<p>“They had the warrant, and Britt swore out the lying complaint.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wade,” said Tommy, after a solemn pause, “I’ve done a lot of things +in this life to be ashamed of—but jest gittin’ drunk, that’s all. I +ain’t never done a crime. But jest now, if it hadn’t been for that +toss-up between supper in camp or hot broth in tophet to-night, I’d be +travellin’ down-country, pulled away from you when you need me worst, +and all on account of P’laski Britt. If that’s the chances an honest man +runs in this world, I’m an outlaw from now on!”</p> + +<p>Wade stared at him in amazement, for there was a queer significance in +Tommy’s tone.</p> + +<p>“An outlaw!” repeated Tommy, slapping his breast. “Yes, s’r, I’m an +outlaw! An outlaw so fur as P’laski Britt is concerned. I’ve showed him +I can run him! Did you see him lookin’ at me? He’ll dream of me after +this when he has the nightmare.”</p> + +<p>He took Wade by the arm.</p> + +<p>“I ’ain’t been sayin’ much, Mr. Wade, but I see how things are gettin’ +ready to move in this valley. You ain’t built for an outlaw. But you +need one in your business. I’m the one from now on.”</p> + +<p>He pulled his thin hand out of his mitten and shook it towards the north +in the direction in which Blunder Lake lay.</p> + +<p>“You need an outlaw in your business, I say! I’m tough from now on. I’ll +be so tough in April that you’ll have to discharge me. There’s no +knowin’ what an outlaw will do, is there, Mr. Wade? I’d ruther go to +jail as an outlaw than as a drunk, like I’ve done every <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>summer. They +look up to outlaws. They make drunks scrub the floors and empty the +slops.” His voice trembled. “Oh, you needn’t worry, Mr. Wade! I’ll be +proud to be an outlaw. And I ain’t northin’ but old Tommy Eye, anyway.”</p> + +<p>He slid down off the load and went between the horses’ heads, and +fondled them and kissed them above their eyes.</p> + +<p>“Brace up, old fellers!” he said. “You won’t have to pull no more +to-day. I reckon you’ve done your stunt!”</p> + +<p>“I—I don’t understand this outlaw business, Tommy,” stammered Wade, +looking down on him from the load. Tommy peered up, his head between the +shaggy manes of the horses.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you try to, Mr. Wade!” he cried, earnestly. “There ain’t no good +in tryin’ to understand outlaws. They ain’t no kind to hitch up to very +close. Don’t you try to understand them!” And as he bent to unhook the +trace-chains he muttered to himself: “I ain’t sure as I understand much +about ’em myself, but there’s one outlawin’ job that it’s come to my +mind can be done without takin’ private lessons off’n Jesse James, or +whoever is topnotcher in the line just now. In the mean time, let’s see +that warden try to arrest me!”</p> + +<p>But as days went by it became apparent that the wardens and the +Honorable Pulaski D. Britt considered that they had precipitated an +affair on Enchanted whose possible consequences they did not care to +face.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>THE “CANNED THUNDER” OF CASTONIA</h3> + +<div class="centerbox5 bbox3"><p>“A woodsman hates a coward as he hates diluted rye,<br /> +Stiff upper-lip for livin’, stiff backbone when you die!”</p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcw.jpg" title="W" height="90" width="90" alt="W" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">W</span>hen April came, and with caressing fingers began to stroke the +softening snow from the mountain flanks, she found full half a million +of the Enchanted cut still on the yards.</p> + +<p>“If it’s to be a gamble, let’s make it a good one,” Rodburd Ide had +counselled his partner. “Pile on every stick that winter’s back will +carry. Pile till it breaks!”</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade had a trustworthy “kitchen cabinet” of advisers in old +Christopher Straight, Tommy Eye, and the chopping-boss; and with them as +counsellors he ventured further than his own narrow experience would +have prompted.</p> + +<p>On nights when April slept and the trickling slopes were stiffened by +the cold, the crew of the Enchanted stole a march on spring. They awoke +at sundown with the owls. They ate breakfast in the gloom of early +evening. And, with the moon holding her lantern for them in the serene +skies, they rushed their logs into the waiting arms of Blunder valley. +That those arms would surrender the timber when the time was ripe seemed +more certain as the days went by. The word of their zealous young man of +law was encouraging. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>There had been pleas, representations, digging +over of old charters, hunt through dusty records, citation of +precedents, and some very direct talk regarding a thorough legislative +investigation of conditions in the north country to regulate the rights +of independent operators.</p> + +<p>It was admittedly too big a question to be hurried. Litigation fattens +by what it feeds on. Grown ponderous, it marches, slow and dignified, in +short stages between terms, and sits and rests and puffs at every +cross-road of argument, exception, appeal, and writ of error. Even that +exigency of five millions of timber waiting in Blunder valley could not +hasten the settlement of the young reformer’s main contention or the big +question. But there are in this life some deeper sentiments than +enthusiasm in reform. The old college friendship between Dwight Wade, +famous centre of Burton’s eleven, and the little quarter-back whom he +had shielded was one of those deeper sentiments. And now the lawyer, for +the sake of that friendship, was willing to buy Dwight Wade’s success in +Blunder valley by honorable compromise on certain points where +compromise was honorable.</p> + +<p>With a man open to sane reason and moral decency a compromise might have +been effected. But after Pulaski D. Britt had craftily drawn out proffer +of a truce and proposition of a trade in one phase of the great question +of water-rights, he burst into a bellow of “blackmail” that echoed from +end to end of the State. The words bristled in the newspapers controlled +by the land barons and was rolled on the tongues of gossip. And as +humanity in general, selfish in its easy-going way and jealous of +resolute activity, likes to believe ill of reformers, men were readier +to believe Britt than to give a motive of honest friendship its due. The +jeers of the mob make what some people like to call “public opinion.” +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>And sometimes when public opinion is loudly gabbling and can be +politely referred to in case of doubt, there can be found judges who +will listen with one ear to the voices of the street and with the other +to the specious representations of the man in power.</p> + +<p>So it came about that the judge presiding at the <i>nisi prius</i> term in +the great county dominated by Pulaski D. Britt hearkened in chambers to +some very distressing details set before him by that gentleman and +certain other “employers of labor” and “developers of the great timber +interests.” The judge pursed his lips and with his tongue clucked +horrified astonishment at stories of brutal assaults made “on members of +Pulaski Britt’s crew” (this being Dwight Wade’s desperate defence of +himself, as pictured by Britt), and other tales of lunatics provoked to +deeds of violence towards aforesaid “developers”; of incendiaries +spirited away from officers; of men stolen out of Britt’s crew (poor +Tommy Eye’s rescue from torture, as revamped for evidence by the +Honorable Pulaski D. Britt); and, lastly, of that desperate and +malignant attempt on the life of Honorable Pulaski D. Britt when a load +of timber was sluiced at him from the shoulder of Enchanted Mountain.</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade had not put into the hands of his lawyer the details of +those pitiful secrets of the woods; for not only his honor as a man set +a seal on his lips, but the sacredness of his love imposed higher +obligation still. So his lawyer listened, amazed, incredulous, but +incapable of refuting these tales in the categorical way that the law +demands.</p> + +<p>So much, then, for what “the gang” had done for Pulaski D. Britt and his +interests. Britt lacked neither words nor will to make the story a black +one.</p> + +<p>As to what they intended to do, the Honorable Pulaski declaimed, with +quivering finger rapping tattoo on the map of the Blunder valley, his +voice hoarse with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>emotion and the perspiration of apprehensiveness +streaking his puffy cheeks.</p> + +<p>And with past enormities standing undefended, what might not a judge +believe as to future atrocities when the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had +made the prediction, his chief exhibit of intended outlawry being five +millions of timber stranded in Blunder valley, and requiring “stolen +water” to move it? His last argument was an uncontradicted allegation of +attempted compromise, his last word “Blackmail!” shot at the face of the +opposing lawyer while his stubby finger vibrated under the lawyer’s +nose.</p> + +<p>Therefore, at the end of it all, the clerk of courts wrote, the judge +signed, and five minutes after the ink was dry High Sheriff Bennett +Rodliff buttoned his coat over the folded paper and set his face towards +Enchanted.</p> + +<p>Forty-eight hours later, having travelled by train, by stage, by sledge, +and on foot, he stood before Dwight Wade in the midst of his crew at the +landings in Blunder valley, gave the paper to him, and watched his face +while he read it. Being a man who enjoyed his own authority and exulted +in the power of the law when it dealt crushing blows, the high sheriff +noted with satisfaction that the young man’s face grew pale under its +tan.</p> + +<p>“Get the sense, do you?” inquired the sheriff, allowing himself the +relaxation of a chew of tobacco after his headlong rush into the north; +“it’s an injunction. You can’t meddle with Blunder Lake dam; can’t h’ist +gates; can’t take water!” He gazed about him at the heaped logs piled in +the bed of the stream. “Kind o’ seems to me,” he observed, with smug +rebuke, “that I’d have been slow in landin’ logs down here till I knowed +what the law court was goin’ to do about these water-rights. Law steps +slow and careful, and this whole thing has got to wait till it gets way +up to the full bench. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>Lettin’ you have water here might be an admission +by the big crowd that they was all wrong on the chief proposition. The +big crowd ain’t that kind!”</p> + +<p>Wade had read the injunction through to its bitter end. Every stilted +phrase, every estopping, restraining word of its redundancy, was like a +bar between him and his hopes. It was a temporary injunction. But the +date set for a hearing on the question of permanency was a date that +made those log-piles in Blunder valley loom in his dizzy gaze like +monuments to buried expectations.</p> + +<p>“Where was our lawyer when this damnable document was issued?” he cried, +shaking the paper under the sheriff’s nose. His heart was aflame against +the thing called Law. The sheriff stood there as Law’s representative, +expressing in his blank face such unfeeling acceptance of the situation +as hopeless, that Wade wanted to jam the paper between those jaws +wagging blandly on their tobacco.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he was there!” remarked Rodliff, dryly. “Perhaps if he hadn’t been +there your case would have come off better. Judges ain’t got much use +for lawyers when the shyster kind get shown up in a graft game. The +fellow who named this Blunder valley years ago,” he observed, running +his eyes over the log-piles once more, “must have had a gift of +second-sight. Rod Ide’s always been cal’lated to be level-headed. It’s a +wonder to me he let you fool him into this. I’ve heard considerable +about it outside. But it’s worse than I’d reckoned on.”</p> + +<p>For a sickening instant the thing showed to Wade in its blackest light. +To be sure, it was the Law that struck down his hands. But it was plain +that the Law was, after all, only a part of the game—and his enemies +had invoked it and had won.</p> + +<p>“Look here, men!” shouted the high sheriff, turning <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>from his survey of +this defeated wretchedness, “I want you to take note of what I’ve done +here. I’ve served an injunction on your boss. It means that he’s got to +leave Blunder Lake dam alone. Him and all his crew! Understand?”</p> + +<p>The men had been slowly gathering near on the log-piles, in order to get +drift of what this visit meant. Some of them had private reasons for +wondering what business a high sheriff was on; all of them were curious. +And the sheriff saw Tommy Eye in the forefront.</p> + +<p>“By-the-way, Eye,” he called, “the wardens want you! You’d better come +along out with me and save trouble.”</p> + +<p>“I’m an outlaw,” cried Tommy, defiantly, “and I won’t come with nobody!”</p> + +<p>The sheriff blinked at the man who had been his uncomplaining prisoner +for so many summers, and seemed to be trying to digest this defiance.</p> + +<p>“I’m an outlaw!” repeated the man. “I ain’t to work for nobody. I’ve +jacked my job here. I’m just plain outlaw. I ain’t responsible to +nobody. Nobody ain’t responsible for me. You tell that to everybody +concerned. I’m an outlaw!”</p> + +<p>Rodliff, still with wondering eyes on Tommy, slowly worked a revolver +out of his hip-pocket.</p> + +<p>“Come down off’n that pile!” he shouted. “I want you!”</p> + +<p>But once the revolver was out the target was not visible. Three leaps, +his calk boots biting the logs, put Tommy out of sight behind the pile. +Two minutes later they heard him among the trees far up the slope of +Blunder valley. He was still shouting his declaration of outlawry, and +the diminuendo of tone indicated that he was running like a deer.</p> + +<p>The high sheriff shoved back his revolver, scowling up at the grinning +faces on the log-piles. But he found <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>no hint of similar amiability in +Wade’s expression when he turned to face the young man; and after +surveying him up and down with much disfavor, he shook his fist in a +gesture that embraced them all, and started away, flinging over his +shoulder the contemptuous remark that he seemed to have “lighted in a +pretty tough gang.” The significance of that expressed conviction was +not lost on the young man. It revealed what machination was doing. +Britt, bulwarked by the courts and public sentiment, was not to be +fought by the outlawry he had invoked as the code of combat.</p> + +<p>An hour later Dwight Wade was urging his horse towards Castonia. If +Rodburd Ide or a message from Rodburd Ide were on the way north he would +meet the situation so much the sooner. The sting of his bitter thoughts +and the goad of his impatience would not allow him to stay at Enchanted. +He wanted to know the exact facts “outside.” He did not dare to +jeopardize his partner by the rashness his bitter anger once +contemplated.</p> + +<p>A half-mile down the tote road Tommy Eye dashed at him from the covert +of the spruces.</p> + +<p>“I reckoned you’d be goin’, Mr. Wade!” he panted. “I ain’t intendin’ to +bother you—but what did Ben Rodliff say that was—that paper that he +clubbed you with?”</p> + +<p>The pitiful intensity of his loyal anxiety struck Wade to the heart. “It +was an injunction, Tommy,” he explained, patiently. “It’s an order from +the court. Oh, it’s horribly unjust! It may be law, but it isn’t +justice; for justice would take into account a man’s common rights, and +wouldn’t tie them up by pettifogging delays.” He was talking as much to +himself as to the poor fellow who clung to the thill. The words surged +into his mouth out of his full soul. “I have been square with men, +Tommy, square and decent. I believe in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>law, and I want to respect it. +But when law obeys Pulaski Britt’s bidding, and takes you by the throat +and kneels on you and chokes you, and lets such a man as Britt walk past +on his own business, free and clear, it’s law that’s devil-made.”</p> + +<p>But the incantation of that law was having its effect on a nature that +was more docile than it realized. In his hot anger he had said he would +fight Britt with the tyrant’s own lawless choice of weapons. He looked +back and remembered that he had intended to do so. A sheriff with a gold +badge and a bit of paper had prevailed over his bitter resolution when +Pulaski Britt and his army at his back would have failed to cow him.</p> + +<p>The dull roll of a distant detonation came to them in the little silence +that followed on Wade’s outburst. It came from the west, where men of +the Enchanted crew were at work widening the granite jaws of Blunder +gorge to give clear egress to the Enchanted drive. In that moment of his +utter despair the roar of the rend-rock was a mocking voice.</p> + +<p>“And that’s all there is to an injunction?” demanded Tommy. “Ben Rodliff +hands you a paper, and spits tobacker-juice on the snow, and calls you a +fool, and goes down past here, like he did a little while ago, swingin’ +his reins and singin’ a pennyr’yal hymn? Only has to do that to tie up +the whole Enchanted drive that we hundred men have sweat and froze and +worked to get onto the landings?”</p> + +<p>“Only that, Tommy,” replied Wade, bitterly. “The law is sitting there on +Blunder dam. You can’t see it, but it’s there, and it says, ‘Hands +off!’”</p> + +<p>“There’s something you can see, though,” Tommy declared. “You can see +two men in a shack that’s been built over the gates of Blunder Lake dam. +One sleeps daytimes, the other sleeps nights, and they’ve both got +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>Winchesters. I’ve been there private and personal, and looked ’em +over.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want any of my men lurking about that dam,” commanded Wade.</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye cinched his worn belt one notch tighter over his thin haunches +and buttoned his checkered wool jacket. “I ain’t one of your men,” he +growled, with such sudden and sullen change in demeanor that Wade stared +at him in amazement. “I’ve gone into the outlaw business, and I’ve told +you so, and I’ve told Ben Rodliff so.”</p> + +<p>They heard the thudding boom of dynamite once more, and the absolutely +fiendish look that came into Tommy’s face as he turned his gaze towards +Blunder valley enlightened his employer.</p> + +<p>“That sounds good to me!” shrieked the teamster. It was as though one of +the docile Dobbins of the hovel had suddenly perked up ears and tail and +begun to play the part of a beast of prey.</p> + +<p>When Tommy ran back into the spruces Wade shouted after him, insistently +and angrily. But he did not reply, and after a time Wade drove on, +cursing soulfully the whole innate devilishness of the woods. That +another weak nature had run amuck after the fashion to which he had +become accustomed in his woods experience seemed probable; but he had +neither time nor inclination to chase Tommy Eye. As to Blunder Lake dam, +he reflected that the eternal vigilance of the Winchesters guaranteed +Pulaski Britt’s interests in that direction, and, soul-sick of the whole +wicked situation, he was glad that the Winchesters were there. He had +failed. He could at least own that much man-fashion to Rodburd Ide.</p> + +<p>It was a messenger that he met—not the partner himself. And as he had +anticipated, the messenger summoned him to Castonia. The last few miles +of his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>journey took him along the bank of the Umcolcus. The big river +had already thrown off its winter sheathing and was running full and +free. It was waiting for the northern lakes, still ice-bound, to +surrender their waters and sweep the logs down to it.</p> + +<p>Rodburd Ide’s stout soul uttered no complaints when the two had locked +themselves in the little back office of the store. But his mute distress +and bewilderment in the face of calamity sanctioned by the law touched +his young partner more than complaints would have done. The fighting +spirit was gone out of the little man.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t reckon it could go against us that bad, not after what the +lawyer said. He seemed to know his business, Wade. But maybe he was too +honest to fight a crowd like that. It’s a crusher to come after hopes +was up like mine was. I even went to work the minute the ice slid +down-river, and set our sheer-booms above the logan and got the +sortin’-gap ready. I was that sure our logs were comin’ down. But it +ain’t your fault, Wade, and it ain’t mine. It’s just as I told you once +before. It’s what we’re up against!”</p> + +<p>And then, striving for a pretext to end the doleful session, he invited +Wade to walk up the river-bank. He wanted to show him the site for the +new great mills. “They can’t steal that much away from me, my boy,” he +said, trying to be cheerful. “The mills will have to buy out of the +corporation drive this year, seeing that we’re coopered on our contract. +That means so much more good profit for Britt and his crowd. They’ve got +their smell of what’s comin’, too, and that’s probably why they fought +so hard to get the injunction. They’re in for a big make and their own +prices this year. But the more I know about that charter of the Great +Independent the more trouble I can see for the old crowd when the next +legislature gets to tearin’ this thing to pieces. The G. I.’s know what +they’re doin’. They’ll <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span>have their rights. And when the big wagon starts +little fellers like you and me can climb aboard and ride, too. But the +big wagon won’t start till next year,” he added, sadly.</p> + +<p>Out-of-doors they did not talk. The roar of the Hulling Machine +dominated everything, and the spume-clouds swaying above it spat in +their faces. On the platform of Ide’s store the pathetic brotherhood of +the “It-’ll-git-ye Club” sat in silent conclave, stunned into a queer +stupor by the bellow of the Hulling Machine, even as habitual +opium-eaters succumb to the blissful influence of the drug.</p> + +<p>Above the falls an island divided the river. On the channel side the +waters raced turbulently. The island sentinelled the mouth of the logan +that deeply indented the shore on the quiet side of the river. Ide had +installed a system of sheer-booms. They spanned the current diagonally, +and were to be the silent herders that would edge the log-flocks away +from the banks, crowd them to centre at the sorting-gap, and keep them +running free. Below the sorting-gap there were two +sheer-booms—divergent. One ushered the down-river logs back into the +current that dashed towards the Hulling Machine. The other would swing +the logs of the Enchanted drive into the quiet holding-ground of the +logan.</p> + +<p><a name="Illo3" id="Illo3"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 327px;"> +<img src="images/i334.jpg" class="ispace" width="327" height="500" alt="“‘WHAT I SAY ON THIS RIVER GOES!’”" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“‘WHAT I SAY ON THIS RIVER GOES!’”</span> +</div> + +<p>The thought of the heaped logs in Blunder valley, the memory of the +dynamite bellowing its farewell to him over the tree-tops, and now the +spectacle of these empty booms, had the eloquence of despair and the +pathos of failure for Dwight Wade. And as the two of them—he and his +partner—stood there and gazed silently, they were forced to face bitter +accentuation of their stricken fortunes. Pulaski D. Britt, master of the +Umcolcus drive, came on his way north at the head of his men. It was an +army marching with all its impedimenta. There were many huge bateaux +swung <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>upon trucks that had hauled them around the white-water. Men launched +them into the eddy above the Hulling Machine, and began to load them +with tents, cordage, and the wangan stores.</p> + +<p>Rodburd Ide and his young partner stood at one side, and surveyed this +scene of activity without speaking. And Britt marched up to them, +raucous and domineering with the masterfulness of the river tyrant. It +had long been the saying along the Umcolcus that Pulaski Britt got mad a +week before the driving season opened, and stayed mad a week after it +ended.</p> + +<p>“Ide,” he cried, “you and I seem to be always in trouble with each other +lately! But it’s of your own makin’, not mine! These sheer-booms that +you’ve stuck in here obstruct navigation. I want to get my boats up. +You’ve got to cut these booms loose.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Britt,” returned Ide, his tones quivering with passion, “two men in +each bateau crew can shove those booms down with pick-poles and let a +bateau over without wasting a minute’s time. You’ve brought those +bateaux over all your own sheer-booms below here—you’ve got your own +booms above. You’ve been riding over ’em for thirty years. Now be +reasonable.”</p> + +<p>“You run back down there to your store and get onto your job of sellin’ +kerosene and crackers,” advised the Honorable Pulaski, sarcastically. +“Don’t you undertake to tell me my business. As river-master, I say +those logs obstruct navigation, and what I say on this river goes!”</p> + +<p>“You talk, Britt, as though a title that you’ve grabbed onto, the same +as you have everything else along this river, amounted to anything in +law,” objected the magnate of Castonia. “I own the land that those booms +are hitched to, and you’re not goin’ to bluff me by any of your +obstruction-to-navigation talk. You’ve managed to get most things along +this river this spring your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>own way, but I reckon I know when you’ve +gone about far enough. Don’t try to rub it in!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Britt, serene in his autocracy as drive-master, was in no mood to +bandy arguments nor waste time on such as Rodburd Ide.</p> + +<p>He whirled away, lifted a wooden box from one of the wagons, and set it +down gingerly.</p> + +<p>“MacLeod!” he called. The boss came away from the river-bank, where he +was superintending stowing of supplies. “Unpack this dynamite, and blow +damnation out of those booms—the sortin’-gap first!”</p> + +<p>The man twisted his face in a queer grimace.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I’ll do it, Mr. Britt,” he said, curtly.</p> + +<p>He looked away from Britt when the tyrant began to storm at him, and +fixed his eyes on Wade’s face with an expression there was no reading.</p> + +<p>“No, I ain’t no coward, either,” he said, at last, interrupting his +employer’s flow of invective. “But dynamitin’ other folks’ booms with +the folks lookin’ at you ain’t laid down in a river-driver’s job; and I +ain’t got any relish for nailin’ boot-heels all next summer in a jail +workshop.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll take the responsibility of this!” shouted Britt.</p> + +<p>“Then you’d better do the job, sir,” suggested MacLeod, firmly. “Law has +queer quirks, and I don’t propose to get mixed into it.”</p> + +<p>There was no gainsaying the logic of the boss’s position. The Honorable +Pulaski noted that the men had overheard. He noted also that there were +no signs of any volunteers coming from the ranks. And so, with the +impetuosity of his temper, when the eyes of men were upon him, he set +his own hand to the job. With a cant-dog peak he began to pry at the +box-cover.</p> + +<p>And Colin MacLeod, hesitating a moment, walked straight up to Dwight +Wade—to that young man’s discomposure, it must be confessed. Wade set +his muscles <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span>to meet attack. But MacLeod halted opposite him, folded his +arms, and gazed at him with something of appeal in his frank, gray eyes. +There was candor in his look. In their other meetings Wade had only seen +blind hate and unreasoning passion.</p> + +<p>“Maybe you’ve got an idea that I’m a pretty cheap skate, Mr. Wade,” he +blurted. “Maybe I am, but it ain’t been so between me and men unless +there was women mixed in. My head ain’t strong where women is mixed in. +You hold on and let me talk!” he cried, putting up his big hand. “I’ve +got eleven hundred dollars in the bank that I’ve saved, my two hands, +and a reputation of bein’ square between men. That’s all I’ve got, and I +want to keep all three. I had you sized up wrong at the start. I mixed +women in without any right to. I misjudged the cards as they laid. I +used you dirty, and I got what was comin’ to me. Now I’ve found out. I +know how things stand with you all along the line, from there”—he +pointed south towards the outside world that held Elva Barrett—“to +there on Enchanted. And I’m sorry! I’m sorry I ever got mistaken, and +made things harder for a square man. You heard what I just said to Mr. +Britt. I wanted you to hear it. All is, I’d like to shake hands with you +and start fresh. It may have to be man to man between us yet on this +river, but, by ——, for myself I want it man-fashion.”</p> + +<p>He cast a glance behind him. Britt had the box open, and had dug out of +the sawdust some cylinders in brown-paper wrappings. When MacLeod +whirled again to face Wade the latter put out his hand without +reservation in face or gesture. Months before, such amazing repentance +and conversion might have astonished him, but now he understood the real +ingenuousness of the woods. Pulaski Britt, hardened by avarice and +outside associations, was not of the true life of the woods. This +impulsive <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>boy, with his mighty muscles and his tender heart, was of the +woods, and only the woods.</p> + +<p>MacLeod came one step nearer to Rodburd Ide, and pulled off his hat.</p> + +<p>“If it ain’t too much trouble, Mr. Ide, I wish you’d tell Miss Nina that +I’ve done it square and righted it fair. And don’t scowl at me that way, +Mr. Ide! It was a dream—and I’ve woke up! It was a pretty wild +dream—and a man does queer things in his sleep. Your girl ain’t for me +or my kind, and I know it, now that I’ve woke up. I’d like to tell her +so, and explain, but I don’t know how to do it, Mr. Ide. You do it for +me. I ask you man-fashion!”</p> + +<p>He started away from them hastily, strode back to the bateaux, and began +to swear at the men who had stopped work to gaze on the Honorable +Pulaski. The latter had already embarked in a bateau, carrying several +of those ominous sticks wrapped in their brown-paper cases.</p> + +<p>“Britt,” shrieked Ide, “we’ve been to law with you to find out our +rights! Ain’t you willin’ to take your own medicine?”</p> + +<p>“Hell on your law!” blazed the drive-master, contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“Give us time to get an injunction before you destroy our good +property,” demanded the little man, choking with his ire.</p> + +<p>For answer Britt shook one of the dynamite sticks above his head without +even turning to look back. His men crowded the boat over the boom at the +sorting-gap, and Britt lighted the fuse and tossed the explosive upon +the anchored log platform.</p> + +<p>“Oh, if our men were only here instead of at Enchanted!” mourned Ide.</p> + +<p>“They’re just where we ought to have them, Mr. Ide,” the young man +growled.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p><p>Britt was safely away up-river when the dynamite did its work; his men +had rowed like fiends. It was a beautiful job, viewed from the +stand-point of destruction. The downward thrust of the mighty force +splintered the platform into toothpicks and let the booms adrift.</p> + +<p>The partners of Enchanted did not exchange comments. They gazed after +the destroyer. Taking his time, as though to prolong their distress, +Britt dynamited the booms above, and then stood up and jerked his arm as +a signal for his crew to follow. They went splashing up the river, six +oars to a bateau, and disappeared, one boat after the other, bound for +the mouth of Jerusalem Stream. Already the jaws of the Hulling Machine +were gulping down the gobbets of splintered logs.</p> + +<p>“How soon can you replace those booms, Mr. Ide?” Wade edged the words +through his teeth, as a man stricken with lockjaw might have spoken. And +without waiting for reply, he hurried on. “Put ’em in, Mr. Ide, because +you’re going to need ’em. And put along this shore all the men in +Castonia who can handle guns. Winchesters and dynamite, with ‘Hell on +law’ for a battle-cry! That’s what he’s given us. It’s good enough for +me. Will you put those booms in, Mr. Ide?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll put ’em in, and I’ll protect ’em after they’re put in,” declared +the little man, stoutly. The fighting spirit was in him again.</p> + +<p>They looked at each other a moment, and turned and hurried back towards +the settlement. Neither man seemed to feel that words could help that +situation nor emphasize determination.</p> + +<p>Prophet Eli was in front of Ide’s store with his little white stallion +when the two arrived there. The old man surveyed Wade shrewdly when he +hastened to Nina Ide, who was waiting for a word with him.</p> + +<p>“Boy! boy!” whispered the girl, clasping his tanned hand in both of +hers, “I don’t like to see your eyes shine <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>so! They’re hard. But I know +how to soften them. I have a letter for you from the one woman of all +the world. Come with me and get it.”</p> + +<p>“Keep it for me,” he muttered—“keep it until I come for it. I’m not fit +to touch it now. It might make a decent man of me, and—and—I don’t +want to be—not just yet, Miss Nina.” He whirled away, climbed upon his +jumper, and lashed his horse back along the trail towards Enchanted. The +words of that half-jeering ditty of Prophet Eli’s followed him, as they +had on that memorable first day at Castonia, and grotesque as the lilt +was, it seemed to express the young man’s flaming resolution:</p> + +<div class="centerbox4 bbox3"><p>“Oh, the little brown bull came down from the mountains, +<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">Shang, ro-ango, whango-whey!</span><br /> +And as he was feelin’ salutatious,<br /> +Chased old Pratt a mile, by gracious,<br /> +Licked old Shep and two dog Towsers,<br /> +Then marched back home with old Pratt’s trousers.”</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>“’TWAS DONE BY TOMMY THUNDER”</h3> + +<div class="centerbox12 bbox3"><p>“Twenty a month for daring death—or fighting from dawn to dark—<br /> +Twenty and grub and a place to sleep in God’s great public park.<br /> +We roofless go, with the cook’s bateau to follow our hungry crew—<br /> +A billion of spruce and hell turned loose when the Allegash drive goes through.”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—Ballad of the Drive.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcw.jpg" title="W" height="90" width="90" alt="W" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">W</span>ade’s poor beast was staggering when at last he topped the horseback +overlooking Enchanted valley. He himself plodded behind the jumper, +clinging to it, walking to keep awake. He had started in the dusk, he +had been nearly twenty-four hours on the road from Castonia, and it was +growing dusk again. He was too utterly weary to be surprised when Tommy +Eye came hurrying down from a knoll that commanded a long view of the +tote road. The light of a little camp-fire glowed on the knoll, and he +saw that a horse was tethered there.</p> + +<p>“I’m gettin’ to be a worse outlaw than ever, Mr. Wade,” declared the +teamster. “I’ve stole one of your hosses, and grub and hay from the +store camp, and I’m livin’ here in the woods. I’ve been waitin’ for +you,” he added, wistfully. “I might have slept a little last night when +I didn’t know, but I reckon I didn’t. I figgered you’d come. I’ve been +waitin’ for you. They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>can’t say I’m one of your men, Mr. Wade. I’m +livin’ here in the woods.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Eye,” blurted his employer, roughly, “I haven’t any time nor +taste for fool talk just now. You take the horse back to camp and get on +your job.” He started on.</p> + +<p>“You don’t sound as though you’d got what you went after,” cried Tommy, +unabashed. He came trotting behind. “You didn’t get satisfaction, then, +Mr. Wade! Injunction still there, hey? You didn’t get—”</p> + +<p>“What did you suppose I’d get from Pulaski Britt, you infernal fool?” +His own brutality towards the faithful servitor made him ashamed. But +the spirit of evil that had taken possession of him was speaking through +lips that he surrendered in weariness of body and bitterness of soul. +And when a shade of repentance smote him at sight of Tommy trotting +sorrowfully at his side, he gasped out of his woe. “He has dynamited our +booms, Tommy. Did it with his own hands. And now”—he threw up his arms +towards Blunder Lake—“wait till to-morrow!”</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye stopped without a word and let Wade go on.</p> + +<p>“Wait till to-morrow?” he mumbled, as he scrambled back up the knoll. +“Wait till to-morrow, when I’ve got a two-hoss load of canned thunder +planted under Blunder dam, and the devil helpin’ me by puttin’ them two +to sleep ev’ry night, snorin’ like quill-pigs?” He waited until Wade had +stumbled out of sight, then cinched upon his horse the blankets that had +served for couch during his vigil, mounted, and urged the animal through +the woods, kicking heels into its flanks.</p> + +<p>There were men of the crew who heard an unwonted sound in the midnight +hush of the Enchanted camp. It was a dull, heavy, earth-thudding noise +that swept down from the north over the tree-tops and travelled on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>through the forest. Men awoke and asked themselves what had awakened +them, and went to sleep again, and knew not what it meant.</p> + +<p>Wade did not hear the sound. Exhaustion had fettered his senses when he +crawled into his bunk in the office camp. What he did hear, as he roused +himself in the gray of early dawn to set his hand to the desperate task +he was resolved upon, was the splattering rush of a horse’s feet in the +spring ooze of the tote road and a human voice that shrieked, +hysterically: “Man the river, damn ye! Man the river!”</p> + +<p>It was Tommy Eye. He was crouched on the back of his horse when the men +came tumbling out. His little eyes were like fire-points. The wattles of +his neck were blood-gorged. He spat froth as he raved at them.</p> + +<p>“Man the river, I tell ye! She’s b’ilin’ full from bank to bank. Ben +Rodliff’s injunction busted to blazes and the Enchanted drive started +slam-whoopin’, and it’s me that’s done it!”</p> + +<p>“You hellion, have you blowed Blunder dam?” shouted the chopping-boss, +while Dwight Wade was still gasping for words.</p> + +<p>“Blowed Blunder dam!” shrieked Tommy, “Why, I’ve blowed Blunder dam so +high that Ben Rodliff’s injunction can’t get to it in a balloon. I’ve +blowed a gouge ten feet deep in the bed-rock. I’ve let the innards out +of Blunder Lake. She’s runnin’ valley-full, ice-cakes dancin’ jigs on +the black water! And when they ask who done it, tell ’em it was +me—Tommy Eye, the outlaw! Tommy Eye, with a two-hoss load of canned +thunder!” He tried to shake his fists above his head, but groaned, and +one arm dropped as though it were helpless. Blood was caked on his hand +and wrist. He did not wait for Wade to ask the question.</p> + +<p>“It’s the pay I got for wakin’ ’em up in time to run, Mr. Wade. I give +’em a chance. They give me a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>thirty-thirty! They’d have give me more if +they could have shot straighter. I’m an outlaw, but there ain’t no blood +on my head, Mr. Wade.”</p> + +<p>He slid off the horse and staggered towards the cook camp.</p> + +<p>“Gimme mine in my hand, cook!” he called. “I’ll eat it while I’m +runnin’. For it’s man the river, boys!”</p> + +<p>And the rest of them ate running, too. Wade led them, determined that no +one should head him in the race. He heard the husky breathing of the +hundred runners at his back when he swept around the granite dome of +Enchanted and came in view of the valley. They stopped, panting, and +surveyed the scene for a moment. They saw the tumbling waters, yeasty +and brown. They heard the groan and grunt of dissolving log-piles as the +fierce tide tore at them and bore away the logs. And each man took a new +grip on his cant-dog handle and loped on.</p> + +<p>It was plain that Tommy Eye had spoken the truth. That flood was not the +mere outrush through shattered dam-gates. Blunder Lake was emptying +itself through a rent deeper than nature had set in its side. In a +stream-bed of intervales and broad levels the Enchanted drive would have +been scattered to its own disaster. But Blunder valley was slashed deep +between the hills. The turbid flood that raced there was penned. The +log-herds could only butt the granite cliffs and surge on. There was but +one outlet—the mad current of Blunder Stream pouring down to its +junction with the Umcolcus.</p> + +<p>They “manned the river,” scattering along, one man posted at a curve in +sight of another. A hat waved meant that a jam was forming and called +for help. And when timber jack-strawed too wildly to be readily loosened +by cant-dog and pick-pole they dynamited. There was no time for +“knittin’-work” on that drive.</p> + +<p>Tommy Eye, with meal-sack slung over his shoulder, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span>made himself +custodian of the “canned thunder.” It was Larry Gorman, woodsman poet, +who first called him “Tommy Thunder.” If you go into the north country +you can probably find some one to sing you the song that Larry Gorman +composed, the first verse running:</p> + +<div class="centerbox12 bbox3"><p>“Come, listen, good white-water chaps. Who was that man, I wonder,<br /> +Who turned himself to an outlaw bold and put the bang-juice under?<br /> +Who was it cracked the neck of her, ’way up at old Lake Blunder,<br /> +When hell broke loose and sluiced our spruce?<br /> +’Twere done by Tommy Thunder!”</p></div> + +<p>His was the recklessness of mania. Men who saw him coming along the +shore with his horrid burden dodged into the woods. Where and when he +slept no one knew. Daytime and night-time he was racing to where logs +had cob-piled. Roars that boomed among the hills told that he had +arrived. In the first gray of morning men saw him warming his dynamite +over a camp-fire, and shuddered and hurried away. To find the king log +of a jam and drop his cartridge where it would have instant effect, he +took chances that made men turn their backs. It isn’t pleasant to see a +man macerated by grinding logs or scattered across the sky.</p> + +<p>No word passed between Tommy Eye and Dwight Wade. Those days and nights +when the Enchanted drive was on its roaring way down Blunder Stream +towards the Umcolcus River were not the sort of days that invited +conversation. On the ordinary stream-drives to the main river, in the +desperate hurry of the driving-pitch, men work as many hours as they can +stand up. With the drive under control, they can at least stop sluicing +in the dead hours of the night. But the Enchanted <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>drive that spring was +a wild beast that never closed its eyes. As it raged along they did not +dare to leave it alone for an hour. Men raced beside it, clutched at it, +clung as long as they were able, and dropped off, stunned by the stupor +of exhaustion.</p> + +<p>After a few hours some one’s prodding foot stirred them back to +wakefulness, and they stumbled up and began the fight once more. Outside +of a charge in battle, there is no place where individual rivalry is so +keen and eager as in a driving-crew on hard waters. Men do not require +to be urged to do their utmost. “Coward” and “shirk” are sneers that cut +deeply down-river.</p> + +<p>Wade, rushing from point to point, cant-dog in hand, his shoes mere +pulp, his clothes in tatters, saw men asleep with their faces in the tin +plates that the cookee had heaped with food. They had gone to sleep with +the first mouthful, hungry as demons, but overcome the moment their feet +stopped moving.</p> + +<p>Some he found asleep where they were posted to “card”<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> certain ledges. +He beat them about the head with the flat of his hand, and they awoke +and thanked him with wistful smiles that touched his heart. But brutal +force had started the Enchanted drive, brutal force marked its rush, and +it had to be brutal force that could keep it going. Brutal force took +toll in the logs that were splintered by dynamite, but it was a toll +that circumstances demanded. A man unwilling to take the chances that +Tommy Eye took would have wasted thousands of feet instead of hundreds, +and Wade knew it, and gulped words of gratitude when they met, hurrying +on the shore.</p> + +<p>Half-way to the Umcolcus, Lazy Tom Stream enters Blunder, and here Wade +found Barnum Withee rushing in his logs and eager to accept an +invitation to join drives. Withee was asking no questions. He did not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>need to. He understood. What had been done upstream was none of his +business. He could declare that much when he got his drive down, and +could defend himself from complicity. In the mean time he would take +advantage of the situation.</p> + +<p>There were now one hundred and sixty herders of the wild flock, with +Barnum Withee, one of the best men on the river, to take command of the +rear.</p> + +<p>So Wade went to the front—to Castonia, sweeping down the swollen +Umcolcus in one of Withee’s bateaux with four men at the oars. He had +played violence against violence in the big game. It was natural to +suppose that Pulaski Britt by this time had his fists clinched ready to +retaliate.</p> + +<p>On either side of his bateau as he hurried to Castonia the logs ran +free. But they were all his own logs, this advance-guard, marked with +the double diamond and cross.</p> + +<p>Had Rodburd Ide done his part, and were they being held at Castonia?</p> + +<p>He found the booms set again, Rodburd Ide in command at the sorting-gap, +and various members of the “It-’ll-git-ye Club” sitting along the shore +with guns across their knees. Every able-bodied man in Castonia was on +the booms with a pick-pole, and already the double-diamond logs were +swirling and herding in the logan.</p> + +<p>“It’s done, and they’ll have us into court, but, by ——, we’ll have +some ready money to fight ’em with!” screamed the little man, grasping +Wade’s hand as the bateau swung broadside to the sorting-gap platform. +And when he had heard the story of “Tommy Thunder, outlaw,” that his +partner hurriedly related, his mouth parted in a grin, even though his +forehead puckered with apprehension.</p> + +<p>“But will it let us out, Wade?” he asked. “The man took it on himself +out of his grudge against Britt. But will it let us out?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span></p><p>“It’s your money that is in this thing, and not mine,” returned the +young man, “and I suppose it’s natural for you to think of your property +first. But as for me, Mr. Ide, I’ll take what profits are coming to me +from this operation, and I’ll stand in with poor old Tommy Eye, jointly +indicted, jointly in the dock, jointly in jail, till the last dollar is +spent. For he did just what I meant to do!”</p> + +<p>For an instant Ide’s eyes flickered. Then they became shiny.</p> + +<p>“My boy,” he said, “the Enchanted Township Lumber Company is +incorporated, and you and I own the stock. With your consent, I’m goin’ +to make over ten shares of that stock to Thomas Eye before I sleep +to-night. I reckon this company stands ready to fight its battles and +protect its members.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Ide,” gulped Wade, contritely, “forgive me for that hasty speech. +But God help me, partner, I’ve been in hell since I saw you last, and +I’m full of the fires of it! I think you can understand.”</p> + +<p>He crouched there in the bateau, clutching the gunwale with hands that +trembled until they shook his body to and fro. His face was streaked +with the grime of days and nights of toil. His eyes were haggard with +sleeplessness. Fasting had hollowed his cheeks. Such lines as only the +bitter things of life can set in the human countenance were traced deep +upon the brown skin. In his rags and his weariness he was as one who had +been conquered instead of one who had fulfilled. The little man of +Castonia reached down and patted his shoulder with a hand that had a +father’s sympathy in its touch.</p> + +<p>“Bub,” he murmured, “I’m goin’ to take some other time to tell you what +I think of you. Just now I want you to go down to the house. My Nina +will know what to do for you and what to say to you. She has some +letters for you to read before you go to sleep, and I reckon they’ll +give you pleasant dreams.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p><p>Kate Arden opened the door and welcomed him with a smile, the first he +had ever seen on her face. His heart came into his mouth at sight of +her. Never had she seemed so like Elva Barrett. But before he had word +with her Nina Ide came running, floury hands outspread, her face alight +above her housewife’s tire. She stood on tiptoe, put her arms around his +neck, and kissed him.</p> + +<p>“Brother Dwight! Brother Dwight!” she half sobbed. “Oh, Brother Dwight, +I didn’t know—I didn’t realize—I didn’t understand, or I would have +held you back until you had torn these two arms from my shoulders. I +prayed for you and watched for you. They buy their logs with blood up +there. But it shall not be with your blood, Dwight. I have hated father +all these days. He knew what you were going back to, and didn’t stop +you!”</p> + +<p>“It was all my own affair, little girl,” Wade returned, gently—“my +duty, to which I was bound by fair man-promise. And I’ve got our logs +into the river, but it has been the kind of work that blisters souls, +Sister Nina!” His voice had a pathetic quaver of weariness.</p> + +<p>“I was at the sorting-gap when the first one came, and I knelt and +kissed it,” she said, smiling at him from misty eyes. “And then I wrote +to the one of all the world and told her about a hero.”</p> + +<p>An hour later he lay asleep in a darkened room, the tense lines gone +from his face, his lax hand spread over a letter, finding the sweetest +solace in slumber he had known for many a day.</p> + +<p>At the first peep of light next morning he was at the sorting-gap in +full command, removing a burden of responsibility from Rodburd Ide which +had made that little man a quaking wreck of his ordinarily self-reliant +self; for in every log that had come spinning around the upper bend of +the Umcolcus his fears had seen the peak of Pulaski Britt’s rushing +bateau.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p><p>That the river tyrant would come, furious beyond words, was a fact +accepted by Dwight Wade, and Wade was ready to meet him. But every hour +that passed without bringing the drive-master meant so much more towards +the success of the Enchanted drive.</p> + +<p>The logs came in stampeding droves. Withee’s were mixed among the +“double diamonds,” but there were no delays at the sorting-gap. Two +crews fed them through—one for day and one for night, with a dozen +lanterns lighting their work. Wade was resolved that Britt should lack +at least one argument in the bitter contention. The sorting should be +done faithfully and promptly, and the down-river drive should be hurried +on its way. But at the end of four days not one of the logs nicked with +the “double hat,” Britt’s registered mark, had shown up. Nor did Britt +himself appear.</p> + +<p>A sullen, suffering man of Britt’s crew, who came walking into Castonia +with hand held above his head to ease the agony of a felon, brought the +first news.</p> + +<p>Blunder Lake dam had been blown up, he reported, and such a chasm had +been opened in the bed-rock that the lake had vomited its waters to the +west until the bed of Britt’s shallow canal to the east was above the +water-line. Britt had only his splash dams along Jerusalem for a +driving-head. In the past years the pour of the canal had given him a +current in Jerusalem dead-water. Now he was trying to warp his logs +across there with head-works and anchor. But the south wind was howling +against him, and no human muscle could turn the windlass, even when the +oaths of the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt dinned in the ears of his +toilers. All this the new-comer related.</p> + +<p>“And it’s something awful to hear!” said the man. “He walks the platform +of that head-works, back and forth and back and forth. He cusses God and +the angels, the wind and all it blows across. And then <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>when he is well +worked up to cussin’, he ’tends to the case of the devil that blowed up +Blunder Lake dam. And his face is as red as my shirt, and the veins +stick out on his for’ead as big as a baby’s finger. They say that you +can’t cuss only about so much without somethin’ happenin’ to you. I’ve +read about the cap’n of a ship that done it too much once, and his ghost +is still a-sailin’. All I’ve got to say is that if Pulaski Britt don’t +stop, he’ll get his.”</p> + +<p>The “It-’ll-git-ye Club” had listened to this recital intently. It +agreed forebodingly. In fact, in special session the club passed a vote +of dismal prophecy for the whole Jerusalem operation.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>THE PARADE PAST RODBURD IDE’S PLATFORM</h3> + +<div class="centerbox6 bbox3"><p>“’Twas a hundred wet miles to the handiest rail,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his home it was fifty more;</span><br /> +And behind on our bateau’s bubblin’ trail<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Raced Death with his muffled oar.”</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—Ballad of the Drive.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dct.jpg" title="T" height="90" width="90" alt="T" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">T</span>wo days later the “It-’ll-git-ye’s,” as sombre prophets, were +distinctly cheered by the sight of Boss Colin MacLeod borne past Rodburd +Ide’s store on a litter. They were hurrying him to the hospital +down-river, and he had his teeth set into his lip to keep back the +groans.</p> + +<p>“No, sir! No fifty more miles of that for you, my boy,” declared Ide, +when he was told that MacLeod’s arm and leg were broken. “Into my house +you go, and the doctor comes here.” And MacLeod was put to bed in the +spare room, weeping quietly.</p> + +<p>“It was the head-works warp done it, Mr. Wade,” he moaned, turning +hollow eyes upon his sympathizer. “Broke and snapped back. I told him +man’s strength couldn’t warp them logs across against that wind, but he +was bound to make us do it. He said I was a coward, Mr. Wade. But I took +the place at the guide-block to show I wasn’t. And then he cursed me for +gettin’ hurt!”</p> + +<p>When Wade left the room he found Kate Arden waiting outside. During the +days he had been at Castonia the girl had appeared to avoid him. She had +paled when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>he spoke to her, replied curtly, and hurried away as though +she feared he was about to broach some topic that would distress her. +Yet it was not towards him merely that she had displayed that +apprehensive reserve. Not even to Nina Ide did she open her heart, and +Nina told Wade of this with wonderment and grief. She had been docile, +even to the subterfuge of sitting silent by John Barrett’s bedside when +Elva Barrett had resigned her trust to seek Dwight Wade in the +wilderness. She had made no comment, asked no questions. She had showed +dumb gratitude, and eagerly sought such household tasks as could be +intrusted to her untrained hands. But wistful shrinking, the air of a +wild thing confined but not tamed, was with her ever.</p> + +<p>Now, when she faced Wade outside the door, her eyes shone like stars, +her cheeks flamed, and the old fearlessness and determination were in +her features.</p> + +<p>“I shall take care of him,” she said. “I shall nurse him, and no one but +me! I shall know how, Mr. Wade. He’ll need me now. You go and tell them +all that I shall nurse him. No one else shall do it.”</p> + +<p>It was the woods mate claiming her own. It was more than love as +convention has classed it. It was the fire, lighted by the primordial +torch of passion, which burns and does not reason, not to be smothered +by rebuff or abuse; its pride not the calculating pride of a resentment +that can divorce it from its object, but the pride of blind, utter +loyalty through all.</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade had gone near enough to the heart of things to understand +this love.</p> + +<p>He looked at her a little while, sympathy lighting his eyes and +vibrating in his voice as he answered her:</p> + +<p>“You shall have him, poor little girl, because he needs you.”</p> + +<p>He opened the door for her, closed it behind her, and left them alone +together.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p><p>Two days later the “It-’ll-git-ye Club” realized the full climax of +ominous prophecy and was correspondingly content. The Honorable Pulaski +D. Britt was brought out from Jerusalem dead-water and taken down-river, +a helpless hulk of a man grunting stertorous breaths, the right hand, +which had waved command all those years along Umcolcus, now hanging +helpless at his side, his right leg dangling uselessly as they lifted +him along to a wagon.</p> + +<p>It was the fate that the choleric tyrant had invited. That last and +mightiest rage of his life, when with swollen veins and purple face he +had stamped about the head-works platform, had done for Pulaski Britt +and his weakened blood-vessels what those who knew him well had +predicted. Wade was not surprised, for the suppression of Britt by this +means and at this frantic climax in Britt’s affairs was too entirely +logical. It came to him suddenly that he felt a sense of relief, and +then he wondered with shame whether he had hoped for it. Then he +dismissed the speculation as unprofitable and not agreeable. The tyrant +was in chains of his own forging. His logs came limping along in +scattered squads, and were sent through the sorting-gap and down-river.</p> + +<p>The new master of the corporation drive was not cordial when he +appeared, hurrying towards headwaters. But he was not hostile, either. +He surlily demanded expedition at the Castonia sorting-gap, and went on +up-river.</p> + +<p>There are some combatants who, seeing a crisis approaching, feel that it +is their best policy to sit down and wait until the crisis comes to +them. This implies the calculation that perhaps the crisis may go around +the other way, but it is not the policy for the intrepid. In his present +mood Dwight Wade decided to go to meet the crisis, with head erect and +shoulders back.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span></p><p>He addressed the president of the Umcolcus Lumbering and Log-driving +Association, requesting a conference with him and the directors of the +body. If the letter thinly screened a demand for that conference it was +the fault of Dwight Wade’s resolute determination to face the issue.</p> + +<p>The letter remained long unanswered. Its receipt was not even +acknowledged. The delay seemed to be contemptuous slighting of a +possible overture of amicable settlement. Rodburd Ide sadly reasoned to +this conviction, and daily gazed towards the south in search of the +sheriff bringing writs of attachment with as much trepidation as he had +gazed north in the black days when he expected Pulaski Britt.</p> + +<p>Dwight Wade was hardly more sanguine. And yet he was heartened by +letters from his lawyer, who was up and at the foe once more. The lawyer +intimated that an earnest conference was going on among the big fellows +of the timber interests. In the past, prior to sittings of the +legislature, they had heard the ominous stampings of the farmer’s +cowhide boots and the mutterings about unrighteous privileges, filched +State timber lands, and unequal taxation. In the secret sessions of +those directors the stand-pat roarings of their woods executive had +drowned all pacific suggestions of compromise. But now the Honorable +Pulaski D. Britt lay at home, unable to lift the ponderous hand which +had pounded emphasis.</p> + +<p>In the end Wade decided that the big fellows were waiting to settle what +they were to say before they summoned him to conference. That he was +correct was proven by the letter that came at last. It was a courteous +letter; it appointed a time of meeting, and named as the place John +Barrett’s office in “Castle Cut ’Em.”</p> + +<p>On the evening before Wade left Castonia, Colin MacLeod <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span>summoned him, a +cheerful convalescent who looked out daily into the new flush of June, +and restlessly moved his stiffened limbs in his chair, and counted the +days between himself and the free life out-of-doors.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Ide was tellin’ me why you are goin’ and where you are goin’,” said +MacLeod, with simple earnestness. Kate Arden was sitting with her head +on his knee, and he was smoothing her hair gently. “I wanted the little +girl to stay here while I talked this to you. I told you about my dream +once, man-fashion. I’ve told her about it. I ain’t excusin’ or screenin’ +myself. I didn’t know, that’s all. I never tried to fool this little +girl, Mr. Wade. They lied who said I did. I pitied her, Mr. Wade. But +it’s a hard place to start in lovin’ a girl where I saw her first—and +I’d seen some one else before I saw her. But I know now, sir. I’ve told +her so all these days that she’s been with me, so true and tender. I +reckon I never was in love before. I wouldn’t have acted that way with +you, sir, if I really was in love and trusted. But there ain’t no +mistake this time, Mr. Wade!” He gulped, a sob in his throat and a smile +in his eyes. “I’m her man for ever and ever. She knows it and she’s +glad. And I know she’s all mine, and I’m the happiest man in the whole +north country.”</p> + +<p>He broke in upon Wade’s eager burst of congratulation.</p> + +<p>“There’s just one more word I wanted to say—sort of in the way of +business, Mr. Wade.” There was a peculiar expression upon his face. +“Maybe when you’re outside some one—<i>some one</i> may drop a word or +inquire about her business—you know—something about her.” His look of +strange significance became deeper, and Wade understood. “All is, you +might say that she and Colin MacLeod are goin’ to get married, and Colin +MacLeod ain’t askin’ anybody for her—only herself and God. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span>God ain’t +denyin’ His Fathership to a girl as good as she is. Colin MacLeod ain’t +askin’ anything else—ain’t allowin’ anything else. Say that to ’em. +He’s got his own two hands and eleven hundred dollars saved, and the big +woods for her and for him. She and I wouldn’t be happy outside the big +woods, Mr. Wade. Say it all to ’em, sir, if any one drops a word to +you—and they probably will, because you’ve had words with them. You’ll +know how to say it. But make it plain that it will be dangerous business +for any man to reach out his hand to her or to me with anything in +it—and tell ’em it’s Colin MacLeod says that,” he added, bitterly.</p> + +<p>“The only things you need, Colin,” cried Wade, advancing towards him, +“are good-will and friendship, and both are in the hand I give you.”</p> + +<p>At the door he turned.</p> + +<p>“Will you wait until I come back, Colin?” he asked. “I would like to +stand up with you when you are married—Nina Ide and I.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll wait, Mr. Wade,” returned the other, tears of gratitude springing +to his eyes. “And may luck go with you in this business.”</p> + +<p>That fervent wish, put again into words, followed him next morning when +he departed from Castonia. This time it was Tommy Eye who said it—Tommy +Eye, fresh down with the rear of the drive, and a very timorous and +apprehensive figure of an outlaw. But he seemed to be a little +disappointed after Wade had assured him that the matter of Blunder Lake +dam would be assumed by the Enchanted Company, and that Tommy himself +had nothing to fear.</p> + +<p>“I reckon you can do it, Mr. Wade. You can do most anything you set out +to,” sighed Tommy. “Howsomever, I kind of figgered on that outlaw +business to keep me away from down-river. The city ain’t good <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>for the +likes of me. They begin to rattle the keys of the calaboose the minute I +get off’n the train.”</p> + +<p>“Tommy,” commanded Wade, severely, “don’t you go down-river this season. +You stay here and attend to the work we’ve got marked out for you.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just as good a wheel-trig as the outlaw proposition would be,” +declared Tommy, his face clearing. “Orders from you settles things, Mr. +Wade. Here I stay.”</p> + +<p>On the morning of his departure Rodburd Ide’s daughter walked with Wade +to the store, where the stage started. In the days of their late +intimacy the girl had grown into his heart. The sincerity of a sister, +self-reliance and womanly sympathy had characterized her attitude +towards him from the first; and she had welcomed a friendship which +lifted her to a comrade’s level. She was as yet an altruist in matters +of the heart; she frankly and openly interested herself only in the +loves of others.</p> + +<p>Wade knew all the unspoken words that her sympathy dictated when, +standing out before them all, she clasped his hand before he clambered +over the wheel of the old stage.</p> + +<p>He saw no very clear horizon for his own love, but his comrade’s smile +heartened him, and the flutter of her handkerchief carried its message +of good courage when the stage pitched down the slope that hid Castonia +settlement.</p> + +<p>The road to “Castle Cut ’Em” lay before him. At that moment the +Honorable John Barrett loomed so largely as a foe that Dwight Wade’s +thoughts were of his fight. Of his love he hardly dared to think at all.</p> + +<p>The “It-’ll-git-ye Club” watched the departure of the stage that day +with more than usual interest, also with somewhat deeper gloom.</p> + +<p>The knowledge that Dwight Wade and his partner <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>had assumed all blame +for the destruction of Blunder Lake dam was current in all the north +country.</p> + +<p>King Spruce’s delay in visiting punishment only made the situation +graver in the estimation of the prophets of evil. King Spruce had many +weapons, and in the past had promptly seized the one nearest at hand and +dealt a crushing blow when provocation was given. The fact that the new +drive-master had passed on without even as much as a threat of +retribution was taken as an ominous presage. It was agreed that when +King Spruce remained grimly silent so long, in order to revolve a +project of retaliation, he must be whittling an especially mighty +bludgeon.</p> + +<p>The members of the “It-’ll-git-ye Club” very frankly expressed thoughts +of this tenor to the half-dozen men who arrived at Castonia in the early +morning to take the stage down-river with Wade. The men gloomily agreed. +Two of them showed signs of funk at the last moment, and had to be +coaxed on board the stage by the young man.</p> + +<p>These were the sort of men that Wade had seen a year before in the +general rooms of “Castle Cut ’Em.” They were independent operators and +stumpage-buyers, who had responded to the messengers and letters that +Wade had been sending out.</p> + +<p>There were more of them who joined the party at the railroad; others +came into the train as it stopped here and there on the way to the +junction. All of them seemed impressed by that sense of gloom and +apprehension; there was not a sanguine face.</p> + +<p>But in their unanimity of dolorousness they displayed a further +interesting characteristic. They seemed entirely ready to accept this +young man as their leader and their champion; in fact, as he went among +them, they confessed that they had come along only because he had +assured them that he would bear the brunt of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>the approaching conflict. +The experience of years had shown them that they had no one man or +combination of men among themselves who could go up against King Spruce. +They even distrusted each other’s honesty, for every man realized all +the iniquity of the game of graft and grab that had characterized their +dealings with each other and with the main power in the past.</p> + +<p>That they should let this new-comer lead them was because he had already +proved his mettle and his fearlessness, and the whole north country knew +it. He had beaten Pulaski Britt at his own game, he had defied King +Spruce, and now he was willing to beard the tyrant in his own castle, +and only asked their presence at his back in order that the sight of +them might prove his assertions and aid to win some grace for all of +them.</p> + +<p>Therefore, they had answered his appeal and had gone with him. But they +went without alacrity, and were encouraged only by the despondent belief +that at least matters could not be made any worse.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>THE PACT WITH KING SPRUCE</h3> + +<div class="centerbox12 bbox3"><p>“We ’lowed he was caught, and we never thought we’d see Mike any more;<br /> +But he took and he kicked a bubble up, and he rode all safe to shore.”</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">—The “Best White-water Man.”</span></p></div> + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/dcs.jpg" title="S" height="90" width="90" alt="S" /></div> +<p><span class="cap">S</span>o it came about that once more, after a year had passed, Dwight Wade +walked up the hill towards “Castle Cut ’Em,” where the sunlight +shimmered upon grim walls. The mills along the canal screamed at him as +he passed. His fancy detected derision in the squall of the saws.</p> + +<p>A score of men plodded along with him—broad-backed, silent men who, now +that they were under the frown of King Spruce’s citadel, muttered their +forebodings to one another. Resentment and desperation had left their +hearts open to the young man’s appeal when he urged a union against the +tyrant. But now their reluctance hinted that their determination was +built on some very shifty sands. He remembered the man who had declaimed +a year before so stoutly, and had been turned aside from his purpose by +a few words whispered in a corner.</p> + +<p>And so it was without high hopes that Wade led the way into the broad +stairway to the castle. He wished that the men would pound down their +feet on those stairs so that King Spruce would know that they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span>were +coming as bold and honest men should come. But his little army tiptoed +up, their heavy boots creaking as do the boots of decorous mourners at a +funeral.</p> + +<p>When he opened the door of the big general room his face did not show +that he was disheartened. He had determined not to come to John Barrett +as a mere petitioner. He was no longer allowing hope to soften the +bitter business of demanding.</p> + +<p>He saw the situation more plainly now than he saw it when he had bidden +farewell to Elva Barrett in Pogey Notch. There could be no hope of truce +between himself and John Barrett. By winning the love of John Barrett’s +daughter, by possessing himself of the secret of John Barrett’s shame, +he realized that he had committed offences that the pride of Barrett +could not pardon. He had followed this by striking the first blow +against the autocracy of King Spruce in the north country, and he was +now appearing before King Spruce’s high chamberlain as the leader of the +rebels whom his deed had spurred to rebellion.</p> + +<p>In spite of his great love for Elva Barrett, he felt a sense of +exaltation because he had the power to put that love behind him in his +dealings with the man he had resolved to fight. It was a relief to +convince himself now that Barrett was his implacable foe. Any other +belief would have made him less courageous.</p> + +<p>And when John Barrett, at sound of the tramp of many feet in the outer +room, opened the door of his private office and stood framed there, +Dwight Wade welcomed the spectacle of his antagonist. Barrett’s face was +saturnine when he surveyed the group.</p> + +<p>“I do not understand this, Mr. Wade,” he said. “You and I arranged a +conference. But there was no arrangement for a general hearing.”</p> + +<p>“The question of conditions on the Umcolcus is a question that takes in +all of us who operate there, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span>Mr. Barrett,” said Wade. “I’m present to +answer to matters that can be charged to my individual responsibility, +but the interests of all of us have a bearing on that responsibility, +and we are here to have a fair understanding.”</p> + +<p>Barrett stepped back, and motioned the young man to enter the private +office.</p> + +<p>“If you have come to speak for these men,” he said, “you may step in +here, and we will see if we can arrange to have the directors meet them +later.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Wade,” he remarked, when they were alone, “so you have become +a magnate in the north country in strictly record time!”</p> + +<p>“Sarcasm won’t help us any in settling this matter!” cried the young +man, warmly. “I can understand very well, Mr. Barrett, how you from your +position look down on me in mine. But I have at least become some sort +of a business man, and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">I—”</span></p> + +<p>“You have become an almighty good business man,” declared the land +baron, with such a ring of sincerity in his voice that the young man +stared at him in sudden astonishment, “and in a little while we will +talk business.”</p> + +<p>“That is all I’m here to talk,” said Wade, the red coming into his +cheeks.</p> + +<p>When he had left the group of the lumbermen he noticed that some of them +bent lowering looks upon him. They had seen other men invited apart and +bought from their purpose. Wade wondered if the Honorable John Davis +Barrett was not about to trade amnesty on the Blunder dam charge for +betrayal of the men who had come at his back to “Castle Cut ’Em.”</p> + +<p>Then a sense of shame at such suspicion came to him, as John Barrett +began to speak:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wade,” said he, “you are more of a chap in every way than you were +the last time you were in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>this office, but—you are still young.” From +that moment the older man had the advantage. And yet Barrett was not +calm. He sat down at his desk, and tossed his papers as he talked. His +gaze wavered. His jowls hung heavy and flabby. The marks of his +prostrating illness had not left him. But in the gloom of his face there +was depression that did not arise from physical causes. Barrett’s bitter +experience had drawn its black cloud around him. He pulled out the shelf +of his desk, set his elbows upon it as though to steady his nerves, and +faced Wade.</p> + +<p>“Young man,” he began, “the way the world looks at those things—from +the stand-point of some one who hasn’t been through the fire—I can +afford to look down on you from my height as a moneyed man, and as +something more in this State. An outsider might think so. But, by ——, +you are the one that can look down on me, for you are square and clean!”</p> + +<p>He would not allow Wade to interrupt.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t called you in here to buy or bulldoze you. There is a matter +between us that hasn’t been settled. I made you a promise on Jerusalem +Mountain that I didn’t keep. I had excuses that seemed good to me then. +They don’t look that way now. They didn’t look good to me when I got off +my sick-bed at Castonia. Did Rodburd Ide tell you anything about my talk +with the girl?”</p> + +<p>“He told me, Mr. Barrett.”</p> + +<p>The magnate plunged on desperately.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think you’re dull, Mr. Wade, but you can’t understand what it +meant to me when my child turned on me, spat in my face, and left me. It +wasn’t merely the bitterness of that one moment—the blistering memory +of it goes to sleep with me and wakes up with me. It’s with me in every +look my daughter Elva gives me, though the poor child tries to hide from +me that her old <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span>faith and trust have left her. I’m not going to whine, +young man, but I’m in hell—in hell!”</p> + +<p>His voice broke weakly. Then there was silence in the room. Wade heard +only the yell of the distant saws and the shuffle of the woodsmen’s feet +as they paced the big reception-hall of King Spruce.</p> + +<p>Between the two men there was too much understanding for empty words of +sympathy.</p> + +<p>“Lane is dead,” blurted the millionaire, at last. “What will become of +the girl?”</p> + +<p>“MacLeod is to marry her. She nursed him through his sickness at +Castonia; they love each other very sincerely, Mr. Barrett, and you need +have no trouble about her future. Neither of them will ever trouble you; +in fact, MacLeod asked me to say as much for him.”</p> + +<p>Barrett was silent a long time, his gaze on the floor. He looked up at +last, and his eyes shone as though a comforting thought had come to him.</p> + +<p>“There’s one thing I can do. I’ve got money enough to make them +independent for life. Be my agent in that, Mr. Wade, and—”</p> + +<p>“I have another message from MacLeod. I have grown to know the man +pretty well, and you’d best take my advice. He says it will be dangerous +business for any man to put out a hand to him with anything in it.”</p> + +<p>“You mean they won’t take a fortune when I am ready to hand it to them?”</p> + +<p>“I mean it, Mr. Barrett. There are strange notions among some of the +folks of the big woods. Your money is of no use. I advise you frankly +not to offer it. At any rate, I’ll not insult MacLeod by being your +messenger.”</p> + +<p>The timber magnate whirled his chair and gazed away from Wade, looking +into the depths of his big steel vault.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span></p><p>At the end of a few minutes Wade spoke to him, but he did not reply. +When the young man accosted him again, after a decent pause, Barrett +spoke over his shoulder without turning his face.</p> + +<p>“The directors and myself will meet your party in the board-room across +the hall in half an hour, Mr. Wade.”</p> + +<p>It was not the voice of John Barrett. It was the thin, quavering tone of +a man who was mourning, and wished to be left alone.</p> + +<p>Wade went quietly away.</p> + +<p>He was John Barrett once more when Wade saw him half an hour later at +the head of the big table in the directors’ room. All the board was +there except Britt.</p> + +<p>The lumbermen whom Wade headed stood in solid phalanx at the foot of the +room. There were no chairs for them. But they accepted this fact +patiently.</p> + +<p>Wade, a little in advance of his associates, looked into the face of the +Honorable John Barrett, now impassive once more. But there was a strange +gleam in the eyes. In the hush it seemed that the directors were waiting +for Wade to speak—it was the coldly contemptuous silence of King Spruce +ready to hearken.</p> + +<p>The young man accepted this waiting as his challenge. He stepped to the +lower end of the huge table; John Barrett arose at the other end, and +bent forward, leaning on his knuckles.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen,” he said, his tone courteous, his air pacificatory, “Mr. +Dwight Wade, of the Enchanted Lumber Association is here to-day to +confer with us on those matters that have already been considered by us +in executive session. I wish first, with your permission, to inform him +on one point that we have already decided. My statement will enable us +to avoid discussion of an unpleasant matter—I may say, an unprofitable +matter.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span></p><p>It was plain to be seen that Mr. Barrett was dominating this session, as +he had undoubtedly dominated the preliminary session in which the +sentiment of King Spruce towards Dwight Wade had been crystallized. +Somehow the young man understood that the strange look in Barrett’s eyes +meant reassurance.</p> + +<p>“The destruction of Blunder Lake dam was a mistake,” continued Barrett, +but without even a note of reproach in his voice.</p> + +<p>“I am ashamed to have to fight that way for common rights that have been +stolen,” said the young man. “It’s nasty fighting, and I don’t want to +fight that way any more.”</p> + +<p>“We don’t, either,” broke in a director, bluntly. “There’s no money in +it.”</p> + +<p>“A moment, gentlemen,” interposed Barrett, “I have the floor. I don’t +propose to speak any ill of an associate—an unfortunate associate. I +refer to Mr. Britt, who has for so many years been our executive in the +north woods. But I can say frankly, as I have said to his face, that we +have deplored some of his measures as unwise. We have tried to restrain +him, but we have not been able to hold him back. Let us be charitable, +gentlemen, and say merely that old-fashioned lumbering in this State has +been conducted on wrong ideas. The manner of putting in Blunder Lake dam +is a case in point. In compromising the present disputes between the +timber interests and the other tax-paying interests of the State, I’ll +be frank to say that the history of that dam would not be helpful. +Prosecuting you, Mr. Wade, would entail going into the history of that +dam. Therefore, we shall not prosecute you; and an arrangement has +already been made by which you are purged of contempt of court in the +matter of the injunction.”</p> + +<p>He grew earnest.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p><p>“You have undoubtedly come here to tell us, Mr. Wade, that the woods are +being butchered for immediate profit; that the present system of +lumbering forces operators to use destructive measures. But we can’t +enter into argument on that. We admit it. We have been slow about +getting together to correct those abuses. We also admit that the time +seems to have arrived when we must have a different system. I have been +upon my timber tracts during the past year, and have received new light +on a great many matters that I had not taken pains to inform myself on. +I now view the situation differently, and my associates have coincided +with my views.”</p> + +<p>For the others it was merely a business confession of error, an appeal +for compromise. To Dwight Wade, looking into the eyes of John Barrett +and studying his strange expression, it was much more, and his heart +beat quickly. “The whole situation will undoubtedly take a new aspect +from now on. We propose, on our part, to leave the past just as it is; +set mistakes against mistakes, gentlemen, and clean the slates.”</p> + +<p>He straightened, dropping his air of confidential appeal.</p> + +<p>“Next week, gentlemen, the convention of my party will nominate me to be +the next governor of this State. I need not tell you that the nomination +means election. I fully realize my responsibilities. I propose to assume +them, and to execute them honestly. I declare here before my associates, +as I shall later to the people of the State, that if I am elected I +shall be a governor of the whole people, and not of any faction. +Personally I shall be glad, Mr. Wade, to have you and all others +interested come before the next legislature, present complaints and +arguments, and let this whole matter be settled justly. You will find +that you and your supporters, as well as we, have interests to protect +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>against the demagogues. In the new conditions that are coming to +prevail in public matters, those who manage to keep the full measure of +their rights are exceedingly fortunate. Against those new conditions it +is folly to fight. But in correcting abuses the pendulum sometimes +swings too far. I think we can fairly ask you, Mr. Wade, and those +operators who may follow your leadership, to join us in protecting what +rightfully belongs to us—to all of us. You will understand that I am +offering no hint of bulldozing nor inviting corrupt collusion. It has +come to a time when we cannot afford to jeopardize our party or our +property, and the safety of both is concerned in a full and frank +settlement of this question of the timber lands.”</p> + +<p>He gazed inquiringly at this young man who had come up to the fortress +to fight, and now found fortress and foe dissolving like a mirage. There +was but one manly attitude to take towards a public pledge of that sort.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barrett,” declared Wade, earnestly, “on that basis you have my +honest co-operation.” He took his hat. There was no excuse for remaining +longer in a directors’ meeting of the Umcolcus Lumbering Association. +His head whirled with the suddenness of this new situation.</p> + +<p>There was a general mumble of indorsement from the men massed at the +rear of the room, but one of the group spoke out after a moment’s +hesitation: “I’m glad to hear you talk of a square deal before next +legislature, Mr. Barrett, but I can’t help rememberin’ that when some of +us went up to the state-house two years ago, to see if we couldn’t get a +few rights, we butted square up against a lobby that was handlin’ some +fifteen thousand dollars of King Spruce’s money to beat us with, and to +keep things right where they were.”</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking Barrett’s sincerity now.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span></p><p>“Gentlemen,” he cried, “I have just been admitting that there have been +mistakes made in handling this matter. I didn’t intend to go into +details. It is not a pleasant task. But when I say that this matter +shall have fair and square hearing in future, I mean it. And I pledge +for myself and my associates—call us ‘King Spruce,’ if that means most +to you—that not one dollar will be used by us in the next legislature, +except for expenses of counsel and witnesses before the committees—the +same legitimate expenses that you of the opposition will incur.”</p> + +<p>There was no Thomas among them who could persist in the face of a +declaration like that. They dispersed.</p> + +<p>Barrett overtook Wade in the corridor, slipped his hand beneath the +young man’s arm, and, without a word, led him back into the private +office.</p> + +<p>“I want to ask you a question, Mr. Wade,” he said, still holding him by +the arm. “Once, in stress of feelings and under peculiar circumstances, +I promised certain things and did not fulfil them. You therefore have a +perfect right to be sceptical as to my good faith now. I ask you—are +you?”</p> + +<p>“No, Mr. Barrett, I am not,” returned Wade, with simple earnestness.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, my boy!” His voice broke on the words. “When even a square +and clean man gets to my age he begins to realize that the world is a +bigger creditor of his than he had figured in the past,” he went on, +after a pause. “In the last few months I have had some bills presented +to me that have found me a miserable bankrupt in spite of what my vault +holds. You know what my debts are. Linus Lane was right when he told me +that my kind of currency couldn’t pay those debts. The dead have gone, +leaving me their debtor; the living hold me their debtor still. My boy, +when I realize what I owe and how useless that stuff is in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span>there”—he +shook his hand at the open door of the vault—“I loathe my money! You +know what I owe to one child, and you have brought me word that I can +never pay her. You know just as well what I owe to another child—I have +taken from her most of her faith and love and happiness. Thank God, I +can pay that debt in part, and I know the human heart well enough now to +understand that I shall be paying the greater part.”</p> + +<p>He left Wade abruptly, and walked to the window and looked down into the +street. He beckoned to the young man without turning his head. Wade, +coming to his side, saw Elva Barrett’s pony phaeton.</p> + +<p>“I told my creditor to come here, and you see she is prompt,” said +Barrett, with a wistful smile. “She has accepted what I offer in +settlement of my debt, and I offer you my hand, and tell you, with all +the earnestness of my soul, that since I have come to realize values I +approve my creditor’s judgment. I have agreed to pay promptly on demand. +Don’t keep her waiting.”</p> + +<p>He pushed his “collateral” out into the corridor, and shut the door +behind him.</p> + +<p>Wade ran down the stairway, his hat in his hand, and came upon the +sidewalk into the glare of the June sunshine. She was there! The silk of +the phaeton’s parasol strained a soft and tender light upon her face, +and her glorious eyes received him, coming towards her, as though into +an embrace. He swayed a little as he crossed the sidewalk, for his eyes +swam. And before he reached her he turned and cast one look back at the +great building behind him. He seemed to want to reassure himself about +something—to see solid bricks and stone—to convince himself that it +was not a fairy palace in which he had so amazingly and suddenly found +the full fruition of all his hopes.</p> + +<p>“What have they been doing to you in the ogres’ <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span>den, Dwight, boy?” she +asked, a ripple of laughter in her voice.</p> + +<p>“I—I don’t know!” he stammered. “It all happened so suddenly. Take me +away, sweetheart, where I can see a tree. I want to find my bearings +once more!”</p> + +<p>The pony trotted away demurely—so demurely that the girl surrendered +one hand to him, and he held it tight-clutched between them, wordless, a +mist in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Then it did astonish you, after all?” she ventured, breaking the +silence.</p> + +<p>For reply he pressed her hand. She was first to speak again.</p> + +<p>“I know what a strange boy you are, Dwight,” she said, with a touch of +humor in her tones. “For the peace of your soul for ever and ever, and +the satisfaction of your pride, I want to tell you that my father +offered me to you—I did not beg you from my father; but”—she hesitated +and looked at him slyly—“I didn’t question the legal tender! Now that +you are a business man, I suppose we ought to use business terms!”</p> + +<p>But with his great love shining in his eyes, he pointed away from the +staring houses, where the road wound on under the trees and the peace of +perfect understanding lay beneath.</p> + +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Footnotes:</span></h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The right to cut trees on the seller’s land. Payment is +based on the measurement of the logs as they are brought to the landing +and piled ready for the drive.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Lynx, corruption of the French-Canadian name, +<i>loup-cervier</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> An ashen pole, shod with an iron screw-point.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The Maine variety of the cant-dog, illustrated on the +<a href="#Cover">cover</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Lest the remarkable attitude of the Honorable Pulaski D. +Britt be considered an improbable resource of fiction, the author +hastens to state that the Maine legislature, in considering the repeal +of a log-driving charter, had exactly this situation submitted to it.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> To disentangle and set free logs caught in the rocks.</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Transcriber’s Note:</span></h3> + +<p>Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters’ errors; otherwise, +every effort has been made to remain true to the author’s words and intent.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of King Spruce, A Novel, by Holman Day + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KING SPRUCE, A NOVEL *** + +***** This file should be named 34948-h.htm or 34948-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/9/4/34948/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, D Alexander and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: King Spruce, A Novel + +Author: Holman Day + +Release Date: January 13, 2011 [EBook #34948] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KING SPRUCE, A NOVEL *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, D Alexander and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + KING SPRUCE + + A NOVEL + + BY + + HOLMAN DAY + + AUTHOR OF + + "SQUIRE PHIN" "UP IN MAINE" + "KIN O' KTAADN" ETC. + + ILLUSTRATED BY + E. ROSCOE SHRADER + + NEW YORK AND LONDON + HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + + + + + Copyright, 1908, by HARPER & BROTHERS. + + _All rights reserved._ + + Published April, 1908. + + + + +[Illustration: "'I KNOW YOUR HEART'" [_See p. 289_] + + + + + TO + + A. B. D. + + MY COMRADE OF + TRAIL AND CAMP + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAP. PAGE + + I. UP IN "CASTLE CUT 'EM" 1 + II. THE HEIRESS OF "OAKLANDS" 17 + III. THE MAKING OF A "CHANEY MAN" 27 + IV. THE BOSS OF THE "BUSTERS" 35 + V. DURING THE PUGWASH HANG-UP 55 + VI. AS FOUGHT BEFORE THE "IT-'LL-GIT-YE CLUB" 62 + VII. ON MISERY GORE 78 + VIII. THE TORCH, AND THE LIGHTING OF IT 92 + IX. BY ORDER OF PULASKI D. BRITT 104 + X. "LADDER" LANE'S SOIREE 114 + XI. IN THE BARONY OF "STUMPAGE JOHN" 127 + XII. THE CODE OF LARRIGAN-LAND 142 + XIII. THE RED THROAT OF POGEY 153 + XIV. THE MESSAGE OF "PROPHET ELI" 164 + XV. BETWEEN TWO ON JERUSALEM 174 + XVI. IN THE PATH OF THE BIG WIND 181 + XVII. THE AFFAIR AT DURFY'S CAMP 198 + XVIII. THE OLD SOUBUNGO TRAIL 217 + XIX. THE HOME-MAKERS OF ENCHANTED 230 + XX. THE HA'NT OF THE UMCOLCUS 241 + XXI. THE MAN WHO CAME FROM NOWHERE 256 + XXII. THE HOSTAGE OF THE GREAT WHITE SILENCE 270 + XXIII. IN THE MATTER OF JOHN BARRETT'S DAUGHTER 278 + XXIV. THE CHEESE RIND THAT NEEDED SHARP TEETH 293 + XXV. SHARPENING TEETH ON PULASKI BRITT'S WHETSTONE 303 + XXVI. THE DEVIL OF THE HEMPEN STRANDS 312 + XXVII. THE "CANNED THUNDER" OF CASTONIA 324 + XXVIII. "'TWAS DONE BY TOMMY THUNDER" 341 + XXIX. THE PARADE PAST RODBURD IDE'S PLATFORM 352 + XXX. THE PACT WITH KING SPRUCE 361 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + "'I KNOW YOUR HEART'" _Frontispiece_ + + "WADE STOOD ABOVE THE FALLEN FOE" _Facing p._ 70 + + "WRITHING AT HIS BONDS, HIS CONTORTED FACE + TOWARDS THE RED FLAMES GALLOPING UP THE + VALLEY" " 172 + + "'WHAT I SAY ON THIS RIVER GOES!'" " 334 + + + + +NOTE + + +When the trees have been cut and trimmed in the winter's work in the +woods the logs are hauled in great loads to be piled at "landing-places" +on the frozen streams, so that the spring floods will move them. Most of +the streams have a succession of dams. On the spring drive the logs are +floated to the dams, and then the gates are raised and the logs are +"sluiced" through with a head of water behind them to carry them +down-stream. Thus the drive is lifted along in sections from one dam to +another. It will be seen that Pulaski D. Britt's series of dams on +Jerusalem constituted a valuable holding, and enabled him to control the +water and leave the logs of rivals stranded if he wished. The collection +of water and quick work in "sluicing" are most important, for the +streams give down only about so much water in the spring. + +When a load of logs is suddenly set free from the cable holding it back +on a steep descent, as in Chapter XXVI., it is said to be "sluiced." + +When there is a jam of entangled logs as they are swept down-stream, if +it is impossible to find and pry loose the "key-log," it is sometimes +necessary to blow up the restraining logs with dynamite. + +When the floating logs are caught upon rocks, and the men are prying +them loose, they are said to be "carding" the ledges. + +A "jill-poke," a pet aversion of drivers, is a log with one end lodged +on the bank and the other thrust out into the stream. + +The "cant-dog" is illustrated on the cover of the book. + +The "peavy" is the Maine name for a slightly different variety of +"cant-dog," which takes its title from its maker in Old Town. + +The "pick-pole" is an ashen pole ten to twelve feet long, shod with an +iron point with a screw-tip, which enables a driver to pull a log +towards him or to push it away. + + + + +KING SPRUCE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +UP IN "CASTLE CUT 'EM" + + "Oh, the road to 'Castle Cut 'Em' is mostly all uphill. + You can dance along all cheerful to the sing-song of a mill; + King Cole he wanted fiddles, and so does old King Spruce, + But it's only gashin'-fiddles that he finds of any use. + + "Oh, come along, good lumbermen, oh, come along I say! + Come up to 'Castle Cut 'Em,' and pull your wads and pay. + King Cole he liked his bitters, and so does old King Spruce, + But the only kind he hankers for is old spondulix-juice." + + --From song by Larry Gorman, "Woods Poet." + + +The young man on his way to "Castle Cut 'Em" was a clean-cut picture of +self-reliant youth. But he was not walking as one who goes to a welcome +task. He saw two men ahead of him who walked with as little display of +eagerness; men whose shoulders were stooped and whose hands swung +listlessly as do hands that are astonished at finding themselves idle. + +A row of mills that squatted along the bank of the canal sent after them +a medley of howls from band-saws and circulars. The young man, with the +memory of his college classics sufficiently fresh to make him fanciful, +found suggestion of chained monsters in the aspect of those shrieking +mills, with slip-openings like huge mouths. + +That same imagery invested the big building on the hill with attributes +that were not reassuring. But he went on up the street in the sunshine, +his eyes on the broad backs of the plodders ahead. + +King Spruce was in official session. + +Men who were big, men who were brawny, yet meek and apologetic, were +daily climbing the hill or waiting in the big building to have word +with the Honorable John Davis Barrett, who was King Spruce's high +chamberlain. Dwight Wade found half a dozen ahead of him when he came +into the general office. They sat, balancing their hats on their knees, +and each face wore the anxious expectancy that characterized those who +waited to see John Barrett. + +Wade had lived long enough in Stillwater to know the type of men who +came to the throne-room of King Spruce in midsummer. These were stumpage +buyers from the north woods, down to make another season's contract with +the lord of a million acres of timber land. Their faces were brown, +their hands were knotted, and when one, in his turn, went into the inner +office he moved awkwardly across the level tiles, as though he missed +the familiar inequalities of the forest's floor. + +The others droned on with their subdued mumble about saw-logs, sleeper +contracts, and "popple" peeling. The young man who had just entered was +so plainly not of themselves or their interests that they paid no +attention to him. + +This was the first time Wade had been inside the doors of "Castle Cut +'Em," the name the humorists of Stillwater had given the dominating +block on the main street of the little city. The up-country men, with +the bitterness of experience, and moved by somewhat fantastic +imaginings, said it was "King Spruce's castle." + +In the north woods one heard men talk of King Spruce as though this +potentate were a real and vital personality. To be sure, his power was +real, and power is the principal manifestation of the tyrant who is +incarnate. Invisibility usually makes the tyranny more potent. King +Spruce, vast association of timber interests, was visible only through +the affairs of his court administered by his officers to whom power had +been delegated. And, viewed by what he exacted and performed, King +Spruce lived and reigned--still lives and reigns. + +Wade, not wholly at ease in the presence, for he had come with a +petition like the others, gazed about the reception-room of the Umcolcus +Lumbering and Log-driving Association, the incorporators' more decorous +title for King Spruce. It occurred to him that the wall-adornments +were not reassuring. A brightly polished circular-saw hung between two +windows. It was crossed by two axes, and a double-handled saw was the +base for this suggestive coat of arms. The framed photographs displayed +loaded log-sleds and piles of logs heaped at landings and similar +portraiture of destruction in the woods. Everything seemed to accentuate +the dominion of the edge of steel. The other wall-decorations were the +heads of moose and deer, further suggestion of slaughter in the forest. +A stuffed porcupine on the mantel above the great fireplace mutely +suggested that the timber-owners would brook no rivalry in their +campaign against the forest; they had asked the State to offer a bounty +for the slaughter of this tree-girdler, and a card propped against the +"quill-pig" instructed the reader that the State had already spent more +than fifty thousand dollars in bounties. + +The deification of the cutting-edge appealed to Wade's abundant fancy. +He had noticed, when he came past the windows of the lumber company's +outfitting store on the first floor of the building, that the window +displays consisted mostly of cutting tools. + +When the door of the inner office opened and one of those big and +awkward giants came out, Wade discovered that King Spruce had evidently +placed in the hands of the Honorable John Davis Barrett something sharp +with which to slash human feelings, also. The man's face was flushed and +his teeth were set down over his lower lip with manifest effort to dam +back language. + +"Didn't he renew?" inquired one of the waiting group, solicitously. + +"He turned me down!" muttered the other, scarcely releasing the clutch +on his lip. "I've wondered sometimes why 'Stumpage John' hasn't been +over his own timber lands in all these years. If he has backed many out +of that office feelin' like I do, I reckon there's a good reason why he +doesn't trust himself up in the woods." He struck his soft hat across +his palm. He did not raise his voice. But the venom in his tone was +convincing. "By God, I'd relish bein' the man that mistook him for a +bear!" + +"Give any good reason for not renewin'?" asked a man whose face showed +his anxiety for himself. + +"Any one who has been over my operation on Lunksoos," declared the +lumberman, answering the question in his own way--"any fair man knows I +haven't devilled: I've left short stumps and I 'ain't topped off under +eight inches, though you all know that their damnable scale-system puts +a man to the bad when he's square on tops. But I 'ain't left tops to rot +on the ground. I've been square!" + +Wade did not understand clearly, but the sincerity of the man's distress +appealed to him. + +One of the little group darted an uneasy look towards the door of the +inner office. It was closed tightly. But for all that he spoke in a +husky whisper. + +"It must be that you didn't fix with What's-his-name last spring--I +heard you and he had trouble." + +The angry operator dared to speak now. He looked towards the door as +though he hoped his voice would penetrate to King Spruce's throne-room. + +"Trouble!" he cried. "Who wouldn't have trouble? I made up my mind I had +divided my profits with John Barrett's blackmailin' thieves of agents +for the last time. I lumbered square. And the agent was mad because I +wasn't crooked and didn't have hush-money for him. And he spiked me with +John Barrett; but you fellows, and all the rest that are willin' to +whack up and steal in company, will get your contracts all right. And +I'm froze out, with camps all built and five thousand dollars' worth of +supplies in my depot-camp." + +"Hold on!" protested several of the men, in chorus, crowding close to +this dangerous tale-teller. "You ain't tryin' to sluice the rest of us, +are you, just because you've gone to work and got your own load busted +on the ramdown?" + +"I'd like to see the whole infernal game of graft, gamble, and +woods-gashin' showed up. Let John Barrett go up and look at his woods +and he'll see what you are doin' to 'em--you and his agents! And the man +that lumbers square, and remembers that there are folks comin' after us +that will need trees, gets what I've just got!" He shook his crumpled +hat in their faces. "And I'm just good and ripe for trouble, and a lot +of it." + +"Here, you let me talk with you," interposed a man who had said nothing +before, and he took the recalcitrant by the arm, led him away to a +corner, and they entered into earnest conference. At the end of it the +destructionist drove his hat on with a smack of his big palm and strode +out, sullen but plainly convinced. + +The other man returned to the group and spoke cautiously low, but in +that big, bare room with its resonant emptiness even whispers travelled +far. + +"I'll take a double contract and sublet to him," he explained. "Barrett +won't know, and after this Dave will come back into line and handle the +agent. I reckon he's got well converted from honesty in a lumberin' +deal. It's what we're up against, gents, in this business; the patterns +are handed to us and we've got to cut our conduct accordin' to other +men's measurements. Barrett gets _his_ first; the agent gets _his_; we +get what we can squeeze out of a narrow margin--and the woods get hell." + +A man came out of the inner office stroking the folds of a stumpage +permit preparatory to stuffing it into his wallet, and the peacemaker +departed promptly, for it was now his turn to pay his respects to King +Spruce. + +In what he had seen and what he had heard, Dwight Wade found food for +thought. The men so manifestly had accepted the stranger as some one +utterly removed from comprehension of their affairs or interest in their +talk that they had not been discreet. It occurred to him that his own +present business with John Barrett would be decidedly furthered were he +to utilize that indiscretion. + +This thought occurred to him not because he intended for one instant to +use his information, but because he saw now that his business with John +Barrett was more to John Barrett's personal advantage than that +gentleman realized. This knowledge gave him more confidence. He was +proposing something to the Honorable John Barrett that the latter, for +his own good, ought to be pressed into accepting. + +The earlier reflection which had made him uneasy, that a millionaire +timber baron would not listen patiently to suggestions about his own +business offered by the principal of the Stillwater high-school, had +now been modified by circumstances. Even that lurking fear, that awe of +John Barrett which he had his peculiar and private reason for feeling +and hiding, was not quite so nerve-racking. + +Barrett left it to his clients to manage the order of precedence in the +outer office. It was only necessary for the awaiting suppliant to note +his place between those already there and those who came in after him; +and Wade was prompt to accept his turn. + +He knew the Honorable John Barrett. As mayor that gentleman had +distributed the diplomas at the June graduation. And Mr. Barrett, after +one first, sharp, scowling glance over his nose-glasses, hooking his +chin to one side as he gazed, rose and greeted the young man cordially. + +Then he wheeled his chair away from his desk to the window and sat down +where he could feel the breeze. + +Looking past him Wade saw the Stillwater saw-mills. There were five of +them in a row along the canal. Each had a slip-opening in the end and it +yawned wide like a mouth that stretched for prey. + +The two windows pinched together in each gable gave to the end of the +building likeness to a hideous face. From his seat Wade heard the +screech of the band-saws. The sounds came out of those open mouths. The +dripping logs went up the slips and into those mouths, like morsels +sliding along a slavering tongue. Mingled with the fierce scream of the +band-saws there were the wailings of the lath and clapboard saws. In +that medley of sound the imagination heard monster and victims mingling +howl of triumph and despairing cry. + +The breeze that ruffled the awnings stirred the thin, gray hair of John +Barrett, brought fresh scents of sawdust and sweeter fragrance of +seasoning lumber. And fainter yet came the whiff of resinous balsam +from the vast fields of logs that crowded the booms. + +With that picture backing him in the frame of the open window--mutilated +trees, and mills yowling in chorus, and with the scent of the riven logs +bathing him--the timber baron politely waited for the young man to +speak. He had put off the brusqueness of his business demeanor, for it +had not occurred to him that the principal of the Stillwater high school +could have any financial errand. He played a little tattoo with his +eye-glasses' rim upon the second button of his frock-coat. One touch of +sunshine on Barrett's cheek showed up striated markings and the faint +purpling that indulgence paints upon the skin. The way in which the +shoulders were set back under the tightly buttoned frock-coat, the +flashing of the keen eyes, and even the cock of the bristly gray +mustache that crossed the face in a straight line showed that John +Barrett had enjoyed the best that life had to offer him. + +"I'll make my errand a short one, Mr. Barrett," began Wade, "for I see +that others are waiting." + +"They're only men who want to buy something," said the baron, +reassuringly--"men who have come, the whole of them, with the same growl +and whine. It's a relief to be rid of them for a few moments." + +Frankly showing that he welcomed the respite, and serenely indifferent +to those who waited, he brought a box of cigars from the desk, and the +young man accepted one nervously. + +"I think I have noticed you about the city since your school closed," +Mr. Barrett proceeded. And without special interest he asked, whirling +his chair and gazing out of the window at the mills: "How do you happen +to be staying here in Stillwater this summer? I supposed pedagogues in +vacation-time ran away from their schools as fast as they could." + +If John Barrett had not been staring at the mills he would have seen the +flush that blazed on the young man's cheeks at this sudden, blunt demand +for the reasons why he stayed in town. + +"If I had a home I should probably go there," answered Wade; "but my +parents died while I was in college--and--and high-school principals do +not usually find summer resorts and European trips agreeing with the +size of their purses." + +"Probably not," assented the millionaire, calmly. A sudden recollection +seemed to strike him. "Say, speaking of college--you're the Burton +centre, aren't you--or you were? I was there a year ago when Burton +clinched the championship. I liked your game! I meant to have said as +much to you, but I didn't get a chance, for you know what the push is on +a ball-ground. I'm a Burton man, you know. I never miss a game. I'm glad +to have such a chap as you at the head of our school. These pale fellows +with specs aren't my style!" + +He turned and ran an approving gaze over Wade's six feet of sturdy young +manhood. With his keen eye for lines that revealed breeding and +training, Barrett usually turned once to look after a handsome woman and +twice to stare at a blooded horse. Men interested him, too--men who +appealed to his sportsman sense. This young man, with the glamour of the +football victories still upon him, was a particularly attractive object +at that moment. He stared into Wade's flushed face, evidently accepting +the color as the signal that gratified pride had set upon the cheeks. + +"You'll weigh in at about one hundred and eighty-five," commented the +millionaire. It seemed to Wade that his tone was that of a judge +appraising the points of a race-horse, and for an instant he resented +the fact that Barrett was sizing him less as a man than as a gladiator. +"Old Dame Nature put you up solid, Mr. Wade, and gave you the face to go +with the rest. I wish I were as young--and as free!" He gave another +look at the mills and scowled when he heard the mumble of men's voices +in the outer room. "When a man is past sixty, money doesn't buy the +things for him that he really wants." It was the familiar cant of the +man rich enough to affect disdain for money, and Wade was not impressed. + +"I'd like to take my daughter across the big pond this summer," the land +baron grumbled, discontentedly, "but I never was tied down so in my +life. I am directing-manager of the Umcolcus Association, and I've got +all my own lands to handle besides, and with matters in the lumbering +business as they are just now there are some things that you can't +delegate to agents, Mr. Wade." + +This man, confiding his troubles, did not seem the ogre he had been +painted. + +The young man had flushed still more deeply at mention of Barrett's +daughter, but Barrett was again looking at his squalling mills. + +The pause seemed a fair opportunity for the errand. The mention of +agents revived the recollection that he was proposing something to John +Barrett's advantage. + +"Mr. Barrett, you know it is pretty hard for any one to live in +Stillwater and not take an interest in the lumbering business. I'll +confess that I've taken such interest myself. A few of my older boys +have asked me to secure books on the science of forestry and help them +study it." + +"A man would have pretty hard work to convince me that it is a science," +broke in Barrett, with some contempt. "As near as I can find out, it's +mostly guesswork, and poor guesswork at that." + +"Well, the fact remains," hastened Wade, a little nettled by the +curtness that had succeeded the timber baron's rather sentimental +courtesy, "my boys have been studying forestry, and I have been keeping +a bit ahead of them and helping them as I could. Now they need a little +practical experience. But they are boys who are working their way +through school, and as I had to do the same thing I'm taking an especial +interest in them. They have been in your mills two summers." + +"Why isn't it a good place for them to stay?" demanded Barrett. "They're +learning a side of forestry there that amounts to something." + +"The side that they want to learn is the side of the standing trees," +persisted Wade, patiently. "I thought I could talk it over with you a +little better than they. I hoped that such a large owner of timber land +had begun to take interest in forestry and would, for experiment's sake, +put these young men upon a section of timber land this summer and let +them work up a map and a report that you could use as a basis for later +comparison, if nothing else." + +"What do you mean, that I'm going to hire them to do it--pay them +money?" demanded the timber baron, fixing upon the young man that stare +that always disconcerted petitioners. At that moment Wade realized why +those men whom he had seen waiting in the outer office were gazing at +the door of the inner room with such anxiety. + +"The young men will be performing a real service, for they will plot a +square mile and--" + +"If there's any pay to it, I'd rather pay them to keep off my lands," +broke in Barrett. "Forestry--" + +He in turn was interrupted. The man who came in entered with manifest +belief in his right to interrupt. + +"Forestry!" he cried, taking the word off Barrett's lips--"forestry is +getting your men into the woods, getting grub to 'em, hiring bosses that +can whale spryness into human jill-pokes, and can get the logs down to +Pea Cove sortin'-boom before the drought strikes. That's forestry! +That's my kind. It's the kind I've made my money on. It's the kind John +Barrett made his on. What are you doin', John--hirin' a perfesser?" The +new arrival asked this in a tone and with a glance up and down Wade that +left no doubt as to his opinion of "perfessers." "Are you one of these +newfangled fellers that's been studyin' in a book how to make trees +grow?" he demanded. + +Wade had only a limited acquaintance with the notables of the State, but +he knew this man. He had seen him in Stillwater frequently, and his +down-river office was in "Castle Cut 'Em." He was the Honorable Pulaski +D. Britt. He had acquired that title--mostly for newspaper use--by +serving many years in the State senate from Umcolcus County. + +Wade gazed at the puffy red face, the bristle of gray beard, the hard +little eyes--pupils of dull gray set in yellow eyeballs--and remembered +the stories he had heard about this man who yelped his words with canine +abruptness of utterance, who waved his big, hairy hands about his head +as he talked, and with every gesture, every glance, every word revealed +himself as a driver of men, grown arrogant and cruel by possession of +power. + +"Mr. Britt is executive officer for the lumber company in the north +country," explained Barrett, dryly. "We are all associated more or less +closely, though many of our holdings are separate. We think it is quite +essential to confer together when undertaking any important step." His +satiric dwelling on the word "important" was exasperating. "This young +gentleman is the principal of our high-school, Pulaski, and he wants me +to put a bunch of high-school boys in my woods as foresters--and pay 'em +for it. You came in just as I was going to give him my opinion. But it +may be more proper for you to do it, for you are the woods executive, +and are better posted on conditions up there than I am." His drawled +irony was biting. + +The Honorable John Barrett enjoyed sport of all kinds, including +badger-baiting. Now he leaned back in his swivel-chair with the air of a +man about to enjoy the spectacle of a lively affair. But Wade, glancing +from Barrett to Britt, was in no humor to be the butt of the +millionaire. + +"I don't think I care to listen to Mr. Britt's opinions," he said, +rising hastily. + +"Why? Don't you think I know what I'm talking about?" demanded the +lumberman. He had missed the point of Barrett's satire, being himself a +man of the bludgeon instead of the rapier. + +"I'm quite sure you know, Mr. Britt," said the young man, bowing to +Barrett and starting away. + +"I've hired more men than any ten operators on the Umcolcus, put 'em all +together," declared Britt, following him, "and I'd ought to know +something about whether a man is worth anything on a job or not. And +rather than have any one of those squirt-gun foresters cuttin' and +caliperin' over my lands, I'd--" + +Wade shut the door behind him, strode through the outer office, and +hurried down-stairs, his face very red and his teeth shut very tight. +He realized that he had left the presence of King Spruce in most +discourteous haste, but the look in John Barrett's eyes when he had +leaned back and "sicked on" that old railer of the rasping voice had +been too much for Wade's nerves. To be made an object of ridicule by +_her_ father was bitter, with the bitterness of banished hope that had +sprung into blossom for just one encouraging moment. + +When he came out into the sunlight he threw down the fat cigar--plump +with a suggestion of the rich man's opulence--and ground it under his +heel. In the anxiety of his intimate hopes, in the first cordiality of +their interview, it had seemed as though the millionaire had chosen to +meet him upon that common level of gentle society where consideration of +money is banished. Now, in the passion of his disappointment, Wade +realized that he had served merely as a diversion, as a prize pup or a +game-cock would have served, had either been brought to "Castle Cut 'Em" +for inspection. + +Walking--seeking the open country and the comforting breath of the +flowers--away from that sickly scent of the sawdust, his cheeks burned +when he remembered that at first he had fearfully, yet hopefully, +believed that John Barrett knew the secret that he and Elva Barrett were +keeping. + +Hastening away from his humiliation, he confessed to himself that in +his optimism of love he had been dreaming a beautiful but particularly +foolish dream; but having realized the blessed hope that had once +seemed so visionary--having won Elva Barrett's love--the winning of +even John Barrett had not seemed an impossible task. The millionaire's +frank greeting had held a warmth that Wade had grasped at as vague +encouragement. But now the clairvoyancy of his sensitiveness enabled him +to understand John Barrett's nature and his own pitiful position in that +great affair of the heart; he had not dared to look at that affair too +closely till now. + +So he hurried on, seeking the open country, obsessed by the strange +fancy that there was something in his soul that he wanted to take out +and scrutinize, alone, away from curious eyes. + +The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had watched that hasty exit with sudden +ire that promptly changed to amusement. He turned slowly and gazed at +the timber baron with that amusement plainly showing--amusement spiced +with a bit of malice. The reverse of Britt's hard character as bully +and tyrant was an insatiate curiosity as to the little affairs of the +people he knew and a desire to retail those matters in gossip when he +could wound feelings or stir mischief. If one with a gift of prophecy +had told him that his next words would mark the beginning of the crisis +of his life, Pulaski Britt would have professed his profane incredulity +in his own vigorous fashion. All that he said was, "Well, John, your +girl has picked out quite a rugged-lookin' feller, even if he ain't much +inclined to listen to good advice on forestry." + +Confirmed gossips are like connoisseurs of cheese: the stuff they relish +must be stout. It gratified Britt to see that he had "jumped" his +friend. + +"I didn't know but you had him in here to sign partnership papers," +Britt continued, helping himself to a cigar. "I wouldn't blame you much +for annexin' him. You need a chap of his size to go in on your lands and +straighten out your bushwhackin' thieves with a club, seein' that you +don't go yourself. As for me, I don't need to delegate clubbers; I can +attend to it myself. It's the way I take exercise." + +"Look here, Pulaski," Barrett replied, angrily, "a joke is all right +between friends, but hitching up my daughter Elva's name with a beggar +of a school-master isn't humorous." + +Britt gnawed off the end of the cigar, and spat the fragment of tobacco +into a far corner. + +"Then if you don't see any humor in it, why don't you stop the +courtin'?" + +"There isn't any courting." + +"I say there is, and if the girl's mother was alive, or you 'tending out +at home as sharp as you ought to, your family would have had a stir-up +long ago. If you ain't quite ready for a son-in-law, and don't want that +young man, you'd better grab in and issue a family bulletin to that +effect." + +"Damn such foolishness! I don't believe it," stormed Barrett, pulling +his chair back to the desk; "but if you knew it, why didn't you say +something before?" + +"Oh, I'm no gossip," returned Britt, serenely. "I've got something to do +besides watch courtin' scrapes. But I don't have to watch this one in +_your_ family. I know it's on." + +Barrett hooked his glasses on his nose with an angry gesture, and began +to fuss with the papers on his desk. But in spite of his professed +scepticism and his suspicion of Pulaski Britt's ingenuousness, it was +plain that his mind was not on the papers. + +He whirled away suddenly and faced Britt. That gentleman was pulling +packets of other papers from his pocket. + +"Look here, Britt, about this lying scandal that seems to be snaking +around, seeing that it has come to your ears, I--" + +"What I'm here for is to go over these drivin' tolls so that they can be +passed on to the book-keepers," announced Mr. Britt, with a fine and +brisk business air. He had shot his shaft of gossip, had "jumped" his +man, and the affair of John Barrett's daughter had no further interest +for him. "You go ahead and run your family affairs to suit yourself. As +to these things you are runnin' with me, let's get at 'em." + +In this manner, unwittingly, did Pulaski D. Britt light the fuse that +connected with his own magazine; in this fashion, too, did he turn his +back upon it. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE HEIRESS OF "OAKLANDS" + + "Pete Lebree had money and land, Paul of Olamon had none, + Only his peavy and driving pole, his birch canoe and his gun. + But to Paul Nicola, lithe and tall, son of a Tarratine, + Had gone the heart of the governor's child, Molly the island's + queen." + + --_Old Town Ballads._ + + +The coachman usually drove into town from the "Oaklands" to bring John +Barrett home from his office, for Barrett liked the spirited rush of his +blooded horses. + +But when his daughter occasionally anticipated the coachman, he resigned +himself to a ride in her phaeton with only a sleepy pony to draw them. + +Once more absorbed in his affairs, after the departure of Pulaski Britt, +Barrett had forgotten the unpleasant morsel of gossip that Britt had +brought to spice his interview. + +But a familiar trilling call that came up to him stirred that unpleasant +thing in his mind. When Barrett walked to the window and signalled to +her that he had heard and would come, his expression was not exactly +that of the fond father who welcomes his only child. It was not the +expression that the bright face peering from under the phaeton's parasol +invited. And as he wore his look of uneasiness and discontent when he +took his seat beside her, her face became grave also. + +"Is it the business or the politics, father?" she asked, solicitously. +"I'm jealous of both if they take away the smiles and bring the tired +lines. If it's business, let's make believe we've got money enough. +Haven't we--for only us two? If it's politics--well, when I'm a +governor's daughter I'll be only an unhappy slave to the women, and you +a servant of the men." + +But he did not respond to her rallying. + +"I can't get away from work this summer, Elva," he said, with something +of the curtness of his business tone. "I mean I can't get away to go +with you." + +"But I don't want you to go anywhere, father," protested the girl. + +She was so earnest that he glanced sidewise at her. His air was that of +one who is trying a subtle test. + +"I feel that I must go north for a visit to my timber lands," he went +on; "I have not been over them for years. I've had pretty good proof +that I am being robbed by men I trusted. I propose to go up there and +make a few wholesome examples." + +He was accustomed to talk his business affairs with her. She always +received them with a grave understanding that pleased him. Her dark eyes +now met him frankly and interestedly. Looking at her as he did, with his +strange thrill of suspicion that another man wanted her and that she +loved the man, he saw that his daughter was beautiful, with the +brilliancy of type that transcends prettiness. He realized that she had +the wit and spirit which make beauty potent, and her eyes and bearing +showed poise and self-reliance. Such was John Barrett's appraisal, and +John Barrett's business was to appraise humankind. But perhaps he did +not fully realize that she was a woman with a woman's heart. + +The pony was ambling along lazily under the elms, and the reflective +lord of lands was silent awhile, glancing at his daughter occasionally +from the corner of his eye. He noted, with fresh interest, that she had +greeting for all she met--as gracious a word for the tattered man from +the mill as for the youth who slowed his automobile to speak to her. + +"These gossips have misunderstood her graciousness," he mused, the +thought giving him comfort. + +But he was still grimly intent upon his trial of her. + +"Because I cannot go with you, and because I shall be away in the woods, +Elva," he said, after a time, "I am going to send you to the shore with +the Dustins." + +There was sudden fire in her dark eyes. + +"I do not care to go anywhere with the Dustins," she said, with +decision. "I do not care to go anywhere at all this summer. Father!" +There was a volume of protest in the intonation of the word. She had the +bluntness of his business air when she was aroused. "I would be blind +and a fool not to understand why you are so determined to throw me in +with the Dustins. You want me to marry that bland and blessed son and +heir. But I'll not do any such thing." + +"You are jumping at conclusions, Elva," he returned, feeling that he +himself had suddenly become the hunted. + +"I've got enough of your wit, father, to know what's in a barrel when +there's a knot-hole for me to peep through." + +"Now that you have brought up the subject, what reason is there for your +not wanting to marry Weston Dustin? He's--" + +"I know all about him," she interrupted. "There is no earthly need for +you and me to get into a snarl of words about him, dadah! He isn't the +man I want for a husband; and when John Barrett's only daughter tells +him that with all her heart and soul, I don't believe John Barrett is +going to argue the question or ask for further reasons or give any +orders." + +He bridled in turn. + +"But I'm going to tell you, for my part, that I want you to marry Weston +Dustin! It has been my wish for a long time, though I have not wanted to +hurry you." + +She urged on the pony, as though anxious to end a _tete-a-tete_ that was +becoming embarrassing. + +"It might be well to save our discussion of Mr. Dustin until that +impetuous suitor has shown that he wants to marry me," she remarked, +with a little acid in her tone. + +"He has come to me like a gentleman, told me what he wants, and asked my +permission," stated Mr. Barrett. + +"Following a strictly business rule characteristic of Mr. Dustin--'Will +you marry your timber lands to my saw-mill, Mr. John Barrett, one +daughter thrown in?'" + +"At least he didn't come sneaking around by the back door!" cried her +father, jarred out of his earlier determination to probe the matter +craftily. + +"Intimating thereby that I have an affair of the heart with the iceman +or the grocery boy?" she inquired, tartly. + +She was looking full at him now with all the Barrett resoluteness +shining in her eyes. And he, with only the vague and malicious +promptings of Pulaski Britt for his credentials, had not the courage to +make the charge that was on his tongue, for his heart rejected it now +that he was looking into her face. + +"In the old times stern parents married off daughters as they would +dispose of farm stock," she said, whipping her pony with a little +unnecessary vigor. "But I had never learned that the custom had obtained +in the Barrett family. Therefore, father, we will talk about something +more profitable than Mr. Dustin." + +Outside the city, in the valley where the road curved to enter the gates +of "Oaklands," they met Dwight Wade returning, chastened by +self-communion. + +Barrett did not look at the young man. He kept his eyes on his +daughter's face as she returned Wade's bow. He saw what he feared. The +fires of indignation quickly left the dark eyes. There was the softness +of a caress in her gaze. Love displayed his crimson flag on her cheeks. +She spoke in answer to Wade's salutation, and even cast one shy look +after him when he had passed. When she took her eyes from him she found +her father's hard gaze fronting her. + +"Do you know that fellow?" he demanded, brusquely. + +"Yes," she said, her composure not yet regained; "when he was a student +at Burton and I was at the academy I met him often at receptions." + +"What is that academy, a sort of matrimonial bureau?" His tone was +rough. + +"It is not a nunnery," she retorted, with spirit. "The ordinary rules of +society govern there as they do here in Stillwater." + +"Elva," he said, emotion in his tones, "since your mother died you have +been mistress of the house and of your own actions, mostly. Has that +fellow there been calling on you?" + +"He has called on me, certainly. Many of my school friends have called. +Since he has been principal of the high-school I have invited him to +'Oaklands.'" + +"You needn't invite him again. I do not want him to call on you." + +"For what reason, father?" She was looking straight ahead now, and her +voice was even with the evenness of contemplated rebellion. + +"As your father, I am not obliged to give reasons for all my commands." + +"You are obliged to give me a reason when you deny a young gentleman of +good standing in this city our house. An unreasonable order like that +reflects on my character or my judgment. I am the mistress of our home, +as well as your daughter." + +"It's making gossip," he floundered, dimly feeling the unwisdom of +quoting Pulaski Britt. + +"Who is gossiping, and what is the gossip?" she insisted. + +"I don't care to go into the matter," he declared, desperately. "If the +young man is nothing to you except an acquaintance, and I have reasons +of my own for not wanting him to call at my house, I expect you to do as +I say, seeing that his exclusion will not mean any sacrifice for you." + +He was dealing craftily. She knew it, and resented it. + +"I do not propose to sacrifice any of my friends for a whim, father. If +your reasons have anything to do with my personal side of this matter, I +must have them. If they are purely your own and do not concern me, I +must consider them your whim, unless you convince me to the contrary, +and I shall not be governed in my choice of friends. That may sound +rebellious, but a father should not provoke a daughter to rebellion. You +ought to know me too well for that." + +They were at the house, and he threw himself out of the phaeton and +tramped in without reply. During their supper he preserved a resentful +silence, and at the end went up-stairs to his den to think over the +whole matter. It had suddenly assumed a seriousness that puzzled and +frightened him. He had been routed in the first encounter. He resolved +to make sure of his ground and his facts--and win. + +Usually he did not notice who came or who went at his house. The still +waters of his confidence in his daughter had never been troubled until +the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had breathed upon them. + +This evening, when he heard a caller announced, he tiptoed to the head +of the stairs and listened. + +It was Dwight Wade, and at sight of him his pride took alarm, his anger +flared. After the afternoon's exasperating talk, this seemed like open +and insulting contempt for his authority. It was as though the man were +plotting with a disobedient daughter to flout him as a father. His +purpose of calm thought was swept away by an unreasoning wrath. +Muttering venomous oaths, he stamped down the stairs, whose carpet made +his approach stealthy, though he did not intend it, and he came upon the +two as Wade, his great love spurred by the day's opposition, despondent +in the present, fearing for the future, reached out his longing arms and +took her to his heart. + +They faced him as he stood and glowered upon them, a pathetic pair, +clinging to each other. + +"You sneaking thief!" roared Barrett. + +The girl did not draw away. Wade felt her trembling hands seeking his, +and he pressed them and kept her in the circle of his arm. + +"I don't care to advertise this," Barrett went on, choking with his +rage, "but there's just one way to treat you, you thief, and that's to +have you kicked out of the house. Elva, up-stairs with you!" + +She gently put away her lover's arm, but she remained beside him, strong +in her woman's courage. + +"I have always been proud of my father as a gentleman," she said. "It +hurts my faith to have you say such things under your own roof." + +"That pup has come under my roof to steal," raged the millionaire, "and +he's got to take the consequences. Don't you read me my duty, girl!" + +Even Barrett in his wrath had to acknowledge that simple manliness has +potency against pride of wealth. Wade took two steps towards him, the +instinctive movement of the male that protects his mate. + +"Mr. Barrett," he said, gravely, "give me credit for honest intentions. +If it is a fault to love your daughter with all my heart and soul, I +have committed that fault. For me it's a privilege--an honor that you +can't prevent." + +"What! I can't regulate my own daughter's marriage, you young hound?" + +"You misunderstand me, Mr. Barrett. You cannot prevent me from loving +her, even though I may never see nor speak to her again." + +And Elva, blushing, tremulous, yet determined, looked straight in her +father's eyes, saying, "And I love him." + +Barrett realized that his anger was making a sorry figure compared with +this young man's resolute calmness. With an effort he held himself in +check. + +"We won't argue the love side of this thing," he said, grimly. "I +haven't any notion of doing that with a nineteen-year-old girl and a +pauper. But I want to inform you, young man, that the marriage of John +Barrett's only child and heir is a matter for my judgment to control. +I'm taking it for granted that you are not sneak enough to run away with +her, even if you have stolen her affections." + +The millionaire understood his man. He had calculated the effect of the +sneer. He knew how New England pride may be spurred to conquer passion. + +"These are wicked insults, sir," said the young man, his face rigid and +pale, "but I don't deserve them." + +"I tell you here before my daughter that I have plans for her future +that you shall not interfere with. This is no country school-ma'am, down +on your plane of life--this is Elva Barrett, of 'Oaklands,' a girl who +has temporarily lost her good sense, but who is nevertheless my daughter +and my heiress. She will remember that in a little while. Take yourself +out of the way, young man!" + +The girl's eyes blazed. Her face was transfigured with grief and love. +She was about to speak, but Wade hastened to her and took her hand. + +"Good-night, Elva." + +She understood him. His eyes and the quiver in his voice spoke to her +heart. She clung to his hands when he would have withdrawn them. The +look she gave her father checked that gentleman's contemptuous +mutterings. + +"I am ashamed of my father, Mr. Wade," she said, passionately. "I offer +you the apologies of our home." + +"Say, look here!" snarled Barrett, this scornful rebelliousness putting +his wits to flight, "if that's the way you feel about me, put on your +hat and go with him. I'll be d--d if I don't mean it! Go and starve." + +He realized the folly of his outburst as he returned their gaze. But he +persisted in his puerile attack. + +"Oh, you don't want her that way, do you?" he sneered. "You want her to +bring the dollars that go along with her!" + +Then Wade forgot himself. + +He wrested one hand from the gentle clasp that entreated him, and would +have struck the mouth that uttered the wretched insult. The girl +prevented an act that would have been an enormity. She caught his wrist, +and when his arm relaxed he did not dare, at first, to look at her. Then +he gave her one quick stare of horror and looked at his hand, dazed and +ashamed. + +Barrett, strangely enough, was jarred back to equanimity by the threat +of that blow. He folded his arms, drew himself up, and stood there, the +outraged master of the mansion restored to command, silent, cold, rigid, +his whole attitude of indignant reproach more effective than all the +curses in Satan's lexicon. + +Talk could not help that distressing situation. The young man's white +lips tried to frame the words "I apologize," but even in his anguish the +grim humor of this reciprocation of apology rose before his dizzy +consciousness. + +"Good-night!" he gasped. + +Then he left her and went into the hall, John Barrett close on his +heels. The millionaire watched him take his hat, followed him out upon +the broad porch, and halted him at the edge of the steps. + +"Mr. Wade," he said, "you'd rather resign your position than be kicked +out, I presume?" + +"You mean that it is your wish that I should go away from Stillwater?" + +"That is exactly what I mean. You resign, or I will have your +resignation demanded by the school board." + +"I think my school relations are entirely my own business," retorted the +young man, fighting back his mounting wrath. + +"I'll make it mine, and have you kicked out of this town like a cur." + +Wade remembered at that instant the face of the man whom he had seen +leave John Barrett's office that morning. He recollected his words--"I'd +relish bein' the man that mistook him for a bear!" He knew now how that +man felt. And feeling the lust of killing rise in his own soul for the +first time, he clinched his fists, set his teeth, and strode away into +the night. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE MAKING OF A "CHANEY MAN" + + "We're bound for the choppin's at Chamberlain Lake, + And we're lookin' for trouble and suthin' to take. + We reckon we'll manage this end of the train, + And we'll leave a red streak up the centre of Maine." + + --Murphy's "Come-all-ye." + + +A company of reserves posted in a thicket, after valiantly withstanding +the hammering of a battery, were suddenly routed by wasps. They broke +and ran like the veriest knaves. + +Dwight Wade had determined to face John Barrett's battery of +persecution. But at the end of a week he realized that the little city +of Stillwater was looking askance at him. He knew that gossip attended +his steps and stood ever at his shoulders, as one from the tail of the +eye sees shadowy visions and, turning suddenly, finds them gone. + +That John Barrett would deliberately start stories in which his +daughter's affairs were concerned seemed incredible to the lover who, +for the sake of her fair fame and her peace of mind, had resolved to +make fetish of duty, realizing even better than she herself that Elva +Barrett's sense of justice would weigh well her duties as daughter +before she could be won to the duties of wife. + +Yet Wade could hardly tell why he determined to stay in Stillwater. He +wanted to console himself with the belief that a sudden departure would +give gossip the proof it wanted. For gossip, as he caught its vague +whispers, said that John Barrett had kicked--actually and violently +kicked--the principal of the Stillwater high-school out of his mansion. +Wade did not like to think that Barrett, by himself or a servant, +started that story. Yet the thought made Wade suspect that the +bitterness of the night at "Oaklands" still rankled, and that he was +remaining in Stillwater for the sake of defying John Barrett, and was +not simply crucifying his spirit for the sake of the peace of John +Barrett's daughter. + +For he confessed that his stay there would be martyrdom. He had resolved +that he would not try to see her; that would only mean grief for her and +humiliation for him. He was proud of his love for Elva Barrett, in spite +of her father's contempt and insults. He found no reproach for himself +because he had loved her and had told her so. But for the role of a +Lochinvar his New England nature had no taste. He realized, without +arguing the question with himself, that Elva Barrett was not to be won +by the impetuous folly that demanded blind sacrifice of name and +position and father and friends. + +There was no cowardice in this realization. It was rather a pathetic +sacrifice on the part of simple loyalty and a love that was absolute +devotion. In deciding to remain in Stillwater he kept his love alight +like a flame before a shrine. But beyond his daily work and the +unflinching purpose of his great love he could not see his way. + +It was because his way was so obscure that the wasps found him an easier +victim. + +He heard the buzzings at street corners as he passed. There were stings +of glances and of half-heard words. + +Like the pastor of a church in a small place, the principal of +a high-school is one in whom the community feels a sense of +proprietorship, with full right to canvass his goings and comings +and liberty to circumscribe and control. For is he not the one that +should "set example"? + +The wasps would not accept his silent surrender. They suspected +something hidden, and their imaginings saw the worst. They buzzed more +busily every day. That they would not allow him the peace and the +pathetic liberty of renunciation drove Wade frantic. With all the +courage of his conscience, he still faced John Barrett's battery. But +the wasps he could not face. + +And he fled. In the end it was nothing but that--he was put to flight! +The people of Stillwater accepted it as flight, for he placed his +resignation in the hands of the school board barely a week before the +date for the opening of the autumn term. And on the train on which he +fled was the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt, still unconscious that the word +of gossip he had dropped was the match that lighted a fuse, and that the +fuse was briskly burning. + +Above the rumble of the starting car-wheels Wade heard the mills of +Stillwater screaming their farewell taunt at him. + +Then the Honorable Pulaski Britt came and sat down in his seat, penning +him next to the window. + +"Yes, sir," said Britt, with keen memory as to where he had left off in +his previous conversation and with dogged determination to have his say +out, "a man that reads a book written by a perfesser that don't know the +difference between a ramdown and a dose of catnip tea, and then thinks +he understands forestry of the kind that there's a dollar in, needs to +have his head examined for hollows. Do you find anything in them books +about how to get the best figgers on dressed beef?--and when you are +buyin' it in fifty-ton lots for a dozen camps a half a cent on a pound +means something! Is there anything about hirin' men and makin' 'em stay +and work, gettin' cooks and saw-filers that know their business, chasin' +thieves away from depot-camps, keepin' crews from losin' half the +tools? Forestry! Making trees grow! Gawd-amighty, young man, Nature will +attend to the tree-growin'. That's all Nature has got to do. She was +doin' it before we got here, and doin' it well, and do you reckon we +have any right to set up and tell Nature her business? I've got +something else to think of besides tellin' Nature how to run her end. +I'd like to know how to grow men instead of trees. My Jerusalem boss, +MacLeod, writes me he has been two weeks getting together his hundred +men for that operation. He'll meet me at the Umcolcus junction, up the +line here a hundred miles. And I've been tryin' most of that time to get +hold of the right sort of a 'chaney man.'" + +Wade, in his resentment at Britt's intrusion on his thoughts, was in no +mood for philological research, but sudden and rather idle curiosity +impelled him to ask what a "chaney man" was. + +"Why, a clerk--a camp clerk, time-keeper, wangan store overseer, supply +accountant, and all that," snapped Britt, with small patience for the +young man's ignorance. + +At that instant it came more plainly to Wade that he was a fugitive. +When he had left Elva Barrett behind he had let go the strongest cable +of hope. A day before--the day after--his manly spirit probably would +not have allowed him to become a clerk for Pulaski Britt. This day the +impetuous desire to hide in the woods, to escape the wasps of humanity, +to be in some place where sneers and false pity and taunt could not +reach him--that desire was coined into performance. + +"Wouldn't I fit into a job of that sort, Mr. Britt?" he asked, blurting +the question. And when the lumberman stared at him with as much +astonishment as Pulaski Britt ever allowed himself to display, Wade +added, "I have given up school-teaching because--well, I want to get +into the woods for my health!" + +"It will be healthy, all right, but it won't be dude work," said Britt. +"You'll have to hump 'round on snow-shoes or a jumper to five camps. +Board and thirty-five a month! What's the particular ailment with you?" +he demanded, rather suspiciously. "You look rugged enough." + +The young man did not reply, and the Honorable Pulaski stared at him, +his eyes narrowing shrewdly. Mr. Britt had no very delicate notions of +repressing an idea when it occurred to him "Say, look here, young man," +he cried, "I reckon I understand! The Barrett girl, hey? And John got +after you! Well, he can make it hot for any one he takes a niff at." + +"Can't I have that job, Mr. Britt, without a general discussion of my +affairs?" asked Wade, with temper. + +"You're hired!" There was the click of business in Britt's tone, but his +gossip's nature showed itself in the somewhat humorous drawl in which he +added: "I'm glad to know that it's only love that ails you. Outside of +that, you strike me as bein' a pretty rugged chap, and it's rugged chaps +we're lookin' for in 'Britt's Busters.' If it's only love that ails you, +I reckon we won't have any trouble about sendin' you out cured in the +spring." + +But noting the glitter in Wade's eyes, Mr. Britt chuckled amiably and +took himself off down the car to talk business with a man. + +During the long ride to Umcolcus Junction, Wade sat revelling in the +bitterness of his thoughts. He was not disturbed because he had given up +his school. There was a relief in escaping from meddlesome backbiters. +The school had been only a means to an end: it afforded revenue to +attain certain cherished professional plans that loomed large in Wade's +prospects. Money earned honorably in any other fashion would count for +as much. But the fact remained that he was fleeing, was hiding. Britt's +rough and somewhat contemptuous proprietorship, so instantly displayed, +wounded his pride. When he had passed the station to which he had +purchased his ticket before he met Britt, he offered more pay to the +conductor. He had seen Britt talking with the conductor a moment before, +brandishing a hairy hand in his direction. + +"It's all settled by Mr. Britt," the train officer stated, passing on. +"You're one of his men, he says." + +He growled under his breath as he accepted that label--"One of Britt's +men." + +There were one hundred more waiting for them at Umcolcus Junction, where +they changed to the spur line that ran north. + +Most of the men were in a state of social inebriety. A few fighters +were sitting apart on their dunnage-bags, nursing bruises and grudges. +Mindful of the State law that forbade the wearing of calked boots on +board a railroad train, the men who owned only that sort of footgear +were in their stocking feet. They carried their boots strung about +their necks by lacings. Many were bareheaded, having thrown away their +hats in their enthusiasm. Wade was not in a frame of mind to see any +picturesqueness in that frowsy crowd. He was one of them; he walked +dutifully behind his master, the Honorable Pulaski Britt. + +A little man, with neck wattled blue and red with queer suggestion of +a turkey's characteristics, lurched out of a group and came at Pulaski +Britt with a meek and watery smile of welcome. His knees doubled with +a drunkard's limpness, and he had to run to keep from falling. Britt +evidently did not propose to serve as dock for this human derelict. He +stepped to one side with an oath, and the man made a dizzy whirl and +dove headforemost under the train on the main track, and at that moment +the train started. The man rolled over twice, and lay, serenely +indifferent to death, on the outer rail. + + * * * * * + +After it was all over Wade sourly told himself that he acted as he did +simply to avoid witnessing a hideous spectacle. + +For, in spite of Britt's yells of protest, he went under the car, missed +the grinding wheels by an inch, and rolled out on the other side with +the drunken man in his arms. + +And when the train had drawn out of the station he came back across the +track, lugging the little man as he would carry a gripsack, tossed him +into the open door of the baggage-car of the waiting train, spatted the +dust off his own clothes, and went into the coach, casting surly looks +at the sputtering inebriates who attempted to shake hands with him. + +When the train started Britt came again and penned the young man in his +seat against the window-casing. + +"You've started in makin' yourself worth while, even if you are only the +chaney man," vouchsafed his employer. "You did an infernal fool trick, +but you've saved me Tommy Eye, the best teamster on the Umcolcus waters. +As he lies there now he ain't worth half a cent a pound to feed to cats; +when he's on a load with the webbin's in his hands I wouldn't take ten +thousand dollars for him." + +"Is he a sort of personal property of yours?" asked Wade, sullenly. He +was venting his own resentment at Pulaski Britt's airs of general +proprietorship over men. + +"Just the same as that," replied Britt, complacently. "I've had him more +than twenty years, and I'd like to see him try to go to work for any one +else, or any one else try to hire him away." He struck his hand on the +young man's knee. "Up this way, if you don't make men know you own 'em, +you're missin' one of the main points of forestry!" He sneered this +word every time he used it in his talk with Wade. The new chaney man +began to wonder how much longer he could endure the Honorable Pulaski D. +Britt without rising and cuffing those puffy cheeks. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE BOSS OF THE "BUSTERS" + + "If you don't like our looks nor ain't stuck on our kind, + Git back with the dames in the next car behind." + + +On and on went the yelping staccato of the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt. +The Honorable Pulaski D. was discoursing on his favorite topic, and his +voice was heard above the rattle and jangle of the shaky old +passenger-coach that jolted behind some freight-cars. + +"Forty years ago I rolled nigh onto a million feet into that brook +there!" shouted the lumber baron of the Umcolcus. His knotted, hairy +fist wagged under the young man's nose as he pointed at the car +window, his unwholesome breath fanned warmly on Wade's cheek, and +when he crowded over to look into the summer-dried stream his bristly +chin-whiskers tickled his seat-mate's ear. The September day was muggy +and human contact disquieting. Wade shrank nearer the open window. The +Honorable Pulaski did not notice the shrinking. He was accustomed to +crowd folks. His self-assertiveness expected them to get out of the way. + +"Yes, sir, nigh onto a million in one spring, and half of it 'down pine' +and sounder'n a hound's tooth. Nothing here now but sleeper stuff. It's +a good many miles to the nearest saw-log, and that's where I'm cutting +on Jerusalem. I tell you, I've peeled some territory in forty years, +young man." + +Wade looked at the red tongue licking lustfully between blue lips, and +then gazed on the ragged, bush-grown wastes on either side. While he had +been crowding men the Honorable Pulaski had been just as industriously +crowding the forest off God's acres. The "chock" of the axe sounded in +his abrupt sentences, the rasp of saws in his voice. + +"We left big stumps those days." The hairy fist indicated the rotten +monuments of moss-covered punk shouldering over the dwarfed bushes. +"There was a lot of it ahead of us. Didn't have to be economical. Get +it down and yanked to the landings--that was the game! We're cutting +as small as eight-inch spruce at Jerusalem. Ain't a mouthful for a +gang-saw, but they taste good to pulp-grinders." + +The train began to groan and jerk to a stand-still, and the old man +dove out of his seat and staggered down the aisle, holding to the +backs of the seats. At the last station he had spent ten minutes of +hand-brandishing colloquy on the platform with a shingle-mill boss +whom he had summoned to the train by wire. He was to meet a birch-mill +foreman here. Wade looked out at the struggling cedars and the white +birches, "the ladies of the forest," pathetic aftermath which was now +falling victim to axe and saw, and wondered with a flicker of grim humor +in his thoughts why the Honorable Pulaski did not set crews at work +cutting the bushes for hoop-poles and then clean up the last remnant +into toothpicks. + +"He's a driver, ain't he?" sounded a voice in his ear. An old man +behind him hung his grizzled whiskers over the seat-back and pointed +an admiring finger at the retreating back of the lumber baron. + +Wade wished that people would let him alone. He had some thoughts--some +very bitter thoughts--to think alone, and the world jarred on him. The +yelp of the Honorable Pulaski's monologue, that everlasting, insistent +bellow of voices in the smoking-car ahead, where the ingoing crew of +Britt's hundred men were trying to sing with drunken lustiness, and now +this amiable old fool of the grizzled whiskers, stung the dull pain of +his resentment at deeper troubles into sudden and almost childish anger. + +"Once when I was swamping for him on Telos stream, he says to me, 'Man,' +he says, 'remember that the time that's lost when an axe is slicin' air +ain't helping me to pay you day's wages!' And I says to him, 'Mister +Britt,' says I--" + +Dwight Wade, college graduate, former high-school principal, and at all +times in the past a cultured and courteous young gentleman, did the +first really rude and unpardonable act of his life. He twisted his chin +over his shoulder, scowled into the mild, dim, and watery eyes of his +interlocutor, and growled: + +"Oh, cut it short! What in--" He checked the expletive, and snapped +himself up and across the aisle, and slammed down into another seat. The +red came over his face. He did not dare to look back at the old man. He +hearkened to the rip-roaring chorus in the smoking-car, and reflected +that as the new time-keeper he was now one of "Britt's Busters," and +that the demoralizing license of the great north woods must have entered +into his nature thus early. He grunted his disgust at himself under his +breath, and hunched his head down between his shoulders. + +In his nasty state of mind he glowered at a passenger who came into the +car at the front. It was a girl, and a pretty girl at that. She nodded a +cheery greeting to the old man of the grizzled whiskers, and with a +smile still dimpling her cheeks flashed one glance at Wade. It was not +a bold look, and yet there was the least bit of challenge in it. The +sudden pout on her lips might have been at thought of confiding her +fresh, crisp skirts to the dusty seat; and yet, when she turned and shot +one more quick glance at the young man's sour countenance, the pout +curled into something like disdain, and a little shrug of her shoulders +hinted that she had not met the response that she was accustomed to find +on the faces of young men who saw her for the first time. + +While Wade was gazing gloomily and abstractedly at the fair profile +and the nose, tip-tilted a wee bit above the big white bow of her veil +tied under her chin, one of the crew lurched from the door of the +smoking-car, caught off his hat, and bowed extravagantly. It was Tommy +Eye. He had to clutch the brake-wheel to keep himself from falling. But +his voice was still his own. He broke out lustily: + + "Oh, there ain't no girl, no pretty little girl, + That I have left behind me. + I'm all cut loose for to wrassle with the spruce, + Way up where she can't find me. + Oh, there ain't no--" + +An angry face appeared over his shoulder in the door of the smoker, two +big hands clutched his throat, jammed the melody into a hoarse squawk, +and then the songster went tumbling backward into the car and out of +sight. + +Almost immediately his muscular suppressor crossed the platform and came +into the coach, snatching the little round hat off the back of his head +as he entered. Wade knew him. His employer had introduced them at the +junction as two who should know each other. It was Colin MacLeod, the +"boss." + +"And Prince Edward's Island never turned out a smarter," the Honorable +Pulaski had said, not deigning to make an aside of his remarks. "Landed +four million of the Umcolcus logs on the ice this spring, busted her +with dynamite, let hell and the drive loose, licked every pulp-wood boss +that got in his way with their kindlings, and was the first into Pea +Cove boom with every log on the scale-sheet. That's this boy!" And he +fondled the young giant's arm like a butcher appraising beef. + +Wade paid little attention to him then. With his ridged jaw muscles, his +hard gray eyes, and the bullying cock of his head, he was only a part of +the ruthlessness of the woods. + +But now, as he came up the car aisle, his face flushed, his eyes eager, +his embarrassment wrinkling on his forehead, Wade looked at him with the +sudden thought that the boss of the "Busters" was merely a boy, after +all. + +"It was only Tommy Eye, Miss Nina," explained MacLeod, his voice +trembling, his abashed admiration shining in his face. "He's just +out of jail, you know." He looked at Wade and then at the old man +of the grizzled whiskers, and raised his voice as though to gain a +self-possession he did not feel. "Tommy always gets into jail after +the drive is down. He's spent seventeen summers in jail, and is +proud of it." + +"But there ain't no better teamster ever pushed on the webbin's," said +the old man, admiration for all the folks of the woods still unflagging. + +The girl did not display the same enthusiasm, either for Tommy Eye's +mishaps or for the bashful giant who stood shifting from foot to foot +beside her seat. + +"Crews going into the woods ought to be nailed up in box-cars, that's +what father says. And when they go through Castonia settlement I wish +they were in crates, the same as they ship bears." + +"How is your father since spring?" asked the young boss, stammeringly, +trying to appear unconscious of her scorn. + +"Oh, he's all right," she returned, carelessly, patting her hand on her +lips to repress a yawn. + +"And is every one in Castonia all right?" + +"You can ask them when you get there," she replied, a bit ungraciously. + +"I tell you, I was pretty surprised to see you get aboard the train down +here at Bomazeen. I--" + +She canted her head suddenly, and looked sidewise at him with an +expression half satiric, half indignant. + +"Do you think that all the folks who ever go anywhere in this world are +river drivers and"--she shot a quick and disparaging glance at the still +glowering Wade--"drummers?" + +MacLeod noticed the look and its scorn with delight, and grasped at this +opportunity to get outside the platitudes of conversation. But in his +eagerness to be news-monger he did not soften his "out-door voice," +deepened by many years of bellowing above the roar of white water. + +"Oh, that ain't a drummer! That's Britt's new chaney man--the +time-keeper and the wangan store clerk." MacLeod knew that a girl born +and bred in Castonia settlement, on the edge of the great forest, needed +no explanation of "chaney man," the only man in a logging crew who could +sleep till daylight, and didn't come out in the spring with callous +marks on his hands as big as dimes. But he seemed to be hungry for an +excuse to stay beside her, where he could gaze down on the brown hair +looped over her forehead and her radiantly fair face, and could catch +a glimpse of the white teeth. "Britt was tellin' me on the side that +he's been teachin' school or something like that, and--say, you've +heard of old Barrett, who controls all the stumpage on the Chamberlain +waters--that rich old feller? Well, Britt, being hitched up with +Barrett more or less, and knowin' all about it--" + +Wade was now upright in his seat, but the absorbed foreman, catching at +last a gleam of interest in the gray eyes upraised to his, did not +notice. + +"--Britt says that Mister School-teacher there went to work and fell in +love with Barrett's girl, and now she's goin' to marry a rich feller in +the lumberin' line that her dad picked out for her, and instead of goin' +to war or to sea, like--" + +Wade, maddened, sick at heart, furious at the old tattler who had thus +canvassed his poor secret with his boss, had tried twice to cry an +interruption. But his voice stuck in his throat. + +Now he leaped up, leaned far over the seat-back in front of him, and +shouted, with face flushed and eyes like shining steel: + +"That's enough of that, you pup!" + +In the sudden, astonished silence the old man dragged his fingers +through his grizzled whiskers and whined plaintively: + +"Ain't he peppery, though, about anybody talking? He shet me up, too!" + +"It's my business you're talking!" shouted Wade, beating time with +clinched fist. "Drop it." + +MacLeod, primordial in his instincts, lost sight of the provocation, and +felt only the rebuff in the presence of the girl he was seeking to +attract. He had no apology on his tongue or in his heart. + +"It will take a better man than you to trig talk that I'm makin'," he +retorted. "This isn't a district school, where you are licked if you +whisper!" He sneered as he said it, and took one step up the aisle. + +With the bitter anger that had been burning in him for many days now +fanned into the white-heat of Berserker rage, Wade leaped out of his +seat. Between them sat the girl, looking from one to the other, her +cheeks paling, her lips apart. + +At the moment, with a drunken man's instinctive knowledge of ripe +occasions, Tommy Eye lurched out once more on the smoker platform and +began to carol the lay that had consoled him on so many trips from town: + + "Oh, there ain't no girl, no pretty little girl, + That I have left behind me." + +There sounded the clang of the engine bell far to the front. There was +the premonitory and approaching jangle of shacklings, as car after car +took up its slack. + +"Look after your man there, MacLeod!" cried the girl. "The yank will +throw him off." + +"Let him go, then!" gritted the foreman. The flame in Wade's eyes was +like the red torch of battle to him. Not for years had a man dared to +give him that look. + +Suddenly the car sprang forward under their feet as the last shackle +snapped taut. The boss was driven towards Wade, and let himself be +driven. The other braced himself, blind in his fury, realizing at last +the nature of the blood lust. + +A squall, fairly demoniac in intensity, stopped them. MacLeod recognized +the voice, and even his passion for battle yielded. When the Honorable +Pulaski D. Britt, baron of the Umcolcus, yelled in that fashion it meant +obedience, and on this occasion the squall was reinforced by a shriek +from the girl. And MacLeod whirled, dropping his fists. + +There on the platform stood Britt, clutching the limp and soggy Tommy +Eye by the slack of his jacket. The Honorable Pulaski, jealous of every +second of time, had remained in conversation to the last with his birch +foreman. He stepped aboard just as Tommy, jarred from his feet, was +pitching off the other side of the platform. The Honorable Pulaski +snatched for him and held on, at the imminent risk of his own life. +Already both of them were leaning far out, for Tommy Eye, in the +blissful calm of his spirit, was making no effort to help himself. + +In an instant MacLeod was down the car aisle and had pulled both back to +safety. + +"Why in blastnation ain't you staying in this hog-car here, where you +belong, you long-legged P.I. steer?" roared the old man, his anger ready +the moment his fright subsided. "What do I hire you for? You came near +letting me lose the best teamster in my whole crew. Now get into that +car and stay in that car till we get to the end of this railroad." + +He put his hands against MacLeod's breast and shoved him backward into +the door, where Tommy Eye, grinning in fatuous ignorance of the danger +he had passed through, had just disappeared ahead of him. The angry +shame of a man cruelly humiliated twisted MacLeod's features, but he +allowed his imperious despot to push him into the car, casting a last +appealing look at the girl. Britt slammed the door and stood on the +platform, bracing himself by a hand on either side the casing, and +peered through the dingy glass to make sure that his crew was now under +proper discipline. + +"He's a driver and a master," piped up Grizzly Whiskers, with the +appositeness of a Greek chorus. + +"There's the song about him, ye know: + + "Oh, the night that I was married, + The night that I was wed, + Up there come Pulaski Britt + And stood at my bed-head. + Said he, 'Arise, young married man, + And come along with me. + Where the waters of Umcolcus + They do roar along so free.'" + +"I'll bet he went, at that," volunteered a man farther back in the car. +"When Britt is after men he gits' em, and when he gits 'em he uses 'em." + +"Mr. Britt," he shouted down the car aisle as the old man entered, "that +was brave work you done in savin' Tommy's life!" + +"Go to the devil with your compliments!" snapped Britt. "If it wasn't +that I was losing my best teamster I wouldn't have put out my little +finger to save him from mince-meat." + +He saw the girl, turned over a seat to face her, and began to fire rapid +questions at her regarding her father and mother and the latest news of +Castonia settlement. When the conversation languished, as it did soon on +account of the inattention of the young woman, the Honorable Pulaski +caught the still flaming eye of Dwight Wade, and crooked his finger to +summon him. Wade merely scowled the deeper. The Honorable Pulaski +serenely disregarded this malevolence as a probable optical illusion, +and when Wade did not start beckoned again. + +"Come here, you!" he bellowed. "Can't you see that I want you?" + +With new accession of fury at being thus baited, the young man started +up, resolved to take his employer aside and free his mind on that matter +of news-mongering. But the bluff and busy tyrant was first, as he always +was in his dealings with men. + +"Here, Wade," he shouted, "you shake hands with the prettiest girl +in the north country! This is Miss Nina Ide, and this is my new +time-keeper, Dwight Wade. He's going to find that there's more in +lumbering than there is in being a college dude or teaching a school. +Sit down, Wade." + +He pulled the young man into the seat. + +"Entertain this young lady," he commanded. "She don't want to talk with +old chaps like me. Her father--well, I reckon you know her father! Oh, +you don't? Well, he's first assessor of Castonia settlement, runs the +roads, the schools, and the town, has the general store and post-office, +and this pretty daughter that all the boys are in love with." + +And at the end of this delicate introduction he pushed brusquely between +them, and went back to talk with his elderly admirer in the rear of the +car. + +Wade looked into the gray eyes of the girl sullenly. There was an angry +sparkle in her gaze. + +"Well, Mr. Wade, you may think from what that old fool said that I'm +suffering to be entertained. If you think any such thing you can change +your mind and go back." + +She had not a city-bred woman's self-poise, he thought. Her manner was +that of the country belle, spoiled the least bit by flattery and +attention. And yet, as he looked at her, he thought that he had never +seen fairer skin to set off the flush of angry beauty. For others there +was something alluring in the absolute whiteness of her teeth, peeping +under the curve of her lip, in the nose (the least bit _retrousse_), in +the looped locks of brown hair crossing her temples. Yet there was no +admiration in his eyes. + +"I hope you won't hold me guilty of being the intruder," he said, +coldly. + +"Not if you move your brogans over to some seat where there is more room +for them," she returned, with a click of her white teeth that showed +mild savagery. This young man who was in love with some one else, and +who had scowled at her, was decidedly not to her liking, she thought, in +spite of his regular features, his firm chin, his clean-cut mouth +unhidden by beard, and his brown eyes. + +Wade flushed, rose, bowed with hat lifted to a rather ironical height, +and took his seat alone, well to the front of the car. He saw MacLeod's +baleful face framed in the little window of the smoking-car's door. For +mile after mile, as the train jangled on, it remained there. + +The menace of the expression, the challenge in the attitude, and this +insolent espionage, all following the insults of his gossiping tongue, +wrought upon the young man's feelings like a file on metal. As his +resentment gnawed, it was in his mind to go and smash his fist through +the little window into the middle of that lowering countenance. + +To him came the Honorable Pulaski, bristling and bustling. + +"They're telling me back there, young man, that you and Colin came near +to having some sort of rumpus a little while ago. Now, I can't have +anything of that sort going on among my men. You mind _your_ business. +I'll make _him_ mind _his_. But what's it all about, anyway? Why were +you going to fight like roosters at sight?" + +Wade looked at his pompous red face and into his eyes with their +yellowish sclerotic, and choked back the recrimination he had intended. +The thought of opening his heart's poor secret by bandying words with +this man made him quiver. + +"As well to talk to a Durham bull," he reflected. + +"Why, you poor college dude," went on his employer, scornfully, "Colin +MacLeod would break you in two and use you to taller his boots, a piece +in each hand. You're hired to keep books and peddle wangan stuff +according to the prices marked! Keep your place, where you belong. Don't +go to stacking muscle against the boss of the Busters." + +The former centre of Burton College's football eleven stiffened his +muscles and set his nails into his palms to keep from hot retort. What +was the use? What did college training avail if it didn't help a +gentleman to hold his tongue at the right time? + +"Now, remember what I've told you," ordered Britt, "and I'll go and set +MacLeod to the right-about, so that you won't have to be afraid of him +if you mind your own business." + +He went away into the smoking-car. Between the opening and the closing +of the door there puffed out a louder jargon from the orgy. It then +settled into its dull diapason of maudlin voices. + +For the rest of the journey, to the end of the forest railroad spur, +Wade sat and looked out into the hopeless and ragged ruin left by the +axes. The sight fitted with his mood. Britt, back from his interview +with MacLeod, and serene in the power of the conscious autocrat, sat by +himself and figured endlessly with a stubby lead-pencil. Wade looked +around only once at the girl. When he did he caught her looking at him, +and she immediately snapped her eyes away indignantly. + +At last the engine gave a long shriek that wailed away in echoes among +the stumps. It was a different note from its careless yelps at the +infrequent crossings. + +"Here we are!" bellowed Britt, cheerfully, stuffing away his papers and +coming up the car for his little bag. He stopped opposite Wade. + +"Remember what I told you about minding your business," he commanded, +brusquely. "You may be a college graduate, but MacLeod is your boss. He +won't hurt you if you keep your place!" + +In medicine there are cumulative poisons--the effect of small doses at +intervals amounting in the end to a single large dose. + +In matters of heart, temper, and moral restraint there are cumulative +poisons, too. Dwight Wade, struggling up as the train jolted to a halt, +felt that this last insult, coming as it did out of that brusque, +rough-sneering, culture-despising spirit of the woods, exemplified in +Pulaski D. Britt, had put an end to self-restraint. + +It was the same brusque, money-worshipping, intolerant spirit of the +woods that sounded in John Barrett's voice when he had sneered at Wade's +pretensions to his daughter's hand. There it was now in those roaring +voices in the smoking-car. And yet he had come to it--hating it--fleeing +from the sight of men of his kind when his little temple of love seemed +closed to him, and the world had jeered at him behind his back! He +looked through the dirty car windows at the little shacks of the +railroad terminus, heard the bellow of voices, gritted his teeth in +ungovernable rage at Britt's last words, and determined to--well, he +hardly knew what he did propose to do. + +But it should be something to show them all that he could no longer be +bossed and insulted and jeered at--all in that bumptious, braggadocio, +bucko spirit of the woods! + +Both platforms of the cars were swarming with men--men rigged in queer +garb: wool leggings, wool jackets striped off in bizarre colors or +checked like crazy horse-blankets. Each man in sight carried his heavy +brogan shoes hung about his neck. + +They were singing in fairly good time, and Wade listened to the words +despite himself: + + "Oh, here I come from the Kay-ni-beck, + With my old calk boots slung round my neck + Here we come--yas, a-here we come-- + A hundred men and a jug of rum. + WHOOP-fa-dingo! + Old Prong Jones!" + +The girl passed Wade, going down the aisle before he left his seat. He +came behind her. But they were obliged to wait at the door. The men +crowded close upon both platforms. Each man had a meal-sack stuffed with +his possessions. They were all elbowing each other, and the result was a +congestion that the kicks of the Honorable Pulaski and the cuffings of +Colin MacLeod did little to break. + +The boss of the Busters kept stealing glances at the girl, as though to +challenge her notice, and perhaps her admiration, as she saw him thus a +master of men. + +It was then that the spirit of anger and rebellion seething in Dwight +Wade--the cumulative poison of his many insults--stirred him to bitter +provocation in his own turn. + +The girl carried a heavy leather suit-case, and now, waiting for the +press of men to escape from the car, she rested it against a seat, and +sighed in weariness and vexation. + +With quiet masterfulness Wade took it from her hand and smiled into the +astonished gray eyes that flashed back over her shoulder at him. It was +a smile that not even a maiden, offended as she had been, could resist. + +"I will assist you to--to--I believe it is a stage-coach that takes us +on," he said. "Let me do this, so that you won't remember me simply as a +man whose own troubles made him a boor." + +MacLeod's look of fury as he saw the act fell full upon them both, and +the girl resented it. + +"I thank you," she returned, smiling at her squire with a little +exaggeration of cordiality. And when at last the platforms were cleared +they stepped out, still talking. + +All about them men were kneeling, fastening the latchets of their +spike-sole shoes. + +"Rod Ide's gal has got a new mash!" hiccoughed one burly chap, leering +at them as they passed. At the instant MacLeod, at their heels, struck +the man brutally across the mouth, shouldered Wade roughly, and spoke +to the girl, his round hat crumpled in his big fist. + +"Miss Nina," he stammered, "I'm--I'm sorry for forgetting that you were +in that car awhile back. But you know I ain't used to takin' talk of +that sort. So, let me see you safe aboard the stage, like an old friend +should." + +"This gentleman will look after me," said the girl. She tried to be +calm, but her voice trembled. A city woman, confident of the regard due +to woman, would not have feared so acutely. But Nina Ide, bred on the +edge of the forest, was accustomed to see the brute in man spurn +restraint. The passions flaming in the eyes of these two were familiar +to her. She expected little more from the gentleman in the way of +consideration for her feelings than she did from the lumber-jack. "You +go along about your business, Colin," she said, hastily. "I can attend +to mine." + +"Give me that!" snarled the boss, his eyes red under their meeting +brows. In his rage he forgot the deference due the woman. + +"See if you can take it!" growled back the other. With him the girl was +only the means to the end that his whole nature now lusted for. He +forgot her. + +Wade looked for the young giant to strike. But the woods duello has its +vagaries. + +MacLeod lifted one heavy shoe and drove its spiked sole down upon Wade's +foot, the brads puncturing the thin leather. With his foe thus anchored, +he clutched for the valise. But ere his victim had time to strike, the +furious, flaming, bristling face of the Honorable Pulaski was between +them, and his elbows, hard as pine knots, drove them apart with wicked +thrustings. As they staggered back the old lumber baron, used to playing +the tyrant mediator, grabbed an axe from the nearest man of the crew. + +"I'll brain the one that lifts a finger!" he howled. "What did I tell +you about this? Who is running this crew? Whose money is paying you? Get +back, you hounds!" + +Once more, though he gasped in the pure madness of his rage, MacLeod was +cowed by his despot. He turned and began marshalling the crew aboard +great wagons that were waiting at the station. + +"You take your seat in that wagon, young man!" roared Britt, shaking +that hateful, hairy fist under Wade's nose. "We'll see about all this +later! Get onto that wagon!" + +At the opposite side of the station was the mail-stage, a dusty, rusty +conveyance with a lurching canopy of cracked leather above its four +seats, and four doleful horses waiting the snap of the driver's whip. + +Without a word to Britt, Wade led the way to the coach, and set the +suit-case between the seats. He limped as he walked, and his teeth were +set in pain. + +He gave his hand to the girl, and she silently accepted the assistance +and took her place in the coach. + +Then he turned to meet the fiery gaze of the Honorable Pulaski, who had +followed close on their heels, choking with expletives. + +"I reckon I see through this now," he growled. "Tryin' to cut out the +cleanest feller in the Umcolcus with your dude airs! But Rod Ide's girl +ain't to be fooled by city notions. She knows a man when she sees him." +He chucked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of MacLeod, busy +with the laggard men. "Go aboard, and let this be an end of your +meddling, young man." + +"You just speak for yourself and attend to your business, Mr. Britt!" +cried the girl, with a spirit that cowed even the tyrant's bluster. +"'Rod Ide's girl,' as you call her, can choose all her own affairs, and +you needn't scowl at me, for I'm not on your pay-roll and I'm not +afraid of you!" + +She turned to Wade with real gentleness in her tones. + +"I'm afraid he hurt you. It's a rough country up here. If you hadn't +been trying to help me it wouldn't have happened. He had no right to--" +She checked herself suddenly, and her cheeks flamed. + +"That wasn't a fair twit about my sticking my nose into your affairs, +Miss Nina," protested Britt, and turning from her he visited his rage +vicariously on his time-keeper, taking him by the arm and starting to +drag him. "I told you to get aboard!" he rasped. "And when my men that I +hire don't do as I tell 'em to do, I kick 'em aboard--and a time-keeper +is no better than a swamper with me when he leaves this railroad. You +want to understand those things and save lots of trouble." + +"You take your hand off my arm, Mr. Britt," said the young man. He did +not speak loudly, but there was something in his voice that impressed +the Honorable Pulaski, who knew men. + +"Now," resumed Wade, "for reasons of my own and that I don't propose to +explain, I am going to ride to Castonia settlement on this mail-stage." + +"It's safe to go on the wagon," persisted Britt, more mildly. "I tell +you, if you mind your own business, I won't let him lick you." + +With face gray and rigid at an insult that the old man couldn't +understand, Wade opened his mouth, then shut it, turned his back, and +climbed aboard the coach. The girl moved along to the farther end, and +gropingly and blindly, without thought as to where he was sitting, he +took the place beside her. + +He remembered that as they drove away Britt shook that hairy fist at +him, and that some rude roisterer on the wagons lilted some doggerel +about "the chaney man." And through a sort of red mist he saw the face +of Colin MacLeod. + +They were miles along the rough road before he looked at the girl. At +the movement of his head she turned her own, and in the piquant face +above the big white bow of the veil he saw real sympathy. + +He did not speak, but he looked into her clear eyes--eyes that had the +country girl's spirit and a resourcefulness beyond her years--and from +them he drew a certain comfort. + +"Mr. Wade," she said, at last, "I'm only nineteen years old, but up in +Castonia settlement we see what men are without the wrappings on them. I +don't know much about real society, but I've read about it, and I guess +society women get sort of dazzled by the outside polish and don't see +things very clear. But up our way, with what they see of men, girls get +to be women young. You are a college graduate and a school-teacher and +all that, and I'm only nineteen, but--well, it just seems to me I can't +help reaching over like this--" + +She patted his arm. + +"--And what I feel like saying is, 'Poor boy!'" + +There was such vibrant sympathy in her voice that though he set his +teeth, clinched his hands, and summoned all his resolution, his nervous +strain slackened and the tears came into his eyes--tears that had been +slowly welling ever since he had turned from John Barrett's door. + +It was woman's attempt at consolation that broke through his restraint. + +"I don't blame you much for squizzlin' a little," broke in the +stage-driver, who saw this emotion without catching the conversation. +"He did bring his huck down solid when he stamped. But I've been calked +myself, and a tobacker poultice allus does the business for me--northin' +better for p'isen in a wound." + +The chaney man reached his hand to the girl under the shelter of the +seat-back. + +"Shake!" he said, simply. "I've come up here to stay awhile, and it's +good to feel that I've got one friend that's--that's a woman." + +"And you--" She faltered and paused to listen, lips apart. + +"I've come to stay," he repeated, grimly. + +He listened too. + +Far behind them they heard the dull rumble of the heavy wagons over the +ledges. The raucous howling of the revellers had something wolf-like +about it. It seemed to close the line of retreat. Ahead were the big +woods, looming darkly on the mountain ridges--that vast region of man to +man, and the devil take the weak. + +And again he said, not boastingly, but with a quiet setting of his tense +jaw muscles: + +"I've come to stay." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +DURING THE PUGWASH HANG-UP + + "With eddies and rapids it's middlin' tough, + To worry a log-drive through. + But to manage a woman is more than enough + For a West Branch driving crew." + + --Leeboomook Song. + + +Just how Tommy Eye escaped so nimbly from the ruck of the fight at the +foot of Pugwash Hill he never knew nor understood, his wits not being of +the clearest that day--and the others being too busy to notice. + +But he did escape. One open-handed buffet sent him reeling into and +through some wayside bushes. He sat on his haunches on the other side a +moment like a jack-rabbit and surveyed the stirring scene, and then made +for higher ground. At the end of an enervating sixty-days' sentence in +the county jail--his seventeenth summer "on the bricks" for the same old +bibulous cause; second offence, and no money left to pay the fine--Tommy +did not feel fit for the fray. + +He sat on a bowlder at the top of the rise for a little while and gazed +down on them--the hundred men of "Britt's Busters," bound in for the +winter cutting on Umcolcus waters. They were fighting aimlessly, "mixing +it up" without any special vindictiveness, and Tommy, an expert in +inebriety, sagely concluded that they were too drunk to furnish +amusement. So he rolled over the bowlder and nestled down to ease his +headache, knowing, as a teamster should know, that Britt's tote wagons +were to hold up at the Pugwash for a half-hour's rest and bait. + +For that matter, a fight at the Pugwash was no novel incident--not for +Tommy Eye, at least, veteran of many a woods campaign. + +The hang-up at the hill is a teamster's rule as ancient as the tote +road. + +And the fight of the ingoing crew is as regular as the halt. All the way +from the end of the railroad the men have been crowded on the wagons, +with nothing to do but express personal differences of opinion. Every +other man is a stranger to his neighbor, for employment offices do not +make a specialty of introductions. As the principal matter of argument +on the tote wagons is which is the best man, the Pugwash Hill wait, +where there is soft ground and elbow-room, makes a most inviting +opportunity to settle disputes and establish an _entente cordiale_ that +will last through all the winter. + +Two other men--two men who had been on the outskirts of the fray from +its beginning--came leisurely up the hill, and sat down on the bowlder +behind which was couched Tommy Eye. + +One was the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt; the other was Colin MacLeod. + +The Honorable Pulaski tucked the end of a big cigar into the opening in +his bristly gray beard where his mouth was hidden, and lighted it. As an +after-thought he offered one to MacLeod. The young man, his elbows on +his knees, his flushed face turned aside, shook his head sullenly. + +"Well, you're having a run of cuss-foolishness that even our champion +fool, Tommy Eye himself, couldn't match," snorted the old man, rolling +his tongue around his cigar. + +Tommy, behind the rock, tipped one ear up out of the moss. + +"Here you go pouncing into that car to-day, where my new time-keeper +was, and go to picking a fuss with him, and--" + +"He was the one that started it, Mr. Britt," said the boss, in the dull +monotone of one who has said the same thing many times before. + +"Don't bluff me!" snapped the Honorable Pulaski. "You were gossiping +over a lot of his private business with that Ide girl--and bringing me +into it, too. You can't fool me! Old Jeff back in the car heard it all. +The young feller had a right to put in an oar to stop you, and he did +it, and I'll back him in it." + +"Yes, and you went and introduced him to Miss Ide--that's some more of +your backin'," said MacLeod, bitterly. + +"Just common politeness--just common politeness!" cried Britt, waving +his cigar impatiently. "That girl hasn't said she'd marry you, has she? +No! I knew she hadn't. Well, she's got a right to talk with nice young +men that I introduce to her, and there's nothing to it to make a fuss +over, MacLeod--only common politeness. You're making a fool of yourself, +and setting the girl herself against you by acting jealous like that +before the face and eyes of every one. That's enough time and talk +wasted on girls. Now, quit it, and get your mind on your work. You +understand that I won't have any more of this scrapping in my crew." + +With a blissful disregard of consistency, he gazed through smoke-clouds +down at the men below, who were listlessly exchanging blows or rolling +on the ground, locked in close embrace. + +MacLeod stood up, and tugged the collar of his wool jacket away from his +throat. + +"I ain't much of a man to talk my business over with any one, Mr. +Britt," he said. "But you are putting this thing on a business basis, +and you don't have the right to do it. I ain't engaged to Nina Ide, and +I 'ain't asked her to be engaged to me, for the time 'ain't come right +yet. But there ain't nobody else in God's world goin' to have her but +me. She ain't too good for me, even if her father is old Rod Ide. I'll +have money some day myself. I've got some now. I can buy the clothes +when I need 'em, if that's all that a girl likes. But it ain't all they +like--not the kind of a girl like Nina Ide is. She knows a man when she +sees him. She knows that I'm a man, square and straight, and one that +loves her well enough to let her walk on him, and that's the kind of a +man for a girl born and bred on the edge of the woods." + +He drew up his lithe, tall body, and snapped his head to one side with +almost a click of the rigid neck. + +"Along comes that college dude," he snarled, "just thrown over by a city +girl and lookin' for some one else to make love to, and he cuts in"--his +voice broke--"you see what he done, Mr. Britt! He helped her off the +train before I could get there. He put her on the stage, and rode away +with her while you were makin' me handle the men. And he's ridin' with +her now, damn him, and he's a-talkin' with her and laughin' at me behind +my back!" He shook both fists at the road to Castonia settlement, +winding over the hill, and there were tears on his cheeks. + +"He probably isn't laughing very much," replied Britt, dryly. "Not since +you plugged that spike boot of yours down on his foot there on the depot +platform. A nasty trick, MacLeod, that was." + +"I wish I'd 'a' ground it off," muttered the boss. He struck his spikes +against the bowlder with such force that a stream of fire followed the +kick. + +"He can't do it--he can't do it, Mr. Britt! He can't steal her! I've +loved her too long, and I'll have her. You just gave off your orders to +me about fighting. You don't say anything to those cattle down there +fighting about nothin'. You let them settle their troubles. Here I am!" +He struck his breast. "For five years, first up in the dark of the +mornin', last to bed in the dark of the night. I've sweat and swore and +frozen in the slush and snow and sleet, driving your crew to make money +for you. And I've waded from April till September, I've broken jams and +taken the first chance in the white water, so that I could get your +drive down ahead of the rest. And now, when it comes to a matter of hell +and heaven for me, you tell me I can't stand like a man for my own. You +call it wastin' time!" + +He bent over the Honorable Pulaski, his face purple, his eyes red. Britt +took out his cigar and held it aside to blink up at this disconcerting +young madman. + +"I tell you, you are taking chances, Mr. Britt. You have bradded me on, +and told me that a man of the woods always gets what he wants if he goes +after it right. Twice to-day you have stood between me and what I want. +You've let a college dude take the sluice ahead of me. I know you pay me +my money, but don't you do that again. I'm going to have that girl, I +say! The man that steps in ahead of me, he's goin' to die, Mr. Britt, +and the man that steps between me and that man, when I'm after him, he +dies, too. And if that sounds like a bluff, then you haven't got Colin +MacLeod sized up right, that's all!" + +The Honorable Pulaski winked rapidly under the other's savage regard. He +knew when to bluster and he knew when to palter. + +"MacLeod," he said, at last, getting up off the rack with a grunt, "what +a man that works for me does in the girl line is none of my business. +But after that kind of brash talk I might suggest to you that a cell in +state-prison isn't going to be like God's out-doors that you're roaming +around in now." + +The boss sneered contemptuously. + +"Furthermore, this college dude, that you are talking about as though he +were a water-logged jill-poke, was something in the football line when +he was in college--I don't know what, for I don't know anything about +such foolishness--but, anyway, from what I hear, it was up to him to +break the most arms and legs, and he did it, I understand. This is only +in advice, MacLeod--only in advice," he cried, flapping a big hand to +check impatient interruption. "You saw when Tommy Eye, the drunken fool, +fell under the train at the junction to-day, as he is always doing, that +feller Wade picked him up with one hand and lugged him like a pound of +sausage-meat--saved the fool's life, and didn't turn a hair over it. So, +talk a little softer about killing, my boy, and, best of all, wait till +you find out that he wants the girl or the girl wants _you_!" + +He walked down the hill. + +"Go to blazes with your advice, you old fool!" growled MacLeod, under +his breath. "He's lookin' for it; he's achin' for it! He gave me a look +to-day that no man has given me in ten years and had eyes left open to +look a second time. He'll get it!" + +As he turned to follow his employer he saw the recumbent Tommy, and went +out of his way far enough to give him a vicious kick. + +"Get onto the wagons, you rum-keg, or you'll walk to Castonia!" + +"Be jigged if I won't walk!" groaned Tommy, surveying the retreating +back of the boss with sudden weak hatred. "So there was a man who saved +my life to-day when I didn't know it! And there was another man who +kicked me when I did know it! It's the chaney man he's after, and the +chaney man was good to me! I'll make a fair fight of it if my legs hold +out, and that's all any man could do." + +The horses were still munching fodder, and the gladiators, thankful for +an excuse to stop the fray, were stupidly listening to a harangue by the +Honorable Pulaski, who was explaining what would be allowed and what +would not be allowed in his camps. + +Tommy Eye ducked around the bushes and took the road with a woodsman's +lope, his wobbly knees getting stronger as the exercise cleared his +brain. + +A woodman's lope is not impressive, viewed with a sprinter's eye. Nor is +a camel's stride. But either is a great devourer of distance. So it +happened that Tommy Eye, sweat-streaked and breathing hard, caught up +with the sluggish Castonia stage while it was negotiating the last +rock-strewn hill a half-mile outside the settlement. + +Dwight Wade, time-keeper of the Busters, heard the stertorous puffing, +and looked around to see Tommy Eye clinging to the muddy axle and towing +behind. Tommy divided an amiable and apologetic grin between Wade and +the girl beside him. + +"I'm only--workin' out--the--the budge!" Tommy explained, between the +jerks of the wagon. "Don't mind me!" + +Down the half-mile of dusty declivity into Castonia, the only smooth +road between the railroad and the settlement, the stage made its usual +gallant dash with chuckling axle-boxes and the spanking of splay hoofs. + +And Tommy Eye came limply slamming on behind. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AS FOUGHT BEFORE THE "IT-'LL-GIT-YE CLUB" + + "We dug him out of his blankets, and hauled him out to the + light-- + His eyes were red with the tears he had shed, but now he + wanted to fight. + And screaming a string of curses, he struck as he raved and + swore-- + Floored Joe Lacrosse and the swamping boss and announced + he was ready for more." + + --The Fight at Damphy's. + + +Civilization sets her last outpost at Castonia in the plate-glass +windows of Rodburd Ide's store. Civilization had some aggravating +experiences in doing this. Four times hairy iconoclasts from the deep +woods came down, gazed disdainfully at these windows as an effort to put +on airs, and smashed them with rocks dug out of the dusty road. Four +times Rodburd Ide collected damages and renewed the windows--and in the +end civilization won out. + +Those experienced in such things can tell a Castonia man anywhere by the +pitch of his voice. Everlastingly, Umcolcus pours its window-jarring +white waters through the Hulling Machine's dripping ledges. Here enters +Ragmuff stream, bellowing down the side of Tumbledick, a mountain that +crowds Castonia close to the river. Most of the men of the settlement do +their talking on the platform of Ide's store, with the spray spitting +into their faces and the waters roaring at them. And go where he will, a +Castonia man carries that sound in his ears and talks like a fog-horn. + +The satirists of the section call Ide's store platform "The Blowdown." +In the woods a blowdown is a wreck of trees. On Ide's platform the +loafers are the wrecks of men. Here at the edge of the woods, at the +jumping-off place, the forest sets out its grim exhibits and mutely +calls, "Beware!" There are men with one leg, men with one arm, men with +no arms at all; there are men with hands maimed by every vagary of +mischievous axe or saw. There are men with shanks like broomsticks--men +who survived the agonies of freezing. There is always a fresh +subscription-paper hung on the centre post in Ide's store, meekly +calling for "sums set against our names" to aid the latest victim. + +Wade, looking at this pathetic array of cripples as he slowly swung +himself over the wheel of the stage, felt that he was in congenial +company; for the foot that MacLeod had so brutally jabbed with his +spikes had stiffened in its shoe. It ached with a dull, rancor-stirring +pain. When he limped across the platform into the store, carrying the +girl's valise, he hobbled ungracefully. The loungers looked after him +with fraternal sympathy. + +"The boss spiked him down to the deepo," advised Tommy, slatting sweat +from his forehead with muddy forefinger. "He's the new time-keeper." + +"Never heard of the boss calkin' the chaney man before," remarked Martin +McCrackin, rapping his pipe against his peg-leg to dislodge the dottle. + +Tommy twisted his face into a prodigious wink, jabbed a thumb over his +shoulder towards the store door, and gazed archly around at the circle +of faces. + +"He cut the boss out with the Ide girl!" He whispered this hoarsely. + +The listeners looked at the door where Wade and the girl had +disappeared, and then stared at one another. They had viewed the arrival +of the stage with the dull lethargy of the hopelessly stranded. Now they +displayed a reviving interest in life. + +"And that was all he done to him--step on his foot?" demanded a thin +man, impatiently twitching the stubs of two arms, off at the elbows. + +"Old P'laski got in!" said Tommy, with meaning. "Used his old elbows for +pick-holes and fended Colin off." + +"It will git him, though!" said another. He had shapeless stumps of legs +encased in boots like exaggerated whip-sockets. + +"You bet it will git him!" agreed McCrackin. + +Rodburd Ide, busy, chatty, accommodating little man, trotted out of the +store at this instant with a handful of mail to distribute among his +crippled patrons. + +"That's what the river boys call this crowd here," he said, over his +shoulder, to Wade, who followed him. "The 'It-'ll-git-ye Club.' I guess +It _will_ get ye some time up in this section! Here's the last one, Mr. +Wade. Aholiah Belmore--that's the man with the hand done up. Shingle-saw +took half his fin. Well, 'Liah, don't mind! No one ever saw a whole +shingle-sawyer. It's lucky it wasn't a snub-line that got ye. There's +what a snub-line can do, Mr. Wade." + +He pointed to the armless man and to the man with the shapeless legs. + +"All done at the same time--bight took 'em and wound 'em round the +snub-post." + +"And it's a pity it wa'n't our necks instead of our legs and arms," +growled one of the men--"trimmed like a saw-log and no good to nobody!" + +"Never say die--never say die!" chirruped the jovial "Mayor of +Castonia." He threw back his head in his favorite attitude, thrust out +his gray chin beard and tapped his pencil cheerily against the obtrusive +false teeth showing under his smoothly shaven upper lip. "Your +subscription-papers are growing right along, boys. The first thing you +know you'll have enough to buy artificial arms and legs, such as we were +looking at in the advertisements the other day. It beats all what they +can make nowadays--teeth, arms, legs, and everything." + +"They can't make new heads, can they?" inquired Tommy Eye, whose mien +was that of a man who had something important to impart and was casting +about for a way to do it gracefully. + +"Who needs a new head around here?" smilingly inquired the "mayor." + +"Him," jerked out Tommy, pointing to Wade. "Leastwise, he will in about +ten minutes after the boss gits here." And having thus delicately opened +the subject, Tommy's tongue rushed on. "He was good to me when I didn't +know it!" His finger again indicated the time-keeper. "I ain't goin' to +see him done up any ways but in a fair fight. But _he's_ comin'. There's +blood in his eyes and hair on his teeth. I heard him a-talkin' it over +to himself--and he's goin' to kill the 'chaney man' for a-gittin' his +girl away from him. Now," concluded Tommy, with a hysterical catch in +his throat, "if it can be made a fair fight, knuckles up and man to man, +then, says I, here's your fair notice it's comin'. But there's a girl in +it, and girls don't belong in a fair fight--and I'm afeard--I'm afeard! +You'd better run, 'chaney man.'" + +Nina Ide was in the door behind her father. Her face was crimson, and +she winked hard to keep the tears of vexed shame back--for the faces of +the loungers told her that Tommy had been imparting other confidences. +She did not dare to steal even a glance at Wade. She was suffering too +much herself from the brutal situation. + +"'A girl!' 'His girl!'" repeated Ide, seeing there was something he did +not understand. "Whose--" + +"Father!" cried his daughter. And when he would have continued to +question, snapping his sharp eyes from face to face, she stamped her +foot in passion and cried, "Father!" in a manner that checked him. He +stood surveying her with open mouth and staring eyes. + +Dwight Wade had fully understood the quizzical glances that were +levelled at him. It was not a time--in this queer assemblage--for the +observance of the rigid social conventions. Taking the father aside +would be misconstrued--and slander would still pursue the girl. + +"Mr. Ide," he cried, his eyes very bright and his cheeks flushing, "I +want you and the others to understand this thing. It's all a mistake. +Mr. Britt introduced me to your daughter, and I paid her a few +civilities, such as any young lady might expect to receive. But I seem +to have stirred up a pretty mess. It's a shameful insult to your +daughter--this--this--oh, that man MacLeod must be a fool!" + +"He is!" said the girl, indignantly. + +"And he's a fighter," muttered Tommy Eye. + +Rodburd Ide clutched his beard and blinked his round eyes, much +perplexed. + +"It isn't a very nice thing, any way you look at it--this having two +young men scrapping through this region about my girl. It isn't that I +don't expect her to get some attention, but this is carrying attention +too far." He took her by the arm and led her to one side. "Nina, there +is nothing between you and Colin MacLeod?" + +"Nothing, father. We have danced together at the hall, and he has walked +home with me--and that's the only excuse he has for making a fool of +himself in this way." + +"And--and this new man, here?" + +"I never saw him till this very day! And he's in love with John +Barrett's daughter. Oh, what an idiot MacLeod is! This stranger will +think we're all fools up here!" Tears of rage and shame filled her eyes. + +Ide's gaze, wandering from her face to Wade and then to the loafers, saw +one of Britt's great wagons topping the distant rise, and he heard a +wild chorus of hailing yells. + +"You run up to the house, girl," he said. + +"I'll not," she replied. And when he began to frown at her she clasped +his arm with both her hands and murmured: "He's a stranger and a +gentleman, father, and they're abusing him. He is nothing to me. He's in +love with another girl. It was through being obliging and kind to me +that this horrible mistake has been made. Now, I'll not run away and +leave him to suffer any more." + +Rodburd Ide, an indulgent father, scratched his nose reflectively. + +"It isn't the style of the Ide family to leave friends on the chips, +Nina," he said--"not even when they're brand new friends. We know what +an ingoing lumber crew is, and he probably doesn't, and it's the green +man that always gets the worst of it. So I'll tell you what to do: +Invite him up to the house, and you entertain him until P'laski and I +can get this thing smoothed over." + +Tommy Eye, hovering near in piteous trepidation lest his kindly offices +should miscarry, overheard the invitation that father and daughter +extended to the young man, who was gloomily eying the approach of the +wagon. + +"Yess'r, they've got the right of it," stammered Tommy, unluckily. +"You'll git it if ye don't--and the 'It-'ll-git-ye Club' will see ye git +it. Ye'd best run!" + +Wade looked into the flushed face of the girl, at the officious father +of commiserating countenance, and at the loungers who had heard Tommy's +condescending counsel and were looking at him with a sort of scornful +pity. + +Again that strange, sullen, gnawing rage at the general attitude of the +world seized upon him. He felt a bristling at the back of his neck and +in his hair--the primordial bristling of the beast's mane. + +"It is kind of you to invite a stranger," he said, "but I fear that +among these peculiar people even that kindness would be misconstrued. I +belong with Britt's crew. I'll stay here." + +There was that in his voice which checked further appeal. The girl stood +back against the wall of the store. + +The Honorable Pulaski was the first off the wagon, and he greeted Ide +with rough cordiality. When the latter began to whisper rapidly in his +ear, he shook his head. + +"I've wasted a good deal of valuable time and some temper holding those +two young fools apart to-day," he snapped. "The last thing MacLeod +wanted to do was to lick me. Now, I'm too old to be mixed up in love +scrapes. I'm going over to measure that spool stock, and the one that's +alive when I get back, I'll load him onto the wagon and we'll keep on up +the river." He strode away, leaving the "mayor" champing his false teeth +in resentful disappointment. + +But the autocrat of Castonia had a courage of his own. He set back his +head and marched up to MacLeod, who was standing in the middle of the +road, his jacket thrown back, his thumbs in his belt. + +"Colin," he demanded, indifferent as to listeners, "what's all this +about my girl? Can't she come along home, minding her own business like +the good girl that she is, without a fuss that has set all the section +wagging tongues? I thought you were a different chap from this!" + +"He had his lie made up when he got here, did he?" growled MacLeod. + +"I believe what my own girl says," the father retorted. + +"So he's got as far as that, has he? I tell ye, Rod Ide, if you don't +know enough--don't care enough about your own daughter to keep her out +of the clutches of a cheap masher like that--the kind I've seen many a +time before--then--it's where I grab in. Ye'll live to thank me for it. +I say, ye will! You don't know what you're talking about now. But you'll +know your friends in the end." + +He put up one arm, stiffened it against Ide's breast, and slowly but +relentlessly pushed him aside. + +Viewed in the code of larrigan-land, the situation was one that didn't +admit of temporizing or mediation. The set faces of the men who looked +on showed that the trouble between these two, brooding through the hours +of that long day, was now to be settled. As for his men, Colin MacLeod +had his prestige to keep--and a man who had suffered a stranger to carry +off the girl he loved without fitting rebuke could have no prestige in a +lumber camp. And it was prestige that made him worth while, made him a +boss who could get work out of men. + +The uncertain quantity in the situation was the stranger. + +With one movement of heads, all eyes turned to him. + +He was not a woodsman, and they expected from him something different +from the usual duello of the woods. + +They got it! + +For instead of waiting for the champion of the Umcolcus to take the +initiative, this city man calmly walked off the store platform at this +juncture and bearded the champion. + +"And there ye have it--two bucks and one doe!" grunted old Martin. "The +same old woods wrassle." + +The boss dropped his hands at his side as the time-keeper approached. He +grinned evilly when he noted the limp. Wade came close and spoke without +anger. + +"I see you are still determined to be a fool, MacLeod. I want no trouble +with you. Aren't you willing to settle all this fuss like a man?" + +"That's what I'm here for," replied the boss, with grim significance. + +"Then go and offer an apology to that young lady. Do it, and I'll cancel +the one you owe to me." + +If Wade had been seeking to provoke, he could have chosen no more +unfortunate words. + +"Apology!" howled MacLeod. "Do ye hear it, boys? Talkin' to me like I +was a Micmac and didn't know manners! Here's an Umcolcus apology for ye, +ye putty-faced dude!" + +His lunge was vicious, but in his contempt for his adversary it was +wholly unguarded. A woodsman's rules of battle are simple. They can be +reduced to the single precept: Do your man! Knuckles, butting head, a +kick like a game-cock with the spiked boots, grappling and choking--not +one is called unfair. MacLeod simply threw himself at his foe. It was +blood-lust panting for the clutch of him. + +Those who told it afterwards always regretfully said it was not a +fight--not a fight as the woods looks at such diversions. No one who saw +it knew just how it happened. They simply saw that it had happened. + +[Illustration: "WADE STOOD ABOVE THE FALLEN FOE"] + +To the former football centre of Burton it was an opening simple as "the +fool's gambit" in chess. His tense arms shot forward, his hands clasped +the wrists of the flying giant with snaps like a steel trap's clutch, +his head hunched between his shoulders, he went down and forward, +tugging at the wrists, and by his own momentum MacLeod made his helpless +somersault over the college man's broad back. + +And as he whirled, up lunged the shoulders in a mighty heave, and the +woodsman fell ten feet away--fell with the soggy, inert, bone-cracking +thud that brings a groan involuntarily from spectators. He lay where he +fell, quivered after a moment, rolled, and his right arm twisted under +his body in sickening fashion. + +The girl gave a sharp cry, gathered her skirts about her, and ran away +up the street. + +"He's got it!" said 'Liah Belmore, with the professional decisiveness of +the "It-'ll-git-ye Club." + +"I've read about them things bein' done by the Dagoes in furrin' parts," +remarked Martin McCrackin, gazing pensively on the prostrate boss, "but +I never expected to see it done in a woods fight." + +There was silence then for a moment--a silence so profound that the +breathing of the spectators could be heard above the summer-quieted +murmur of the Hulling Machine. Wade walked over and stood above the +fallen foe. He was not gainsaid. Woods decorum forbids interference in a +fair fight. + +As he stood there a rather tempestuous arrival broke the tenseness of +the situation. From the mouth of a woods road leading into the tangled +mat of forest at the foot of Tumbledick came a little white stallion +drawing a muddy gig. + +Under the seat swung a battered tin pail in which smouldered dry fungi, +giving off a trail of smoke behind--the smudge pail designed to rout the +black-flies of summer and the "minges" of the later season. + +An old man drove--an old man, whose long white hair fluttered from under +a tall, pointed, visorless wool cap with a knitted knob on its apex. +Whiskers, parted by his onrush, streamed past his ears. + +He pulled up so suddenly in front of Ide's store that his little +stallion skated along in the dust. + +"Hullo," he chirped, cocking his head to peer, "Cole MacLeod down!" + +He whirled, leaped off the back of the seat, and ran nimbly to the +prostrate figure. + +"Broken!" he jerked, fumbling the arm. "No--no! Out of joint!" + +"Let the man alone," commanded Wade. "He'll need proper attendance." + +"Proper attendance!" shrilled the little old man, with snapping eyes. +"Proper attendance! And I guess that you haven't travelled much that you +don't know me. Here, two of you, come and sit on this man! I'll have him +right in a jiffy. Don't know me, eh?" He again turned a scornful gaze on +the time-keeper. "Prophet Eli, the natural bone-setter, mediator between +the higher forces and man, disease eradicator, the 'charming man'--I +guess this is your first time out-doors! Here, two of you come and hold +Cole MacLeod!" + +When Wade, knitting his brows, manifested further symptoms of +interference, Rodburd Ide took him by the arm and led him aside. + +"Let the old man alone," he said. "He'll know what to do. A little +cracked, but he knows medicine better than half the doctors that ever +got up as far as this." + +They heard behind them a dull snap and a howl of pain from MacLeod. + +"There she goes back," said Ide. "He's lived alone on Tumbledick for +twenty years, and I suppose there's a story back of him, but we never +found it out this way. We just call him Prophet Eli and listen to his +predictions and drink his herb tea and let him set broken bones and +charm away disease--and there's no kick coming, for he will never take a +cent from any one." + +Four men had carried MacLeod to the wagon. His forehead was bleeding but +he was conscious, for the sudden wrench and bitter pain of the +dislocated shoulder had stirred his faculties. + +"Well, you've had it out, have you?" demanded the Honorable Pulaski, +coming around the corner of the store and taking in the scene. "What did +I tell you, MacLeod? Listen to me next time!" + +"And you listen to me, too!" squalled MacLeod, his voice breaking like a +child's. "This thing ain't over! It's me or him, Mr. Britt. If he goes +in with your crew, I stay out. If you want him, you can have him, but +you can't have me. And you know what I've done with your crews!" + +"You don't mean that, Colin," blustered Britt. + +"God strike me dead for a liar if I don't." + +"It's easier to get time-keepers than it is bosses," said the Honorable +Pulaski, with the brisk decision natural to him. He whirled on Wade. +"You'd better go home, young man. You're too much of a royal Bengal +tiger to fit a crew of mine." He turned his back and began to order his +men aboard the tote teams. + +Wade stood looking after them as the wagons "rucked" away, his face +working with an emotion he could not suppress. + +"Well, that's Pulaski all over!" remarked Ide at his elbow. "He'll fell +a saw-log across a brook any time so as to get across without wetting +his feet, and then go off and leave the log there." + +He stood back and looked the young man over from head to feet, with the +shrewd eye of one appraising goods. + +"Mr. Wade," he said, at last, "will you step into my back office with me +a moment?" + +When they were there, the store-keeper perched himself on a high stool, +hooked his toes under a round, thrust his face forward, and said: + +"Here's my business, straight and to the point. I'm a little something +in the lumbering line up this way, myself. What with land, stumpage +rights, and tax titles I've got two townships, but they're off the main +river, and I haven't done much with 'em. I'm going to be honest, and +admit I can't do much with 'em so long as Britt and his gang control +roll-dams, flowage, and the water for the driving-pitch the way they do. +They haven't got the law with 'em, but that makes no difference to that +crowd, the way they run things. Now, you don't know the logging +business, but a bright chap like you can learn it mighty quick. And +you've shown to-day that there are some things you don't have to learn, +and that's how to handle men--and that's the big thing in this country +as things are now. What I want to ask you, fair and plain, is, do you +want a job?" + +"What, as a prize-fighter?" asked the young man, surlily. + +"No, s'r, but as a boss that can boss, and has got the courage to hold +up his end on this river! I know this all sounds as though I were +temporarily out of my head in a business way, but you've made a +reputation in the last half hour here that's worth ten thousand to the +man that hires you. There's money in the lumbering business, Mr. Wade. +The men that are in it right are getting rich. But you've got to get +into it picked end to. Here's the way you and I are fixed: you might +wait for ten years and not find the opportunity I'm offering you. I +might wait ten years and not find just the man I could afford to take in +with me. I've sized you. I know what sort your references will be when I +ask for 'em. You seem right. Are you interested enough to listen to +figures?" + +And then Ide, accepting amazed silence as assent, rattled off into his +details. At the end of half an hour Wade was listening with a new gleam +of resolution in his eyes. At the end of an hour he was blotting his +signature at the bottom of a preliminary article of agreement that was +to serve until a lawyer could draw one more ample. + +"And now," said Ide, slamming his safe door and whirling the knob, +"it's past supper-time and my folks are waitin'. And it's settled +that you stay. I say, it's settled! Where else would you stop in this +God-forsaken bunch of shacks? I've got a big house and something to eat. +Come along, Mr. Wade! I'm hungry, and we'll do the rest of our talkin' +on the road." + +The young man followed him without a word. And thus entered Dwight Wade +into the life of Castonia, and into the battle of strong men in the +north woods. + +In front of the store, as they issued, the "It-'ll-git-ye Club" was +still in session, as though waiting for something. They got what they +were waiting for. + +"Boys," announced their satisfied "mayor," "I want to introduce to you +my new partner, Mr. Dwight Wade--though he don't really need any +introduction in this region after to-day. Bub!" he called to a +youngster, "get a wheelbarrow and carry Mr. Wade's duffle up to my +house." He pointed to the young man's meagre baggage that had been +thrown off the tote wagon. + +As Wade turned away he caught the keen eye of Prophet Eli fixed on him. +The eye was a bit wild, but there was humor there, too. And the cracked +falsetto of the old man's voice followed him as he walked away beside +his new sponsor: + + "Oh, the little brown bull came down from the mountain, + Shang, ro-ango, whango-wey! + And as he was feelin' salutatious, + Chased old Pratt a mile, by gracious, + Licked old Shep and two dog Towsers, + Then marched back home with old Pratt's trousers. + Whango-whey!" + +"Yes, as I was tellin' you a spell ago--just a little cracked!" +apologized Ide. "There's my house, there! The one with the tower. It +would look better to me, Mr. Wade, if only my wife had lived to enjoy it +with me." But his eyes lighted at sight of his daughter. She was +standing at the gate waiting for them. "Her own mother over again, and +the best girl in the whole north country, sir! It was man's work you did +there to-day for the sake of my girl and her good name--I only wish her +father had the muscle to do as much for her." He stretched out his puny +arms and shook his head wistfully. "But there's one thing I can do, Mr. +Wade. It can't be said that Rod Ide stood by and saw you get thrown out +of a job for his daughter's sake, and didn't make it square with you!" + +"Is that the reason you are offering this partnership to me?" inquired +the young man, his pride taking alarm. + +"No, sir!" replied the little man, with emphasis. But he added, out of +his honesty: "It's straight business between us, sir, but it wouldn't be +human nature if your best recommendation to me wasn't the fact that +you've done for my girl the service that her father ought to have done, +and I'm not goin' to try to separate that from our business. But before +I get done talking with you, I'll show you that by the time you've +helped me to win out against Pulaski Britt and old King Spruce you'll +have earned your share in this partnership." + +And then, with an air that was distinctly triumphant, he pushed Wade +ahead of him through the gate, chatting voluble explanation to a girl +who listened with a welcoming light in her gray eyes. It was a light +that cheered a roving young man who had acquired friends by such a +dizzying train of circumstances. + +They talked until far into the night, he and Rodburd Ide. + +The next day Christopher Straight was called into the conference. + +"There ain't any part of the north country that Christopher don't know," +eulogized Ide, caressing the woodsman's arm. "Forty years trapper, +guide, and explorer--that's his record." + +Wade gazed into the quiet eyes of the veteran as he grasped his hand, +and needed no further recommendation than the look old Christopher +returned. There are few men in the world with such appealing qualities +as those who have passed their lives in the woods and know what the +woods mean. Wade realized now, after his talk with Ide, the nature of +the task that he faced. Knowing that Christopher Straight was to be his +companion and guide, he was heartened, having seen the man. + +And with intense eagerness to be away, he completed his modest +preparations for the exploring trip, and set forth towards the great +unknown of the north. He had Rodburd Ide's parting hand-clasp for +reassurance, his daughter's sincere godspeed for his comfort, and the +chance to do battle for his love. And he walked with Christopher +Straight with head erect and a heart full of new hope. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +ON MISERY GORE + + "I reckon if gab had been sprawl, + He'd have climb' to the very top notch. + As it was, though, he made just one crawl + To a perch in a next-the-ground crotch." + + --The Pauper. + + +The two men "hopped" the broad expanse of Patch Dam heath, springing +from tussock to tussock of the sphagnum moss. In that mighty flat they +seemed as insignificant as frogs, and their progress suggested the +batrachian as they leaped and zigzagged. + +Ahead bounced Christopher Straight, the few tins of his scanty +cooking-kit rattling in the meal-bag pack on his back. + +At his heels came Dwight Wade, blanket-roll across his shoulders and +calipers and leather-sheathed axe in his hands. Sweat streamed into his +eyes, and, athlete though he was, his leg muscles ached cruelly. The +September sunshine shimmered hotly across the open, and the young man's +head swam. + +Old Christopher's keen side glance noted this. With the veteran guide's +tactful courtesy towards tenderfeet, he halted on a mound and made +pretence of lighting his pipe. There was not even a bead of perspiration +on his face, and his crisp, gray beard seemed frosty. + +"I'm ashamed of myself," blurted the young man in blunt outburst. His +knees trembled as he steadied himself after his last leap. + +"It ain't exactly like strollin' down the shady lane, as the song says," +replied old Christopher, with gentle satire. He looked away towards the +fringe of distant woods. + +"We could have kept on around by the Tomah trail, Mr. Wade, but I reckon +you got as sick as I did of climbin' through old Britt's slash. And +until he operated there last winter it used to be one of the best trails +north of Castonia. I blazed it myself forty years ago." + +"And just a little care in felling it would have left it open," cried +the young man, indignantly. + +"There was orders from Britt to drop ev'ry top across that trail +that could be dropped there, Mr. Wade. So, unless they come in +flyin'-machines, there's been few fishermen and hunters up the Tomah +trail this season to build fires and cut tent-poles." + +"Does the old hog begrudge that much from the acres he stole from the +people of the State?" demanded Wade. + +"He'd ruther you'd pick your teeth with your knife-blade than pull even +a sliver out of a blow down," replied Christopher, mildly. He tossed his +brown hand to point his quiet satire, and Wade's eyes swept the vast +expanse of wood, from the nearest ridges to the dim blue of the +tree-spiked horizon. + +Christopher put his hand to his forehead and gazed north. + +"I can show you your first peek at it, Mr. Wade," he said, after a +moment. "That's old Enchanted--the blue sugar-loaf you see through Pogey +Notch there. Under that sugar-loaf is where we are bound, to Ide's +holdin's." + +There was a thrill for the young man in the spectacle--in the blue +mountains swimming above the haze, and in the untried mystery of the +miles of forest that still lay between. Even the word "Enchanted" +vibrated with suggestion. + +The zest of wander-lust came upon him later--a zest dulled at first by +two days of perspiring fatigue, uneasy slumbers under the stars, +breathless scrambles through undergrowth and up rocky slopes. + +"That's Jerusalem Mountain, layin' a little to the right," went on +Christopher. "That's Britt's principal workin' on the east slope of that +this season. He'll yard along Attean and the other streams, and run his +drive into Jerusalem dead-water--and that's where you and Ide will have +a chore cut out for you." The old man wrinkled his brows a bit, but his +voice was still mild. + +The romance oozed from Wade's thrill. The thrill became more like an +angry bristling along his spine. During the days of his preparation for +this trip into the north country, Rodburd Ide--suddenly become his +partner by an astonishing juncture of circumstances--had spent as much +time in setting forth the character of the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt as +he had in instructing his neophyte in the duties of a timber explorer. +As a matter of fact, Ide left it mostly to old Christopher to be mentor +and instructor in the art of "exploring," as search for timber in the +north woods is called. Ide was better posted on the acerbities and +sinuosities of Britt's character than he was on the values of standing +timber and the science of economical "twitch-roads," and, with sage +purpose, he had freely given of this information to his new partner. + +"Don't worry about the explorin' part--not with Christopher postin' +you," Ide had cheerfully counselled, when he had shaken hands with them +at the edge of Castonia clearing. "You and he together will find enough +timber to be cut. But you can't get dollars for logs until they're +sorted and boomed--and that part means dividin' white water with Britt +next spring. So, don't spend all your time measuring trees, Wade. +Measure chances!" + +Now, with his eyes on the promised field of battle, Wade growled under +his breath. + +Britt! + +For four days now he had struggled behind old Christopher through +tangled undergrowth of striped maple, witch hobble, and mountain +holly--Mother Nature's pathetic attempt to cover with ragged and stunted +growth the breast that the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had stripped bare. + +"He cut her three times," Christopher explained. "First time the virgin +black growth--and as handsome a stand of timber as ye ever put calipers +to; second time, the battens--all under eleven inches through; third +time, even the poles. That's forestry as he practises it! He's robbin' +the squirrels!" + +Britt! + +Wade had seen rotting tops that would have yielded logs--the refuse of +the first reckless and wasteful cutting. He had passed skidways and +toiled over corduroy in which thousands of feet of good spruce had been +left to decay. The deploring finger of the watchful Christopher pointed +out butts hacked off head high. + +"The best timber in the log left standin' there, Mr. Wade. But Pulaski +Britt ain't lettin' his men stop to shovel snow away." + +Britt behind him, in the tangled undergrowth! Britt about him, in the +straggle of trees on the hard-wood ridges! Britt ahead of him, where the +black growth shaded the mountains in the blue distance! The same Britt +who had so contemptuously tossed him aside as useless baggage when +Foreman Colin MacLeod had demanded his discharge! + +Wade clutched calipers and axe, and went leaping after old Christopher +with new strength in his legs. + +But in spite of the vigor that resentment lent him, he was glad when the +guide tossed off his pack beside a brook that trickled under mossy rocks +on the hard-wood slope. It was good to hear the tinkle of water, to feel +the solid ground after the weird wobbling of the sphagnum moss, and to +snuff the smoke of the handful of fire crackling under the tea-pail. + +They were munching biscuits and bacon, nursing pannikins of tea between +their knees, when Christopher cocked an ear, darted a glance, and +mumbled a mild oath as savor to his mouthful of biscuit. + +"Set to eat a snack within a mile of Misery Gore and one of them crows +will appear to ye. And that's the old he one of them all." + +The old man who came shuffling slowly down the path was gaunt with the +leanness of want, and unkempt with the squalor of the hopelessly +pauperized. + +"It's one of the Misery Gore squatters, Mr. Wade. All Skeets and +Bushees, and married back and forth and crossways and upside down till +ev'ry man is his own grandmother, if he only knew enough to figger +relationship. All State paupers, and no more sprawl to 'em than there is +to a fresh-water clam." + +Old Christopher, with Yankee contempt of the thrifty for the willing +pauper, grumbled on in his scornful explanations after the old man sat +down opposite them. Wade, accustomed to politer usages, winced before +this brutal frankness. He plainly felt worse than the subject, who +looked from one to the other, his blue lips slavering at sight of the +food. + +"It ain't no use to set there and drool like a hound pup, Jed," snapped +old Christopher, cutting another slice of bacon. "We're bound in for a +fortnit's explorin' trip, and we ain't got no grub to spare." + +The patriarch of Misery Gore drew a greasy bit of brown paper from his +ragged vest, unfolded it, and took out what was apparently a long hair +from his grizzly beard. He pinched the thicker end between his dirty +thumb and forefinger, stroked the whisker upright, and held it before +his gaping mouth. The whisker slowly bent over towards Christopher. + +"'Lectric!" announced the experimenter, in thick, stuffy tones, as +though he were talking through a cloth. + +Again he gaped his toothless mouth, and the whisker bent towards the +uninviting opening. + +"'Lectric!" He grinned at them, rolling his watery eyes from face to +face to seek appreciation. It was evident that he considered the feat +remarkable. + +"Full of it! Er huh! Full of it!" He stroked his thin fingers down his +arm and slatted into the air. "Storms, huh? I know. Fair weather, huh? I +know. Things to happen, huh? I know. I can tell." + +He hitched nearer, and looked hungrily at the bread and bacon which +Christopher immediately and ruthlessly began to wrap up. + +"Them wireless-telegraph folks ought to know about you," grunted the +guide. "Don't pay any attention to the old fool, Mr. Wade. He don't have +to beg of us. Rod Ide furnishes supplies to these critters. Law says +that the assessor of the nearest plantation shall do it, and then Ide +puts in his bill to the State. You needn't worry about their starvin'." + +"You'd all see us starve on Misery Gore," wailed the old man. "You'd all +see us starve!" His tone changed suddenly to weak anger. "Ide's an old +hog. No tea, no tobarker." + +"Yes, and he ain't been so lib'ral with turkeys, plush furniture, and +champagne as he ought to be," growled Christopher, relishing his irony. + +"If there's anything that you really need, Mr.--Mr.--" + +"Skeet," snapped the guide. + +"--Mr. Skeet, I'll speak to Mr. Ide about it when--" + +"Mr. Wade," broke in Christopher, "what's the need of wastin' good +breath on that sculch? They get all they deserve to have. They're too +lazy to breathe unless it come automatic. They let their potatoes rot in +the ground, and complain about starvin'. They won't cut browse to bank +their shacks, and complain about freezin'. The only thing they can do to +the queen's taste is steal, and it's got so in this section that there +ain't a sportin'-camp nor a store wangan that it's safe to leave a thing +in." + +He began to stuff tins into the mouth of the meal-sack, glowering at the +ancient pauper. + +"They nigh put me out of bus'ness guidin' hereabouts. Stole everything +from my Attean camp that I left there--and it ain't no fun to tugger-lug +grub for sports on your back from Castonia." + +When the last knot in the leather thong was twitched close and the +bountiful meal-bag was closed, old Jed abandoned hope and wheedling. He +brandished the whisker at Christopher, his moth-speckled hand quivering. + +"Old butcherman!" he screamed. "'Twas my Jed. Off here!" He set the edge +of his palm against his arm. + +Christopher's face grew hard under his frosty beard, but his cheeks +flushed when Wade gazed inquiringly at him. + +"It's a thief's lookout when there's a spring-gun in a camp," he +muttered. "There was a sign on the door sayin' as much. It ain't my +fault if folks has been too busy stealin' to learn to read. If you ever +hear anything about it up this way, Mr. Wade, you needn't blame me. They +had their warnin' by word o' mouth. I'm sorry it happened, but--" + +"What happened?" + +"Young Jed Skeet joined the 'It-'ll-git-ye Club' a year ago with a fin +shot off at the elbow." + +Christopher swung his pack to his back, thrust his arms through the +straps, and marched away. Wade followed with a new light on some of the +accepted ethics of human combat in the big woods. Old Jed shuffled +behind, a toothless Nemesis gasping maledictions in stuffy tones. + +"We'll swing over the ridge and go through Misery Gore settlement, Mr. +Wade," said the old guide, after a time, divining the reason for his +companion's silence. "It may spoil your appetite for supper, but it'll +prob'ly straighten out some of your notions about me and that +spring-gun." + +On the opposite slant of the ridge a ledge thrust above the hard-wood +growth, and Christopher led the way out upon this lookout. + +"There! Ain't that a pictur' for a Sussex shote to look at, and then +take to the woods ag'in?" he inquired, with scornful disregard for any +civic pride the patriarch of Misery might have taken in his community. + +The few miserable habitations of poles, mud, and tarred paper were +scattered around a tumble-down lumber camp, relic of the old days when +"punkin pine" turreted Misery Gore. + +"I suppose the man who named it stood here and looked down," suggested +Wade. + +"It was named Misery fifty years before this tribe ever came here. I +reckon they heard of it, and it sounded as though it might suit 'em. +They're a tribe by themselves, Mr. Wade. They've been driven off'n a +dozen townships that I know of. Land-owners keep 'em movin'. I reckon +this is their longest stop. This Gore is a surplus left in surveying +Range Nine. Sort of a no man's land. But they hadn't ought to be left +here." + +There was so much conviction in the old guide's tone, and the contrast +of utter ruin below was so great, its last touch added by the pathetic +old figure in rags at the foot of the ledge, that the young man's temper +flamed. He had been pondering the spring-gun episode with no very +tolerant spirit. + +"For God's sake, Straight, show some man-feeling. Is the selfishness of +the woods down to the point where you begrudge those poor devils that +wallow of stumps and rocks?" + +Christopher received this outburst with his usual placidity--the +placidity that only woodsmen have cultivated in its most artistic sense. + +"Look, Mr. Wade!" He swept his hand in the circuit that embraced the +panorama of ridges showing the first touches of frost, the hills still +darkling with black growth, the valleys and the shredded forest. + +"There she lays before you, ten thousand acres like a tinder-box in this +weather, dry since middle August. You've seen some of the slash. But +you've seen only a little of it. Under those trees as far as eye can see +there's the slash of three cuttin's. Tops propped on their boughs like +wood in a fireplace. Draught like a furnace! It's bad enough now, with +the green leaves still on. It's like to be worse in May before the green +leaves start. And about all those dod-fired Diggers down there know or +care about property interests is that a burn makes blueberries grow, and +blueberries are worth six cents a quart! They have done it in other +places. They're inbred till they've got water for blood and sponges for +brains. When the hankerin' for blueberries catches 'em they'll put the +torch to that undergrowth and refuse, and if the wind helps and the rain +don't stop it they'll set a fire that will run to Pogey Notch like +racin' hosses, roar through there like blazin' tissue-paper in a chimbly +flue, and then where'll your black growth on Enchanted be--the growth +that's goin' to make money for you and Rod Ide? I tell ye, Mr. Wade, +there's more to woods life than roamin' through and cuttin' your gal's +name on the bark. There's more to loggin' than the chip-chop of a sharp +axe or the rick-raw of a double-handled gashin'-fiddle. And when it +comes down to profit, you can't be polite to a porcupine when he's +girdlin' your spruce-trees, nor practice society airs and Christian +charity with damn fools, whether they're dude fishermen tossin' +cigar-stubs or such spontaneously combustin' toadstools as them that +live down yonder eatin' the State's pork and flour. I'm up here with ye +to tell ye something about the woods, Mr. Wade. And it ain't all goin' +to be about calipers, the diffrunce between the Bangor and New Hampshire +scale, and how stumpage ain't profitable under nine inches top +measure--no, s'r, not by a blame sight!" + +There was no passion in the old man's remonstrance, but there was an +earnestness that closed the young man's lips against argument. He +followed silently when Christopher led the way down towards the +settlement. Old Jed took up his position at the rear. + +The first who accosted them was a slatternly woman, her short skirts +revealing men's long-legged boots. She rapped the bowl of a pipe smartly +in her palm, to show that it was empty, and demanded tobacco. She +scowled, and there was no hint of coaxing in her tones. + +When Wade looked at her with an expression of shocked astonishment that +all his resolution could not modify, she sneered at him. + +"Oh, you think we don't know northin' here--ain't wuth noticin' 'cause +we live in the woods, hey? Well, we do know something. Here, Ase, tell +this sport the months of the year, and then let's see if he's stingy +enough to keep his plug in his pocket." + +Ase, plainly her son, lubberly and man-grown, roared without +bashfulness: + +"Jan'warry, Feb'darry, Septober, Ockjuber, Fourth o' July, St. Padrick's +Day, and Cris'mus--gimme a chaw!" + +Two or three men lounged out-of-doors--one with his arm significantly +off at the elbow. But there was not even a shadow on his vapid face when +he looked at Christopher, author of his misfortune. + +"Ain't ye goin' to give me a piece of your plug, Chris?" he whined. +"Seem's if ye might. You 'n' me's square now--I got your pork and you +got my arm." + +"There! Hear that?" growled Straight, in Wade's ear. "Put your +common-sense calipers on this stand of human timber and see what ye make +of it." + +Wade, looking from face to face, as the frowsy population of Misery +lounged closer about him, half in indolence, half in the distrustful +shyness that the stupidly ignorant usually assume towards superior +strangers, noted that though the men displayed an almost canine desire +to fawn for favors, the women were sullen. The only exception was a very +old woman who hobbled close and entreated: + +"Ain't you got northin' good for Abe, nice young gentleman? Poor Abe! +Hain't got no friend but his old mother." She hooked a hand as blue and +gaunt as a turkey's claw into Wade's belt and held up her spotted face +so close to his that he turned his head in uncontrollable disgust. + +"Your hands off the gentleman, Jule," commanded Christopher, brusquely. +"It's old Jule, mate of the old he one that has been chasin' us," he +explained, with more of that blissful disregard for the feelings of his +subjects that had previously shocked the young man. "There's old Jed and +young Jed--old Jule and young Jule. They 'ain't even got gumption enough +here to change names. And that's Abe--the choice specimen that she's +beggin' for. Look at him and wish for a pictur'-machine, Mr. Wade!" + +He had thought there could be no worse in human guise than those he had +seen. But this huge, hairy, shaggy, almost naked giant, cowering against +the side of a shack with all the timidity of a child, marked a climax +even to such degeneracy as he had quailed before. + +"Mind in him about five years old, and will always stay five years old," +said the guide, pointing to the wistful, simpering face. "Body speaks +for itself. Look at them muscles! I've seen him ploughin' hitched with +their cow. Clever as a mule. He's the old woman's hoss. Hauls her on a +jumper clear to Castonia settlement." + +"An animal!" Wade gasped. + +"Not much else. Afraid of the dark, of shadows, and women mostly. +Strange women! Once a woman scared him in Castonia and he ran away like +a hoss, draggin' the jumper. Old Jule hitched him to a post after that." + +Cretinism in any form had always shocked Dwight Wade inexpressibly. He +turned away, but the old woman was in his path, begging. + +The next moment a tall, lithe girl ran swiftly out of a hut, seized the +whimpering old woman, tossed her over her shoulder as a miller would +up-end a bag of meal, and staggered back into the hut, kicking the frail +door shut with angry heel. Wade got an astonished but a comprehensive +view of this "kidnapper." There was no vacuity in her face. It was +brilliant, with black eyes under a tangle of dark hair disordered but +not unkempt like that of the females he had seen in Misery. Her lips +were very red, and the color flamed on her cheeks above the brown of the +tan. In that compost heap of humanity the girl was a vision, and Wade +turned to old Christopher with unspoken questions on his parted lips. + +"Don't know," said the guide, laconically, wagging his head. "No one +knows. She's with 'em. But you and me can see that she ain't one of 'em. +She's always been with 'em as fur back's I know of her--and that was +sixteen years ago, when she was in a holler log on rockers for a +cradle." + +"Stolen!" suggested Wade, desperately. The thought had a morsel of +comfort in it. That a girl like that could belong by right of birth in +this tribe, that a girl with--ah, now he realized why his heart had +throbbed at sight of her--that a girl with Elva Barrett's hair and eyes +could be doomed to this existence was a knife-thrust in his +sensibilities. + +And the toss of her head and the rebelliousness in the gesture--the +defiance in the upward flash of the sparkling eyes--subdued in Elva +Barrett's case by training--the mnemonics of love, whose suggestions are +so subtle, thrilled him at the sudden apparition of this forest beauty. +Reason angrily rebuked this unbidden comparison. He bit his lips, and +flushed as though his swift thought had wronged his love. Old +Christopher put into blunt woods phrase the pith of the thoughts that +struggled together in Wade's mind. The guide was looking at the closed +door. + +"There's lots of folks, Mr. Wade, that don't recognize plain white birch +in some of the things that's polished and set up in city parlors. I've +wondered a good many times what a society cabinet-shop, as ye might say, +would do to that girl." + +"They must have stolen her," repeated Wade. + +Old Christopher tucked a sliver of plug into his cheek. + +"That would sound well in a gypsy fairy-story, but it don't fit the +style of the Skeets and Bushees. They're too lazy to steal anything +that's alive. They want even a shote killed and dressed before they'll +touch it. Near's I can find out, the young one was handed to 'em, and +they was too dadblamed tired to wake up and ask where it came from. +They didn't even have sprawl enough to name her. I did that," he added, +calmly. "Yes," he proceeded, smiling at Wade's astonished glance; "I was +guidin' a sport down the West Branch just before they drove the tribe +out of the Sourdnaheunk country--under old Katahdin, you know! I see her +in that log cradle, and they was callin' her 'it.' So me 'n' the sport +got up a name for her--Kate Arden, for the mountain. 'Tain't a name for +a Maine girl to be ashamed of." + +It suddenly occurred to Wade, gazing at the old man, that the quizzical +screwing-up of his eyes was hiding some deeper emotion; for +Christopher's voice had a quaver in it when he said: + +"Poor little gaffer! Some one ought to have taken her away from 'em. But +it's hard to get folks interested in even a pretty posy when it grows in +a skunk-cabbage patch." + +He looked away, embarrassed that any man should see emotion on his face, +and uttered a prompt exclamation. + +Threading their way in single file among the blackened stumps that +bordered the Tomah trail to the north came a half-dozen men. + +"That's Bennett Rodliff ahead, and he's the high sheriff of this +county," growled the old man. "There's two deputies and two game-wardens +with him--and old Pulaski Britt bringin' up in the rear. Knowin' them +pretty well, I should say that it spells t-r-u-b-l-e, in jest six +letters. I ain't a great hand to guess, Mr. Wade, but if some one was to +ask me quick, I should say it was the same old checker-game that the +Skeets and Bushees have been playin' for all these years, and that it's +their turn to move." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE TORCH, AND THE LIGHTING OF IT + + "We know how to riffle a log jam apart, + Though it's tangled and twisted and turned; + But the love of a woman and ways of the heart + Are things that we never learned." + + --Leeboomook Song. + + +The sheriff and his men tramped into the little clearing and gave the +usual greeting of woods wayfarers--the nod and the almost voiceless +grunt. The Honorable Pulaski was a little more talkative. He was also in +excellent humor. + +"Hear you and Rod Ide have hitched hosses, Wade!" he cried. "Sheriff +here was tellin' me. I'm mighty glad of it. That lets me out of thinkin' +I got you up here on a wild-goose chase. I was sorry to dump you, but it +would take nine time-keepers to make a foreman like Colin MacLeod, and +when he put it up to me you had to go. It was business, and business +beats fun up this way." + +The young man did not reply. Words seemed useless just then. + +The Honorable Pulaski turned from him briskly and ran an appraising eye +over the miserable huddle of huts. With the true scent of primitive +natures for impending trouble, the population of Misery edged around +this group of new arrivals--the men in advance and wistful, the women +behind and sullen. + +"Well, boys," said the Honorable Pulaski, "it's just this way about it, +and we can all be reasonable and do business like business men." His air +was that of a man dealing with children or savages. "As far as I'm +personally concerned, I hate to bother you. But I represent the other +owners of this township, and the other owners aren't as reasonable about +some things as I am." + +He paused to light a long cigar. No one spoke. He proffered one to Wade, +who shook his head with a little unnecessary vigor. + +Britt talked as he puffed. + +"Now--pup--pup--now, boys--pup--you know as well as I do that you've +squatted right in the middle of a lot of slash that we had to leave, and +it lays in a bad way for fire. You ain't so careful about fire as you +ought to be." He held up his cigar. "Here's my style. I don't smoke till +I'm out of the trail. I--pup--pup--own land, and that makes a +difference. You don't own land. I don't want to bring up old stories, +but you know and I know that the prospects of six cents a quart for +blueberries makes you forgetful about what's been said to you. You've +started some devilish big fires. Here's the September big winds about +due--and this one that's just springing up to-day is a fair sample--and +all is, the owners can't afford to run chances of a fire that will stop +God knows where if it gets running in this five thousand acres of dry +tops and slash. + +"Here's Mr. Ide's representative," he continued, flapping a hand towards +Wade. "They've got black growth to the north, and he'll tell you just +the same thing." + +"Well, Mister Mealy-mouth," sneered young Jule, over the heads of the +others, "git to where you're goin' to. We don't want no sermons. It's +move ag'in, hey?" + +"It's move," snapped the Honorable Pulaski, his ready temper starting at +the woman's insolent tone, "and it's move damn sudden." + +Whether it was a groan or growl that came from the wretched huddle, +Wade, looking on them with infinite pity, could not determine. + +"I could put ye plumb square out of the county," roared Britt; "I've got +land jurisdiction enough to do it. But you be reasonable and I'll be +reasonable. I won't drive ye too far. I'll have four horses over from my +cedar operation to tote what duds you want to take and haul the old +women. Sheriff Rodliff and his men here will go along, and see that you +have grub and don't have to light fires. In fact, everything will be +arranged nice for you, and you'll like it when you get there." + +"Where?" asked young Jed. + +"On Little Lobster--the old Drake farm," said the Honorable Pulaski, +trying to speak enthusiastically and signally failing. + +"O my Gawd!" moaned young Jed; "most twenty miles to hoof it, and when +ye git there no wood bigger'n alder-withes, and all the stones the devil +let drop when his puckerin'-string bruk! Hain't a berry. Hain't northin' +to earn a livin'." + +"You never earned your living, and you don't want to earn your living," +retorted Britt. "You just want to stay up here in the big timber and +start fires." + +"No, Mr. Britt, we just want the chance to be human beings!" cried a +tense and piercing voice. The girl had reappeared in the door of the +hut. Above the meek lamentations of those about her, her voice was as +the scream of a young hawk above the baaing of sheep. She pushed her way +through them and stood before the Honorable Pulaski, palpitating, +glowing, splendid in her fury. But she propped her brown hands on her +hips--a woman of the mob--and Wade noted the attitude, and flushed at +the shamed thought of the likeness to Elva Barrett. + +In this crisis, by right of her intelligence, her daring, her +superiority, the girl seemed to take her place at the head of the +pathetic herd. + +"That's what we want, Mr. Britt. You're driving us down to the +settlements again. And then some bow-legged old farmer will lose a sheep +by bears or a hen by hawks, and we'll be set upon and driven back once +more to the woods. And then you'll come and huff and puff and blow our +house down and chase us away to the settlement. 'The law! The law!' you +keep braying like a mule. You kick us one way; the settlements kick us +another. Mr. Britt, I didn't ask to be put on this earth! But now that +I'm here I've a right to ground enough to set my feet on, and so have +these people. We are using no more of your stolen ground here than we'd +be using in another place, and here we stay!" She stamped her foot. + +"You young whippet," snorted the Honorable Pulaski, "don't sneer to me +about the law when I've got eviction-papers in my pocket and the high +sheriff of this county at my back." + +"How about the law that makes wild-land owners pay squatters for +improvements to land?" demanded the girl. "I know some law, too." + +"Do you call those hog-pens improvements?" He swept his fat hand at the +huts. + +"You may pay some one a dollar an acre for that blue sky above us and +claim that, too. You may claim all of God's open country here in the big +woods. But I know that you can't shut even paupers out from the lakes +and the streams any more than you can take away the sunlight from us." + +"I don't know where you got your law, young woman, but I'd advise you to +get better posted on the difference between right of way to State +waters and squatting on private land. Now, I ain't got time to--" + +"We'll not go back to the settlement--not one of us." She set her feet +apart and bent a fiery gaze on him. + +Britt looked away from her to his circle of supporters. The deputies +stooped over their gun-barrels to hide furtive grins at sight of the +timber baron thus baited by a girl on his preserves. Even the broad face +of the sheriff was crinkled suspiciously. The tyrant flamed with the +quick passion for which he was noted in the north country. + +"Look here, Rodliff!" His voice was like cracking twigs. "Pile the +dunnage out of those huts. If any one gets in your way drive a stake and +tie 'em to it." He thrust his bulgy nose into the air to sniff the +direction of the wind. "Then set fire to every d--n crib. The wind's all +right to carry it towards the bog." + +"I don't believe you've got law enough in your pocket to do a thing like +that, Mr. Britt," broke in Wade, with heat. + +"You don't, hey?" + +"Not to throw old men and women and children out of their houses and +leave them shelterless a dozen miles from a building. There must be +another way of getting at this eviction matter, Mr. Britt--one that's +different from burning a hornet's nest." + +"This don't happen to be any of your special business!" roared the +tyrant. "If it was, you'd stand by property interests instead of backing +State paupers." + +"Mr. Sheriff, are you going to do that thing?" + +"I'm here by order of the court, to do what Mr. Britt wants done to +protect his property," replied the officer. "I'm to execute, not to plan +nor ask questions." + +"King Spruce runs this country up here, not human feelin's," muttered +old Christopher in Wade's ear. "You won't get any satisfaction by +buttin' in. I'm ready to move. I don't like to see such things done, +and I don't believe you do. Come on!" He swung his meal-bag upon his +shoulders. + +But the young man lingered doggedly, his eyes on the face of the girl. + +"Buckin' a high sheriff and his posse ain't ever been reckoned as a +profitable business speculation in these parts," mumbled the guide. "It +wouldn't amount to a hoorah in tophet, and you'd probably wind up in the +county jail." + +The girl was gazing shrewdly at this sudden champion. There was no shade +of coquetry in her glance. It was the frank gaze of man to man. + +"I protest, Mr. Britt!" cried Wade. + +"And that's all the good it will do," snorted that angry master of the +situation. "Rodliff, you've got my orders!" + +Young Jed, sidling near Britt, with the mien of a Judas and with +manifest intent to curry favor, whimpered: + +"We don't back her up in all she says, Mr. Britt. We ain't got rights +and we know it, but we've got feelin's. Be ye goin' to do the us'al +thing about damages, Mr. Britt?" + +"Why," roared the tyrant, bluffly, "ain't the land-owners always made it +worth your while to move? It's all business, boys! Don't let fools bust +in. We don't want fire here. Get to Little Lobster as quick as the +Lord'll let ye. We'll have six months' supply of pork, flour, and plug +tobacco there waitin' for ye--all with the land-owners' compliments. +We've always believed that the easiest way is the best way, but you +don't buy that way by buckin'. Buck, and the trade is all off--and you +get thrown into another county. Close your girl's mouth and keep it +shut." + +"There!" grunted old Christopher, "if ye haven't got any more sympathy +to waste on critters like that"--a jab of his thumb at young Jed--"you'd +better come along." + +But at sight of woe on the faces of the women, and mute entreaty in the +eyes of the girl, Wade still lingered. + +"She's speakin' for herself," whispered young Jed, hoarsely. "She don't +want to leave the woods because your boss, Colin MacLeod, is courtin' +her, and she's waitin' to see him, now that he's back from +down-country." + +Riotous laughter "guffled" in the throat of Pulaski Britt as he stared +from the scarlet face of the girl to Wade's confusion. + +"Courtin' her, hey? Another case of it? I say, Rodliff, pretty soon +there won't be a whole arm or leg left on my boss if this young man here +keeps chasin' him round the country and breaks a bone on him for ev'ry +girl the two of 'em get against together." + +He laughed to the full content of his soul, and then turned on the girl. + +"Why, you ragged little fool, Colin MacLeod is crazier than a hornet in +a thrashin'-machine over Rod Ide's girl. He's up in camp now with an arm +in a sling to make him remember a fight he and this young dude here got +into over her. And he's up there beyond Pogey Notch sitting on a stump +swearing at the choppers and bragging with every other breath that he'll +kill the dude and marry the girl--and I don't reckon he's changed his +mind in two days since I saw him last." + +"You lie!" screamed the girl. + +"Hold on, there, Miss Spitfire," broke in the sheriff, himself highly +amused by the humor of the situation as it appeared to him, "there isn't +a man between Castonia and Blunder Lake but what is talking about it. +A hundred men saw the fight. I reckon five hundred have heard MacLeod +ravin' about how much he loves the Ide girl. So if he ever courted you +it must have been just for the sake of getting used to the game." Even +the fawning male citizens of Misery Gore cackled their little chorus in +the laughter that followed the high sheriff's jest. + +She drew back slowly and gazed on them all, her lips rolled away from +her white teeth. Those jeering faces from "outside" represented +property, law, the smug self-satisfaction of all who despised Misery +Gore's squalid breed. + +They stood there in the midst of the land they so arrogantly +claimed, ready to toss her away once more in the everlasting game +of battledore and shuttlecock. They were afraid for the dollars +that made them different from the wretches of Misery. They gloried +in their dollars--they mocked her in that moment, the bitterness of +which only her heart understood. Let them look out for their dollars, +then! + +Up there where the blue hills divided was sitting Colin MacLeod calling +on the name of another woman and nursing a wound received for that +woman's sake. Let him look out for himself! + +"We can make the Blake-cutting camps with you to-night," said Britt, his +mind on business once again. "We'll take good care of you, and you might +as well start one time as another. Out with the stuff and down with the +houses, Rodliff." + +At the orders the men began to busy themselves, paying no further +attention to Misery's inhabitants. + +The girl ran into the hut, lifted one of the cedar splints that made the +floor, and took out a section of iron gas-pipe--the most prized +possession of the tribe. It was their wand of plenty. It was Mother +Nature's crutch. Out of it flowed bounty. + +Into the unplugged end she poured all the kerosene there was in a +battered can. Then she stuffed into the tube a mass of wicking. + +It was a torch--the torch for the blueberry barrens. Dragged after one, +it left a blazing trail such as no other form of fire could produce. + +There was a flicker of fire in the rusty stove. She thrust the wicking +into the coals, and on the iron stalk a flame-flower sprang into huge +blossom. + +She burst through the hut's rear window and ran straight for the edge of +the clearing, towards the fuel piled high in the forest aisles. + +In that moment of blind and desperate fury she realized that the wind +was swinging into the north. It was there that MacLeod was sitting at +the foot of Pogey Notch. Ah, what a furnace-flue that would make! + +She did not pause to reason. Her single wild desire was to send the fire +leaping towards him. + +The roar of voices behind--voices entreating, voices of +malediction--made her smile. Above all was the Honorable Pulaski's +bull roar. She began to drag the torch. + +"Catch her! Damnation, catch that girl!" howled Britt. + +She reached the edge of the distant woodland. + +Immediately his cry changed to "Shoot her!" He did not mean it the first +time he cried it. He did mean it the second time. The deputies stared +after her and joggled their weapons on their arms. + +"Shoot her, or fifty thousand acres of timber are gone!" + +But that was quarry before which official guns quailed. + +In his fury and his panic and his desperate fear for his fortune, Britt +seized a gun from the nearest deputy and aimed it. + +Wade struck it up, muttering an indignant oath. Britt made as though to +club him out of the way. The young man clutched the gun and twisted it +from Britt's quivering clutch. When Britt lunged forward to seize +another rifle Wade struck him under the jaw, and he went down like a +felled ox. + +The girl was out of sight in the woods, but yellow smoke shot with +bright flame marked her course. + +"I could have told him," mused old Christopher, looking on the Honorable +Pulaski, struggling dizzily to his feet, "havin' watched her more or +less since I named her, that she wa'n't a real sociable kind of a girl +to joke with on matters that's as serious to women as love is." + +Sheriff Bennett Rodliff spoke the prologue to that conflagration: + +"There is h--l in the core of that fire," he said. + +Sometimes a little mischief, started by chance down the slopes of +events, gathers like a rolling snowball into a vast bulk of evil. But +more often in matters of evil it is the intent of the impulse that +governs. It seems at such times as though inanimate nature were +responding to human malevolence. + +The fire that started that day on Misery leaped to its grim business +with a spontaneity as fierce as the mad hate behind it. + +One man acts in a crisis with more directness and efficiency than many +men, each of whom waits on the other. They had stood and stared after +the girl when she ran into the woods with the hissing fire streaming +behind her. The pursuers that finally did start stopped promptly to +witness the fight between the young man and the baron of the Umcolcus. +Human fists in play afford more of a spectacle than even an incipient +conflagration. When the man who goes down is a man who in the past has +always been aggressor and victor, interest is more acute. + +Dwight Wade did not linger to prolong the conflict to which the furious +Britt invited him. Christopher Straight had started for the woods on +the track of the fugitive girl, and Wade ran after him, his knuckles +tingling gloriously. The thrill of that one moment, when his fist met +the flesh of the man who had insulted him, made him realize that when +one searches the depths of human nature hate, as well as love, has its +delights. + +Pressing closely on the heels of Christopher, who had waited for him, he +dove into the yellow smoke. + +"We've got to find that young she-devil!" gasped the old man. "It's +better for us to find her than for Britt to get hold of her." + +But by that time the quest was an uncertain one. + +There is craftiness in a woods fire when it is seeking to establish +itself. + +The fire sent up first from the crackling slash thick, rolling, bitter +clouds of smoke to veil its beginnings. Running to the left, where the +fresher clouds seemed to be springing, the two men caught sight of the +girl. But she was already far to the right, running and leaping like a +deer, her hideous torch still flaming. Then the smoke shut down and she +was hidden. + +A blazing mass of tops, twisted in a blowdown, fronted them, and they +were forced to make a long detour. They saw the wind wrench torches out +of the mass, torches that whirled aloft and went scaling away to the +north. Puffs of smoke showed where they had alighted. Here and there the +tops of little spruces and firs set a net for the torches, afforded +roosting-places for the flame birds that winged their red flight across +the sky. The flame did not merely burn these trees; the trees fairly +exploded; their resinous fronds and tassels were like powder grains. + +A wind gust rent the smoke for an instant and showed the pursuers the +spread of the growing destruction. It already was sprinkled over acres. + +"She's started fair, and the devil's helpin' her!" mourned the old man. + +At that moment the huge bulk of a man went lurching past them. It was +Abe, the foolish giant of the Skeets. In the glimpse they caught before +the smoke swallowed him, in his hairy nakedness, he seemed a gigantic +satyr; he leaped here and there to avoid the blazing patches in the leaf +litter and humus, and his movements seemed like a grotesque dance. + +"The old woman has sent him after the girl," explained Christopher, with +quick comprehension. "Come on!" + +Dodging, choking, crouching for air, they followed him. At last they +overtook the author of all the mischief. She threw away her torch when +they came upon her, and faced them without shame. She was panting in +utter exhaustion, and clung to a tree for support. + +"Bring her, Abe!" commanded Christopher, in a tone that the giant +understood, and he took her up in his brawny arms despite her angry +struggles. "No, not that way!" shouted the old man, when Abe whirled to +make his way back through the fire zone. "It's spread too far," he +explained to Wade; "we've got to keep ahead of it." With a blow to +emphasize his order, he drove Abe ahead of him, and they hurried towards +the north, the conflagration at their heels. + +Far ahead of them Jerusalem Mountain lifted the poll of its gray ledge. +It blocked the broad valley to the north. For those in the van of that +fire it was the rock of refuge. The tote road led that way. The +fugitives crashed through the undergrowth into the road. The fire had +already crossed it to the south of them. They took their way to the +north, their eyes on Jerusalem Mountain. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BY ORDER OF PULASKI D. BRITT + + "Twinkle, twinkle, 'Ladder' Lane, + With your wavin' winder-pane, + Up above the world so high, + Like a flash-bug in the sky." + + +The fire-lookout at the Attean station winked this ditty humorously with +playful heliograph to "Ladder" Lane, lookout on the high, bald poll of +old Jerusalem Knob. The Attean lookout got it by telephone from +Castonia. Lyrist unreported. + +Jerusalem station is more serene in its isolation than the other five +lookouts on the mountains of the north country. It has no telephone. +Lane allowed to his lonely self that he got more news than he really +wanted, anyhow. And most of the news was of the sort that the humorous +Attean lookout, or the equally humorous Squaw Mountain man, considered +likely to tease the cranky solitary on the highest and farthest outpost +of the chain of lookouts. They whiled away their solitude by gossipy +chattings over the wire. Lane confined himself to terse winkings that +would have been gruff were it possible for a heliograph to be gruff. He +seemed to take a certain grim pride in the fact that he was a thousand +feet higher than any of them and commanded three hundred thousand acres. + +Sitting now in the glare of the September sunshine on the flat roof of +his cabin, he gravely and stolidly scrawled down the words of the verse +as the Attean heliograph, blinking and glaring, spoke to him in the +Morse code. + +"Huh!" he grunted, and went on writing with stubby pencil his +interrupted day's entry in his official diary. For the twenty-fifth time +he wrote: + +"Clear, bright, and still dry." + +He screwed his eyelids close to peer into the heavens bending over him, +hard as the bottom of a brass kettle. He took off his hat and held it +edgewise at his forehead while his gaze swept the mighty range of his +vision. An imaginative person might have smiled at the likeness between +his brown and bald poll, thrust above the straggle of hair, and the bare +and bald poll of old Jerusalem, rounding above the straggle of growth on +its lower slopes. + +Some one bawled at him from the ground below. Lane did not start, though +that was the first human voice he had heard in two months. + +The young man who stood there, and who had come across the gray ledges +from the edge of the timber growth, carried an arm in a sling. + +"Do you ever look at anybody if they're nearer than ten miles away?" +inquired the visitor, with the teasing irony that it seemed popular in +the Umcolcus region to employ with "Ladder" Lane. + +When the old man stood up the fitness of his sobriquet was apparent. He +unfolded himself, joint by joint, like a carpenter's rule, and stood +gaunt as a bean pole and well towards seven feet in height. + +The name painted on the door of the photograph "saloon" that even now +lies rotting on the banks of Ragmuff in Castonia settlement is: "Linus +Lane. Tintypes and Views." No one in Castonia ever knew whither he had +come. Oxen or horses and a teamster hired for each trip had dragged the +rumbling van from settlement to settlement at the edge of the woods, and +finally to Castonia, where it arrived hobbling on three wheels, one +corner supported by a dragging sapling. Lane strode ahead, swearing over +his shoulder at the driver, and his ill-temper did not seem to leave him +even when he had opened his door for business. It is remembered that his +first customer was old Bailey, who was corresponding with an unknown +woman down-country, and who came for a tintype with hair and whiskers +colored to the hue of the raven's wing, evidently desiring to make an +impression on his correspondent. And when old Bailey, shocked and +disappointed at the painful verity of the tintype, had muttered that it +didn't seem to be a very pretty picture, Lane, who was doubled like a +jack-knife under the saloon's low roof, had yelled at him: + +"Pretty picture! You come to me with a face like a scrambled egg dropped +into a bucket of soot and complain because you don't get a pretty +picture! Get out of here!" + +And he stopped slicing up the sheet of tintypes, slammed it on the +floor, drove out old Bailey, nailed up the door of the saloon, and +started for the big woods with his few possessions on his back. + +To those who remonstrated on behalf of the offended old Bailey, Lane +said he had been feeling like that for some time, and was taking to the +woods before he expressed his disgust by killing some one. + +Therefore, the job on the top of Jerusalem that fell to him quite +naturally, after his many years' sojourn as a recluse at its foot, was a +job that fitted admirably with his scheme of life. + +"And it looks up there like it must have looked when Noah said, 'All +ashore that's goin' ashore,' on Mount Ariat, or wherever 'twas he +throwed anchor," announced Tommy Eye, of Britt's crew, returning once +from a Sunday trip to the fire station. + +For, painfully acquired, with gouges, clawings, and scratches to show +for it all, "Ladder" Lane had accumulated companions of his loneliness, +to wit: + +One bull moose, captured in calfhood in deep snow; two bear cubs; a +raccoon; a three-legged bobcat, victim of an excited hunter; two horned +owls; and a fisher cat. + +On this menagerie, variously tethered or crated in sapling cages, the +visitor with the disabled arm bestowed a contemptuous side glance while +he blinked at the tall figure on the cabin's flat roof. + +Without haste Lane worked himself through the roof-scuttle like an +angle-worm drawing into his hole; without cordiality he appeared at the +cabin door, lounging out into the sunshine. + +"I suppose you are still doing the second-hand swearing for Britt, +MacLeod," he suggested. + +The young man grunted. + +"How did ye hurt your arm? Britt chaw it?" + +"Peavy-stick flipped on me," growled the young man, willing to hide his +humiliation from at least one person in the world--and the hermit of the +Jerusalem station seemed to be the only one sufficiently isolated. + +"Huh! I thought his name was Wade." There was no spirit of jest in the +tone. The old man surveyed him sourly. "That's what the Attean helio +said." + +"Is that what you use them things for--to pass gossip like an old maid's +quiltin'-bee?" + +"There's a good deal in this world in letting a man place his own self +where he belongs," remarked Lane, with calm conviction. "I've let you +prove yourself a liar." + +He turned and went into the cabin and back up the stairs to the roof, +picking up a huge telescope as he went. Something in the valley seemed +to have attracted his attention. MacLeod followed, his face red, oaths +clucking in his throat. + +In the nearer middle ground of the great plat of country below Patch Dam +heath was set into the green of the forest like a medallion of rusty +tin. To the west of it smoke began to puff above the tree-tops. + +"On Misery," mumbled Lane, his long arms steadying his instrument. Then, +with the caution of a man of method, he went into the scuttle-hole and +secured his range-finder. + +"What's the good of tinker-fuddlin' with that thing?" demanded MacLeod; +"it's on Misery, as you said." + +"Two hundred and fifty-nine degrees," muttered the fire-scout, booking +the figures in his dog's-eared diary. + +"Say, about that fire, Mr. Lane," blurted MacLeod, nervously. "I'm up +here to-day by Mr. Britt's orders to tell you not to report it. It's on +Misery Gore, and he's there looking after it, and it ain't goin' to be +worth while to report. I know all about it, and that's the truth." + +Lane, without bestowing a glance on the speaker, was setting up his +heliograph tripod. At the young man's last words he grunted over his +shoulder: + +"So it was a peavy-stick! But they told me his name was Wade." + +"Now you look here," stormed the timber baron's boss, "you can slur all +you want to about my lyin', but I tell you, Lane, this is straight +goods. You report that fire, after the orders you've got from Britt, and +you'll lose your job. I know what I'm talkin' about." + +Lane kneeled, his thin trousers hanging over his slender shanks like +cloth over broomsticks. MacLeod stifled an inclination to take him in +one hand and snap him like a whip-lash. The old man was peering through +the centre hole in the sun-mirror, bringing his disks into alignment. + +"Britt has got orders from the court, and he's there to put the Skeets +and Bushees out and torch off their shacks. That's all there is to that +fire, Lane, and Britt don't want a stir and hoorah made about it. He +told me to tell you that. He says the cussed newspapers get a word here +and a word there, and they're always ready to string out a lot of lies +about King Spruce and wild-landers, and how they abuse settlers, and all +that rot--and it hurts prominent men, like Mr. Britt and his associates, +because folks get wrong ideas from the papers. Now you know that! Don't +report that fire, Lane." + +It was fulsome appeal and eager appeal, and MacLeod was apparently +obeying some very emphatic orders from his superior, who had supplied +language as well as directions of procedure. + +But the old fire-warden kept on with his preparations, exact, careful, +without haste. + +"He said you understood--Britt did," clamored MacLeod, hastening around +in front of the heliograph. "You know it ain't right to have those +people there in this dry time, with all that slash about 'em. Mr. Britt +will make it all right with them--the same as the land-owners always do. +It will be the papers that will lie and call the land-owners names for +the sake of stirrin' up a sensation about leadin' men--makin' politics +out of it, and gettin' the people prejudiced so as to put more taxes +onto wild lands." More of Britt's ammunition! "Mr. Britt said you'd +understand--and you do understand--and you can't report that fire." + +Lane set his gaunt grasp about the handle of the screen, ready to tilt +it for the first flash. + +"I understand just this, MacLeod--that I'm a fire-warden of the State, +sworn to do my duty as my duty is spread before me." He swept his left +arm in impressive gesture. "Look behind you! Do you see that?" + +Smoke was ballooning from the notch of the woods below them. Round puffs +seemed to be dancing in fantastic ballet from tree-top to tree-top. + +"That's a fire, MacLeod. I take no man's say-so as to what and why. That +may be Pulaski Britt smoking a cigar. It may be Jule Skeet's new spring +bonnet on fire. I don't care what it is. It's a fire, and it's going to +be reported. Stand out of range." + +His code-card was in the top of his hat. He waved the headgear +impatiently at MacLeod, his right hand still on the handle of the +screen. + +MacLeod knew what the orders of Pulaski D. Britt meant. Britt had not +hesitated to rely upon the loyalty of "Ladder" Lane, for Britt, when +State senator, had caused Lane to be appointed to the post on Jerusalem. +MacLeod reflected, with fury rising like flame from the steady glow of +his contemptuous resentment at this old recalcitrant, that Pulaski Britt +would never make allowance for failure under these circumstances. To be +sure, that fire yonder didn't look like a carefully conducted +incineration of the dwellings of Misery Gore, and it was a little ahead +of time--that time being set for the calm of early evening. But orders +from Britt were--to his men--orders from the supreme tribunal. + +"Britt put you here!" stuttered MacLeod. + +"I'm working for the State, not Pulaski D. Britt," replied the old man. + +"And I'm working for Britt, and, by ---- he runs the State in these +parts! Him and you and the State can settle it between you later, but +just now"--he swung to one side, leaned back, and drove his foot with +all the venom of his repressed rage against the apparatus--"that fire +report don't go!" + +"Ladder" Lane, serene in his proud conjuration, "The State," had +expected no such enormity. The heliograph skated on its spider legs, +went over the edge of the roof, and, after a hushed moment of drop, +crashed upon the ledge with shiver and tinkle of flying glass. + +The boss of "Britt's Busters" turned and darted through the scuttle and +down the stairs, excusing this flight to himself on the ground of his +out-of-commission arm. + +He leaped out into the sunshine and clattered away over the ledges, the +spikes in his shoes striking sparks. + +He had made half a dozen rods when he heard the old man scream "Halt!" +MacLeod kept on, with a taunting wave of his well hand above his head. +The next moment a rifle barked, and the bullet chipped the ledge in +front of him. + +"The next one bores you in the back, MacLeod!" + +He stopped then, and whirled in his tracks. + +Lane stood at the edge of his roof, his rifle-butt at his cheek. + +"Come back here!" + +"You ain't got the right to hold me up, Lane. I'll have the law on ye!" + +"Come back here!" + +There was a grate in the tone, a menace not to be braved. + +The young man shuffled slowly towards the cabin, roaring oaths and +insults to which Lane deigned no reply. + +MacLeod did not try to run when the warden disappeared for his trip to +the door. He waited sullenly. + +Near the door was a good-sized, empty cage of strong saplings, built in +"Ladder" Lane's abundant leisure, for the reception of any new candidate +for the menagerie. The old man jerked his head sideways at it. There was +a gap of three saplings in the side, and the poles stood there ready to +be set in. + +"I won't be penned that way!" yelled MacLeod. "I ain't no raccoon!" + +But the bitter visage of the warden, the merciless flash of his gray +eyes, and the glint of the rifle-barrel, swinging into line with his +face, combined with the sudden remembrance that it was hinted that +"Ladder" Lane was not always right in his head, drove the stubborn +courage out of MacLeod. He slunk rather than walked into the cage with +the mien of a whipped beast. The old man set the saplings one by one +into place, and nailed them with vigorous hammer-blows. + +"How long have I got to stay here, Lane?" he pleaded. + +"Till I can turn you over to them who will put you where you belong for +destroying State's property and interfering with a State officer." + +The old man turned away and gazed out over the forest stretches between +Jerusalem and Misery. MacLeod, clutching the bars of his cage with his +left hand, looked, too. + +It was no puny torching of the Misery huts that he was looking on, and +he realized it with growing apprehensiveness as to his zeal in +suppressing news. + +Vast volumes of yellow smoke volleyed up over the crowns of the green +growth. It was a racing fire--even those on Jerusalem could see that +much across the six miles between. Spirals waved ahead like banners of a +charging army. Its front broadened as the fire troops deployed to the +flanks. Ahead and ever ahead fresh smoke-puffings marked the advance of +the skirmish-line. Now here, now there, drove the cavalry charges of the +conflagration, following slash-strewn roads and cuttings, while the dun +smoke ripped the green of the maples and beeches. + +"It's liable to interest Pulaski D. Britt somewhat when he finds out why +Jerusalem lookout ain't callin' for a fire-posse," Lane remarked, +bitterly. + +The situation seemed to overwhelm the boss. He looked with straining +gaze at the rush of the conflagration, and had no word for reply. + +"But it may not all be loss for you," the old man proceeded, grimly. +"Perhaps the girl will be burned up--perhaps that was in your trade with +Britt." + +"I don't know what you mean about any girl," mumbled MacLeod, looking +away from the old man's boring eyes. + +"You're a liar again as well as a dirty whelp of a sneak." + +Lane spat the words over his shoulder, stumping away, the bristle of his +gray beard standing out like an angry porcupine's quills. + +"I don't allow anybody to put them words on me!" roared MacLeod. + +"You don't, heh?" Lane whirled and stumped back. He bent down and set +his face close to the saplings, his eyes narrowing like a cat's, his +nose wrinkling in mighty anger. "You can steal time paid for by Pulaski +D. Britt, and hang around Misery Gore, and coax on an ignorant girl into +a worse hell than she's living in now"--he pointed a quivering finger at +the smoke-wreathed valley--"when you know and I know, and everyone on +these mountain-tops of the Umcolcus knows and gossips it with the +settlements, that you've picked her up only to throw her farther into +the wallow where you found her. It's the Ide girl you're courtin'. It's +poor little Kate of Misery that you're killin'. There isn't another man +in the north woods mean enough to steal from a girl as poor as she +is--steal love and hope and faith. It's all she's got, MacLeod, and +you've taken all." + +The young man grunted a sullen oath. + +"There's a lot I could say to you," raged Lane, "but I ain't going to +waste time doing it. I'll simply express my opinion of you by--" + +He spat squarely into the convulsed face of MacLeod, and went away into +his cabin. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +"LADDER" LANE'S SOIREE + + "And down from off the mountains in the shooting sheets of flame + The devils of Katahdin come to play their reg'lar game. + So 'tis: men hold tight! Pray for mornin' light! + Katahdin's caves are empty and hell's broke loose to-night!" + + --Ha'nt of Pamola. + + +As the hours of the day went on, Colin MacLeod, caged, helpless, set +high on the bald brow of old Jerusalem, where every phase of the great +fire was spread before his eyes, found abundant opportunity to curse +himself for a fool. In time, of course, Attean or some other point would +realize the extent of the conflagration and call for help. But now, +hidden under Jerusalem and confined to the slash under the green trees, +it was a racing ground-fire that crouched and ran. It came rapidly, but +in a measure secretly. It showed a subtility of selection. It did not +waste time on the green forest of beeches and maples. It was hurrying +north towards its traditional prey. That prey was waiting for it, rooted +on the slopes of Jerusalem and the Umcolcus, on the Attean and the +Enchanted--the towering black growth of hemlock, pine, and spruce--the +apple of Pulaski Britt's commercial eye--the hope of his associates. +Once there, it would spring from its crouching race on the ground. It +would climb the resinous trunks and torch and flare and rage and roar +in the tinder-tops--a dreaded "crown-fire" that only the exhaustion of +fuel or the rains of God would stop. + +Attean would see that fire leaping past Jerusalem, and would swear and +wonder and report too late. + +Just now hours were as precious as days. + +Men could do nothing at mid-day with the wind lashing behind. MacLeod +knew well how that fire should be fought. But with men on the way ready +to flank it at nightfall and work ahead of it with pick and shovel and +beating branches of green--the winds stilled and the dews condensing--it +could be conquered--it must be conquered then, if at all. + +Woods fires sleep at night. The men who fight them may as well sleep at +mid-day. + +With the dropping of the sun and the sinking of the winds the fires +drowse and flicker and smoulder. Then must one attack the monster; for +at daybreak he is up, ravening and roaring and hungry. + +And now--not even Britt's own crew of loggers at the foot of Jerusalem +had word and warning. MacLeod bellowed appeals to be let out. He +besought Lane to hurry down the mountain to camp. He howled frightful +oaths and threats and abject promises. + +At dusk the old man came out of his cabin, and brought bread and water +and bacon to his captive without a word. He fed him with as much +unconcern as he brought browse to the tethered bull moose and +distributed provender suited to the various tastes of his menagerie. + +The darkness settled in the valleys first, and one by one fire-dottings +pricked out--blazing junipers and the stunted new growth of evergreen. +From Jerusalem the great expanse seemed like a mighty city, its windows +alight, its streets and avenues illuminated gloriously. + +MacLeod, silenced except for an occasional hoarse quack of appeal, paced +his little cage, despairing. + +"Ladder" Lane sat on the flat roof silent as a spectre. So the hours +dragged past. + +"I thought so!" grunted the old man at last. "That's what I've been +sitting up for." + +From his eyry he saw a light flickering in the stunted growth far down +Jerusalem, zigzagging nearer. At last it emerged and came across the +ledges--a flare of hissing birch bark stuck into a cleft stick. There +were several men hastening along in the circle of its radiance. Lane +could hear from afar their gruntings of exhaustion. + +"If I ain't mistook, it's your friend Britt," remarked the old man, +maliciously, as he passed MacLeod's cage on his way to meet the +visitors. + +And it was Britt--Britt with his hat in his hand, perspiration streaming +into his beard, his stertorous breath rumbling in his throat. Lane knew +the man who bore the torch as Bennett Rodliff, high sheriff of the +county. + +"It's been--God!--awful work--but we've--come round the east--edge of +it, Lane," panted Britt. Commanding general in the grim conflict, he had +been willing to burst his heart in order to establish headquarters in +the one spot from which he could mobilize his forces and direct their +tactics. "How many men have you ordered in, Lane?" + +"Not a man!" + +"Not a--not a--you stand there and tell me you haven't reported and +called for every man that Attean and Squaw can reach!" He began to curse +shrilly. + +"You'd better save your wire edge, Mr. Britt," counselled Lane. "You're +going to need it. Come here till I show you something." + +One of the sheriff's men lighted a fresh sheet of bark at the dying +flare of the other, and Lane led the way to the cage, where MacLeod +peered desperately between the saplings. + +"Just a moment, Mr. Britt!" broke in the warden, again checking the +lumber baron's fury. "This man came up here to-day with what he said +were your orders not to report that fire, and--" + +"That fire!" roared Britt, fairly beside himself. "Why, you devilish, +infernal--" + +"A moment, I say! When I set up my heliograph he kicked it off the roof. +There it lies just as it fell. You and he can settle your part of it! As +for my part of it, I have arrested him by my authority as a fire warden. +The sheriff, here, can take him whenever he gives me a receipt and makes +note of my complaint." + +"I did what you told me to, Mr. Britt," protested MacLeod, his voice +breaking. "He was reportin' the first puff of smoke, and said that you +and your orders could go to thunder. He didn't pay any attention--and I +just did what you told me to. I--" + +"Shut up!" The Honorable Pulaski, crimson with anger, fearful of his own +part in this conspiracy, and shamed by the exposure of his methods, +bellowed his order. "We'll settle this later. Knock away those saplings, +some one. MacLeod, get down this mountain, even if you break your neck +doing it, and get your crew to the front of that fire! I--I--haven't got +breath to talk to you the way you need to be talked to. As you stand, +you're only half a man on account of a girl." He darted a quivering +finger at the disabled arm. + +"And it's your other little d--n fool of a girl at Misery that torched +that fire when she heard that you'd jilted her. Now, is it women or +woods after this?" + +"Woods, Mr. Britt!" stammered the boss, eager to conciliate this raging +bull. + +"Then get to the front of that fire and stop it, even if you have to lie +down and roll over on it. It's a fire your pauper sweetheart started, +and you've arranged, by your infernal bull-headedness, to let it burn. +Stop it or keep going! It won't be healthy in my neighborhood." + +"I'll stop it or die tryin', Mr. Britt." + +Lane leaned his back against the cage and faced the group, his gaunt +arms reaching from side to side. + +"You can't free a prisoner that way, Mr. Britt," he said, firmly. "You +take this man away from me--or if the high sheriff, here, lets him +go--I'll report the thing under oath to the governor and the people of +this State; and I reckon you can't afford to have that done. I propose +to have it known why Linus Lane didn't do his duty in reporting that +fire." + +"Take that old fool away from there and let that man out," commanded +Britt, his passion blind to consequences. He could see no way out of his +muddle. He seemed to be in for wicked notoriety, anyway. Just now his +one thought was to get "Roaring Cole MacLeod," master of men, at the +head of that fire, to hold it in leash until more assistance came. He +knew his man. He understood that MacLeod, bitter in the consciousness of +his blunder, was now worth six men. "Rodliff, I'll take the +consequences!" he shouted. "Let my boss out." + +But the high sheriff seemed to be doubtful as to the consequences that +he also would have to accept. Just then he had clearer notions of +official responsibility than did the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt. + +"This man is under arrest all regular," protested Rodliff, "and I've +just the same as heard him own up that he interfered with Warden Lane in +his duty. The governor himself wouldn't have the right to order me to +let a prisoner go before a hearing on the case. That's law, Mr. Britt, +and--" + +"Talk that south of Castonia," broke in the Honorable Pulaski. "Just now +law won't put that fire out and save a fifty-thousand-acre stand of +black growth. Lane, you've got to be reasonable. There've been +mistakes, but they'll be made good. You can't afford to be bull-headed +in this thing." + +But the old man did not move from the cage. The flaring of the torch +lighted his solemn and unrelenting face. The worried face of MacLeod +peered out over one of the extended arms. + +"What--what was it happened to 'em on Misery, Mr. Britt?" he asked, +humbly. + +"I told you!" snapped Britt, glad of a momentary excuse to cover +embarrassment of this general defiance of his dignity. "Your black-eyed +beauty there, that you've been fooling with when my back's been +turned, is jealous of Rod Ide's girl, and took to the bush with a +blueberry-torch dragging at her heels to show her feelings. I'd have +shot her like I would a rabbit if it hadn't been for your particular +friend Wade." The wrathful sneer of the Honorable Pulaski was a snarl +that would have done credit to "Ladder" Lane's bobcat. "When you come to +settle accounts with that critter, MacLeod, break his leg, and charge it +on my side of the ledger." + +"So he was there, hey?" asked the boss, eagerly. + +"He was there long enough to hit me like a prize-fighter when I was +protecting my property." + +"Why didn't you kill him?" demanded the boss, with venom. + +"By the time I got a gun he was out of sight at the tail of the fire, +chasing the girl--he and old Chris Straight. I believe they were +proposing to rescue the girl," concluded Britt, with a mirthless +chuckle. "The only consolation I'm getting out of that fire down there +is that maybe it's burning that Wade and the girl, whatever they call +her, and will chase the Skeets and Bushees south and catch them, too. If +it does I'll be willing to let a thousand more acres burn." + +But it appeared that the choicest section of the Honorable Pulaski's +charitable hopes was doomed to disappointment. + +A torch, tossing from the edge of the stunted growth, marked the +approach of some one. + +"The top of Jerusalem seems liable to be a popular roosting-place for +all them that ain't wearing asbestos pants," remarked the high sheriff, +dryly. "A rush of excursionists during the heated spell, as the +summer-boarder ads say! Lane, can you give the crowd anything to eat at +your tavern except broiled moose and fricasseed bobcat?" + +The pleasantry evoked no smile. For the little group at the cabin, +Pulaski Britt first of all, with his keener eyes of hate, recognized +those who were approaching. + +Old Christopher Straight came ahead with the torch. The girl of Misery +Gore, moving more slowly now that she saw the group at the top of +Jerusalem, her face sullen, her head cocked defiantly, was at his back, +and Dwight Wade was at her side. Far behind, at the edge of the torch's +radiance, slouched a huge figure of a man. It was foolish Abe, the +hirsute giant of the Skeets. + +"And now, speaking of arresting in the name of the law," snarled the +lumber baron, "and your duty that you seem so fond of, Rodliff, get out +your handcuffs for something that's worth while. It's three years in +state-prison for maliciously setting fires on timber lands. It's a long +vacation in the county jail for assaulting a man without provocation. +There's the girl who set that fire; there's the man that struck me. So +you see, Lane, your prisoner is going to have company." + +Lane came suddenly away from the cage. The torch showed his face working +with strange emotion. + +"Mr. Britt," he said, appealingly, to the astonishment of the senator, +who understood this sour woods cynic's nature, "there are crimes that +ain't crimes in this world--not even when they're judged by God's own +scale. There's your fire yonder! Some one is responsible for it--but not +that poor girl!" + +"I saw her set it myself, you devilish idiot!" + +"Not that poor girl, I say. Those that threw her--her, with the pride of +good blood that she felt but didn't understand--her, with her hopes and +brains that her blood gave her--" + +"Blood!" roared the Honorable Pulaski. "What do you know about her +pedigree?" + +"Those that threw her into that pen of swine are responsible," went on +the warden. "Men like you, that have persecuted her and wonder why she +doesn't squeal like the rest of those idiots; men like the whelp in that +cage, trying to wrong her and throw her back into hell--all of you are +responsible for that fire. You bent the limb. It has snapped back and +struck you in your faces. It's the way of the woods." + +"Well, of all the infernal nonsense I ever listened to, this sermon on +Mount Jerusalem clears the skidway," blurted Britt. "You stand up at the +trial and repeat that, Lane, and you'll get your picture into the +newspapers." + +"And I guess a lot of the rest of us will before this scrape gets +straightened out," muttered the high sheriff, bodingly. + +"Mr. Britt, you're going to be sorry for it if you drag that poor abused +girl to prison," said Lane, with such fire of conviction that the timber +baron, cautious in his methods, and always fearing the notoriety that +would embroil the great secrets of the timber interests with public +opinion, blinked at the oracular old warden and then at the still +defiant face of the girl. Like most untrained natures in whom passion +has unleashed natural high spirit, she seemed incapable of calm +reconsideration. She had made such protest against the enormity of her +persecution as opportunity had put into her heart as right and into her +hands as feasible. + +"We were fools to bring her here and toss her into the old hyena's +claws," muttered Wade in Christopher's ear. "We might have known that he +and his crowd would make for Jerusalem." + +"I did know it," returned the old guide, quietly. "And I knew just as +well what would happen to us in the runway of that fire to-morrow." + +"Lane," broke in the Honorable Pulaski, with decision, "two trials won't +stir this thing any worse than one. You've arranged for one. Go ahead +with MacLeod. I'll have the girl." + +Those who looked on Lane's face only knew that mighty passions were +shaking him. His voice broke and quavered. + +"Mr. Britt, things have been mixed for me in this world till I don't +hardly know what is right. I've tried to do my duty as it's been laid +out for me. But in climbing up to it there's some things I haven't got +the heart to step on. Perhaps in this thing we're mixed in now we've all +been more or less wrong. I don't know. I haven't got the head to-night +to figure it out. Perhaps it's best that what has happened on Jerusalem +to-day don't get out. I don't know as that's right. But I'll say this: +give me the girl; you can take MacLeod." + +The Honorable Pulaski hesitated, "hemmed" hoarsely in his throat, +clutched at his beard, looked significantly at the high sheriff, and +then called him apart by a nod of his head. + +When he returned to the group he said, crisply: "It's a trade! Under the +circumstances, I don't suppose even such a little tin god as you will +have anything to say about it outside," he sneered, running his red eye +over Dwight Wade. The young man did not reply, but his face gave +assent. + +Lane pried away the saplings, and MacLeod stepped out. + +"Give him a camp lantern," commanded Britt. "Get your men into that fire +at daylight." + +"Tell me that they've all been lying about you, Colin," cried the girl, +her cheeks crimson, her heart going out to him at sight of his face, +"and I'll go with you! I'll work with you! I'm sorry for it if it's made +you mad with me." All her sullen anger was gone. She leaned towards him +as though she yearned to abase herself. + +With Britt's flaming eyes on him, MacLeod only moved his lips without +words. + +"Ladder" Lane came out of the cabin with two lanterns. A set of +lineman's climbers jangled dully at his belt. + +"No, you'll not go, girl!" he cried, brusquely. + +With hands on her hips, she threw back her head, her nostrils dilating. + +"I've paid a big price for you this night," he went on, more gently, +"and it isn't to a cur of that kind that I'll be giving you. MacLeod, +here's your lantern! Away, now!" + +"And I'll go, I say, if you'll tell me they've lied. Colin, darling, +tell me!" But he started away, spurred by a ripping oath from the +Honorable Pulaski. She tore herself from the restraining grasp of Wade +and ran after her lover. + +At her movement, Abe, cowering in the gloom away from the torch-lighted +area of ledge, started behind her with canine loyalty. He had followed +her into the fire zone when his mother had screamed command into his +ear. His mother and this girl, her protegee, were the only ones who ever +looked at him without disgust. + +"Abe!" shouted "Ladder" Lane. He spoke in a peculiar tone--a tone in +which the fool evidently recognized something of an old-time authority; +for he uttered a little bleat, in curious contrast with his giant bulk, +and halted. "Fire, Abe!" cried Lane, brandishing his arm in the +direction of the distant flamings. "Mother want her saved from fire. +Fetch, Abe!" + +It was a tone of authority that the witling recognized, and it commanded +his weak will and giant strength. He sped after the girl, seized her in +spite of her furious protest, and bore her back to the cabin, her +struggles exciting only his amiable grins. + +Lane rushed him and his burden into his hut. + +"Now, Abe, mother say watch her. No go into the fire! Watch till I +come!" He came out with placid confidence that his order would be +obeyed, and the mien of the giant gave excellent confirmation. + +"Men," he said, grimly, looking round on their faces, "I'd rather trust +that girl to the fool than to all of the rest of humankind; but I've had +reasons in my life to distrust men, and the higher the men the more I +distrust them. Don't any of you interfere in that duet in there. There's +only one thing that I ask you to do here till I come back--whoever stays +here--feed the animals. You can't corrupt them." He was "Ladder" Lane +once more, sour in his satire. + +"Where are you going, Lane?" demanded Britt. + +The old man shook a telephone cut-in sender at him. + +"I'm going through the woods ahead of that fire to tap the Attean line +and send my report and call for men," he said, calmly. "I'm still the +fire warden of Jerusalem region." + +He set away, striding over the ledges, his lantern winking between his +thin legs. + +"Looks like a cross between a lightning-bug and a grampy-long-shanks," +observed the sheriff, his cheerfulness increased by the happy disposal +of his troublesome prisoners. "Travelling on underpinning like that, +he'll have his word in before daybreak." + +But Pulaski Britt had not yet satisfied the curiosity that stirred as +soon as greater matters had been settled. He ran after the warden, +shouting an order to wait. + +The little group heard the colloquy, for Lane did not stop, and the +Honorable Pulaski had to bellow his question. + +"Say, Lane, in case anything should happen to you! Ain't you going to +let me do the square thing? If this girl is yours, say the word. I'll +look after her. Is she yours?" + +"No!" yelled the old man, with a fury in his tones like the rasp of a +file on their flesh as they listened. And the next words seemed to be a +cry wrung from him without his will: "If she were, I'd have killed you +and Colin MacLeod before this!" + +He went flitting down the slope of Jerusalem like a will-o'-the-wisp, +and they stood in silence and watched him out of sight. + +That night the tenantry of Jerusalem Knob divided itself silently and +sullenly into groups which ignored each other. + +Britt and his people took blankets from the fire station, and +established makeshift camps down in the fringe of the trees. + +Wade and Christopher Straight went apart, and composed themselves as +best they could on some gray moss that tufted the ledge. Their duty was +plain. That fire threatened Enchanted, once it should sweep through the +chimney draught of Pogey Notch. They must stay there and fight it at the +pass through which it was marching to invade their territory. Rodburd +Ide promised to have the Enchanted crew following them within a week. It +might be that their men were already on the way. Their route lay +through Pogey, and Wade would be there ready to captain them. + +The camp was left to the girl and her unkempt guardian. She sat silent +and full of bitter rage; but she understood the vagaries of the fool's +character well enough to realize that after Lane's orders to Abe even +her persuasions could have no effect; the valley fires that lighted the +windows of the camp gave effective point to Lane's commands. The giant +crouched by the open door and gazed upon the sullen glowings in the vast +pit below, muttering his fears to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN THE BARONY OF "STUMPAGE JOHN" + + "Wilderness lord of the olden time, + Stalwart and plumed pine; + They have dragged thee down to the roaring town + From the realms that once were thine. + And he who reigns in thy stately stead + Has never a time o' truce, + For the axe and saw and the grinder's maw + Have doomed thee, too, King Spruce." + + --Kin o' Ktaadn. + + +At half-past four in the dark of the morning "Dirty-apron Harry's" +nickel alarm-clock purred relentlessly, and he rolled out of his bunk, +his eyelids sticking like a blind puppy's. At seventeen, youth relishes +morning naps. But, as cookee of Barnum Withee's camp on "Lazy Tom" +operation, he was chosen to be the earliest bird to crow. His first duty +as chanticleer was to wake "Icicle Ike" and "Push Charlie," the +teamsters, whose hungry charges were stamping impatient hoofs in the +hovel. He dressed himself while stumbling across the dingle to the men's +camp, his eyes still shut. This feat was not as difficult as it sounds. +The difference between Harry's night-gear and day raiment was merely a +Scotch cap and the canvas robe of office that gave him his title. + +The teamsters grunted when he shook them, and followed him out of the +frowsy, snore-fretted atmosphere of the big camp. They did their morning +yawnings and stretching as they walked. When Duty calls "Time!" to a +woodsman the body is on the dot, even if the soul lags unwillingly. + +The humorists of the woods have it that the cookee pries up the sun when +he jacks the big pot out of the bean-hole. For such an important +operation, "Dirty-apron Harry" went at it listlessly. + +The bean-hole was beyond the horse-hovel, sheltered in the angle of a +little palisade of poles whose protection would be needed when the +winter's snows drifted. Harry wearily dragged a hoe in that direction +after he had kindled a fire in the cook-house stove. He did not look up +to the first pearly sheen of sunrise streaming through the yellow of the +frost-touched birches. The glory of the skies would wake him too soon. +He gave up the final fuddle of slumber grudgingly, his dull mind still +piecing the visions of the night, his soul full of loathing for the +workaday world of greasy pots and dirty tins. But when he turned the +corner of the bean-hole shelter he dropped out of dreams with the +suddenest jolt of his life. A black bear was trying to dig up the +bean-pot, growling softly at the heat of the round stones she uncovered. +Two cubs sat near by, watching operations with great interest, their +round ears up-cocked, their jaws drooling expectantly. The big bear +whirled promptly and cuffed the hoe out of Harry's limp grasp, leaped +past him before his trembling legs could move him, and scuffed away into +the woods, with her progeny crowding close to her sheltering bulk. The +cookee sped in the other direction towards the hovel with as great +alacrity. + +"Bears?" echoed "Push Charlie," appearing with his pitchfork at the +hovel door. "Stop your squawkin'. I seen half a dozen yistiddy, and all +of 'em streakin' north up this valley. Heard 'em whooffing and barkin' +last night, travellin' past here on the hemlock benches." He pointed his +fork at the terraced sides of the valley above them. + +"It's only excursion parties bound for the Bears' Annooal Convention up +at Telos Gorge," suggested "Icicle Ike," rapping the chaff out of a peck +measure. + +The cookee, woods-camp traditional butt of jokes, stared from one to the +other, trying to recover his composure. + +"And Marm Bear there wanted to take along that pot of beans for the +picnic dinner," added Charlie. + +"I think it's goin' to be a general mass-meetin' to discuss the game +laws," said Ike. "The boys who were swampin' the twitch-roads yistiddy +told me that deer kept traipsin' past all day and--well, there goes +three now." + +White "flags" flitted through the undergrowth at the edge of the +clearing, and a startled "Whick-i-whick!" further up the valley-side +hinted at the retreat of still others. Their departure was probably +hastened by the cook's shrill "Who-e-e-e!" the general call for the +camp. He came out of the cook-house scrubbing his hands and bare arms +with a towel. + +"Git that bean-pot here! What are you standin' round on one foot for?" +he demanded, testily. When the cookee began to stutter explanations, +brandishing freckled arms to point the route of the fugitives, the cook +interrupted, but now there was humor in his tones. + +"Thunderation, you gents is sartinly slow to understand what's before +your eyes! Don't you know why all these animiles is runnin' away from +down there?" He jerked a red thumb over his shoulder towards the south. +"Ain't 'Stumpage John' Barrett down there with Withee, lookin' over that +tract where we operated last season?" + +Sly grins of appreciation appeared on the faces of the teamsters. + +"Ain't you got any notion of what particular kind of language 'Stumpage +John' has been lettin' out of himself for the last twenty-four hours?" + +"Well, the idee is," said the cook, "he is down there cussin' to that +extent that he's cussed every animile off'n Square-hole township. +Animiles is natcherally timid, delicate in the ears, and hates cussin'. +The deer come first because they can run fastest. Bears left as soon as +they could, and is hurryin'. Rabbits will come next, and the quill-pigs +are on the way. Then I reckon Barnum Withee will fetch up the rear. Oh, +it must be somethin' awful down there!" He faced the south with grave +mien. His listeners guffawed. + +But a moment later "Push Charlie" stepped clear of the hovel and sniffed +with canine eagerness. There was a subtle, elusive, acrid odor in the +air. It seemed to billow up the valley, whose shoulders circumscribed +their vision so narrowly. + +"I reckon," he stated, "that he's throwed so much brimstone around him +reckless that he's set fire to the woods." + +"That's the way with some of these big timber-owners," remarked the +cook, still in humorous mood. "They raise tophet with a sport because he +throws down a cigar-butt, and they themselves will go out right in a dry +time and spit cuss words that's just so much blue flame. It's dretful +careless!" he sighed. + +"But when you come to think of what he found there on that township," +said Charlie, "you have to make allowances. More'n a third of the board +measure left right there on the ground as slash, and slash that's +propped on the branches of the tops like powder-houses on stilts. And +the whole township only devilled over at that! Barn only took the stuff +that would roll downhill into the water when it was joggled." + +"You ain't blamin' your own boss, be ye?" demanded the cook. + +"Not by a darned sight!" rejoined Charlie, stoutly. "If I was an +operator, doin' all the hard liftin', with a rich stumpage-owner with a +rasp file goin' at me on one end and a log-buyer whittlin' me at the +other, I'd figger to save myself. But I've always lived and worked in +the old woods, gents. I ain't one of those dudes that never want to see +an axe put in. The old woods need the axe to keep 'em healthy. We, here, +need the money, and the folks outside need the lumber. But when I see +enough of the old woods wasted on every winter operation to make me +rich, and all because the men that are gettin' the most out of it are +fightin' each other so as to hog profits, it makes me sorry for the old +woods and sick of human nature." + +The morning bustle of the camp began in earnest now. Men crowded at the +tin wash-basins on the long shelf outside the log wall. As fast as they +slicked their wet hair with the broken comb they hurried into the meal +camp. There they heaped their tin plates with beans steaming from the +hole where they had simmered overnight, devoured huge chunks of brown +bread deluged with molasses, and "sooped" hot coffee. + +The odor of warm food was good in the nostrils of old "Ladder" Lane, the +fire warden of Jerusalem, as he strode down the valley wall towards the +camp. He hung his extinguished lantern on a nail outside the cook camp +and stooped and entered the low door. Among woodsmen the amenities of a +camp are as scant as welcome is plentiful. Lane seized up a tin plate, +loaded it with what he saw in sight, and began to eat hastily and +voraciously. + +"Fire?" inquired the cook. + +Lane jerked a nod of affirmation. + +"Where?" + +"Misery." + +"Big?" + +Another nod. + +"Talk about your bounty on wildcats and porky-pines," raged the cook, +slamming on a stove-cover to emphasize his remarks, "the State treasurer +ought to offer twenty-five dollars for the scalp and thumbs of every +Skeet and Bushee brought in." + +The fire warden ran his last bit of brown bread around his plate, +stuffed it dripping into his mouth, and stood up after sixty seconds +devoted to his breakfast. + +"Where's Withee?" he asked the boss chopper, who had lounged to the camp +door and was stuffing tobacco into his pipe. + +"Off on Square-hole," replied the boss, with a sideways cant of his head +to show direction. + +"Fire on Misery eating north towards the Notch," reported Lane, with +laconic sourness. "Withee ought to send twenty-five men." He was already +starting away. + +"He'll probably be back by night," said the boss chopper, "if 'Stumpage +John' Barrett gets through swearin' at him about that last season's +operation." + +Lane stopped and whirled suddenly, the lineman's climbers at his belt +clanking dully. + +"John Barrett in this region!" he blurted. + +"For the first time in a lot o' years," returned the boss, with a grin. +"Suspected that Barn devilled Square-hole and wasted in the cuttin's as +much as he landed in the yards. I reckon it ain't suspicion any more! +He's been down there on the grounds two days. But he don't get any of my +sympathy. A man who stole these lands at twenty cents an acre, buying +tax titles, and has squat on his haunches and made himself rich sellin' +stumpage,[1] has got more'n he deserved, even if half the timber is +rottin' in the tops on the ground." + +[Footnote 1: The right to cut trees on the seller's land. Payment is +based on the measurement of the logs as they are brought to the landing +and piled ready for the drive.] + +The gaunt jaws of "Ladder" Lane set themselves out like elbows akimbo. +He whirled and started away again as though he had fresh cause for +haste. + +"I don't want to take any responsibility for sending off any of the +crew," called the boss. "What particular word do you want to leave for +Withee?" + +Lane settled into his woods lope and darted into the Attean trail +without reply. + +"I'll be here with my own word," he muttered, talking aloud, after the +habit of the recluse. + +"And what do you make of that now?" asked the cook of the boss, scaling +Lane's discarded plate into the cookee's soapy water. "Why ain't he up +on his Jerusalem fire station instead of rampagin' round here in the +woods?" + +"He was rigged out to climb a pole and had a telephone thingumajig with +him," suggested the boss. + +"He's strikin' acrost to tap the Attean telephone and send in an alarm, +that's what he's doin'. Prob'ly his old lookin'-glass telegraft is +busted," he added, with slighting reference to the Jerusalem helio. He +followed his men, who were streaming up the tote road towards the +cuttings. Far ahead trudged the horses, drawing jumpers. From the +cross-bars the bind-chains dragged jangling over the roots and rocks. + +In five minutes only three men were in sight about the camps--the cook, +making ready a baking of ginger-cakes; the cookee, rattling the tins +from the breakfast-table and whistling shrill accompaniment to the +clatter; and the blacksmith, busy at his forge in the "dingle," the +roofed space between the cook-house and the main camp. + +It was just before second "bean-time" when Lane came back along the +Attean trail and staggered, rather than walked, into the "Lazy Tom" +clearing. His face was gray with exertion, and sweat coursed in the +wrinkles of his emaciated features. + +"Shouldn't wonder from your looks that you'd made time," suggested the +cook, cheerfully, as the warden stumbled up to the door. "From here to +the Attean telephone-line and back before eleven is what I call humpin'. +You've been to Attean, hey?" + +"Yes," snapped the old man. "I've reported that fire and done my duty." + +"In that case, you've prob'ly got a better appetite than you had this +mornin'," remarked "Beans," hospitably. He started to ladle from the +steaming kettle of "smother" on the stove. + +"Nothing to eat for me!" broke in Lane, sullenly. "Are Withee and John +Barrett back yet?" + +"Oh, they'll stay out till dark all right. Barrett will want to count +trees as long as he can see." + +"I'll wait, then!" Lane started towards the men's camp, but the cook +stopped him. + +"If you're reck'nin' to lie down for a nap, warden, don't get into them +bunks. Them Quedaws have brought in the usual assortment of 'travellers' +this season, and I don't want to see a neat man like you accumulate a +menagerie. Now you just go right across there into Withee's private +camp. He'd say so if he was here. I'll do that much honors when he ain't +here. You won't wake up scratchin'." + +Without a word Lane turned and strode across to the office camp, went +in, and slammed the door shut after him. + +"He's about as sour and crabbed an old cuss to do a favor for as I +ever see," remarked the cook, fiddling a smutty finger under his nose. +"But a man never ought to git discouraged in this world about bein' +polite." He caught sight of the advance-guard of returning choppers up +the road, and whirled on the cookee. "You freckle-faced, hump-backed, +dead-and-alive son of a clam fritter, here come them empty nail-kags! +Get to goin', now, or I'll pour a dish of hot water down your back." + +"Is that what you call bein' polite?" growled the cookee. + +The cook kicked at him as he fled into the meal camp with a pan of +biscuits. + +"They don't use politeness on cookees any more than they put bay-winders +onto pig-pens!" he shouted. + +There were two bunks in the little office camp, one above the other. +"Ladder" Lane curled his long legs and tucked himself into the gloom of +the lower bunk. His eyes, red-rimmed and glowing with strange fire under +their knots of gray brow, noted a rifle lying on wooden braces against a +log of the camp wall. He rose, clutched it eagerly, and "broke it down." +Its magazine was full. He jacked in a cartridge, laid the rifle on the +bunk between himself and the wall, and lay down again. + +Most men, after the vigil of a night and bitter struggle of the day, +would have slept. Lane lay with eyes wide-propped. His mind seemed to +be wrestling with a mighty problem. Once in awhile he groaned. At other +times his teeth ground together. Twice he put the rifle back on the +wall, shuddering as though it were some fearsome object. Twice he got up +and retook it, and the last time muttered as though his resolution were +clinched. + +After the resolution had been formed he may have dozed. At any rate, the +first he heard of Barrett and Withee they had sat down on the steps of +the office camp, and the loud, brusque, and authoritative voice of one +of them went on in some harangue that had evidently been progressing for +a long time previously. + +"Damme, Withee, I tell you again that you've robbed me right and left! +You left tops in the woods to rot that had a pulp log scale in 'em. You +devilled the township without sense or system. You cut out the stands +near the waterways without leaving a tree for new seed. You left strips +standing that will go down like a row of bricks in the first big gale +we have. But what's the use in going over all that again? You know you +haven't used me right. The sum and substance is, you pay me a lump sum +and square me for damages to that township or I'll cancel this season's +stumpage contract. I'm using you just as I propose to use the rest of +the thieves up here." + +There was silence for a little time. The voice of the other man was +subdued, even disheartened. + +"I've said about all I can say, Mr. Barrett," he ventured. "Of course, +you're rich and I'm poor, and if you cancel the contract I can't afford +to go to law. But I've borrowed ten thousand dollars to put into this +season's operation, and I've got it tied up in supplies and outfit. I've +just got located and my camps finished. The way things have worked for +me, I ain't made any money for three years, and I've put my shoulder to +the wheel and my own hands to the axe. The operator can't make money, +Mr. Barrett, the way he's ground between the owners of stumpage and the +men down-river who buy his logs in the boom. You talk of closing your +contract with me! Do you know of a man who can afford to do any better +by you than I have--just as long as things are the way they are now?" + +"Oh, I reckon you're about all alike," returned the lumber baron, +ungraciously. "I've been a fool to believe anything stumpage buyers have +told me. I ought to have come up here every year and looked after my +property. But that would be prowling around in these woods that aren't +fit for a human being to live in, and neglecting my other business to +keep you fellows from stealing. Not for me! I've got something better to +do. Clod-hoppers that don't want to stay in their fields all day with a +gun kill one crow and hang it on a stake for the live ones to see. I'm +sorry for you, Withee, but I'm going to make a special example of you." + +"It don't seem hardly fair to pick me out of all the rest, Mr. Barrett." + +"Well, it's business!" snapped the other. "And business in these days +isn't conducted on the lines of a Sunday-school picnic." + +"Ladder" Lane, who had been staring straight up at the poles of the bunk +above his head, had not moved or glanced to right or left since the +brusque, tyrannical voice outside had begun to declaim. Now he swung his +feet off the bunk and sat on its edge. He fumbled behind him for the +rifle and dragged it across his knees. + +The night had fallen. The one window of the office camp admitted a +sallow light. From the main camp came the drone of an accordion and the +mumble of many voices. Lane realized that supper had been eaten. + +"You're right about business, Mr. Barrett," Withee went on, a touch of +resentment in his voice. "Your Bangor scale is 'business.' You talk +about wasting tops! If an operator leaves the taper of the top on a log, +he's hauling a third more weight to the landing, and then your Bangor +scale gives him a third less measure than on the short log." + +"The legislature established the scale; I didn't," retorted Barrett. + +"Yes, but you rich folks can tell the legislature what to do, and it +does it! We fellows that wear larrigans haven't anything to say about +it." In his grief and despair he allowed himself to taunt his tyrant. +"Your legislature has peddled away all the rights on the river to men +with power enough to grab 'em. Look here, Mr. Barrett, while you toasted +your shins last winter we worked here like niggers, in the cold and the +snow, the frost and the wet--and the first man to get his drag out of +our work was you. You got your stumpage-money. And when my logs were in +the water, first the Driving Association that you're a director in, with +its legislative charter all right and tight, took its toll. Then the +River Dam and Improvement Company took its toll, and you're a director +in that. Then the Lumbering Association, owned by your bunch, had its +boomage tolls. Then the little private inside clique had its pay for +'taking care of logs,' as they call it. Then on top of all the rest, the +gang had its tolls for running and shoring logs in the round-up boom, +and finally the man who bought 'em scaled down the landing-measure on +which you drew stumpage. I couldn't help myself. None of us fellows that +operate can help ourselves. It's all tied up. We had to take what was +given. Your tolls for this, that, and the other figured up about as much +as stumpage. And when the last and final drag was made out of my little +profits--there were no profits! I came out in debt, Mr. Barrett. That's +all there was to show for a winter's hard work away from my home and +family, in these woods that you say ain't fit for a human bein' to live +in. That's what you're doin' to us--and you're all standin' together +against us poor fellows to do it." + +"Same old whine of the old crowd of operators," drawled Mr. Barrett. "If +you old-fashioned chaps can't keep up with the modern business +conditions you'd better get into something else and give the young +fellows a chance." + +"Get into the poor-house, perhaps," Withee replied, bitterly. "My father +lumbered this river. I worked with him, before the big fellows had to +have both crusts and the middle of the pie. I don't know how to do +anything else. Every cent I've got in the world is tied up in my outfit. +For God's sake, Mr. Barrett, be fair with me!" + +It was the pitiful appeal of the toil of the woods at its last stand. +But "Stumpage John" Barrett resolutely reflected the autocracy of giant +King Spruce. + +"This whole matter was gone over at our last directors' meeting, Withee. +We have decided, one and all, that we won't have our timber lands +butchered and gashed and devilled to make profit for you fellows. Our +charters give us our rights, and business is business. We've got to +stand stiff, and we're going to stand stiff until we show you what's +what. I told my associates I would come up here and make an example, and +I'm going to do it. Now, that's all, Withee! It's no good to argue. The +timber interests can't afford to do any more fooling." + +"Gents," broke in the voice of "Dirty-apron Harry," "cook sent me to say +that your supper is ready." + +"Tell cook I'm ready, too," snapped Barrett, grunting off the step. "I +thought your cattle were never going to get out of that meal camp, +Withee. You feed 'em too much! That's where your profits are going to." + +Lane heard him snuffing. + +"This smoke seems to be getting thicker, Withee. It must be something +more than a bonfire, wherever it is." + +"Cook is waiting to tell you," said Harry. "He didn't want to break in +on your business talk, seein' that you was both so much took up with it. +Warden from Jerusalem was through here this morning to give alarm and +call for fighters. He's takin' a nap in the office camp, waitin' for Mr. +Withee." + +"A loafer like the rest of 'em!" snorted Barrett, starting away. "Dig +him out, Withee, and send him to me. I'm going to eat." + +At the sound of his retreating footsteps "Ladder" Lane unfolded his +gaunt frame, stood up, and swung the rifle into the hook of his arm. He +opened the office door and came upon Withee standing where Barrett had +left him. In the gloom the operator's toil-stooped shoulders and bowed +legs were outlined by the flare from the cook-camp. He continued his +mutterings as he turned his head to look at Lane, his gray beard +sweeping his shoulder. + +"It's runnin' north from Misery, Mr. Withee," reported the warden. "It's +runnin' in the slash and goin' fast. If it gets through Pogey Notch it +means a crown fire in the black growth." + +"I hope it'll burn every spruce-tree between Misery and the Canada +line!" barked the furious old operator. "If I could stand here and put +it out by spittin' on it I wouldn't open my mouth." + +"I've 'phoned the alarm through Attean," went on Lane, calmly, with no +apparent thought except his duty. "You ought to send twenty-five men." + +"Not a man!" roared the operator. "Let the infernal hogs save their own +timber lands. They want all the profit in 'em; let 'em stand all the +loss, then." + +"Look here, Withee," said the warden, implacably, "you know the law as +well as I do. A fire warden has the same right as a sheriff to summon a +posse when a fire is to be fought. Every man that is summoned and don't +go pays a fine of ten dollars unless he is sick or disabled, and you'll +have to stand good for your crew." + +"I know it!" bellowed Withee, beside himself. "Some more of the devilish +law they've cooked up to make us work like slaves for their profits. +Talk about monarchies! Talk about freedom, whether it's in a city or in +the woods! We ain't anything but cattle. The rich men have stood +together and made us so." + +"I didn't make the law, Withee. I'm simply delivering my errand as the +State orders me to do. I've done my duty. It's up to you." He sighed, +shifted the rifle to the other arm, and mumbled behind his teeth, "Now +I'll attend to a little matter of business that ain't the State's." + +He started for the door of the meal camp, the operator on "Lazy Tom" +stumping angrily at his heels. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE CODE OF LARRIGAN-LAND + + "Here's a good health to you, family man, + From the depths of our hearts and the woods; + Boughs for our bunks and salt hoss in junks + Ain't hefty in way o' world's goods. + Keep your neck near her arms and your cheek near her kiss, + And don't ever come here to the troubles o' This! + We've tasted of This and we know what it lacks-- + We lonesome old baches-- + Of peavies and patches, + Bills, Tommies, and Jacks of the Axe." + + --The Family Man. + + +Barrett was at the table, his back towards the door. He was filling a +pannikin with whiskey from a silver-mounted flask. The cook, who had +been silently admiring his smart suit of corduroy, was now more intently +and longingly regarding the amber trickle from the mouth of the flask. +But John Barrett was not a man to ask menials to share his bowl with +him. His shaven cheeks looked too hard even to permit the growth of +beard. + +The cook, whirling at the sound of Lane's moccasins on the chip dirt, +was officious according to his promulgated code of politeness. + +"Here's the warden from Jerusalem, Mr. Barrett. I done the honors of +camp the best I could, seein' that you and Mr. Withee wa'n't here." +In mentioning honors, the cook had one lingering hope that the +stumpage-king would share his flask with a State employe, and that +he himself might participate as one present and one willing. + +But the timber baron did not turn his head. He stirred sugar in his +whiskey and growled. + +"Do fire wardens up this way earn their pay, sleeping, like cats, in +the daytime?" + +Lane had stepped just inside the door, his moccasins noiseless on the +shaved poles. + +"How near is that fire to the black growth, and how are they fighting +it?" demanded Barrett. + +"It started on Misery"--Lane began, in the same tone that had +characterized his former reports. + +But at his first word Barrett jerked his head around, stared wildly, +stood up, and then sat down astride the wooden bench. With his eyes +still on the man at the door, he fumbled for the pannikin of whiskey and +gulped it down. Lane went on talking. + +"And if they can get enough men ahead of it perhaps they can stop it in +Pogey Notch," Lane concluded. + +The hands that clutched the gun trembled, but his eyes were steady, with +a red sparkle in them. The lumber king endured that stare for a few +moments, like one writhing under the torture of a focussed sun-glass. He +glanced to right and left, as though seeking a chance for flight. The +only exit was the door, and the tall, grim man stood there with his +rifle across his arm. + +"Say it, Lane! Say it!" hoarsely cried Barrett, at last, unable to +endure the silence and the doubt. + +"I have nothing to say--not now," said Lane. "I'll wait here until you +eat your supper. My lantern is hanging on the nail there, cook. Will you +fill it and light it?" + +There was a subtle, strange menace in his bearing that the cook and +Withee, staring, their mouths gaping, could not understand. But it was +plain that the man at the table understood all too well. + +"Why didn't you take it when I sent you the offer?" asked Barrett, his +voice beginning to tremble. "I wanted to settle. It was up to me to +settle. It was a bad business, Lane, but I--" + +"It's a private matter you're opening up here before listeners, Mr. +Barrett," broke in Lane. "It's my business with you, and you haven't got +the right to do it. Just now you go ahead and eat your supper. You'll +need it, for you're going to take a walk with me." + +In his perturbation, forced to eat, as it seemed, by the quiet +insistence of the warden, Barrett swallowed a few mouthfuls of food. But +he cowered, with side glances at the grim man by the door. Then he +pushed his plate away, choking. Maddened by the silent watchfulness, he +stood up. + +"I'll see you in the office," he muttered. "I'll tell you now and before +witnesses that I'm ready to settle. I've always been ready to settle. It +would have been settled long ago if you had let my man talk with you. +Now, let's not have any trouble, Lane, over what's past and gone. I'll +do anything that's reasonable." + +He shot an appealing glance at Withee. + +"We'll take Withee with us," he declared. "We'll talk in the office." + +"We'll talk under no roof of yours and on no land belonging to you," +answered Lane, firmly. "We'll talk private matters before no third +party. If you're done your supper, Mr. Barrett, you'll come with me +where we can stand out man to man in God's open country with no peekers +and listeners--and that's more for your sake than it is for mine. I've +done nothing in this life that I'm ashamed of." + +"Do you take me for a fool?" roared the land baron, hiding fear under an +assumption of his usual manner. "Do you think I'm going into the woods +alone with you?" + +"You are, Mr. Barrett." + +"By ----, I won't!" + +"I'm no hand for a threat," grated Lane, in a low, strange voice, "but +you'll come with me. You know why you'll come with me, because you know +what I'm likely to do to you if you don't come." + +Barrett looked past the man at the door. The dingle was full of crowding +faces, for the altercation had called every man out. There was some +consolation for Barrett in the spectacle of this silent, wondering mob. +After all, he was on his own land, and these men must acknowledge him as +their master. + +"Here! a hundred dollars apiece to the men who grab that lunatic and +take that rifle away from him!" he shouted, darting a quivering finger +at the warden. But before any one made a move Withee stepped forward +into the lamplight. With open, waving palm he imposed non-interference +on his crew. + +"Hold on, Mr. Barrett," said he. "Before we run into trouble by +arresting a man that's an officer, we want to know whys and wherefores." + +"Don't you know why he wants to make me go away into the woods?" bawled +the lumber king. + +"We can't very well know without bein' told," replied Withee, and an +answering grumble from his men indorsed him. + +"He wants to murder me--murder me in cold blood!" Barrett fairly +screamed this. "I know what his reason is," he added, seeing that their +faces showed no conviction. + +"I've known Linus Lane ever since he came into this region," said +Withee, breaking the awed hush that followed the baron's startling +words. "I never knew him to be anything but peaceable and square. A +little speck odd, maybe, but quiet and peaceable and square. Most of the +men here know him that way, too." + +Another answering mumble of assent. + +"Odd!" echoed Barrett, grasping at the suggestion. "You've said it. He's +a lunatic. He will kill me." + +"What for?" called the chopping-boss, bluntly. His natural desire to get +at the meat of things quickly was stimulated by ardent curiosity. + +"You are all sticking your noses into a matter that doesn't belong to +you!" cried Lane, his well-known crustiness showing itself, though it +was evident that he was hiding some deeper emotion. "I want this man to +go with me. It's business. And he's going!" His voice was almost a +snarl, but there was a resoluteness in the tone that awed them more than +violence would have done. + +"Are you going to give me up to a murderer?" bleated Barrett, for his +study of the faces in the lamplight did not reassure him. + +"Hadn't you better let us step out, and you talk your business over with +him right here, Linus?" inquired Withee, conciliatingly. + +"He's going with me, and he's going now!" shouted Lane, his repression +breaking. "The man that gets in our way will get hurt." + +He banged his rifle-butt on the floor, and those who looked on him +shrank before his awful rage. + +"Put on your hat, Barrett, and walk out!" he shrilled. "Make way, there! +This is my man, by ---- and he knows in his dirty heart why he's mine." + +But Barnum Withee's quiet woodsman's soul was not of a nature to be +intimidated, and his instincts of fairness, when it was between man and +man, had been made acute by many years of woods adjudication. + +"Hold on a minute, Linus!" he entreated, stepping between the two men +with upraised hand. "You are both under my roof, and you've both eaten +my bread to-day. I never got between men in a fair, square quarrel. I +won't now. But you've got a gun, and he hasn't. I don't want to know +your business. But if there's trouble between you it's got to be settled +fair. You can't drag a man out of my camp to do him dirty--and it would +be the same if it was only young Harry there that you were tryin' to +take." + +"Good talk!" yelled the boss. + +"I'll give a hundred dollars--" began Barrett, seeing the advantage +swinging his way; but Withee broke in with indignation. + +"No more of that talk, Mr. Barrett!" he cried. "I'll run my own crew +when it comes to pay or to orders. Now, Warden Lane, what are you going +to do with this man when you get him where you want to take him?" + +"I don't know!" snapped Lane, to the amazement of his listeners. And he +added, enigmatically, "I can tell better after I've asked him some +questions." + +"Ain't you ready to tell us that you'll use him man-fashion?" persisted +Withee. + +The deep emotion which "Ladder" Lane had been trying to hide whetted the +bitterness of his usual attitude towards mankind. + +"I'm not ready to let any fool mix himself into my affairs. We've argued +this question long enough, John Barrett. Now you--step--out!" He leaped +aside from the door, cocked the rifle, and motioned angrily with its +muzzle. + +"Stay right where you are, Mr. Barrett," said the old operator, +resolutely. "I'll stand for fair play." + +"And you'll get your pay for it, Withee, my friend!" stuttered his +creditor, eagerly. "I don't forget favors. You stand by me, and you'll +get your pay." + +"I haven't anything to sell, Mr. Barrett," said Withee, doggedly. + +"But I've got something to give you," persisted the frightened magnate, +edging near him, and striving to hint confidentially. "You stand by me, +and when it comes to contracts--" + +"I'm not buyin' anything, Mr. Barrett!" He signalled the lumber king +back with protesting palm. "I'm simply tellin' Lane that he can't take a +man out of my camp to do him dirty. And in that there's no fear and no +favor!" + +Lane gazed at the determined face of the operator and at the massing men +who crowded at the door, and whose nods gave emphatic approval of +Withee's dictum. No one knew better than he the code of the woods; no +one understood more thoroughly the quixotic prejudices and simple +impulses which moved the isolated communities of the camps. Just then +they would not have surrendered Barrett to an army, and Lane realized +it. + +The eyes focussed on him saw the tense ridges of his seamed face tighten +and the gray of an awful passion settle there. + +"After all the rest of it, you're forcing me to stand here and put it in +words, are you, you sneak?" he yelped, thrusting that boding visage +towards the timber baron. "You're hiding behind these men! Well, let's +see how long they'll stand in front of you! You've got to have 'em hear +it, eh? Then you listen to it, woodsmen!" His voice broke suddenly into +a frightful yell. "He stole my wife! He stole her! I say he stole her! +That's what I want of him, now that he's here where I can meet him in +God's open country, plain man to plain man!" + +"He's lying to you," quavered Barrett. But his eyes shifted, and the +keen and candid gaze of the woodsmen detected his paltering. + +"I was away earning an honest living, and he came along with his airs +and his money and fooled her and stole her--stole her and threw her +away. It was play for him; it was death for her, and damnation for me. +I ain't blaming her, men"--his voice had a sob in it--"she was too +young for me. I ought to have known better. Our little house was on his +land that he had stolen from the people of this State. Then he came and +stole _her_!" + +He was now close to Barrett, his bony fist slashing the air over the +baron's shrinking head. + +"It wasn't that way," stammered Barrett. "I was up there with some +friends fishing and exploring on my lands. It was years ago. The young +woman cooked meals for us. I went farther north to some other townships +of mine, and she went along to take care of camp. That's all there was +to it, men!" He spread out his palms and tried to smile. + +"You stole her!" iterated Lane. "I came home, men, and she was gone out +of our little house. I found just four walls, cold and empty, the key +under the rug, and a letter on the table--and I've got that letter, John +Barrett! And when you were tired of her up there in the woods you tossed +her away like you tossed the lemon-skins out of your whiskey-glass. You +didn't wait to see where she fell--she and your child--your child! Curse +you, Barrett, I've never wanted to meet you! I sent word to you to keep +out of these woods. I sent that word by the man you asked to bribe +me--as though your money could do everything for you in this world! You +thought you could sneak in here after all these years, because I was +tied on the top of Jerusalem. But I'm here! What do you think, men? The +fire that is roaring up from Misery township was set by this man's own +daughter--the child that he tossed away in the woods. You that know the +Skeets and Bushees know her. She set the fire! That's why I'm here. It's +his child--his and hers. I don't know whether heaven or hell planned it, +but now that I've met you, Barrett, you're going with me!" + +He strode back to the door and stood there, the rifle again across the +hook of his arm. His flaming eyes swept the faces in the dingle. Their +eyes gave him a message that his woodsman's soul interpreted. + +"There's the truth for you, men, since you had to have it!" he shouted. +"Once more I'm going to say to John Barrett--'Step out.' And if there's +still a man among you that wants to keep that hound in this camp I'd +like to have that man stand out and say why." + +There was not a whisper from the throng. They stood gazing into the door +with lips apart. Silently they crowded back, as though to afford free +passage. + +Barrett noted the movement and wailed his terror. + +"It means trouble for you, Withee, if you let him take me." + +The old operator surveyed him with a lowering and disgusted stare. + +"Mr. Barrett," he said, "I've told you that I have nothing to sell. All +that I want to buy of you is stumpage, and I've got your figures on that +and your opinion of me. I don't ask you to change anything." He turned +away, muttering, "He'll have to think pretty hard if he can do anything +more to me than what he's already threatened to do." + +Calm once more, and inexorable as fate, Lane motioned towards the door. + +"My final word, Barrett: March!" + +As he gazed into the faces about him, not one gleam of friendliness +anywhere, desperation or a flicker of courage spurred the magnate. In +that moment John Barrett had none of the adventitious aids of his +autocracy--none of the bulwarks of "Castle Cut 'Em." He was only a man +among them--fairly demanded by another man to settle a matter of the +sort where primordial instinct prompts a universal code. He drove his +hat on his head and strode through the door, his head bent. + +Lane took his lighted lantern from the cook's hand and followed. He had +his teeth set tight, as though resolved to say no more. But at the edge +of the camp's lamplight he whirled and faced the crew. Barrett halted, +too, as though hoping for some intervention. + +"Look here, men," said Lane, "I want to thank you for being men in this +thing. And seeing that you've been square with me I don't want to go +away from here leaving any wrong idea behind me. I don't know just +what's going to happen between this man and me, for a good deal depends +on him. But you've known me long enough to know that I'm not the +crust-hunting kind that cuts a deer's throat when he's helpless. You put +your confidence in me when you put this man in my hands. And I'll say to +you, I'll do the best I know!" + +"We ain't givin' any advice to you that knows your business better'n we +do," called out the boss of the choppers. "But let it be man to +man--good woods style!" + +"Good woods style!" echoed the crew, in hoarse chorus. It was plain that +their minds were dwelling on only one solution of the difficulty. + +Lane stepped back and set the rifle against the log wall. "I was near +forgetting," he said, apologetically. "I'm so used to carrying a rifle. +This belongs here." + +"Take it," suggested Withee, with a touch of grimness in his tones. + +"I don't need it," Lane answered, quietly. He whirled and started away, +and Barrett sullenly preceded him. They clambered up the valley wall, +the pale lantern-light tossing against the hemlock boughs. The crew of +"Lazy Tom" watched in silence until the last flicker vanished among the +trees of the Jerusalem trail. + +"Well," said the chopping-boss, drawing a long breath, "it appears to me +that there are some things that money can't do for old 'Stumpage John,' +big as he is in this world! One is, he's found he can't buy up the +'Lazy Tom' crew to back him in a dirty job of woman-stealin'." + +"I'd like to be there when it happens," panted "Dirty-apron Harry," +excitedly. + +"When what happens?" demanded the boss. + +"Well--well--I--I dunno!" confessed Harry. + +"Umph!" snorted the boss, "now you're talkin' as though you know +'Ladder' Lane as well as I know him. The man who can stand here and tell +what old Lane is goin' to do next can prophesy earthquakes and have 'em +happen." + +He pulled out his watch. + +"Nine o'clock!" he roared. "Lights out and turn in!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE RED THROAT OF POGEY + + "Though it ain't for me nor for any one + To say how the awful thing was done, + We know that the hand of a grief-crazed man + Is set to many a desperate plan." + + --On _Isle au Haut._ + + +It was a saffron dawn. It was a dawn diffuse and weird. A smear of +copper in the east marked the presence of the sun. For the rest, the sky +was a sickly monochrome, a dirty yellow, a boding yellow. It was not a +wind that blew; a wind has somewhat of freshness in it. It was simply +smoky air--air that rolled sullenly--choking, heavy, bitter, acrid air +that was to the nostrils what the sky was to the eye. + +After they had toiled around the base of the mountain and were well into +Pogey Notch, the man ahead, stumbling doggedly and stubbornly, found +water. It was only a little puddle, cowering from the drouth. The trees +had helped it to hide away. They had scattered their autumn foliage upon +it, beeches and birches which were grateful, for the pool had humbly +cooled their feet in the hot summer. + +The man ahead, thirst giving him almost a canine scent, fell rather than +kneeled beside the pool, thrust his face through the leaves, and guffled +the stale water. Then he plunged his smarting eyes, wide open, into the +shallow depths. + +When he faced once more the smother of the smoke and the man who stood +over him, he seemed to have a flash of new courage. His eyes blazed +again, his rumpled gray hair seemed to bristle. + +But his defiance was only the desperation of the coward at bay. + +"You've teamed me all night, Lane--from Withee's camp to here. I have +asked questions, and you haven't answered me; but now, by ----, say what +you want of me, and let's have this thing over!" + +It was an air that would have cowed an inferior in John Barrett's office +in the city, where tyranny swelled the folds of a frock-coat and was +framed in the door of a money vault. + +But this weary man in knickerbockers, his puffy face mottled by the hues +of self-indulgence and haggard after a night of ceaseless tramping along +a woods trail, was not an object of awe as he squatted beside the pool +like a giant frog. + +The woodsman who stood over him, his gaunt face seamed and brown, his +bony frame erect to the height that had won him the sobriquet of +"Ladder" Lane, seemed now the man of dignity and authority. He was of +the woods. He was in the woods. Two nights without sleep, miles of +bitter struggle through the forest to report that conflagration roaring +north to Misery township, and now puffing its stifling breath upon them, +and the agony of recollection that John Barrett's crossing his path had +dragged out--all these gave no sign in "Ladder" Lane's features and +mien. Even his voice was steady with a repression almost humble. + +What John Barrett did not know was that this humbleness was that of one +who stood in the presence of a mighty problem, awed by it. In the long +hours of self-communion, as he had plodded on, driving the timber baron +before him, he had pondered that problem until his weary brain reeled. +Introspection had always made his simple nature dizzy. + +Now the tumult and torment in his soul frightened him. Over and over +again in the darkness of the night, as he had followed at the heels of +Barrett, he had whispered, in a half-frightened manner, to himself: "I +told him to keep away! And now he's here!" + +He had looked at the back of the man, stumbling ahead of him in the +lantern-light, and had pitied him in a sort of dull, wondering fashion. +He had pitied him because he knew that Barrett, despoiler of his home, +seducer of his wife, was helpless in his hands. And because "Ladder" +Lane realized that grief and isolation had made him over into such a one +as sane men flout or fear, he was afraid of himself. + +"This here is as good a place as any, Mr. Barrett," he said. + +By striving to be calm, even to the point of being humble, Lane tried to +tame the dreadful beast that he knew his inner being had become. But +Barrett, pricking his ears at this humbleness, was too foolish to +understand. In the mystery of the night he had feared cruelly. With day +to reinforce his prestige, it occurred to him that the man was cowed by +his presence and by the reflection that a person of influence cannot be +kidnapped with impunity. + +"I can make it hot for you, Lane, for dragging me out of camp and +running me all over creation," he blustered, grasping at what he +considered his opportunity to regain mastery. "But I'm willing to settle +and call quits. I've always been ready to settle. Now, out with it, +man-fashion! How much will it take?" + +Another of those red flashes from the sullen coals of many and long +years' hatred roared up in Lane like the torching of a pitch-tree. He +had been trying for hours to beat those flashes down, for they made him +afraid. + +He trembled, blinking hard to see past the red. His hands fumbled +nervously at his sides, as though seeking something that they could +seize upon for steadiness. If the wind would only blow upon his face--a +wind of the woods, clear, cool, and hale--he felt that he might get his +grip on manhood once more. + +But the woods sent up to him only the fire-breath. It whispered +destruction. + +If he only could look up to a bit of blue sky he felt that it might +charm the red flare from his eyes. + +But the yellow pall that masked the sky was the hue of combat, not +peace. + +All out-doors seemed full of menace. The nostrils found only bitter air. +The smarting eyes saw only the sickly yellow. A normal man would have +cursed at the oppression of it all, without exactly knowing why every +nerve was on the rack. The recluse of Jerusalem Mountain, out of gear +with all the world, with mind diseased by the chronic obsession of +bitter injury, stood there under the glowering sky of that day of ravage +and ruin, and felt himself becoming a madman. And yet he set a single +idea before him for realization, and tried to keep his gaze on that +alone, and to be calm. And the idea was an idea of forcing an atonement. +How crudely conceived, Lane could not realize, for his mind was passing +the stage of clear comprehension. + +"I probably haven't got enough money with me," went on the timber baron, +sullenly. "But my word is good in a matter like this. I don't want it +talked about--you don't want it talked about. I'll overlook--you'll +overlook! Give me your figures, and you'll get every dollar." + +And still Lane was calm, and replied in a voice that quavered from an +emotion that Barrett failed to understand. + +"When you stole my wife away, Mr. Barrett, there were men that came to +me and advised me what they would do if a rich man came along and took a +woman from them, just to amuse himself for a little." + +"There are people trying to stick their noses into business that doesn't +concern them, Lane," snorted the baron, regardless that one edge of this +apothegm threatened himself. + +"I've been alone a good deal since it happened," went on Lane, in a +curious, dull monotone, "and I've spent most of my time thinking what +I'd say to you and do to you if you stood before me. I hoped it never +would happen that you'd stand before me, man to man. I didn't hunt you +up to find out what I'd do or say, for I was afraid." + +He shivered, and Barrett, in his fool's blindness, stiffened his +shoulders with a sudden air of importance, and allowed himself to scowl +with a suggestion that perhaps Lane was wise to avoid him. + +"You see, I was always making it end up in my mind that I should kill +you. There didn't seem to be any other natural end to it. I had to kill +you to square it. And that's why I was afraid. It was always one way in +my thoughts. I never could--never can plan out any other way to end it; +and murder is an awful thing, sir." + +Barrett, who had been straightening, crouched farther back on his +haunches and lost his important air. + +"In my thoughts I always gave you half an hour to think it over, and +stayed looking at you, and then killed you." There was a sudden +convulsion of Lane's features, a smoulder in his eyes, that thrilled +Barrett as though some one had whispered in his ear--"Lunatic." + +The warden's groping hands had clutched the heavy lineman's climbers +dangling from his belt, and were now set about them so tightly that +muscles were ridged on the bony surface. Barrett became gray with fear. +But Lane's ferocity disappeared as suddenly as it had flared. + +"It all goes to show that in this world most men don't do what they +think they'll do, when it comes to a big matter. I don't want to kill +you, now that I have you where I want you." He looked down on the +frightened man with a sort of pitying scorn. "It would be like batting a +sheep to death. I don't want even to talk about your taking her away. +It--it chokes in my throat! She's dead--and I guess she wanted to go +away with you that time or she wouldn't have gone. That's just the way +it seems to me now! And that's why I don't want to talk about it. It +seems funny to feel that way, after all the thinking I've done about +what I would do to you." + +"The idea is, you're taking the sensible, business man's view of it," +stammered Barrett. "I was young then, and up here in the woods, and--oh, +as you say, it is better not to talk it over. We all make mistakes." He +was pulling his wallet out of his corduroy coat. He evidently felt that +the sight of money would prolong this "sensible, business man's view" of +the situation. He did not want to take any more chances that the other +and vengeful view would return, which had shown its flame in Lane's +contorted face. "Now, I've got here--" + +"To hell with your dirty money!" shrieked the warden, in a frenzy that +was a veritable explosion out of his calmness. He kicked the wallet from +the hands of the amazed timber baron. And when Barrett tried to stammer +something, Lane leaned down and yelled, cracking his fists in the +other's shrinking face: + +"That's the way you and your kind want to cure everything--a dollar +bill greased with a grin and stuck onto the sore place! Put that kind of +a plaster on your city sneaks if you want to. But do you think I want +it--here?" He swung his arm in a huge gesture and embraced the woods. +"Your money is no good, John Barrett--here!" Another sweep of the long +arm. Then he stooped and scrabbled up a handful of dry leaves. He pushed +them into Barrett's face. "Here, sell me your soul and your decency for +that! You won't? Why not? You get your handfuls of greasy money just as +easy! You only grab out and take! I don't sell for any stuff that's come +at as easy as that." + +"Say what you want, Lane," stuttered the timber baron, huddling back +from this madman. + +"You'll pay in the way I'll tell you to pay," raged the creditor, +thrusting his fierce face close. "You'll pay out of your pride and your +heart instead of your pocket. That's the kind of coin you've stripped me +of! You stole my wife. She's dead. Settle your accounts with her in hell +when you meet her there. But the girl--your young one--yours and +hers--that you threw into the woods like you'd leave a blind kitten--" + +"She was left with people who were paid well--" Barrett broke in, but +Lane slapped him across the mouth. + +"I know where she was left--left with a nest of skunks, so that you +could hide your disgrace in the woods. I've watched her all these years. +I've been waiting for the right time to come. It's here. Your girl is up +there on the top of Jerusalem Mountain in my camp, Barrett. An idiot--a +dog on two legs--is guarding her. He's the only friend she's got. That's +your daughter. Now, you're going to take her!" + +"Take her?" echoed the cringing millionaire. + +"Take her--that's what I said. It belongs to her. Now give it to her." + +Barrett misinterpreted Lane's interest. His face lighted with a sudden +thought that to him seemed a happy one. + +"Look here, Lane," he said, eagerly, "I didn't realize but what the girl +was getting on all right. I ought to have inquired. But I didn't dare +to. A man in my position has to be careful. Now she needs some one to +take care of her. I'll admit it. I'm sorry it hasn't been attended to +before. Let this matter rest between us two without any stir. I'll give +you ten thousand dollars to act as the girl's guardian. Take her out of +these woods. And I'll put ten thousand more at interest for her." + +"I take that spawn--_I_ take her?" demanded Lane, beating his thin hand +on his breast. "I'd as soon pick up a wood adder! Take _her_--the living +reminder of what's made me what I am? Do you suppose I hate you any +worse than I hate her for being what she is?" But he checked himself; a +sudden emotion--a strange emotion--mastered him, and he sobbed as he +muttered, "Poor little girl!" Then his anger flamed again. "By ----, +Barrett, I ought to kill you now, anyway!" He clutched the irons at his +belt. But after a moment, with a wrench of his shoulders, he pulled +himself out of his frenzy. + +"You are going to take that girl to your home. You are going to +acknowledge her as your daughter. You are going to give her what belongs +to her." He was grim now, not frenetic. + +Barrett's whole body quivered. His voice was husky with appeal. + +"I want to talk to you, man to man. I'm going to show you that I have +confidence in you, Lane. I'm not saying this to any one else--only to +you. It's a big matter, Lane. It will prove that I want to be square +with you." + +"You're going to take her, I say!" + +"For ten years, Lane, the big lumber interests in this State have been +trying to get the right man into the governor's chair. You are +interested in timber. You are a State employe. We all need certain +things, and now we are in a way to get them. I'm going to be the next +governor of this State, Lane. I've got the pledges, from the State +committee down through the ranks. I'm going to be nominated in the next +State convention. I've spent fifty thousand already. Now, you see, I'm +being frank and honest with you." His voice had a quaver. He was +explaining as he would explain to a child. "All the timber interests are +behind me. See what it means if I am turned down? A scandal would do it. +It's the petty scandal that kills a man in this State quicker than +anything else--scandal or a laugh! I can't carry that girl out of the +woods and declare her to be my daughter. It would kill all my chances +for nomination. The papers would be full of it. And think of my family!" + +Lane's crude idea of an atonement was not so vague now. His brain +whirled more dizzily, for the problem was bigger--and so was the +revenge. He chuckled. It was the spirit of revenge, after all, that was +driving him, and his madman's soul now realized it and relished it. He +looked up at the saffron sky and snuffed the scorching air. He felt the +impulse seething up from the ruin of the forest, and with almost a sense +of relief loosed the grip that had been holding him above the tide of +his soul's fire and blood. + +He ran and recovered Barrett's wallet from among the leaves, and +searched it hastily. He found among the papers a few folded blank sheets +bearing John Barrett's name and monogram. There was a fountain-pen +stuck in a loop. The paper and the pen he shoved into Barrett's hands. + +"Write it!" he screamed. "Write it that she is your daughter, and agree +to take her and do right by her. Write it! I wouldn't take your word. I +want a paper. You've got to take her." + +Barrett went pale, but his thick lips pinched themselves in desperate +resolve. With the aspiration of his life close to realization he knew +all that such a document could do to him. He stood up and tossed the +paper away. + +"I'm willing to do right by the girl in the best way I can," he said, +firmly; "but as to cutting my throat for her, I won't do it. You've got +my word. That's all I'll do for you." + +"It's all?" asked Lane, with bitter menace. "All, after what you've done +to me?" + +"I won't do it," he repeated, stiffly. + +The next instant, and so quickly that a cat could not have dodged, Lane +struck forward with one of the irons. Barrett saw the flash and felt the +impact; his brain clanged once like a great bell, and he crumbled +together rather than fell. + +He was standing when he revived. But his hands were lashed by strips of +his torn corduroy coat--drawn behind him around the trunk of a birch and +tied securely. Other strips of the cloth bound legs and body close to +the tree. Lane mouthed and leaped in front of him--a maniac. + +"Enjoy it!" he screamed. "There's a thousand-acre fire out in that +level. Here's its chimney-flue. It's going through here on its way to +Enchanted. It's going fast when it comes along, and it will be your +first taste of what's laid up for you in eternity. Burn! And when you're +burning just remember that your daughter set it--set it because you +left her to grow up a hyena instead of a woman." + +He whirled and started away at Barrett's first wild appeal. + +"I wouldn't take your word! You wouldn't write it! You didn't intend to +keep it!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE MESSAGE OF "PROPHET ELI" + + "And the good, kind skipper and all his crew + Got a purse and some medals, tew, + And a lot o' praise for a-savin' me + From an awful death in the ragin' sea. + And I got jawed 'cause I left that way, + And the boss he docked me tew weeks' pay." + + --Hired Man's Sea-song. + + +Lane's quick ear was the first to catch a new sound. He stopped and +looked down into the Pogey trail. Barrett ceased his wails, and looked +and listened, too. + +Men of the woods who knew Prophet Eli of Tumbledick were never surprised +to see him appear anywhere in the Umcolcus region. And it was usually a +time of trouble that he chose for his appearance. In his twenty years' +search of the forest he had found trails and avenues that were hidden to +others. In places where veteran guides wandered and blundered, Prophet +Eli knew a short-cut or detour, and moved with wraithlike swiftness, +enjoying his reputation for surprises with the keen relish of the +shatter-pate. + +Those who did not call him "Prophet Eli," his own choice of title, +dubbed him "Old Trouble," for he scented disaster with an elfish sense, +and followed it north, east, and west. + +He came down the Pogey Notch on a ding-swingle. It was drawn by his +little white stallion. A ding-swingle is the triangle of a trimmed +tree-crotch, dragged apex forward, its limbs sprawling behind. With peak +mounted on a sapling runner it is the woods vehicle that best conquers +tote roads. + +From under the prophet's knitted woollen cap, with its red knob, his +white hair trailed upon his shoulders. His white beard brushed the oddly +checkered jacket, flamboyant with its bizarre colors. + +"The Skeets and the Bushees are still running south," he cried at the +two men, in shrill tones. "But I'm around to the front of the trouble, +as usual." + +He appeared to have no eyes for the plight of the trussed-up Barrett, +who began to shout desperate appeals to him. He cocked shrewd eyes at +"Ladder" Lane, who, with a muttered oath, started to scramble down the +slope towards him. Perhaps he saw a threat in the madman's face. + +He glanced once more at Barrett, as though interested a bit in that +miserable man's frantic urgings, and piped this amazing query, "Don't +you think a stuttering man is an infernal fool to have a name like +McKechnie Connick?" + +Then he lashed his long reins against the side of his stallion and sped +away down the valley. + +Lane followed him, running. + +They left an existent millionaire and a prospective governor helplessly +grinding the skin from his shoulders against a birch-tree, and bellowing +anathema on "lunatics." + + * * * * * + +The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt, sweat pouring down his purple face as he +raged from crew to crew on the fire-line, was not surprised to behold +Prophet Eli emerge from the smoke, riding his ding-swingle. In twenty +years Mr. Britt had often beheld the prophet at troublous junctures. In +his present state of vehement anxiety the king of the Umcolcus felt his +temper flare at sight of this herald of ill-omen. + +"Met the Skeets and the Bushees, and they're still running south. Don't +you think a man with pumple-feet is an infernal fool to try to learn to +skate?" + +Britt, thrusting past through the underbrush of the tote road, whirled +and poised his foot to kick the inoffensive stallion, as mute expression +of his rage and contempt. But he withheld the kick at the apparition of +"Ladder" Lane. The warden came running. He fairly burst out of the +smoke. + +That he was pursuing Prophet Eli for no good to the latter occurred to +the Honorable Pulaski in one startled flash, as he looked at the +warden's savage face. He stepped between the men. But it was not to +protect the prophet, whom he dismissed from his mind as utterly as +though the forest sage were a fugitive rabbit. Mr. Britt had a pregnant +question to ask of Lane on his own account, and he bellowed it at him, +clutching at his arm. + +"Where did you leave John Barrett?" + +Lane halted at his touch, and glowered on him without reply. + +"What's the matter with you, Lane? You look like a crazy man. What did +you want of Mr. Barrett, anyway? What did you drag him out of Barnum +Withee's camp for? Don't try to bluff me. I know about it. Barnum got +here with his crew at daylight to fight fire, and his men have been +talking about it. What right have you got to be bothering John Barrett? +I haven't had time to get facts. I've got something else on my mind +than other folk's troubles. But I know you've picked trouble with +Barrett. Why, great Judas, you long-shanked fool, that man is goin' +to be the next governor of this State! You must have heard of John +Barrett! Trying to arrest John Barrett! What did you take him for--a +game-poacher? Or have you gone clean out of your wits? What have you +done with him?" + +During the timber baron's harangue Lane kept his eyes on the prophet, +meeting the latter's blinking regard with sullen threat in his eyes. + +"Blast ye! Answer me!" roared the Honorable Pulaski. "Where is Mr. +Barrett? I want to discuss this fire situation with him." + +"Then go find him," growled the fire warden. + +"Where is he?" + +Lane raised his gaunt arm and swung it the circle of the horizon. + +"There!" he snarled. He still kept his gaze on the prophet, as though to +note the least intention to betray him. But it appeared that the sage of +Tumbledick was in no mood for dangerous revelations. He thrust up one +grimy finger. + +"May be there!" he remarked. He pointed the finger straight down. "May +be there!" He jumped his stallion ahead with a crack of his reins and +disappeared in the smoke. Lane cast after him a look baleful, but +relieved, and whirled and made away in the direction of Jerusalem. + +"Me standing here wasting my time on a couple of whiffle-heads with that +fire waltzing into my black growth!" Britt muttered, turning his wrath +on himself, since there was no one else in sight. "It must be only some +fool scare about Barrett. A man like him can take care of himself." + +He stumped on, turning to climb a spur of ledge from which, as +commander-in-chief, he might take an observation. Less than a mile to +the south, he spied the thing that he had been dreading. + +The ground fire, lashed by the rising wind of the morning, had leaped +off the earth and become a crown fire. It had entered the edge of the +black growth. + +One after the other the green tops of the hemlocks and spruces burst +into the horrid bloom of conflagration. They flowered. They seeded. And +the seeds were fire-brands that scaled down the wind, dropping, rooting +instantly, and blossoming into new destruction. + +"She can't be stopped! She can't be stopped!" moaned Britt. "She's +headed for the Notch, and then tophet's let loose!" + +But with the persistence of his nature he set off to rally the crew to a +flank movement. + +With the inadequate force it was rather a skirmish than a battle for +those who fought in the face of the great fire. + +Through the night, with shovels and green boughs they had attacked the +conflagration's outposts. The red army of destruction took this +punishment sullenly. The main fire seemed to crouch and doze in the +night, dulled by the condensation of dews and lacking the spur of the +winds. + +At daylight Barnum Withee had arrived with his men and set them to +trenching along the tote road parallel with the advance of the fire. He +had not reconsidered his bitterness against his tyrant John Barrett. But +the unconquerable instinct of the veteran woodsman, anxious to save his +forest, had driven him to the scene. + +To Barnum Withee's crew Dwight Wade and Christopher Straight attached +themselves by entirely natural selection, having excellent personal +reasons for avoiding the direct commands of the Honorable Pulaski Britt. + +And to Wade, struggling with blistered hands to drive his mattock +through roots and vegetable mould to the mineral earth, appeared +Prophet Eli on his ding-swingle. The prophet surveyed him with almost +arch look, and piped, in his shrill tones: + + "Oh, the little brown bull came down from the mountain, + Shang-roango, whey?" + +Wade stared at him with a vivid recollection of the first time he had +seen that strange figure and had heard that song. + +"So you didn't think I knew how to mend bones, eh, young man? Never +heard of Prophet Eli, the charmer-man, the mediator between the higher +and lower forces, natural healer and regulator of the weather? Don't you +think a man an infernal fool to dig a hole out of the dirt when it is so +much easier to dig a hole out of the air and put dirt around it?" + +Wade, not feeling inclined towards a discussion of this sort, fell to +his labor again. + +"If John Barrett's daughter set this fire, why ain't John Barrett here +to help put it out?" shrilled the prophet, and Barnum Withee hearing the +amazing query, came hurrying out of the smoke. He found Wade staring at +the man with astonished inquiry in his face. + +"You heard him say that, did you, Mr. Wade?" demanded Withee, with an +emotion the young man could not understand. + +It was the bare mention of John Barrett's daughter that had stirred +Dwight Wade; for in his soul's eye but one picture rose when she was +mentioned--Elva Barrett of the glorious eyes and the loving heart--the +one woman in the world for him--denied to him by the father who ruled +her. + +"I heard him--yes," said Wade; "but what kind of lunatic's raving is +it?" + +"It may not be a lunatic's raving, Mr. Wade," returned Withee, +enigmatically, his face grave. + +The prophet cast a look about, striving to peer into the smoke, as +though apprehensive that some one whom he didn't want in his confidence +might be listening. In a lower tone he went on: + +"If a man has got a daughter and is tied to a tree, how much will +'Ladder' Lane scale to be cut up into bean poles?" + +There was alarm on Withee's features now. He took Wade by the arm and +led him aside a few steps. + +"That old fellow has got something on his mind, Mr. Wade," he said, +earnestly, "and it may be bad business. My men have been talking here +to-day, as men will talk, though I advised them to keep their mouths +shut. It may bring the 'Lazy Tom' crowd into the thing. If there's bad +business on, I want you to be able to say outside that I haven't messed +into affairs that wa'n't mine. It may have to be proved in court, and +the word of a gentleman like you is worth that of fifty rattle-brained +choppers." + +"I don't understand, Mr. Withee. I can't appear as witness in matters I +haven't seen." + +"You can say I was here on the fire-line attendin' to my own business +when it happened--if it has happened," cried Withee. "You can say that I +had no hand in it. It's this way, Mr. Wade, if you haven't heard. Did +any of my men tell you that John Barrett--you've heard of 'Stumpage +John' Barrett--was at my camp last night?" + +"I heard nothing of it," said Wade. He leaned forward with excitement in +his face, for the tone and the air of the lumberman were ominous. + +"He was at my camp, and Lane, the Jerusalem warden, after having words +with him over an old matter between them, made Mr. Barrett go away into +the woods with him--and I think Lane was about half crazy at the time." + +"And you let an insane man force Mr. Barrett into the woods?" demanded +Wade, indignantly. + +Withee straightened, and his face took on a sort of sullen pride. "It's +on that point that I want to explain to you, for my own sake. I don't +know whether you're a friend of John Barrett's or whether you ain't. But +when I hear him confess right before me that he has stolen away another +man's wife and broken up that man's home forever, and has never done +anything to square himself, then I let that matter alone, for it's a +matter between man and man. And my men and I let John Barrett and Linus +Lane settle their own business." + +"How?" cried Wade, his face pale. "My God, man, it can't be that John +Barrett did a thing like--" + +"I heard him own to it," persisted Withee. "And what's more, it's John +Barrett's daughter that lived with the Skeets and the Bushees, abandoned +by him. And when I know a thing like that about a man, Mr. Wade, he +can't look to Barn Withee to stand behind him." + +Dwight Wade staggered back against the tree and put his arms around it +to steady himself. Had he not seen the girl he might have scorned to +believe such a story. But all his first emotions at sight of her there +in her squalid surroundings rushed back upon him now. He had seen in +this forest waif too many suggestions of Elva Barrett, and had been +ashamed to own to himself that his heart confessed as much, as though it +were an insult to the girl who reigned in his heart. + +"So, I say," repeated Withee, as if to reassure himself, "I let them +settle their own business." + +"But how?" gasped the young man. + +"You can prove nothing by me," said the lumberman, with a toss of +his hand and wag of his head, pregnant gestures of disclaimed +responsibility. "But that old fellow sitting on that ding-swingle never +put those hints together without havin' something about it on his mind. +I never knew trouble to happen in these woods unless he was there to see +some part of it." + +"What have you seen, old man?" demanded Wade, impetuously. + +"Saw the crow catch the hen-hawk. Isn't a man with a harelip an infernal +fool to learn to play a fife?" + +But Wade, coming close to the sage, noted a strange twinkle in the blue +eyes under the knots of gray brow. It was a glance so sane, so +significant, so calculating, that the young man had no voice to utter +the angry retort on his lips. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps +Prophet Eli of Tumbledick had not always been understood by those who +jeered him. The keen glance noted Wade's changing expression and +understood it. + +"It was Rodburd Ide said it to me," the prophet stated, lowering his +tone. "He said it was between you and John Barrett's pretty girl until +old John drove you into the woods. Hey?" The young man's face flushed +redly and he was about to reply, but the prophet put up a protesting +hand. "It was Rodburd Ide said to me that John Barrett didn't think you +were good enough for his daughter. Now you follow me! I want to hear +John Barrett whine. I want to see John Barrett squirm. Coals of fire! +Coals of fire, young man! What is Prophet Eli's mission? Coals of fire! +I cure those who have mocked me, don't I? I like to hear 'em whine. I +want to see them squirm. You follow me. Coals of fire!" + +[Illustration: "WRITHING AT HIS BONDS, HIS CONTORTED FACE TOWARDS THE +RED FLAMES GALLOPING UP THE VALLEY"] + +And singing this over and over to himself, he whirled his stallion and +hurried away. Wade ran behind him without question, for he guessed while +he feared. Withee started, but turned back to his men with a sullen +oath. + +It was a long and a bitter chase through the smother of the smoke, and +in the very forefront of the racing conflagration. At last Pogey Notch +had begun to suck at the raging fires with its granite lips. It was the +chimney-flue of the amphitheatre of Misery. The flames roared from tree +to tree. Wade ran, stooping forward, clutching at the cross-bar of the +ding-swingle. Without that help he never would have been able to reach +the spot where at last he found John Barrett, writhing at his bonds, +squealing like an animal--his contorted face towards the red flames +galloping up the valley. + +The prophet had left his vehicle to guide the rescuer up the slope. He +stood by, grinning with enjoyment, when the two men faced each other. He +chuckled when Wade cut the bonds. He laughed boisterously when Barrett, +weeping like a child, threw his arms around the young man's neck. + +"Coals of fire!" he shrilled. "Heap 'em on! They're hotter than the +other kind that are dropping on you!" + +Then he ran from them a few steps and rapped his skinny knuckles on a +scar breast high on a tree. + +"Your trail!" he cried. "It's here! It's blazed clear to the bald head +of old Jerusalem. Get up there on the granite. Then sit down and talk it +over! Coals of fire!" + +They heard him shrieking it back at them as he fled up the Notch. And +the two men took the trail, strangling, gasping, feeling their direction +from blaze to blaze on the trees, fighting their way up from the Gehenna +of Pogey. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +BETWEEN TWO ON JERUSALEM + + "So he didn't have no doctor but a bowl o' ginger tea, + And it didn't seem to help him, not so far as we could see." + + --Gettin' Larry Home. + + +When they came out upon the bare granite, long after mid-day, they fell +upon their faces, and lay there without speaking or the desire to speak. +They did not open their smarting eyes. + +Over and over again Wade heard a dull rumble which his stricken senses +failed to understand. But when a hollow boom reverberated among the +hills and jarred the granite under his face he sat up. He saw the purple +flash shiver across the swaying smoke, heard the splitting crack of the +bolt, and felt a raindrop on his face. + +"Thank God, Mr. Barrett, it has come at last! The rain!" he shouted. And +the timber baron staggered to his feet, and turned a bloodshot gaze on +the panorama of blazing forest and sheeting heavens. Then he looked at +Wade, blinking stupidly and searching his soul for words. + +"I haven't got the language, Mr. Wade--" he began. But the young man +broke upon his stammering speech. + +"There's no need of saying anything," he said, looking away. "I don't +want to hear any thanks." + +"I was left there to die--tied up there and left to die by a crazy fool +that tried to blackmail me--that's it, tried to blackmail me. And I'll +put him where he belongs. It was the most infernal plot ever put up on a +man. Blackmail and murder!" He gabbled his charges hysterically. The +shock of his experience had unmanned him. "You can't blackmail a man +like me without suffering for it. I'll put him into the deepest hole in +the insane asylum--with a gag in his mouth." He was going on to relate +his experience, but Wade again interrupted him. + +"I won't bother you to tell it, Mr. Barrett," he said, coldly. "I know +how it happened. Mr. Withee told me this morning." + +"It's all lies and blackmail!" screamed Barrett, his fury rising at +thought of this gossip. "Withee is against me, too. I told him I'd take +his stumpage contract away, and this is how he is getting back. I'll +have him and his whole crew in jail for blackmail if he doesn't shut his +yawp." + +A roar of thunder drowned his voice, and he stood, with the rain pelting +on him, shaking his fists above his head. But by the twist of his mouth +Wade saw that he was still cursing "blackmail." + +The sight angered him. In as insulting a passion had John Barrett railed +at him, Dwight Wade, when he had asked for the hand of John Barrett's +daughter. The man had tossed his arms in the same way when he called +Wade "a beggar of a school-master." + +"Don't call it blackmail and murder--not to me, Mr. Barrett," he said, +harshly. + +"Don't you know it's blackmail and a put-up job to ruin me?" roared the +timber baron. + +Wade stood up now and faced him. Torrents of rain beat upon them, and +they took no heed; for the face of the young man was working with a +mighty emotion and the features of the other man showed that sudden fear +had come upon him. + +"Have you ever seen that daughter of yours that you left to wallow with +human swine?" demanded Wade, with a fury he could not restrain. "Well, I +have!" Into those words he put all the bitter resentment of months of +remembrance of John Barrett's insults. + +"And I have seen the daughter you cherish in your home. I don't need any +man's say-so to prove to me that they're both your children, Mr. +Barrett. You stand convicted in the eyes of every man who has eyes and +who sees Elva Barrett and then looks on poor Kate Arden--even her name a +cruel jest! I don't want to hear a man like you lie, Mr. Barrett. Don't +talk any more to me about blackmail." He shook his fist at the roof of +the Jerusalem fire station, just showing above the ledges. "I know that +girl over there is your daughter. Now go slow, Mr. Barrett, with your +threats of what you will do to Lane. If there is any unwritten law, he +deserves to have the forfeit of the life that I've helped to save. +That's still a matter between you two. But as to that girl yonder, I +propose to ask something. What are you going to do with her?" + +Barrett muttered incoherently, dazed by the new light of Wade's words. + +"Your blackmail story may go with woodsmen, Mr. Barrett. But if Lane +should go out of these woods with his story and that girl to back it he +can hold you up to execration by every decent person in the State. The +girl proves it in every feature of her face." + +"The lunatic tried to make me take her home, own her publicly, and treat +her as a daughter--and he demanded that to ruin me. It would ruin me in +my political prospects, Wade. You know it. I'm willing to do what's +right. But I can't do that." His courage revived a little. "I'd rather +go down fighting." + +The young man pondered awhile. + +"I don't want you to think that I'm persecuting you for any of the +trouble between us, Mr. Barrett," he said, at last. "That is all over +and done with. But as a man who knows what that poor girl has been +condemned to, and like others here who can tell by their own eyes that +Lane is speaking the truth, I'm going to see that she gets a fair show." + +Barrett concealed his private doubts as to the young man's animus. But +sudden dread of this new weapon in his foe's hand mastered him. + +"In the name of God, help me out, Wade!" he pleaded, dropping all his +obstinacy. "I couldn't argue with that crazy man. I'll put the girl to +school. I'll give her money. She shall have everything heart can +wish--except my home. Think of my family, Mr. Wade! Think of my +daughter! I want to have the respect of my family, Mr. Wade, for the few +years that are left to me. Help me, and you won't be sorry for it. +I'll--" + +"I want no pay and no promises," broke in the young man. "You have been +free with your cry of blackmail. You can never taunt me with that. I'm +simply appealing to your manhood. But I'm going to see that your +daughter gets her rights, and that is no threat--it is justice." + +"Aren't those rights enough--what I have said?" urged Barrett. + +"Perhaps they are. They are probably all she can expect. People hardly +ever get all they deserve in this world--either in blessings or +punishments." His tone was bitter. And he stood apart and gazed out over +the broad expanse to the south, his brow wrinkling. He was trying to +analyze the emotions that made him champion the outcast. + +The thunder-heads had rolled on, but like mighty and noisy engines they +had dragged behind them masses of clouds that covered the skies with a +slaty expanse, and a storm, settled and steady, poured down its +grateful floods. + +Already the fire was dying. Only here and there scattered flames fought +the streaming skies from the tops of resinous trees. + +"Mr. Barrett," said Wade, at length, "the girl is at Lane's. You can't +meet her now. It is not the time and place. Probably Lane has returned +there. I don't think his mind is right--and after knowing the wrong you +did him, I can understand why. You've time to reach Britt's camp before +night. It is in the clearing to the north. You are an old woodsman. You +can find your way there." + +Barrett nodded relieved assent. + +"You have asked me to help you. As that includes helping this poor girl +most of all, I am going to do what I can, for the sake of you and your +family." Barrett gave a quick glance at him, but the young man's face +was impassive. Perhaps the timber baron had hoped, for his own temporary +guarantee, to see a flash of the old love in Wade's eyes. "I'm going to +request you to leave this matter in my hands for the present. I will see +Withee, and try to stop gossip in that quarter. Will you give me the +right to--well, to modify some of your threats? And as to Withee--I +believe you spoke of a contract!" + +John Barrett stood straighter now. The sneer of conscious authority, the +frown of tyranny, had gone from his face. There was a frankness in his +face and a sincerity in his tones that few persons had seen or heard +before. But the new inspiration was logical and real. The young man who +stood before him had just waived a mean vengeance so nobly that his +heart swelled. His doubts were quieted. + +"My boy," he said, softly, pulling off his cap and standing bareheaded +in the rain, "I'm alive now, after the experience of looking straight +into the eyes of death and giving up every hope. And, I tell you, it +seemed hard to die--just now, when the best hopes of my life are coming +true. I had time to think. I thought. I know I talked hard just a bit +ago. But I wasn't myself then. I was too near the smoke and fire." He +stopped and put his hand to watering eyes. "I can see clear now. And +I've got over my bitterness, and I guess now I can understand the Golden +Rule. That's my word, and there's my hand on it. Now talk for me to +those I've hurt." + +They clasped hands. But it was Barrett who made that overture. + +"I'll wait for you at Britt's camp--until you come and tell me what I'm +to do," said the timber baron. And then he turned and trudged away +across the wet ledges. + +Wade gazed after him until he disappeared in the stunted growth. He +gazed sourly into the palm of the hand that the millionaire had +squeezed, and reflected that perhaps Barrett's precipitate repentance +was off the same piece as his own forgiveness of the bitter matter that +lay between them. Being a young man inclined to be honest with himself, +Dwight Wade confessed that the fabric of his forgiveness had a selvage +that already showed signs of ravelling. He was a little angry at his +state of mind. + +"And yet it sounded like a campaign speech to catch votes," he muttered. + +He was still angrier at himself then, for, put into words, his doubt +seemed an unjust suspicion. + +"I must have got more of a jolt than I thought when I dropped from +ideals to the real," he pondered, gazing out through the slanting lines +of rain. "I seem to have about as many grudges against humanity as old +Lane himself." + +When he looked towards the roof of the little fire station he awoke +to the consciousness that the rain was wet and the wind searching. To +himself, in a sudden flash of introspection, he seemed to be as unkempt +within as without. There on the granite of the bare mountain, with the +forces of nature conquering the last embers of the mighty conflagration, +the narrower things of life and living--the amenities, the trammels +that man patiently puts upon himself for the sake of the social +fabric--appeared vain and delusive ideals. It was not thus that the +strong battled and won. + +"Considering what sort of a man they're making of me up here, where +cast-iron is better than velvet, I think it's likely, John Barrett, that +it has been lucky for you that you have a daughter away down there." + +He set his face in long gaze to the southern hills, bulked dimly behind +the mists. + +"As for Kate Arden--" He shook his head despondently, and walked away +across the glistening granite towards "Ladder" Lane's house. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN THE PATH OF THE BIG WIND + + "So we fellers of the camp, when the wind-spooks rave and ramp, + We fasten up the dingle-door with spike and extry clamp; + For it ain't a mite against 'em if the boldest chaps do hide + When the big old trees go tumblin', crash and bang, on ev'ry side." + + --_Ha'nt of Pamola._ + + +John Barrett, millionaire, realized rather vaguely that he had left +something on the bald poll of Jerusalem Knob. It was after he had +grasped Dwight Wade's hand, both of them standing shelterless under the +skies, the welcome rains beating into their faces. + +John Barrett, millionaire, stumbling weariedly to shelter at the foot of +Jerusalem Knob, having left something in that upper vastness where soul +forgot the petty things, realized--vaguely again--that he had found what +he had left. The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt seemed to pass it to him in +a hand-clasp. + +On Jerusalem, John Barrett had left much of his insolence, more of his +selfishness, and all of his vindictiveness. Dwight Wade, generous in his +own triumph, had shamed the baser feelings out of him. And yet that new +poise of a sincerer manliness seemed to be charmed away suddenly by the +mere touch of Pulaski Britt's big hand. That hand represented the brutal +tyranny of the barons of the woods. It was thrust out in welcome over +the threshold of the wangan camp, and Britt hauled in his fellow-baron +with boisterous greeting. + +"It's been hell for all of us, John, but I reckon you've been in the +hottest corner of it if what they tell me is true. I didn't have time to +ask for any details, not with that infernal fire on my hands, but it +isn't the first time that rascals have poked up fools in these woods to +pay off old grudges against timber-land owners. I've hit back hard a few +times myself. This time we'll hit hard enough to teach 'em a lesson that +will stick awhile." He put his head out of the door and yelled an order +to the cook. + +"It--it may not be best to push things too hard," faltered Barrett, +spreading his wet, blue hands to the blaze of the Franklin stove. +"Things have come up that--" + +"They've tried the same bluff on me," blustered the host. "They loaded +old Lane up with threats of what he'd do. It's all conspiracy and +blackmail. There's more behind it than we realize now. But we'll dig 'em +out, Barrett. We've got to smash the whole thing now or they'll have us +on the run. I didn't suppose Barnum Withee was the kind of man to work +out a grudge the way he did, but it shows us the danger in bein' too +easy with any of 'em. Old Lane is only crazy. It's this Wade we want to +bang the hardest. I'll tell you what I believe, John. I'll bet cents to +saw-logs he's been hired to come up here and start a rebellion. There +are interests in this State that will do it. By Judas, in twenty-four +hours I'll show 'em!" + +The tacit partnership of honorable reparation bound by hand-clasp on +Jerusalem had not the elements to make it endure in Pulaski Britt's +domains, with Pulaski Britt to sound his old-time rallying call of greed +and tyranny. That earlier partnership, sealed by the arms f Old King +Spruce, had never been dissolved, and Barrett was once more becoming +"Stumpage John," cold and hard and calculating. + +"Look here, Pulaski," he blurted out, in sudden confidence, "there's a +little more to this than you understand just now. I'm in a devil of a +position. I--I--" He hesitated, staring into the fire and waving his +hands slowly in the steam that rose from his sodden garments. + +"I haven't done just right, I suppose, but there are reasons why, that a +man like you will understand. I just left that Wade fellow up on the top +of Jerusalem. We've had a talk. He didn't understand very well." + +"Did he offer to trade something for the sake of gettin' that daughter +of yours that he's in love with?" demanded Britt, maliciously. + +"I don't know," confessed the other. "I'm under obligations to him, +Pulaski. He cut me loose from a tree to-day in Pogey Notch. In another +ten minutes the fire would have got me." + +"Great Jehosaphat!" exploded the host. "Tried to kill you! A timber +grudge carried that far!" He stamped about the little camp. His face +wrinkled with apprehension and fury. He had a sudden vivid mind-picture +of his own reign of tyranny, and realized that if John Barrett had been +attacked, Pulaski Britt had more reason to fear. "It's a call for a +lynchin', John," he said, hoarsely. "And I've got a crew that will do +it." + +"It was Lane that tied me--the fire-station warden," Barrett went on. + +"And Withee turned you over to him, knowin' he'd do it!" stormed the +baron. "His men blabbed it that Lane had taken you. Withee, Wade--we'll +clean out the whole coop of 'em!" + +But John Barrett did not seem to warm up to this plan of vengeance. He +still kept his eyes on the fire. His shoulders were hunched forward +with something of abjectness in their droop. + +"You haven't got some whiskey handy, have you, Pulaski?" he asked, +plaintively. "I don't feel well. I've had an awful night and day." + +Britt brought the liquor from a cupboard, cursing soulfully and urging +vengeance. But after Barrett drank from the pannikin he leaned his face +to the blaze again and broke upon the Honorable Pulaski's vicious +monologue. + +"I've told the wrong end first--but there are some things easier to say +than others. It was Linus Lane who tied me to that tree and left me to +die there, but"--Barrett rolled his head sideways and gave Britt a queer +glance from his eye-corners--"did you ever see my daughter Elva, +Pulaski?" + +Britt blinked as though trying to understand this sudden shifting of +topic, and wagged slow nod of assent. + +"Have you ever seen that girl of the Skeet settlement--the one that +doesn't belong to them?" Barrett half choked over the question. + +"Have I seen her?" roared the Honorable Pulaski, no longer paying +attention to incongruity of questions. "Why, that's the draggle-tailed +lightnin'-bug that set this fire that we've been fightin' for +forty-eight hours, and that only this rain stopped from bein' a +fifty-thousand-acre crown-fire! Have I seen her! I was there when she +set it, and only the grace o' God and that Wade's fist saved her from +bein' shot, and shot by me! I would have killed her like I'd kill a +quill-pig!" + +Barrett did not look up from the fire. + +"Then you've seen both those girls, you say? I haven't seen this one in +the woods here. But this Wade told me to-day that they very much +resemble each other. He has heard some gossip and is making threats. He +seems to think I ought to take the girl and care for her." + +Britt began a bitter diatribe, coupling the name of Wade and the girl as +examples of all that is inimical to timber interests and timber +owners--but he checked himself suddenly as soon as his native shrewdness +mastered his passion. A flicker in his eyes showed that a light had +burst upon his mind. He strode back and forth behind Barrett's stool, +and gazed down upon the stumpage king's bent back. + +"Look here, John," he demanded, bluffly, at last, "was there any truth +in the story that was limpin' round in these woods about you almost +twenty years ago? There was a woman in it--somebody's wife. I've +forgotten who." + +"It was Lane's wife," admitted Barrett, finding confession good for the +soul of one who stood bitterly in need of practical advice--and Pulaski +Britt was nothing if not practical. "I was up here prospecting, and she +was bound to follow me up to camp, and I was infernal fool enough to let +her. And when it came time for me to go out of the woods I couldn't take +her--you can see that for yourself! I thought I had provided for her--I +would have done it, but she dropped out of sight, and I couldn't go +hunting around and stirring up gossip. Same way about the child." + +"Young one has had a nice, genteel bringin'-up," remarked the Honorable +Pulaski, sarcastically. Hard though his nature was, he had the sincerity +of the woods, and he felt sudden contempt for this man who had uprooted +for one brief sniff of its perfume a woods blossom that he could not +wear. + +"I didn't realize it until Lane told me at Withee's camp. I had hoped +she had fallen into good hands. It's a devil of a position to be in," +the other mourned, returning to his prior lament. + +"Well," remarked Britt, inexorably, "you can't exactly complain because +you are now gettin' only a little of what Lane and the girl have been +gettin' a whole lot of all these years. It ain't any use to whine to me, +John. I don't pity you much. I've been hard with men, but, by Cephas, +I've never been soft with women! It don't pay." + +"It seems as though you ought to be willin' to advise me a little," +pleaded Barrett. "I'm ready to do what I can for the girl, now that I've +found out about her. But Lane insisted on my taking her out with me and +declaring her to the world as my daughter. And when I refused he tied me +to the tree." + +"Oh, ho! It wasn't just for the old original revenge, then?" queried +Pulaski, his expression indicating a more charitable view of "Ladder" +Lane's assault on the vested timber interests as represented by Stumpage +John Barrett. "Well, if the girl is your young one she ought to have a +chance!" + +In his turn, Barrett got up and paced the floor. "Such a thing would +kill my chances of being the next governor of this State, and you and +the whole timber crowd have got a lot at stake there." + +"Well, I've got to admit, havin' played politics myself somewhat," said +Britt, unconsolingly, "that a quiet little frost of scandal will nip off +a budding leaf that a wind like this wouldn't start." + +He tapped the frame of the chattering window. In the hush of their +voices they heard the wind volleying through the trees and roaring high +overhead among the black clouds. Night had fallen. The crew had long +before finished supper, and the cook had twice summoned the inattentive +two in the wangan to a second table spread more sumptuously. + +"And what kind of a trade is it your friend Wade wants to make with +you?" inquired Britt. "Takin' the thing by and large, you must be in +for a prime hold-up. If he should say, 'Your daughter or your +life--political life!'--I reckon you'd have to change your mind about +his qualifications as a son-in-law, wouldn't you?" He eyed Barrett +keenly and heard his oaths with relish. "You see," persisted the host, +"though old Lane is probably out of this for good, after trying to kill +you, and you can handle Barnum Withee and the rest of these woods cattle +in one way or another, this Wade chap is sittin' across from you with +about every trump in the deck under his thumb. What does he say he +wants?" + +"He doesn't say," muttered Barrett. "He hasn't asked for anything. He's +thinking it over." + +"It's the cat and the mouse, and him the cat!" suggested the Honorable +Pulaski, with manifest intent to irritate. "I should have most thought +you would have thrown your arms around his neck after your rescue and +yelled in his ear: 'My daughter is yours, noble man! Take her and my +money, and live happy ever after!' These fellows that write novels +always have 'em do that sort of thing--and the novel-writers ought to +know!" + +"There's no novel about this thing!" retorted Barrett, angrily. "My girl +knows whom she is expected to marry--and she'll marry him when the right +time comes. And it won't be a college dude without one dollar to rub +against another! I'm in a devil of a hole, Pulaski, but do you think for +one minute that I'm going to let that Wade make a slip-noose of this +thing and hang me up with my heels kicking air? I'll either choke him +with thousand-dollar bills, or--or--" + +He glanced at Britt and forbore to finish the sentence. + +The door opened just then and Tommy Eye, teamster, poked in his grizzled +head. + +"Cook has lost his voice hollerin' 'Beans!' gents," he reported, and +Britt whirled on his heel and led the way out. + +"After supper, after supper, John!" he snapped, testily, when the other +repeated his plea for advice. "We'll come back here and find a plan +blossoming in our cigar smoke." They hurried away to the cook-camp, +bending against the rush of the wind. "Put some wood on that fire, +Tommy," Britt called over his shoulder. + +With the scent of the inebriate, Tommy had sniffed whiskey when he +opened the camp door; his drunkard's eye caressed the bottle that the +Honorable Pulaski had forgotten to replace in the cupboard. He stood +dusting from his sleeves the bark litter of the wood he had brought and +softly snuffled the moisture at the corners of his mouth as he gazed. +One wild impulse suggested that he take the bottle and run into the +woods. + +"No," said Tommy, aloud, in order that his voice might brace his +determination. "It would be stealin', and, bless God, Tommy Eye never +stole when he was sober. I may have stole when I was drunk and didn't +know it, but I never stole when I was sober." He paused. "I wish I +wasn't sober," he sighed. He took up the bottle, turned it in his grimy +hands, gustfully studied the streakings of its oil on the glass, and at +last sniffed at the open mouth. "Ah-h-h-h, rich men have the best, and +they have plenty. Some people don't think it is wrong to steal from rich +men. I do. But if he was here he'd probably say: 'Tommy, you have +brought the wood--you have mended the fire. It is a cold night, and sure +the wind is awful! Tommy, take one drink with me and work the harder for +P'laski Britt on the morrer.'" + +He took the bottle away from his nose, stared at the window's black +outline, listened to the clattering frame, and muttered, again sighing: +"Sure and them wor-rds don't sound just like the wor-rds that P'laski +Britt would say, but in a night like this it isn't always easy to hear +aright. I wouldn't steal--but I'll dream I heard him say 'em. 'One +drink, Tommy,' I hear him say." + +He set the bottle to his lips, tipped it, closed his eyes, and drank +until at last, breathless and choking, he felt the bottle suck dry. + +"Bless the saints!" he gasped; "it was one drink he said, and sure with +my eyes shut I couldn't see how big was the drink." He felt the thrill +of the mighty potation from head to toes. His meek spirit became +exalted. "If I should go out now," he mumbled, "he would say that I +stole it. But I will stay here with the bottle in my hand just as it was +when I took the one drink. I will show him. And, after all, it is not +much he can do to me--now!" He rubbed a consolatory palm over his +glowing stomach. He stood there, beginning at last to rock slowly from +heel to toe, until he heard voices and footsteps. The preoccupied barons +had not lingered over their repast. "No, I'll not run away. I'll not +steal," muttered Tommy Eye, "but--but I'll just crawl under the bunk, +here, to think over the snatch of a speech I'll make to him. And a bit +later I'll feel more like bein' kicked." + +From the safe gloom of his covert he noted that they had brought back +with them the boss, Colin MacLeod. Britt turned down the wooden button +over the latch of the door and gave his guests cigars. + +They smoked in silence for a while, and then Britt spat with a snap of +decision into the open fire and spoke. + +"MacLeod, a while ago, when we were talkin' about Rodburd Ide's girl, +Nina, I told you that I wouldn't interfere in your woman affairs +again--or you told me not to interfere--I forgot just which!" There was +a little touch of grim irony in his tones--irony that he promptly +discarded as he went on. "About that Ide girl--you ought to know that +you can't catch her--after what has happened. I know something about +women myself. The girl never took to you. If she had cared anything +about you she would have run to you and cried over you when you were +lying there in the road where Dwight Wade tossed you. That's woman when +she's in love with a man. Don't break in on what I'm saying! This isn't +any session of cheap men sittin' down to gossip over love questions. It +may sound like it, but it's straight business. Don't be a fool any +longer. But there's a girl that you have courted and a girl that thinks +a lot of you, because I heard her say so one night on Jerusalem Knob. +You ought to marry that girl." + +The Honorable Pulaski again checked retort by sharp command. + +"That girl isn't of the blood of the Skeets and Bushees, and you know +it. She is a pretty girl, and once she is away from that gang and +dressed in good clothes she will make a wife that you'll be proud of. +Now, what do you say, Colin? Will you marry that girl?" + +MacLeod stared from the face of his employer to the face of John +Barrett, the latter displaying decidedly more interest than the +questioner. Then he stood up and dashed his cigar angrily into the fire. +Blood flamed on his high cheek-bones and his gray eyes glittered. + +"What has marryin' got to do with my job, or what have you got to do +with my marryin'?" he asked, in hot anger. + +The Honorable Pulaski continued bland and conciliating. + +"Keep on all your clothes, Colin, my boy," he counselled. "Don't say +anything to me that you'll be sorry for after I've shown you that I'm +only doin' you a friendly turn. But I've found out a mighty interesting +thing about this girl--Kate Arden, they call her. As a friend of yours +I'm givin' you the tip. It would be too bad to have a girl with a nice +tidy little sum of money comin' to her slip past you when all you have +to do is to reach and take her." + +The boss's face was surly. + +"You must have been talkin' with some one in Barn Withee's crew," he +suggested. + +"And what does Withee's crew say?" demanded Britt, with heat. + +"It wasn't a sewin'-circle I was attendin' out on that fire-line," +retorted MacLeod, with just as much vigor. "There was somethin' bein' +talked, but I didn't stop to listen." + +"Look here, MacLeod," cried his employer. Britt came close to him +and clutched the belt of his wool jacket. "There are some nasty +liars in these woods just now. There are some of them that will go to +state-prison for attempted blackmail. You are too bright a man not to +realize which is your own side. I know you well enough to believe that +all the lunatics and slanderers this side of Castonia couldn't turn you +against your friends. And you've got no two better friends than John +Barrett and I." + +"I'm not gainsaying it, Mr. Britt. But what has joinin' this matrimonial +agency of yours got to do with your friendship or my work?" + +"I've found out, Colin, that this girl has got money comin' to her from +her folks. She doesn't know about it yet. No one knows about it, except +us here. She never belonged to the Skeets and Bushees. She was stolen. +This money has been waitin' for her. Barrett and I are bank-men, and +things like this come to our attention when no one else would hear of +it. There's--there's--" Britt paused and slid a look at Barrett from +under an eyebrow cocked inquiringly. Barrett slyly spread ten fingers. +"There's ten thousand dollars comin' to her in clean cash, Colin. Now, +what do you think of that?" + +"I think it's a ratty kind of a story," said MacLeod, bluntly. + +Britt's temper flared. + +"Don't you accuse me of lyin'," he roared. "The girl has got the money +comin', I say." + +"Maybe it _is_ comin'," replied the boss, doggedly; "but has she got any +name comin'? Has she got any folks comin'? Has she got anything comin' +except somebody's hush-money?" + +The woodsman's keen scenting of the trail discomposed the Honorable +Pulaski for a moment. But after a husky clearing of his throat he +returned to the work in hand. + +"Folks, you fool! You can't dig folks up out of a cemetery. If her folks +had been alive they'd have hunted up their girl years ago. They were +good folks. You needn't worry about that. There's no need now to bother +the girl about her folks or the money. She wouldn't know how to handle +it if she had it in her own hands. It needs a man to care for her and +the cash. We don't want a cheap hyena to fool her and get it. You're the +man, Colin. Marry her, and the ten thousand will be put into your fist +the day the knot is tied." + +"It sounds snide and I won't do it," growled MacLeod, seeming to fairly +bristle in his obstinacy. "Not if she was Queen of Sheby." + +"Le' him go, then!" murmured a voice under the bunk. "Here's a gen'lum +puffick--ick--ly willin'." + +The Honorable Pulaski turned to behold the simpering face of drunken +Tommy Eye peering wistfully from his retirement. + +"I'll do it ch-cheaper, so 'elp me!" said Tommy, pounding down the empty +bottle to mark emphasis. + +"Yank that drunken hog out o' there, MacLeod!" roared Britt, after a +preface of horrible oaths. And when Tommy stood before him, swaying +limply in the boss's clutch, he cuffed him repeatedly, first with one +hand, then with the other. The smile on the man's face became a sickly +grimace, but he did not whimper. + +"'Spected kickin'," he murmured. "Jus' soon be cuffed." He held up the +empty bottle that he still clung to desperately. "Want to 'splain 'bout +one drink--" he began. But Britt wrenched the bottle from his hand, +raised it as though to beat out Tommy's brains, and, relenting, smashed +it into a corner. + +"So you've laid there and listened to our private business," he said, +malevolently. "You've heard more than is good for you, Eye." + +"Didn't hear nossin'," protested Tommy. "Was thinkin' up speech. Jus' +heard him say he wouldn't marry--marry--" + +"Marry who?" + +"'Queen of Sheby,' says he, with all her di'monds. I'll marry her. I'll +settle down wiz Queen of Sheby." + +"He's too drunk to know anything," said MacLeod. "Open the door, Mr. +Britt, and I'll toss him out." + +And he flung the soggy Tommy out on the carpet of pine-needles with as +little consideration as though he were a bag of oats. + +He turned at the door and looked from Britt to Barrett. + +"You've put a big thing up to me, gents, and you've sprung it on me like +a crack with a sled-stake. If I got dizzy and answered you short it was +your own fault. Give me a night to sleep on it." + +Outside he twisted his hand into the collar of Tommy Eye and started +towards the main camp, dragging the inebriate. "I'll see that he keeps +his mouth shut, gents," he called back to them. + +"You needn't worry, John," announced Britt, closing the door and pulling +out another cigar. "He'll do it." He waited for the sulphur to burn from +the match, and lighted his tobacco, a smile of triumph wrinkling under +his beard. + +"You don't usually tackle Pulaski D. Britt for good, practical advice +without gettin' it," he went on. "The girl is crazy after MacLeod. +You'll find MacLeod square when he makes a promise. He's got fool +notions about those things. And when she's married to him and settled +down here in these woods, where she belongs, the chap that wants to make +her Exhibit A in a slander against John Barrett will find himself up +against a mighty tough proposition. You see that, don't you? Now the +next thing is to get her out of the hands of that gang that want to use +her against you." + +He mused a moment. + +"All that we need to do is to send a man up to Jerusalem to-morrow, and +say that you're all ready to start for outside and propose to take the +girl along. If any one in this world has any rights over her, you have. +They can't refuse. And now we'll go to bed, John, for if ever two men +needed sleep, I reckon we're the ones." + +But it was not unbroken slumber that came to them. The big winds outside +roared with the sound of a bursting avalanche. Over the camp the sawing +limbs of the interlaced crowns shrieked and groaned. There were deeper, +further, and more mystic sounds, like mighty 'cellos. And when the great +blow was at its height the wangan camp, built upon the roots of the +splay-foot spruces, swayed with the writhing of the roots, creaked in +its timbers, and seemed to toss like a craft on a crazy sea. There were +noises near at hand in the woods like the detonations of heavy guns. +Every now and then the earth shivered, and thunderous echoes boomed down +the forest aisles. + +"Do you hear 'em John?" called Britt, at last. He had long been awake, +and had marked the restless stirrings of the other in the bunk below +him. + +"I've been listening an hour," said Barrett, despondently, "and it's big +stuff that's coming down. Our loss by fire was small change to what this +means to us, Pulaski. Withee has devilled my lands until there isn't a +wind-break left." + +A roar like the awful voice of a park of artillery throbbed past them on +the volleying wind. + +"I feel as though it was kissing a thousand dollars good-bye every time +I hear one of those noises," said Britt. "The devil can play jack-straws +in the Umcolcus region after this night, and find a new bunch every +day." + +At last they looked dismally out on the dawn. The great gale had blown +overhead and away, the rearguard clouds chasing it, and the hard growth, +stripped of every vestige of leaf, gave pathetic testimony to the +bitterness of the conflict of the night. + +The two lumber barons, staring anxiously up at the slopes of the black +growth for signs of ravage, were confronted by Tommy Eye, meek, +repentant, and shaky. + +"Sure, the witherlicks and the swamp swogons did howl last night, gents, +and they all did say as how Tommy Eye ought to be ashamed of the size of +his drink. And I've come back to you to get my kick." He turned humbly. + +The Honorable Pulaski D. Britt accepted the invitation with alacrity, +and dealt the kick with a vigor that fetched a squawk from the teamster. +The timber tyrant's mood that morning welcomed such an opportunity, even +as a surcharged cloud welcomes a lightning-rod or a farm-house chimney. +But once the kick had been dealt the Honorable Pulaski felt less wire on +the edge of his meat-axe temper. + +"And now I'll take my discharge," said Tommy. "MacLeod gave me an order +on you for my pay." + +Britt snatched away the paper and tore it up. + +"Get into that hovel and look after your horses." But when Tommy turned +to go his employer called him back. "I've got another job for you just +now, you snake-chaser. You need to chew fresh air, and you'll find a lot +of it on top of Jerusalem. I don't know just how much you understood of +our business in the wangan camp last night, Eye, and I don't care. You +know me well enough to understand that if you ever blab any of it I'll +have your ha' slet out of you!" Tommy cringed under a furious glare. "It +will depend on how well you do an errand for me now whether or not I +feed you to bobcats. You get that, do you?" + +Again the teamster bowed his wistful assent. + +"I wish I hadn't let Sheriff Rodliff and his men leave," remarked Britt +to "Stumpage John," eying Tommy with some disfavor. "But perhaps this +fool can do the trick better than a sheriff's posse. Sending the posse +might make talk and stir suspicions." + +"The quieter it's done the better," suggested Barrett. "After my talk +with Wade--which was pretty soft, as I remember it--it will seem natural +for me to send after the girl--and by just such a messenger as this." + +"So we'll send the fool--you're right!" affirmed Britt. "Tommy," he +directed, wagging a thick finger under the man's attentive nose to mark +his commands, "you hump up to that fire station on Jerusalem as quick as +leg-work will get you there, and you'll find a young girl. There are not +enough young girls up there so that you'll make any mistake in the right +one. You tell the one that's in charge, or whoever claims to be in +charge, that the girl has been sent for. You'll probably find that +fellow Dwight Wade takin' the responsibility. Tell him that it's all +right, and that the gentleman he made the talk with is prepared to back +up all promises. Bring the girl back with you." + +"Girls was never much took with me, and I never was handy in makin' up +to girls," protested Tommy, his face puckering in alarm. "She prob'ly +won't come, and then I'll get kicked again." + +"You'll get kicked again mighty sudden if you don't do as I tell you, +and do it quick and do it right!" roared Britt, starting off the camp +platform. And Tommy, cowed by his tyrant, stood not upon the order of +his going. He was trotting with a dog-waddle when he disappeared up the +Jerusalem trail. + +"He ought to be back by noon," said Britt. "In the mean time we'll eat +breakfast and then cruise for blowdowns. And I'm thinkin' it isn't goin' +to be a very humorous forenoon for timber-land owners." + +Nor was it. Dolefully and silently they traversed wastes of splintered +devastation, blocked ram-downs, choked twitch-roads, and hideous snarls +of cross-piled timber. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE AFFAIR AT DURFY'S CAMP + + "The boss was a-thinkin' to swat him, but allowed he had + better not, + For 'twas trouble bad that Dumphy had, whatever it was + he'd got." + + +When the timber barons came in sight of the camp at noon, Tommy Eye, +returned emissary, was seated on the edge of the wangan platform with +attitude and countenance of alarmed expectancy. By his side was old +Christopher Straight, the guide who had accompanied Dwight Wade from +Castonia settlement. + +"I done it--I said as you said for me to say," Tommy began, eagerly, +"and Mr. Straight here will tell you the same. I said it first to old +Noah up there, and he was startin' off with his animiles like as they +done with the ark stranded, and he swore me up hill and down, and--" + +"Shut up!" barked the Honorable Pulaski, in a perfectly fiendish temper +after the sights of that forenoon. "Did you bring that girl? And if you +didn't, why not?" + +"I can tell you better, perhaps, Mr. Britt," broke in old Christopher, +calmly. "She has been left on Mr. Wade's hands, and Mr. Wade feels that +he ought to be careful. Warden Lane, who had charge of her, seems to +have lost his wits. All last night--it was an awful night, gentlemen, +on Jerusalem--he was out on the ledges raving and howling. I think that +a matter that Mr. Barrett will understand was troubling up his +conscience, if that's the word for it. This mornin' he seemed to be +clean out of his head. He knocked the saplin's off his cages and let out +the animals, and they followed him off down into the woods--" + +"Moose, bobcat, fisher-cat--" But Tommy ceased his enumeration to dodge +a vicious sweep of Britt's palm. + +"I guess he left the place for good, seeing he took his rifle and his +pack," continued the guide. "I thought the timber owners might like to +know that their fire station is abandoned. As for the girl," he hastened +to add, "Mr. Wade told me to say that for reasons that Mr. Britt would +understand he didn't think she ought to come here." + +"Because she's lost her head over my boss, MacLeod, eh?" demanded Britt. + +"You saw yourself that the girl wasn't to be controlled easily when the +young man was present," said Christopher, mildly. "So he believes if +there is business to be talked to her and about her it will be better to +meet somewhere else." + +"The blasted coward is afraid to come with her or let her come," sneered +the Honorable Pulaski. "Well, we'll go up there; and we'll take a few +men along and find out who's runnin' this thing--a college dude or the +men who own these timber lands." Mr. Barrett would have advised more +pacificatory talk. But Mr. Britt was in a mood too generally unamiable +that day to heed prudence and wise counsel. + +"You'll have only your own trouble for your trip," remarked Straight. +"This man here said that Mr. Barrett was all ready to leave the woods. +Mr. Wade has left the top of the mountain with the girl, and will meet +Mr. Barrett to the south of Pogey Notch. You'll not have to go out of +your way, sir," he explained. + +"Well, where?" snapped Britt. + +"I'm here prepared to lead Mr. Barrett to the place, and I suggest that +if he's ready we'll be on our way. You'll probably want to fetch the +Half-way House at nightfall, sir." + +This patent distrust of Pulaski Britt and his designs angered that +gentleman quite beyond the power of even his profanity. But he knew +Christopher Straight too well to attempt to bulldoze that hard-eyed old +woodsman. + +"Is this select assembly too good to have me come along?" he inquired, +his thick lips curling under his beard. + +"I think Mr. Wade will be glad to have you there," said Christopher, +mildly. "He didn't say anything to the contrary. He expects Mr. Barrett +to have some one to keep him company as far as the stage road, though he +thought it probably would be a woodsman. But Mr. Wade gave particular +instructions about any crowd comin' along, and he'll not meet any one if +your boss MacLeod is in the party. That's straight talk. He's had all +the trouble with your boss that he cares for." + +After a withering survey of Straight, which the old guide endured with +much composure, Britt beckoned Barrett away with a jerk of his head, and +the two strolled behind the horse-hovel. + +"There you have it, John," he snarled, more ireful as a champion than +the unhappy principal. "It's a put-up job. He's goin' to plaster the +girl onto you. It's his play. He's goin' to use it for all it's worth." + +"It will be better for me to take her out than to have him chase along +after me with the girl and the story--if that's the way he feels; and +it's plain that he means to make trouble," said Barrett, moodily. "I can +put her away somewhere in a boarding-school, and--" + +The Honorable Pulaski broke upon this doleful capitulation with +contemptuous brusqueness. + +"You talk like a fool, John! Take that girl outside these woods and give +her an education? File her teeth so that she can set 'em into your +throat? You teach her to read and to write and to know things, and +that's what it will amount to in the end. The girl has got to stay +here!" He embraced the big woods in a vigorous gesture. "She belongs +here! And the only way to keep her here is to put her in the hands of a +man that--" + +Colin MacLeod had followed them to their retreat behind the hovel, and +was standing at a little distance, looking at them. + +"Come here, Colin!" And Britt advanced to meet him and clutched his arm, +the arm that Dwight Wade had dislocated in that memorable battle in +Castonia. "Boy, if you are a coward, now is your time to own it. Old +Straight has come down here to tell us that Wade has that girl in his +hands. He knows what she's worth. He wants to meet Barrett and myself. +You can guess why. He proposes to get hold of that money. He knows we +control it. We can't help ourselves if she chooses to stay with him." + +The able old liar of the Umcolcus knew his man as the harper knows his +instrument. He felt the muscles ridge under his clutch. + +"He has sent word that he won't have you at the meeting. Ask Straight! +He'll give you the message. The dude knows he wouldn't stand the show of +a snowball in tophet with you there where the girl could see you. If +you're a coward, say so, and we'll look further." + +"By ----, I'm no coward, and you know it!" growled the boss. + +"He's licked you once and cut you out with one girl," persisted Britt. +"The whole Umcolcus knows that! When they find out that he's got away +with a girl that has been in love with you, and with ten thousand +dollars in the bargain, why, boy, even Tommy Eye will dare to put up his +fists to you!" + +In MacLeod's tumultuous mind it was no longer love's choice between Nina +Ide and Kate Arden; it was the hard, bitter passion of the primitive +man--the instinct to grasp what a foe is coveting for the sake of +humiliating that foe. Again MacLeod felt himself thrust forth by +circumstances to be the champion of his kind. That man from the city was +of the other sort. + +"Mr. Britt," he choked, "let me at him once more!" + +"Oh, that will be all right!" said the baron; "but we're not pulling off +a prize-fight, MacLeod. Scraps are interestin' enough when there isn't +more important business on hand. There happens to be business just now. +The whole idea is, are you ready to marry the girl?" + +MacLeod had approached them grimly resolved to be defiant on that point. +The flicker in his eyes now was the shadow of that resolution departing. + +"If it's him against me again," he snarled, "I'll marry a quill-pig and +ask no questions." + +"Not exactly cheerful talk to hear from a prospective bridegroom +marryin' money and good looks," commented the Honorable Pulaski, dryly; +"but a promise is a promise, MacLeod, and I never knew you to break one +you made me. Shake!" + +By the way in which both Barrett and MacLeod turned inquiring gaze on +him, the Umcolcus baron understood that he was tacitly elected autocrat +of the situation, and he proceeded about his task with the briskness +characteristic of his habit of command. + +"John, you get your dinner, bid us an affectionate farewell, and go +along with old Straight. Go alone. Tell him you left all your duffel at +Withee's camp and don't need any guide. I'll look after the rest of it. +Chris Straight can hide his dude and the girl, but he can't pull up the +ground behind him." + +They started off promptly after the noon snack, the taciturn Christopher +offering no comment on Mr. Barrett's amiable compliance, and apparently +blandly unsuspicious that the Honorable Pulaski concealed guile under a +demeanor which had suddenly become pacific. + +Men who had made their warfare more by craft and less by brute strength +would have been more wily. John Barrett and Pulaski Britt had always +been too confident of their own power to think subterfuge necessary. +Barrett, especially, as he strode along at the heels of old Christopher, +was so well content with his own first essay in duplicity that his +taking-down was correspondingly humiliating. They were resting, he and +the old guide, after a tough scramble around a blowdown that they had +encountered a mile or so from Britt's camps. + +With a jerk of his chin Christopher indicated a far-off sound on the +back trail. + +"Pretty busy, that woodpecker is, Mr. Barrett!" + +"Stumpage John" assented, wondering at the same time how such an old +woodsman could misinterpret that chip-chop. "The fool Indian ought to +make allowance for a blowdown," he reflected, angrily. "He's following +too close." + +"In this world you expect cheap men to lie and cheat," remarked +Christopher, serenely. "But you don't hardly expect State senators and +candidates for governor to be that sort." + +"What the devil do you mean?" demanded Barrett, with heat. + +"I mean that Britt's Indian, Newell Sockbeson, is following us and +makin' a double-blaze for--well, I suppose it's so that Pulaski Britt +and his men can chase us up. As to why, you probably know better than I +do, Mr. Barrett." + +The timber baron stared at this disconcerting old plain-speaker without +finding fit words for reply. + +"It can hardly be that he's goin' to all that trouble simply to get the +girl. Mr. Wade is ready to turn the girl over to you, Mr. Barrett. Why +is it that men ain't willin' to play fair in this world? What does +Pulaski Britt want to meddle in this thing for?" + +"I think you're wrong about the Indian following us," paltered the +millionaire. "You're only guessin' about that, Straight." + +"When I see Pulaski Britt talk to an Indian, when I see that Indian pack +a lunch, take a camp-axe, and hide at the mouth of the trail, I don't +have to guess, Mr. Barrett. Some of us old fellows of the woods see a +whole lot of things without seemin' to take much notice." He got up off +the tree-trunk where he had been sitting and made ready to take the +trail again, swinging his pack to his shoulders. + +"There wouldn't have been any misunderstanding if Wade had sent the girl +back by the messenger," protested Barrett. "And if he didn't have +something up his sleeve he would have done so. The girl is nothing to +him, and he's meddling in affairs that are none of his business." + +"You'd better save that talk and tell it to him," said the old guide, +grimly. "I'm going to take you to where we arranged to meet if every man +that Britt can rake and scrape on his ten townships comes followin' at +my back. I've thought it over, and the more witnesses there are to some +things the better it is for all concerned--or the worse!" + +And reflecting on what these words might mean, and now a little dubious +as to the sagacity of Pulaski Britt in handling delicate negotiations, +"Stumpage John" plodded on with less content in his heart. + +Two miles farther down the trail, at a place that Barrett recognized as +the old Durfy camps, Straight signalled by discharging his rifle, and +Dwight Wade came into sight with the girl. Foolish Abe of the Skeets +followed far behind like a sheepish dog, uncertain whether to expect +kick or caress. + +"You may as well know first as last that the whole pack is followin' a +little way behind," snorted old Christopher, in disgust. "Britt sent an +Indian to snuff the trail and blaze the way. I did your errand, that's +all. You've got time to get away. You may want to keep on tryin' to do +business with a crowd that ain't square. I don't!" He turned and walked +away, sat down, and filled his pipe. + +"I had Straight explain to you why it was better to meet privately +here," declared Wade, with honest resentment glowing in his eyes. "But +I'm not going to run. I've had hard work to get this young woman to +consider your proposition to educate her, Mr. Barrett." He held her by +the hand, and spoke out with a candor that convinced the lumberman that +here there was neither reservation nor complicity. The girl eyed him +sulkily, without interest, as she looked at all outsiders. "I have told +this young woman that you, as a timber-land owner, are sorry for all the +troubles that the Skeets and Bushees have had in years past, and want to +make up in some way. I've told her you're ready to send her to some good +boarding-school. As she can't read or write, she doesn't know what this +means, and she can't express her thanks. But I'm sure that later she'll +understand your kindness and generosity. The girl is untrained, and she +knows it. I hope you'll overlook any lack of gratitude, Mr. Barrett. +She'll know how to express it some day." + +John Barrett, looking into a face which recalled the face of the +daughter whom he loved and cherished in his city home, felt one throb of +strange emotion, and then realized in all his selfish nature that +affection is more a matter of habit and cultivation than an affair of +instinct. After one thrill his soul shrank from her. He had not expected +the girl to be so like. He caught himself wishing that he had not made +the compact with the inexorable Britt, and listened for the noise of the +men-pack with shame and some regret. On the other hand, this girl, +unkempt for all her beauty, insolent with the insolence of ignorance, +staring at him from under her knitted brows, was impossible, he +reflected, as an asset of a man with a reputation to preserve and an +ambition to fulfil. Instead of feeling the instinct of tenderness, he +looked at this wild young thing of the woods with uneasy fear in his +shifting eyes. + +With honest resentment, Wade noted the baron's reluctance to make his +word good. + +"You think I'm a meddler, Mr. Barrett," he said, coming close to the +other, "but don't think that I'm satisfying any personal grudge when I +ask that you care for this poor girl! Perhaps you would have done so +anyway, without my suggestion. I hope so." + +"I think I could arrange my own business without any outside help," said +Barrett, dryly. He began to feel that he could get out of the situation +better if he aroused his own resentment. + +"Mr. Barrett, it was chance that put the girl in my way and taught me +her story. I've been Don Quixote enough to see her through this thing. +I'm sorry it happens to be you on the other side. I'm afraid you don't +give me credit for unselfishness." + +"I'll allow you all the credit you deserve," said "Stumpage John," +sullenly. "I understand, without your telling me, that you are gentleman +enough to keep this matter behind your teeth on account of my family. I +thank you, Wade. I'll take charge of the girl from now on." + +He looked back up the trail anxiously, and the young man's gaze +followed. A man loafed into sight from among stubs blackened by fire. + +"There's Newell Sockbeson," remarked old Christopher. "I heard him +making his last blaze a few minutes ago." + +"I don't know just what your plan is, Mr. Barrett," said Wade, the red +in his cheeks. "I've been hoping that you trusted me to act the +gentleman, even if I couldn't act the friend. Mr. Straight and I stand +here as witnesses that you have taken charge of this girl." He now spoke +low. "But you haven't told me that you indorse the little plan I adopted +to relieve you from any explanations and to make the thing seem natural +to her." + +Wade's face showed that he expected a frank promise. + +"Mr. Straight will go to the stage road with you," added the young man. +At this hint of watchfulness the face of Barrett darkened. "As a +school-teacher, I know something of the boarding-schools of the State, +and I'll--" The timber baron's temper flamed at this plain intent to +advise. + +"I've taken charge of the girl, I say! Your responsibility ends. You +were apologizing a moment ago for meddling. Now, don't go to--" + +"I didn't apologize," replied Wade, with decision. "And I don't intend +to. And my responsibility ends only when I know that this unfortunate +creature is placed in a good school to get the advantages that she has +been robbed of all these years." + +The hot retort from Barrett ended in his throat with a cluck. "The +devil!" he blurted, staring down the trail. + +Dwight Wade, whirling to look to the south, could not indorse that +sentiment. Close at hand was Nina Ide, riding a horse with the grace of +a boy, whose attire she had adopted with a woods girl's scorn of +conventions. Wade hurried to meet her, cap in hand and eager questions +on his lips. The color mounted to her face, and she shook out the folds +of a poncho, looped across the saddle, and draped it over her knees. + +"No, it's not strange, either," she broke in to say. "Your partner--and +that's father--had to come up here on business, and I've come along with +him, just as I always do when he comes here in the partridge season." +She patted a gun-butt. "But I didn't expect to find fire and smoke and +lightning and rain and tornadoes up here, any more than I looked for you +at Pogey Notch when you were supposed to be exploring for a winter's +operation on Enchanted. Now you will have to explain to your partner +here!" And he turned from her smiling face to shake hands with Rodburd +Ide. + +"Every man who can handle brush and mattock is expected to be at the +head of a fire in time of trouble!" chirped the "Mayor of Castonia." He +tipped back his head to beam amiably on his partner. "Did it get through +onto us, Wade?" + +"The rain stopped it half-way up Pogey." + +"Then God was good to us! Isn't that so, Mr. Barrett?" And the cheerful +little man trotted along to grip the hand of "Stumpage John." That +gentleman glowered sullenly, and tried to explain his gloom by muttering +about "blowdowns" being worse than fires. He looked ill. As he came down +the trail a fever had been rising in his blood. He went away by himself, +and sat down feeling faint and weak. + +"Old Enchanted is all right," said Ide. "There's a thousand acres of +black growth there, every tree standin' with its arm about its brother. +You mustn't let 'em devil you, Mr. Barrett!" he called. + +Mr. Barrett, his lowering gaze on Wade, agreed mentally. + +"Well, this is certainly a convention of the timber interests!" cried +the brisk little autocrat of Castonia. He pointed up the trail, where +the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt was advancing alone. + +Wade withdrew unobstrusively, and stood beside Nina Ide. Perhaps he +hoped that her talk might bring some word of Elva Barrett. + +But at last even Rodburd Ide's cheery consciousness became impressed by +the fact that neither Britt nor Barrett seemed to relish any chat on +timber topics. And he broke upon a constrained silence to suggest to +Wade that they proceed--taking it for granted that now his partner's way +lay to the north, along with his own. + +"There's--there's--" Wade stammered, and now for the first time Ide and +his daughter marked the girl of the Skeet settlement leaning moodily +against the side of the Durfy hovel, the unkempt Abe hovering +apprehensively in the background. + +"Ah ha!" piped Ide. "There are the remnants, eh? We met the rest of the +colony hiperin' out of the woods. They've gone to Little Lobster, girl, +and the old woman is worryin' about you." + +Wade stared straight at Barrett. The timber baron understood the +challenge of his eyes. He was commanded to declare his intentions. In +spite of himself, he scowled. It was a scowl of recalcitrancy. And the +young man, angered by the presence of Britt and the evident appearance +of treachery, shot his bolt. + +"There is a piece of good-fortune for this poor girl, Mr. Ide. Mr. +Barrett proposes to educate her, and he's going to take her with him out +of the woods." + +"She has been gettin' a lot of attention lately," blurted the Honorable +Pulaski, with malice and derision. "For the past three or four days, +Rodburd, your young partner here has been her steady company. They have +just come strollin' alone together down the Lovers' Lane from Jerusalem +Knob." He fixed his keen eyes on the astonished face of Nina Ide. His +narrow nature believed that, like other girls, she could be stirred to +quick jealousy. And knowing her influence over her father, he foresaw +trouble ahead for the partnership between Ide and Wade. "Seems to be in +the air up this way now for the young men to gallivant through the woods +with the Skeet girl. Wade here seems to have cut out Colin MacLeod." +Then the coarse old jester sneered into the indignant face Wade turned +to him. + +"It will be a good thing for her to go to school," said Ide, a little +puzzled by the evident antagonism of these men. "It will be kind of you, +Mr. Barrett." + +"Say, look here, Ide," cried Britt, in his irritation suddenly deciding +to play the strong hand with this young interloper, "your friend Wade +here, being a school-teacher, seems to have school on the brain. He also +seems to be full of ready-made plans for men older and better than he +is. From things that come to me, he has picked up a lot of foolishness +about these Skeets and Bushees and this girl since he's been cruisin' +round these woods. Mr. Barrett and myself have made arrangements to take +care of the rest of that pauper settlement, and the Skeets probably told +you so when you met them." + +Ide nodded acknowledgment. + +"We'll look after the girl, too." He walked up to Wade and snapped his +fingers, unable to resist his desire to bully. "Now, young fellow, +you've been stickin' your nose pretty deep into other men's business. +Take it out, or I'll twist it off your face. Any one would think that +this girl matter was runnin' the world in these parts. There's been too +much talk about what's of no consequence. Go along with your partner. +You're on my land. Keep movin'." + +But all of Dwight Wade's stubborn obstinacy rose in his breast; all his +youthful chivalry flamed in his face. + +"I've no more business with you, Britt!" he said, significantly; and +Britt's face flamed with the remembrance of a certain knock-down blow. +"My business is with you, Mr. Barrett, and you know what it is. You keep +the word that you've given me about this girl, or I'll set you before +the people of this State in your right colors--and you needn't croak +blackmail to me, for you can't frighten me." + +"I--I--don't see that it's any business of yours--of yours, Wade," +stammered the pacificatory Ide, catching the courage of protest from the +rather indignant face his daughter turned on the young man. + +"And I don't see that it is the business of any of you!" stormed Kate +Arden. She came close to the group of men and stood with brown hands +propped on her hips, her head thrown back, and the insolent stare of her +black eyes seeking face after face. "I'll be passed about from hand to +hand no longer. I don't want any old purple-faced fool to send me to +school." Barrett winced. "And as for you," she sneered, turning on Wade, +"you attend to your own business until I ask you to help me in mine." + +The Honorable Pulaski saw his opportunity. + +"Colin MacLeod!" he bawled. + +And with a rush that betrayed his impatience, the boss of the Busters +came out of his hiding-place up the trail. + +The girl gave a sharp cry of joy at sight of him. + +But MacLeod, half-way to them, saw the girl on the horse and stopped as +suddenly as he had started. Even at that distance they noted that his +face worked with piteous embarrassment. + +"You've given in your promise, MacLeod! Don't forget that!" roared +Britt. "There's the boy for you, my girl! He wants to marry you. Go with +him!" + +"And you'll be a fool of a gir-rl if ye do!" squalled a voice. It was +Tommy Eye, yelling from the top of the Durfy hovel, to which he had +clambered unobserved. "I know I'm a drunk. I know I ain't worth anything +to anybody!" he gabbled. "But ye saved my life once, Mr. Wade, when I +didn't know it!" He flapped entreating hands at Wade, and that young man +stepped in front of the furious Britt with such determination on his +face that the woods tyrant halted. "But ye'll be a fool gir-rl, I say! I +was under the bunk last night when they planned it. He don't love ye! I +heard him say so. He called you names! Colin MacLeod, ye ain't the liar +enough to stand out here and say ye didn't." + +MacLeod, his adoring eyes on Nina Ide, had no word to say. The features +of Kate Arden, who stared at him with her heart in her eyes, twisted +with a promise of bitter tears. This, then, was the girl of Castonia, +with whom they had taunted her! + +"It's only for grudge and money he's goin' to marry you!" persisted +Tommy. "May I rest forever in purgatory with no masses for my soul if +that ain't the truth!" + +With the instinct of the animal repulsed, the girl read more in the face +of MacLeod than she understood from the declaration of Tommy Eye. + +She looked from face to face again, but the flame was gone from her +eyes. There they stood, the silent, hostile, bitter phalanx from +outside--oppressors and scorners. There she stood--alone! + +And she fell face down upon the ground--the only mother she had ever +known--a heart-broken, weary, lonely, sobbing child. + +Nina Ide reached her before the others moved. Twice the girl fought her +way out of her arms. Twice the sympathetic little mother-heart of the +Castonia beauty conquered the rebel and retook her, whispering to her +eagerly. And she held her tear-streaked face close to her shoulder, and +patted the grimy little fingers between which tears were trickling. +There was something inexpressibly pathetic even in the unkemptness of +the stricken girl, in her torn dress and the brown skin of face and +hands, touched here and there by the stain of exposure to the blackened +forest. And in her loneliness, feeling for the first time in her life +real sympathy from one of her sex, gathering with grateful nostrils the +faint perfume that whispered of the refinement and comfort that her +heart had sought almost unconsciously and had never found, at last the +girl ceased her struggles and clung to her new friend. The waif's true +instinct was proving this friend's sincerity more surely than the +whispered assurances proved it. And Nina Ide bent to her ear, and +murmured: + +"We will hate him together, poor little girl! He is not a good man to +have a girl's love." + +"When the hysterics are all over," remarked the Honorable Pulaski, +sarcastically, "we'll take the young woman off your hands." + +"You'll not take her off _my_ hands!" retorted Nina, with spirit. "She's +going back home with me." + +"You haven't got any rights over her!" barked Britt. + +"Perhaps, then, Mr. Barrett is ready to stand up and say what his rights +are," suggested Wade, with bitter hint of retaliation in his tones. + +Barrett, pale with the illness that was seizing him, grew paler yet with +anger and terror, for he feared exposure. + +The Honorable Pulaski picked up the gage of battle with all the alacrity +of his irascible nature. + +"For a dog-fight, that girl will be as good a bone as anything else!" he +growled, under his breath. And then he whirled on his heel and bellowed: + +"Wake up there, MacLeod! If you can't make love to the girl you are +goin' to marry, I reckon you can at least fight a little to get her! +Call in the crew!" + +He walked up to Ide. "Better call off your girl, Rod," he advised, +bluffly. "This isn't any of her business, or yours either." + +"I figure that a Skeet girl belongs as much to us as to you," snapped +the doughty little man from Castonia. "If my girl takes interest enough +in her to invite her home, I think you'd better let her go." + +"Well, I've got a crew of a hundred men posted back here a few rods in +the woods to back me up when I say she stays right where she belongs." +His tone was offensive, and Rodburd Ide's anger flared. + +"My business just now in here, Britt, is to bring a hundred men for our +Enchanted operation. They're down there by the brook eating lunch. I +don't want any trouble over this, but there's some nasty reason back of +this girl matter, and I won't stand for any persecution of a helpless +creature. My men back me when I say she goes home with my girl. Hello, +men for the Enchanted! Up this way in a hurry!" + +The look that Nina flashed at her father was inspiration for him! + +As his men came into sight over the bank the crew of Britt tramped +towards them down the trail. + +"Nina," said Ide, "you'll have to go back now. Chris Straight will go +with you. Take the girl on the horse with you, and let Chris lead by the +headstall. You'll go all safe. Hurry away from here! But after you get +started, take your time to the Half-way House. There's no one going to +get past down this trail to chase you and bother you." + +There was determination in the voice of the little man, and his daughter +kissed him at the same time that Dwight Wade was patting his shoulder. + +Wade ran along by the side of the horse for a little way, and, when he +turned, eagerly kissed Nina Ide's gloved hand. + +"God bless you for a little saint!" he gasped. "You'll understand this +some day, perhaps." + +"I understand that she is alone and needs a friend," she +responded--"just as you needed a friend when you were only Britt's +'chaney man.'" She smiled archly at him and passed out of sight, old +Christopher tugging at the bits of the horse. + +Wade went back in the forefront of the thronging crew of the men for +Enchanted. + +"As I said, Britt, I don't want trouble," repeated Rodburd Ide, "but +you'll please remember that the lower corner of your township is here at +Durfy's camp. I reckon the men for the Enchanted will camp right here on +the trail for a few hours. The man that tries to push past to trouble my +daughter or her friend will get hurt." + +"They are goin' past just the same!" shouted Britt, fiercely. + +"My God, Pulaski, think of consequences!" pleaded "Stumpage John," in +low tones. He arose with difficulty and staggered to Britt's side. His +tones quavered with weakness. "I'd be ruined by the story of what it was +all about. I'm sick. I only want to get home. I don't want to see +trouble here." + +Britt glared at his associate, at Wade, Ide, and at last at Colin +MacLeod, who was staring in the direction of Nina Ide. + +The tyrant snorted his disgust. + +"Take the combination of a candidate for governor, some fool women, +crazy men, love-sick idiots, and"--his eyes swept the scene in vain +search for Tommy Eye--"a pooch-mouthed blabber, and it's enough to trig +any decent, honest, sensible woods fight ever yarded down. Barrett, +you're right! You'd better get home and get on your long-tailed coat and +plug hat as soon as you can. You and your private"--he sneered the +word--"business don't seem to fit in up here." + +He folded his arms and, with his men behind him, stood looking over the +crew for the Enchanted, who, cheerfully and without question, stood +blocking the way. + +"It may not happen just now," he grunted, "but it's on my mind to say +that some day these two gangs will get together when there isn't a +governor's boom to step on, nor women to get mussed up." + +And the gaze of fury that he bent on Dwight Wade was returned with +interest. + +An imaginative man might have seen the new spirit of the woods facing +the old. + +But there was no imaginative man there--there were only men who chewed +tobacco and wondered what it all meant. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE OLD SOUBUNGO TRAIL + + "And never a knight in a tournament + Rode lists with a jauntier mien, + Than he of the drive who came alive + Thro' the hell of the Hulling Machine." + + --The Spike-sole Knight. + + +Larry Gorman, "the woodsman's poet," whose songs are known and sung in +the camps from Holeb to Madawaska, was with Rodburd Ide's incoming crew. +His three most notable lyrics are these: "I feed P.I.'s on tarts and +pies," "Bushmen all, your ear I call until I shall relate," and "The Old +Soubungo Trail." + +When Rodburd Ide's hundred men "met up" with the Honorable Pulaski D. +Britt's hundred men at the foot of Pogey Notch, Larry Gorman displayed a +true poet's obliviousness to the details of the wrangle between +principals. He didn't understand why Pulaski Britt, blue with anger +above his grizzled beard, and "Stumpage John" Barrett, mottled with +rage, should object so furiously when Rodburd Ide's girl took away the +tatterdemalion maid of the Skeets, nor did Larry ask any questions. If +this be the attitude of a true poet, there was evidently considerable +true poetry in both crews, for no one appeared to be especially curious +as to the why of the quarrel. However, the imminence of a quarrel was a +matter demanding woodsmen's attention. It might have been noted that +Poet Gorman cut the biggest shillalah of any of them. And while he +rounded its end and waited for more formal declaration of hostilities, +he lustily sang the solo part of "The Old Soubungo Trail," with a +hundred hearty voices to help him on the chorus: + + "I left my Lize behind me, + Oh, she won't know what to do, + I left my Lize for the Old Town guys, + And I left my watch there, too. + I left my clothes at a boardin'-house, + I reckon they're for sale, + And here I go, at a heel-an'-toe, + On the old Soubungo trail. + Sou-bung-o! Bungo! + 'Way up the Bungo trail!" + +Spirit rather than melody characterized the efforts of these wildwood +songsters. The Honorable Pulaski Britt, who didn't like music anyway, +and was trying to talk in an undertone to timber baron Barrett, swore a +deep bass obligato. + +He did not take his baleful gaze from Dwight Wade, who had gone apart, +and was leaning against the mouldering walls of the Durfy hovel. + +"You had your chance to block their game, and you didn't do it, John. +You make me sick!" muttered the belligerent Britt. "You've let that +college dude scare you with threats, and old Ide champ his false teeth +at you and back you down. You don't get any of my sympathy from now on. +I had a good plan framed. You knocked it galley-west by poking yourself +into the way. They've got the girl. They'll use her against you. You can +fight it yourself after this." + +Barrett stared uneasily from one crew to the other. + +"It would have been too tough a story to go out of these woods," he +faltered. "Two crews ste'boyed together by us to capture a State +pauper." + +"A story of a woods rough-and-tumble, that's all!" snorted Britt. "And +these dogs wouldn't have known what they were fightin' about--and would +have cared less. And while they were at it I could have taken the girl +out of sight! You spoiled it! Now, don't talk to me! You go ahead and +see if you can do any better." He tossed his big hand into the air and +whirled away, snuffling his disgust. + +Larry Gorman, having peeled a hand-hold on his bludgeon, was moved to +sing another verse: + + "I ain't got pipe nor 'backer, + Nor I ain't got 'backer-box; + I ain't got a shirt, and my brad-boots hurt, + For I ain't a-wearin' socks. + But a wangan's on Enchanted, + Where they've got them things for sale, + And I don't give a dam what the price it am + On the old Soubungo trail. + Sou-bung-o! Bungo! + 'Way up the Bungo trail!" + +Sturdy little Rodburd Ide, magnate of Castonia, bestrode in the middle +of the trail to the south. His head was thrown back, and his mat of +whiskers jutted forward with an air of challenge. To be sure, he did not +exactly understand as yet the full animus of the quarrel. He had heard +his partner, Dwight Wade, announce on behalf of Honorable John Barrett +that the latter proposed to educate the girl protegee of the Skeets' +tribe. He had noted that the timber baron did not warm to the +announcement in a way that might be expected of the true philanthropist. + +Tommy Eye's astonishing declaration from the house-top that the timber +magnates of Jerusalem townships were proposing to marry the girl off to +Colin MacLeod, boss of "Britt's Busters," and that, too, in spite of +MacLeod's lack of affection, had some effect in enlisting Ide's +sympathies and interference. But his daughter's spirited championship of +the poor girl was really the influence that clinched matters with the +puzzled Mr. Ide. + +"Rodburd," declared the Honorable Pulaski, approaching him on the +contemptuous retreat from Barrett, "you've gone to work and stuck your +nose into matters that don't concern you. Your man Wade there, instead +of attending to your operation on Enchanted, has been spending his time +beauing that girl around these woods and stirring up a blackmail scheme. +I'm telling you as a friend that you'd better ship him. He's going to +make more trouble for you than he has yet. He isn't fit for the woods. I +found it out and fired him. Do the same yourself, or you'll never get +your logs down and through the Hulling Machine." + +"Do you mean that you're going to fight him on the drive on account of +your grudge?" demanded Ide. + +"I don't mean that," blustered Britt. "It's the man himself who'll queer +you." + +"I don't believe it," replied Ide, stoutly. "There are some things goin' +on here that I don't understand the inside of up to now; but as for that +young man, I picked him for square the first time I laid my eyes on him +at Castonia. I've had him looked up by friends of mine outside, and now +I know he's square. You can't break up our partnership by that kind of +talk, Britt. Now own up! What's the nigger in the woodpile here, +anyway?" The little man was still unbending, but his eyes snapped with +curiosity. + +But the Honorable Pulaski's shifty eyes dodged the inquiring stare of +the Castonia man. The view down the tote road in the direction in which +Nina Ide and Kate Arden had disappeared under convoy of Christopher +Straight seemed to be a more welcome prospect than that frankly +inquisitive face. And the view down the trail also suggested a safer +topic for conversation. + +"I believe in indulgin' a girl's whims, Rod, but this is a time when +you've let yourself go too far. That lucivee[2] kitten that your +daughter has lugged off home set this fire that we've been fightin' up +here. She set it maliciously, in the face and eyes of Sheriff Rodliff +and myself. She's the worst one of the whole lot, and as a plantation +officer you know the Skeets and Bushees pretty well. Are you goin' to +let your girl take a critter like that back home with her?" He noted a +flicker of consternation in the little man's eyes. "Now, don't be a fool +in this thing. Let a half-dozen men run after that girl and fetch her +back. She don't belong in any decent home. John Barrett and I have +arranged a plan to take care of her and keep her out of mischief." + +[Footnote 2: Lynx, corruption of the French-Canadian name, +_loup-cervier_.] + +But again the timber magnate's eyes failed to meet the test of Ide's +frank stare. + +"I've known you a good many years, Pulaski," said he. "I've done a lot +of business with you, and you can't fool me for a minute. You've been +into a milk-pan, for I can see cream on your whiskers." + +"I'm only warnin' you not to harbor such a criminal!" stormed the other. +His wrath slipped its leash once more. The presence of Dwight Wade, his +very silence, seemed tacit proclamation of victory and the boast of it. +"The girl belongs back here, and we're goin' to have her back. If your +men don't fetch her, mine will." + +But Ide set his short legs astride a little more solidly. + +"As first assessor of the nearest plantation, I can handle the State +pauper business of these parts, and do it without help," he said. + +"You mean that meddlin' girl of yours is runnin' it," taunted Britt. + +In his heart the fond father realized the force of the taunt, and knew +why he was blocking that trail so resolutely. A mother bear would have +shown no more determination in closing the retreat of her cubs. + +"If for any reason that I don't understand as yet you want the +guardianship of that girl, Britt," he declared, "come down any time you +want to and get your rights legally. But just now I'm tellin' you again +that you and your men can't get past here. And if you do, you'll go with +cracked heads." + +And once more Pulaski D. Britt substituted oaths for action. + +Stamping back towards his men, he saw Tommy Eye squatting like a +jack-rabbit on the top of the Durfy camp. That guileless marplot offered +a fair target for his rage against the world in general. + +"MacLeod," bawled Britt to the boss, who had not yet pulled himself +together after that final flash of scorn from the eyes of Nina Ide, +"pull that drunken loafer off that roof and yard the men back to camp!" + +"I'm discharged out of your crew, Mr. Britt," squealed Tommy, a quaver +of apprehensiveness in his voice. "I've discharged myself. I've told the +truth about what you was tryin' to do. So I ain't fit for you to hire." + +It was not the unconscious satire of the statement that put a wire edge +on the Honorable Pulaski's temper. It was Tommy Eye's rebelliousness, +displayed for the first time in a long life of utter subservience. + +"You won't be fit for anything but bait for a bear-trap ten minutes +after I get you back to camp," bellowed the tyrant. "MacLeod, get that +man down!" + +"Don't you want to hire a teamster, Mr. Ide?" bleated Tommy, crawfishing +to the peak of the low roof. "You know what I be on twitchro'd, ramdown, +or in a yard. You don't find my hosses calked or shoulder-galled." He +hastened in nervous entreaty: "You hire me, Mr. Ide. I never had a team +sluiced yet. You know what I can do in the woods." + +The plaintiveness of the frightened man's appeal touched Wade. He +realized the weight of misery this pathetic turncoat might expect +thereafter at the hands of Britt and his crew of "Busters." MacLeod was +advancing towards the ladder that conducted to the roof, his sullen face +lighting with a certain amount of satisfaction. Wade put himself before +the ladder. + +"Hirin' men out from under isn't square woods style, Tommy," said Ide, +shaking his head. + +"That man isn't a slave," protested Wade. "He is the only man I've found +in these woods with courage enough to stand up for what's right, Mr. +Ide. I don't believe in leaving him to those who are going to make him +suffer for it." + +"Up to now, you dude, you've done about everything that shouldn't be +done in the woods!" cried Britt. "But there's one thing you can't do, +and that's take a man out of my crew." + +"It's an unwritten law, Wade," protested his partner. "It isn't square +business to meddle with another operator's crew." + +"When a case like this comes up, it's time to change the law, then," +declared Wade, with savageness of his own, the menacing proximity of +MacLeod acting on his anger like bellows on coals. + +"I can't afford to be mixed into anything of the sort," persisted Ide. + +"And nobody but a fool would try it, Rod. I've warned you to get rid of +him. You can see for yourself now! He don't fit. He's protectin' +fire-bugs, standin' out against timber-owners' interests, and breaking +every article in the code up here." + +"And I'm likely to keep on breaking the kind of code that seems to go +north of Castonia!" cried the young iconoclast. For a moment his +flaming eyes dwelt on the face of the Honorable John Barrett, and that +gentleman, who had been wondering just what shaft his own recalcitrancy +would next draw from this champion of the oppressed, looked greatly +perturbed. "Mr. Ide, do you forbid me to hire this man?" + +"N-no," admitted his partner, rather grudgingly. + +"Then you're hired, Eye." Wade looked up and answered the gratitude in +Tommy's eyes by a nod of encouragement. "Come down, my man, and get into +our crew. You've acted man-fashion, and I'll back you up in it." + +"Let it stand--let it stand as it is," whispered Barrett, huskily, +clutching at the arm of Britt as that furious gentleman surged past him. +"If we tackle the young fool now he's apt to blab all he knows about me. +It's a ticklish place. Handle it easy." + +"I'll handle it to suit myself!" stormed Britt, yanking himself loose. +"You set back there if you want to, and play dry nurse to your +twins--your family scandal on one arm and your governor's boom on the +other. But when it comes to my own crew and my private business, by the +Lord Harry, I'll operate without your advice!" + +He began to call on his men, rallying them with shrill cries. He ordered +them to surround the camp and take the rebel. In the next breath he bade +MacLeod to go up the ladder and pull Tommy down. + +"Poet" Larry Gorman, who had been gradually edging near the spot which +he had sagely picked as the probable core of conflict, set himself +suddenly before Colin MacLeod as the boss advanced towards Wade with a +look in his eye that was blood-lust. MacLeod had a weather-beaten ash +sled-stake. + +"Sure, and a gent like him don't fight with clubs," said Gorman. "We've +all heard about his lickin' ye once, and man-fashion, too! Now, go get +your reputation. Start with me." The redoubtable bard poked his +shillalah into MacLeod's breast and drove him suddenly back. At this +overture of combat the men for Enchanted came up with a rush. They met +the "Busters" face to face and eye to eye. + +"We're all axe-tossers together, boys!" cried Gorman. "Ye know me and +you've sung my songs, and ye know there's no truer woodsman than me ever +chased beans round a tin plate. Now, Britt's men, if ye want to fight to +keep a free man a slave when he wants to chuck his job, then come and +fight. But may the good saints put a cramp into the arm of the man that +fights against the interests of woodsmen all together!" + +Under most circumstances even such a cogent argument as this would not +have stayed their hands. But coming from Larry Gorman, author of +"Bushmen All," it made even the "Busters" stop and think a moment. And +when MacLeod was first and only in renewing hostilities--obeying Britt's +insistent commands--Gorman again held him off at the end of his +bludgeon, and shouted: + +"Oh, my cock partridge, you're only brisk to get into the game because +you're daffy over a girl. You'd wipe your feet on Tommy Eye or any other +honest woodsman to polish your shoes for the courtin' of her." + +It was a taunt whose point the "Busters" realized and relished. It was +even more forceful than Larry's first appeal. Some of the men grinned. +All held back. But for MacLeod it was the provocation unforgivable. He +drew back his arm and swept his stake at Larry's head. That master of +stick-play warded and leaped back nimbly. + +"Fair, now! Fair!" he cried. "They're all lookin' at us, and there can't +be dirty work." Gorman's face glowed, for he had won his point. His wit +had balked a general combat. His massing fellows had tacitly selected +him as their champion. He had put the thing on a plane where the +"Busters" were a bit ashamed to take part. They turned their backs on +Britt in order to watch the duellists more intently. They knew that +Larry Gorman was vain of two things--his songs and his stick-swinging. + +"What say ye to waitin' till your shoulder ain't so stiff?" he inquired, +with pointed reference to the injury MacLeod had received at the hands +of Wade. His mock condolence pricked Colin to frenzy. He drove so +vicious a blow at the bard that when the latter side-stepped the boss +staggered against the side of the camp. + +"But sure I can make it even," said Larry, facing him again without +discomposure; "for I'll sing a bit of song for you to dance by." + +The merry insolence of this brought a hoarse hoot of delight from both +sides. And pressing upon his foe so actively that the crippled MacLeod +was put to his utmost to ward thwacks off his head and shoulders, this +sprightly Cyrano of the kingdom of spruce carolled after this fashion: + + "Come, all ye good shillaly men. + Come, lis-ten unto me: + Old Watson made a walkin'-cane, + And used a popple-tree. + The knob it were a rouser-- + A rouser, so 'twas said-- + And when ye sassed old Watson + He would knock ye on the head." + +MacLeod got a tap that made his eyes shut like the snap of a patent +cigar-cutter. + +"Chorus!" exhorted the lyrist. And they bellowed jovially: + + "Knick, knock, + Hickory dock, + And he'd hit ye on the head!" + +Larry leaped back, whirled his stick so rapidly that its bright peeled +surface seemed to spit sparks, and again got over the boss's indifferent +guard with a whack that echoed hollowly. + +MacLeod was too angry to retreat. He was too angry to see clearly, and +his brain rang dizzily with the blows he had received. His injured +shoulder ached with the violence of his exertions. But his pride kept +him up, and forced him to meet the fresh attack that Gorman made--an +attack in which that master seemed to be fencing mostly to mark the time +of his jeering song: + + "Old Watson was a good old man, + And taught the Bible class, + But he didn't like the story + Of the jawbone of the ass. + 'Why didn't he make a popple-club,' + So Uncle Watson said, + 'And scotch the tribe of the Phlistereens + By bangin' 'em on the head?'" + +The blow that time staggered MacLeod. + +"Chorus!" called "Poet" Larry. But before he could rap his antagonist at +the end of that roaring iteration the Honorable Pulaski was between +them, having at last contrived to fight his way through the ranks of the +crowding men. He narrowly missed getting the blow intended for the boss. +He yanked the sled-stake out of the nerveless grasp of the sweating and +discomfited MacLeod, and raised it. + +"Be careful, Mr. Britt," yelped Gorman. His mien changed from gay +insouciance to bitter fury. "You've struck me once in my life, and I +took it and went on my way, because I was getting your grub and your +pay. You strike me to-day, and I'll split your head open like a rotten +punkin!" + +Britt had begun to rant that he could thrash the whole Enchanted crew +single-handed. He was maddened by the lamblike demeanor of his own men. +But he knew a desperate and dangerous man when he saw him. At that +moment Larry Gorman was dangerous. The tyrant lowered his club and +backed away, muttering some wordless recrimination at which the poet +curled his lip. Seeing his chance, Tommy Eye hooked his legs about the +uprights and slid down the ladder with one dizzy plunge, struck the +ground in squatting fashion, and shot head-first into the ranks of his +protectors. + +But after that masterly raillery of Gorman's there was no fight left in +the "Busters." And his vengeful bearding of the Honorable Pulaski left +the autocrat himself speechless and helpless. + +Tommy Eye's trembling hand fingered his chin, his wistful eyes peered +over the shoulders of his new friends, and he knew he was safe. The +"Busters," nudging each other and growling half-humorous comment, began +to sift out of the yard of the Durfy hovel, and lounge back along the +trail towards the Jerusalem camp. + +"D--n ye for cowards!" yelled the Honorable Pulaski, viciously flinging +the ash sled-stake after them. + +"Oh, but they're not cowards!" cried Larry. In his bushman's soul he +realized that even now a chance taunt, a random prick of word, might +start the fight afresh. "Every man-jack there is known to me of old, and +the good, brave boys they are! But your money ain't greasy enough, Mr. +Britt, to make good men as them fight to take away a comrade's +man-rights." + +The "Busters" nodded affirmation and kept on. One man stepped back and +hallooed: "Right ye are, Larry Gorman! And when ye try to get your +Enchanted logs first through the Hulling Machine next spring, ye'll find +that we're the kind of gristle that can't be chawed. That'll be man's +business, and no Teamster Tommy Eye to stub a toe over!" + +There was a grin on the man's face, but none the less it was a +challenge, and Larry accepted it. + +"Sure, and we'll be there!" he called. "We'll be there with hair a foot +long, pick-pole[3] in one hand, peavy-stick[4] in the other, ready for a +game of jack-straws in the white water and a fist-jig on the bank!" + +[Footnote 3: An ashen pole, shod with an iron screw-point.] + +[Footnote 4: The Maine variety of the cant-dog, illustrated on the +cover.] + +"And will ye write it all into a song, Larry Gorman?" + +"All into a song it shall go!" + +And roaring a good-natured cheer over their shoulders, the "Busters" +filed away into the mouth of Pogey Notch. + +"You may as well move, boys," ordered Rodburd Ide. "This business here +isn't swampin' yards nor buildin' camps!" + +The men for Enchanted cheerfully shouldered dunnage-sacks, and in their +turn set off up the Notch. + +"Here's Tommy Eye's bill of his time, Mr. Britt," said Gorman, holding +out a crumpled paper to the choking tyrant. Tommy himself had prudently +departed, bulwarked by his new comrades. + +"I'll not pay it!" blustered Britt. "He broke the contract!" + +"No more does he want you to pay it," replied Larry, serenely, speaking +in behalf of the amiable prodigal. "He says to credit it on that one +drink of whiskey he took out of your bottle, and when he earns more +money workin' for honest men he'll pay ye the rest." + +He tore the paper across and across, snapped the bits in Britt's face, +turned, and followed the crew. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE HOME-MAKERS OF ENCHANTED + + "The clank of the press and the scream of the saws, + The grunt of the grinder that slavers and chaws + At the fibre o' pulp-wood, the purr of the plane, + Sing only one song to the big woods o' Maine. + So here's for a billion down race-way and sluice-- + Hell for the hemlock, the pine, and the spruce." + + --Off for the Woods. + + +John Barrett was first to break the embarrassed silence that fell upon +the four men left at the camp. Rodburd Ide's brows were wrinkled, and +his lips were parting to ask the questions that his curiosity urged. +Britt was wrathfully gazing after the insolent Larry. Dwight Wade had +taken up his pack and calipers, and was waiting for Ide with some +impatience. + +"Mr. Wade," began the Umcolcus baron, nervously, "I hope you will +understand my position in this matter, and see why it was necessary to +make some change in the plan we discussed on Jerusalem." + +"I sha'n't try to understand it," snapped Wade. "You volunteered +promises. I took those promises to the person most interested, and +you've seen fit to drop out from under. That ends our business--all the +business we had in common, Mr. Barrett." + +But the baron was anxious to placate. He began guarded explanations, to +which Ide was listening intently, but Wade cut them short with a scorn +there was no mistaking. + +"The only sort of interest I took in that unfortunate girl has been +maliciously misinterpreted, Mr. Barrett. She was thrown on my hands in a +way that you thoroughly understand. Mr. Ide, as a plantation officer, +has relieved me of the responsibility. You can talk with him hereafter." + +"But what--what are you going to say to him?" faltered Barrett, forced +to show his anxious fear, since Wade was moving away. + +In his physical weakness, in the illness that was sapping his nerve, he +became wistfully paltering. + +"Nothing," replied the young man, curtly, but with a decisiveness there +was no misunderstanding. "The matter has ceased to be any business of +mine. My business hereafter--and I say this to my partner--is concerned +wholly and entirely with certain lumbering operations on Enchanted +township." + +He went away, following the crew. Rodburd Ide, eager to be gone, and +seeing in the affair thus flatly dropped by Wade only a phase of the +older animosity between Britt and the young man--a quarrel that might +seek any avenue for expression, even a State pauper--demanded of +Barrett: + +"Do you lay any special claim to the girl?" His tone was that of an +official only. + +"Of course he doesn't," broke in Britt, seeing that his associate was +groping for a reply. "We did think of trying to help her, but what's the +use? There isn't any more gratitude in that sculch than there is in a +pine knot. Send her back to the tribe." + +The little Castonia magnate looked relieved. + +"She's all right with my girl till I get home," he said. "Then the +affair will take care of itself, like all those things do." + +Barrett had picked up one of the discarded bludgeons and was supporting +himself on it. His legs trembled visibly when he walked to Ide's side. + +"Rodburd," he said, appealingly, "I can see that you think this thing +strange. I don't want you to have wrong ideas. You and I have known each +other too long to get into quarrels. You have seen that I have been +trying to smooth matters here to-day. I can't talk it over with you now. +I'm sick--I'm a sick man, Rodburd! I've been through a dreadful +experience up here." + +"You don't look well," returned Ide, solicitously, his ever-ready +sympathy enlisted. + +Barrett's face was haggard and his eyes were bloodshot. He wavered on +his feet, tipping from heel to toe like a drunken man. + +"You ought to get out of these woods as quick as you can," the Castonia +man went on. + +Even Britt saw now that his associate was in a bad way. He gave a keen +glance at him, and shouted to MacLeod, who was waiting at the edge of +the woods, "Send back four of my men!" + +"I feel dreadfully," mourned Barrett. His grit and his excitement had +been keeping him up. Now, like most strong men who have to confess that +they are conquered, he gave way to his illness with utter abandonment of +courage. + +"Mr. Barrett," said Ide, surveying him pityingly, "I can see that you're +a sick man. I don't want to say that to frighten you, but because you +ought to know it. You'd better only try to make Castonia, and have a +doctor sent there. My girl will be there as soon as you are. You go to +my house, and get doctored up before you tackle the trip down-river. +That buckboard ride will kill you if you try it in the shape you're in +now." + +"You'd better do as he says, John," advised Britt, checking the timber +baron's feeble protests. "I'm going to have these four men make a litter +for you and lug you. You can stand that sort of ridin', but unless you +are in better shape when you get to Castonia you wouldn't be good for +that stage ride. Use common-sense, and rest up at Rodburd's house." + +"Give the men their orders," whispered the little Castonia magnate in an +aside to Britt. "It's fever, and a bad one if I ain't mistaken. By the +time he's got to my place he'll probably be too sick to give any orders +of his own. I never saw a man grow sick so fast. Tell the men to leave +him there." He talked impatiently, for his crew had disappeared up the +trail. "I've got to be hurryin'," he added. "Mr. Barrett, make my home +yours!" he cried over his shoulder, as he trotted off. "I'll be back in +a few days--as soon as I get this crew of mine located." + +The four men were already at work securing poles and boughs for the +litter. + +Barrett sat down upon a tussock, and held his throbbing head in his +hands. He began weakly to complain that Britt had made a mistake in +bringing his men and insisting on possession of the girl. + +The Honorable Pulaski promptly checked the incoherent expostulations of +the stumpage baron. + +"No, I haven't committed you, either," he blurted. "Bluff it out! It's +the only way to do. It's the way I advised you to do in the first place. +The thing looks big to you here in the woods. You're down on the level +with it. Get back into the city, and get your tail-coat on and your +dignity, and sit up on top of that governor's boom of yours, and the +story will only be political blackmail if they try it on you. But they +won't. That Wade fellow is one of those righteous sort of asses that +like to read moral lessons to other people, and especially to you, so +he can work out his grudge. But he's all done. I know the sort. The +thing began to scorch his fingers and he chucked it. He's got enough to +attend to in these woods. Don't you worry." + +"But I do worry," mourned Barrett. "And there's the girl to consider. +God save me, Pulaski, she's mine! Her looks show it. I can't sleep +nights after this, unless she is taken care of in a decent way." + +"There'll be a dozen methods of doin' it when the time is ripe," urged +the other, consolingly. "As it is now, you get out of these woods and +stay out, and attend to your business--which is my business, too, when +it comes to the governor matter. By ----, you've seen enough in this +trip to understand that we haven't got any too safe timber laws as it +is. If the farmers get control next trip it means trouble for such of us +as take to the tall timber. Buck up, man! Don't believe for a minute +that we're goin' to let a college dude and a State pauper queer you. The +thing will work itself out." + +He uttered a sudden snort of disgust, gazing over Barrett's shoulder. + +"Foolish Abe" of the Skeets had edged out of the bush, the silence after +the uproar of voices and conflict encouraging him. He seemed pitifully +bewildered. An instinct almost canine prompted him to take the trail to +the south, for his only friend, the girl of the tribe, had gone that +way. But a strange female had gone with her, and of strange females he +entertained unspeakable fear. + +"Here, you cross-eyed baboon," called the Honorable Pulaski, "go! +Scoot!" He pointed north in the direction in which the Enchanted crew +had disappeared. "Young man want you. Follow him. Stay with him. Run!" +He picked up his discarded sled-stake, and the fool hurried away towards +the Notch. "I'd like to see that human nail-keg plastered onto the +Enchanted crew for the winter," remarked Britt, with malice. "There's no +fillin' him up. He'll eat as much as three men, and that Wade is just +enough of a soft thing not to turn him out. If I can't bore an enemy +with a pod-auger, John, I'll do it with a gimlet--a gimlet will let more +or less blood." + +Five minutes later Barrett was borne on his way south, his courage +braced by some final arguments from his iron associate, his mind made up +to adopt the course of indignant bluff suggested by the belligerent +Britt. + +And Britt was stumping north, driving the blubbering Abe before him with +sundry hoots and missiles. + +When the poor creature came crawling to the fire on hands and knees at +dusk that evening, hairy, pitiable, and drooling with hunger, Rodburd +Ide accepted him with resignation, though he recognized Britt's petty +malice; for unless he were driven, Abe Skeet would never have come past +a well-stocked lumber-camp to follow wanderers into the wilderness. + +That night the Enchanted crew camped on Attean Stream, a short day's +journey from their destination. The tired men snatched supper from their +packs and fell back snoring, their heads on their dunnage-bags. + +They were away in the first flush of the morning, Rodburd Ide leading +with his partner. Wade welcomed the little man's absorbed interest in +the business ahead of them. Ide asked no questions about the incident at +Durfy's. Wade put the hideous topic as far behind other thoughts as he +could, and soon other thoughts crowded it out. + +As they passed from the zone of striped maple, round-wood, witch-hobble, +and mountain holly that Mother Nature had drawn across her naked breast +after the rude hand of Pulaski Britt had stripped the virgin growth, +his heart lifted. Under the great spruces of Enchanted the town's +bricks, streets, and human passions seemed very far away. + +Before he slept that night he had had an experience that thrilled the +sense of the primitive self hidden within him, as it is hidden in all +men, and covered by conventions. + +He had staked the metes and bounds, the corners, the frontage, all the +dimensions of a new home, where no roof except the crowns of trees had +ever shut sunlight off the earth. + +Mankind in general opens eyes within walls that the hands of those +coming before have built. + +Many have no occasion to seek ever for other quarters than those their +fathers have given them. With most the limit of exploration is the quest +for a new rental. Mankind who build, build along settled streets, first +taking note that sewers and water systems have been installed. + +Even in the woods most crews come up to find that the advance +skirmishers have builded main camp, meal camp, horse-hovels, and wangan. +Owing to the sudden forming of Rodburd Ide's partnership with the young +man whom Fate threw in his way, and his equally sudden determination to +operate on virgin Enchanted, there had been no time for preliminaries. +Even the tote teams with the first of the winter's supplies were miles +away down the trail, for in the woods the human two-foot outclasses the +equine four-foot. + +Therefore, Wade, perspiring in the forefront of the toilers, saw the +first tree topple, heard it crash outward from the site of the camp, and +tugged with the others when it was set into place as the sill. When he +stood back and wiped his forehead and gazed on that one lonesome log it +made roofless out-doors seem bigger and more threatening. The rain was +pattering from a cold sky. The thrall of centuries of housed ancestors +was on him. Roof and walls had attached themselves to his sentiency, +even as the shell of the snail is attached to its pulp. + +But the next moment Larry Gorman started a song, and the rollicking +hundred men about him took it up and toiled with merry thoughtlessness +of all except that God's good greenwood was about them and God's sky +above them, and Wade bent again to labor, ashamed that he had counted +shingles and plaster as standing for so much. + +They put up eight-log walls for the main camp, notching the ends. A +hundred willing men made the buildings grow like toadstools. While the +walls were going up men laid floors of poles shaved flat on one side. +Others brought moss and chinked the spaces between the logs of the +walls. The first team up brought tarred paper and the few boards needed +for tables and like uses. The tarred paper and cedar splints roofed all +comfortably. + +The second team brought stove, tin dishes, and raw staples--and cook and +cookee walked behind. + +And when old Christopher Straight came at the tail of the procession as +fast as he could hurry back from Castonia settlement, the camps stood +nearly complete under the frown of Enchanted Mountain, Enchanted Stream +gurgling over brown rocks at the door. + +The distant whick-whack of axes told where the swampers were clearing +the way, and the tearing crash of trees punctuated the ceaseless "ur-r +rick-raw!" of the cross-cut saws. The only axe scarf on Ide's trees was +the nick necessary to direct their fall. They were felled by the saw. + +Two days of exploration on the spruce benches straight back from the +stream showed up several million feet of black growth easily available +for a first season's operation. + +Ide, Wade, and old Christopher cruised, pacing parallels and counting +trees. And when they sat down on an outcropping of ledge the young man +made so many sagacious observations that Ide's eyes opened in amazement. + +"Where did you learn lumberin'?" he demanded. + +"I wasn't aware that I knew it--not as it is viewed from a practical +stand-point," replied Wade, humbly. "I was going to ask you in a moment +if you wouldn't like to have me keep still so that you and Christopher +could talk sense." + +"I never heard better opinions on a stand of timber and a lay of land," +affirmed his partner. "It looks as though you'd been holdin' out on me," +he added, with a grim smile. + +The young man smiled back. There was a certain grateful pride in his +expression. + +"I know how old woodsmen look at book-learned chaps, Mr. Ide. Pulaski +Britt told me once. I was simply trying on you a bit of an experiment +with my little knowledge of books. I was waiting to have you and +Christopher pull me up short. I'm rather surprised to find that you +think what I said was good sense. But after a book-fellow has bumped +against practical men like--like Mr. Britt for a time, he begins to +distrust his books. It's simply this way, Mr. Ide: I had a few young men +in my high-school who were interested in forestry of the modern sort, +and I worked with them to encourage them as much as I could. It is +almost impossible for a reading-man in these days not to take an +interest in the protection of our forests, for the folks at Washington +are making it the great topic of the times." + +"Well," remarked Ide, with a sigh of appreciation, "I never read a book +on forestry in my life, and I never heard of a lumberman in these parts +who ever had. But if you can get facts like those you've stated out of +books, I reckon some of us better spend our winter evenin's readin' +instead of playin' pitch pede." He got up and gave the young man a +complimenting palm. "Wade," he said, earnestly, "I'll own up that I've +been a little prejudiced against book-fellows myself. Instead of givin' +an ignorant man the contents of the book--the juice of it, as you might +say---in a way that won't hurt, they are so anxious to have him know +that it's book-learnin' they've got, they'll bang him across the face +with it, book-covers and all. I like your knowledge, because it's goin' +to help us in handlin' this thing we've bit off up here. But I'll be +blamed if I don't like your modesty best of all." + +He picked up his calipers, stuck them under his arm, and started for +camp with a haste that showed full confidence in his partner's ability. + +And the next morning he buttoned the camp letters in his coat, and +started south for Castonia with the outgoing tote team. + +"I don't worry about this end," he said, at parting, "and you needn't +worry about mine. Don't be afraid of going hungry. There's nothin' like +full stomachs to make axes and saws run well. It will have to be +hand-to-mouth till snow flies, then I'll slip you in stores enough to +fill that wangan to the roof. Good heart, my boy! We're goin' to make +some money." + +Wade followed him to the edge of the clearing with his first sense of +loneliness tugging within him. + +"Safe home to you, Mr. Ide," he said, "and my respectful regards to Miss +Nina, if you will take them. I suppose--she will--probably--the girl she +took away--" he stammered. + +"By thunder mighty!" cried the Castonia magnate, whirling on him, "I'd +forgotten all about that Skeet girl, or Arden girl, or whatever they +call her." + +He eyed the young man with a dawning of his old curiosity, but Wade met +his gaze frankly. + +"The affair of the girl is not mine at all," he said. "Simply because +she seemed superior to the tribe she was with, I hoped Mr. Barrett would +do as he partly promised--use a few dollars of his money to help her +from the muck. Such cases appeal to me, because I'm not accustomed to +seeing them, perhaps." + +"If my girl is interested in that poor little wildcat, you needn't think +twice about her bein' taken good care of," cried the admiring father. + +And gazing into the wholesome eyes and candid face of the little man, +Wade reflected that perhaps Fate had handled a problem better for John +Barrett's abandoned daughter than he himself, in his resentful zeal, had +planned. + +He shook Ide's hand hard, and, with the picture of John Barrett's other +daughter in his dimming eyes and the love of John Barrett's other +daughter burning in his lonely heart, he turned back towards the woods, +whose fronded arms, tossing in the October wind, beckoned him to his +duty. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE HA'NT OF THE UMCOLCUS + + "For even in these days P. I.'s shake + At word of the phantom of Brassua Lake; + And all of us know of the witherlick + That prowls by the shores of the Cup-sup-tic; + Of the side-hill ranger whose eyeballs gleam + In the light of the moon at Abol stream." + + --The Ha'nts. + + +A few days after the men of Enchanted were housed, those who gazed +southeast from the mountain shoulder saw a smear of white on the +horizon. It was the first snow on lofty Katahdin. + +Tommy Eye greeted that sight most enthusiastically. Like a good +teamster, he was anxious for "slippin'." + +"Bless the saints, old Winter has pitched camp down there, and is mixin' +up a batch of our kind of weather," he said to Wade. "Injun Summer had +better grab up what's left of her flounces and get out from under." + +But Winter proceeded about his business with majestic deliberateness. He +patted down the duff under the big trees with beating, sleety rains; and +when the ground was ready for the sowing of the mighty crop, he piled +his banks of clouds up from the south, and, though he gave the coast +folk rain, he brought the men of the north woods what they were longing +for--snow a-plenty; snow that heaped the arms of the spruces, filled +all the air with smothering clouds, and blanketed the ground. + +Wade, blinking the big flakes out of his eyes as he breasted the +swirling storm, came across to the main camp from the wangan, his pipe +and tobacco-pouch in hand. He rejoiced in his heart to see the snow +driving so thickly that the camp window was only a blur of yellow light +smudging the whiteness. This first real storm of the winter promised two +feet on a level, and guaranteed the slipping on ram-downs and +twitch-roads. + +The cheer of the storm permeated all the camp on Enchanted. The cook +beamed on Wade with floury face. The bare ground had meant bare shelves. +He predicted the first supply-team for the morrow. He had been thriftily +"making a mitten out of a mouse's ear" for several weeks. Tommy Eye, +ploughing back from his good-night visit to the horse-hovel, proclaimed +his general pleasure for two reasons: No more bare-ground dragging for +the bob-sleds; no more too liberal dosing of bread dough with soap to +make the flour "spend" in lighter loaves. "Eats like wind and tastes +like a laundry," Tommy had grumbled. + +The boss of the choppers moved along to give Wade the end of the "deacon +seat," and grinned amiably. + +"That's a cheerful old song she's singing overhead to-night," he +remarked. + +It needed a lumberman's interpretation to give it cheer. + +There were far groanings, there were near sighs; there were silences, +when the soft rustle of the snow against the window-glass made all the +sound; there were sudden, tempestuous descents of the wind that rattled +the panes and made the throat of the open stove "whummle" like a +neighing horse. + +Wade lighted his pipe with deep content. He enjoyed the rude fraternity +of the big camp. There was but little garrulity. Those who talked did so +in a drawling monotone that was keyed properly to the monotone of the +soughing trees outside--elbows on knees and eyes on the pole floor. +Clamor would not have suited that little patch of light niched in the +black, brooding night of the forest. But there was comfort within. The +blue smoke from pipe bowls curled up and mingled with the shadows +dancing against the low roof. The woollens, hung to dry on the long +poles, draped the dim openings of the bunks. The "spruce feathers" +within were still fresh, and resinous odors struggled against the more +athletic fragrance of the pipes. + +Most of the men loafed along the "deacon seat," relaxed in the luxury of +laziness for that precious three hours between supper and nine o'clock. +A few, bending forward to catch the light from the bracket-lamp, +whittled patiently at what lumbermen call "doodahs"--odd little toys +destined for some best girl or admiring youngster at home. "Windy" +McPheters regaled those with an ear for music by cheerful efforts on his +mouth-harp, coming out strong on the tremolo, and jigging the heel of +his moccasined foot for time. And when "Windy" had no more breath left, +"Hitchbiddy" Wagg sang, after protracted persuasion, the only song he +knew--though one song of that character ought to suffice for any man's +musical attainments. + +Its length may be understood when it is stated that it detailed all the +campaigns of the first Napoleon, and "Hitchbiddy" sang it doubled +forward, his elbows on his crossed knees, and the toe of his moccasin +flapping for the beat. He came down "the stretch" on the last verse with +vigor and expression: + + "Next at Waterloo those Frenchmen fought, + Commanded by brave Bonaparte [pronounced 'paught'], + Assisted by Field Marshal Ney-- + He never was bribed by gold. + But when Grouchy let the Prussians in + It broke Napoleon's heart within. + 'Where are my thirty thousand men? + Alas, stranger, for I am sold.' + He led one gallant charge across, + Saying, 'Alas, brave boys, I fear 'tis lost.' + The field was in confusion with dead and dying woes. + When the bunch of roses did advance, + The English entered into France-- + The grand Conversation [_sic_] of Napoleon arose." + +To signal that the song was done, "Hitchbiddy" dropped the tune on the +last line, and in calm, direct, matter-of-fact recitative announced that +"the grand Conversation of Napoleon arose." In the fifty years during +which that song has been sung in the Maine lumber-camps, no one has ever +displayed the least curiosity as to that last line. Away back, +somewhere, a singer twisted a nice, fat word of the original song, and +it has stayed twisted, and no one has tried to trouble it by idle +questions. + +"Hitchbiddy's" most rapt listener was Foolish Abe of the Skeets. The +shaggy giant squatted behind the stove beside the pile of shavings he +was everlastingly whittling for the cook-fire. It was the only task that +Abe's poor wits could master, and he toiled at it unceasingly, paying +thus and by a sort of canine gratitude for the food he received and the +cast-off clothes tossed to him. + +A mumbled chorus of commendation followed the song. But the +chopping-boss, his humorous gaze on the witling, remarked: + +"I reckon I'll have to rule that song out, after this, 'Hitchbiddy.'" + +"What for?" demanded the amazed songster. + +"It seems to have a damaging and cavascacious effect on the giant +intellect of Perfessor Skeet," remarked the boss, with irony. "Look at +him!" + +Abe was on his knees, stretching up his neck and twitching his head from +side to side with the air of an agitated fowl. + +"We'll make it a rule after this to have only common songs, like Larry +Gorman's," continued the boss, with a quizzical glance at the woodsman +poet. "These high operas are too thrillin'." + +But those who stared at Abe promptly saw that his attention was not +fixed on matters within, but without. + +"He heard something," muttered one of the men. "He's got ears like a +cat, anyway." + +If the giant had heard something it was plain that he heard it again, +for he dropped his knife and scrambled to his feet. + +"Me go! Yes!" he roared, gutturally; and, obeying some mysterious +summons, his haste showing its authority, he ran out of the camp. + +"Catch that fool!" yelled the boss. But the first of those who tumbled +out into the dingle after him were not quick enough. The night and the +swirling storm had swallowed him. A few zealous pursuers ran a little +way, trying to follow his tracks, lost them, and then came back for +lanterns. + +"It's no use, Mr. Wade," advised the boss. "He's got the strength of a +mule and the legs of an ostrich. The men will only be takin' chances for +nothin'. He's gone clean out of his head, and there's no tellin' when +he'll stop." + +And Wade regretfully gave orders to abandon the chase. He and the others +stood for a time gazing about them into the storm, now sifting thicker +and swirling more wildly. He was oppressed by the happening, as though +he had seen some one leap to death. What else could a human being hope +for in that waste? + +"He's as tough as a bull moose, and just as used to bein' out-doors," +remarked the boss, consolingly. "When he's had his run he'll smell his +way back." + +Teamster Tommy Eye was the most persistent pursuer. He came in, stamping +the snow, after all the others had reassembled in the camp to talk the +matter over. + +"Did ye hear it?" demanded Tommy. "I did, and I run like a tiger so I +could say that at last I'd seen one. But I didn't see it. I only heard +it." + +"What?" asked Wade, amazed. + +"The ha'nt," said Tommy. "I've always wanted to see one. I was first +out, and I heard it." + +"What did it sound like?" gasped one of the men, his superstition +glowing in his eyes. + +"It's bad luck forever to try to make a noise like a ha'nt," said Tommy, +with decision. "Nor will I meddle with its business--no, s'r. 'Twould +come for me. Take a lucivee, an Injun devil, a bob-sled runner on grit, +and the gabble of a loon, mix 'em together, and set 'em, and skim off +the cream of the noise, and it would be something like the loo-hoo of a +ha'nt. It's awful on the nerves. I reckon I'll take a pull at the old T. +D." He rammed his pipe bowl with a finger that trembled visibly. + +"I've seen one," declared, positively, the man who had inquired in +regard to the sound. "I've seen one, but I never heard one holler. I +didn't know it was a ha'nt till I'd seen it half a dozen times." + +"Good eye!" sneered Tommy. "What! did it have to come up and introduce +itself, and say, 'Please, Mister MacIntosh, I'm a ha'nt'?" + +"I've seen one," insisted the man, sullenly. "I was teamin' for the +Blaisdell Brothers on their Telos operation, and I see it every day for +most a week. It walked ahead of my team close to the bushes, side of the +road, and it was like a man, and it always turned off at the same place +and went into the woods." + +"Do you call that a ha'nt--a man walkin' 'longside the road in +daylight--some hump-backed old spruce-gum picker?" demanded Tommy. + +"The last time I see it I noticed that it didn't leave any tracks," +declared the narrator. "It walked right along on the light snow, and +didn't leave any tracks. Funny I didn't notice that before, but I +didn't." + +"You sartinly ain't what the dictionary would set down as a hawk-eyed +critter," remarked Tommy, maliciously. "It must have been kind of +discouragin', ha'ntin' you." + +"It was a ha'nt," insisted the man, with the same doggedness. "I got +off'n my team right then and there, and got a bill of my time and left, +and the man that took my place got sluiced by the snub-line bustin', +and about three thousand feet of spruce mellered the eternal daylights +out of him. Say what you're a mind to--I saw a thing that walked on +light snow and didn't make tracks, and I left, and that feller got +sluiced--everybody in these woods knows that a feller got killed on +Telos two winters ago." + +"Oh, there's ha'nts," agreed Tommy, earnestly. "Mebbe you saw one; only +you got at your story kind of back-ended." + +The old teamster had been watching incredulity settle on the face of +Dwight Wade, and this heresy in one to whom his affections had attached +touched his sensitiveness. + +"You're probably thinkin' what most of the city folks say out loud to +us, Mr. Wade," he went on, humbly. "They say there ain't any such things +as ha'nts in the woods. It would be easy to say there ain't any bull +moose up here because they ain't also seen walkin' down a city street +and lookin' into store windows. But I'd like to see one of those city +folks try to sleep in the camp that's built over old Jumper Joe's grave +north of Sourdnaheunk." + +There was a general mumble of indorsement. It became evident to Wade +that the crew of the Enchanted were pretty stanch adherents of the +supernatural. + +"Hitchbiddy" Wagg cleared his throat and sang, for the sake of +verification: + + "He rattled underneath, and he rattled overhead; + Never in my life was I ever scared so! + And I did not dast to lay down in that bed + Where they laid out old Joe." + +"They can't use that place for anything but a depot-camp now," stated +Tommy; "and it's a wonder to me that they can even get pressed hay to +stay there overnight." + +"Well, from what I know of human nature," smiled Wade, "I should think +that hay and provisions would stay better overnight in a haunted camp +than in one without protection." + +He rapped out his pipe ashes on the hearth of the stove and rose to go. + +"And don't you believe that it was a ha'nt that called out Foolish Abe?" +asked Tommy, eager to make a convert. "You saw that for yourself, Mr. +Wade." + +"I am afraid to think of what may have happened to that poor creature," +replied Wade, earnestly, looking into the black night through the door +that he had opened. He heard the chopping-boss call: "Nine! Turn in!" as +he strove with the storm between the main camp and the wangan, and when +he stamped into his own shelter the yellow smudge winked out behind +him--such is the alacrity of a sleepy woods crew when it has a boss who +blows out the big lamp on the dot of the hour. He shuddered as he shut +out the blackness. He had no superstitions, but the unaccountable flight +of the witling, and the eerie tales offered in explanation and the +mystic night of storm in that wild forest waste unstrung him. He went to +sleep, finding comfort in the dull glow of the lantern that he left +lighted. + +Its glimmer in his eyes when the cook called shrilly in the gray dawn, +"Grub on ta-a-abe!" sent his first thoughts to the wretch who had +abandoned himself to the storm. He hoped to find Abe whittling shavings +in the cook-house. + +"No, s'r, no sign of him, hide nor hair," said the cook, shaking his +head. "Reckon the ha'nt flew high with him." + +The snow still sifted through the trees--a windless storm now. The +forest was trackless. + +"For a man to start out in the woods in that storm was like jumpin' into +a hole and pullin' the hole in after him," observed the chopping-boss. +That remark might have served as the obituary of poor Abe Skeet. The +swampers, the choppers, the sled-tenders, the teamsters, trudging away +to their work, had their minds full of their duties and their mouths +full of other topics during the day. + +And all day the cook bleated his cheerful little prophecy in the ears of +the cookee: "The tote team will be in by night." That morning, with his +rolling-pin, he had pounded "hungryman's ratty-too" on the bottom of the +last flour-barrel to shake out enough for his batch of biscuits, and he +burned up the barrel, even though the pessimistic cookee predicted that +"the human nail-kags" would eat both kitchen mechanics if the food gave +out. + +Dwight Wade, at nightfall, surveyed the bare shelves of the cook camp +with some misgivings. + +"Don't you worry," advised the master of that domain. "Rod Ide ain't +waitin' three weeks for good slippin' jest for the sake of settin' in +his store window and singin' 'Beautiful snow'! He sure got a load of +supplies started on that first skim o' snow, and they're due here +to-night--" The cook paused, kicked at the cookee for slamming the +stove-cover at that crucial moment of listening, and shrilled, "There +she blows!" + +Wade heard the jangle of bells, and hastened to meet the dim bulk of the +loaded sled. The driver did not reply to his delighted hail, but before +he had time to wonder at that silence some one struggled out of the +folds of a shrouding blanket and sprang from the sled. It was a woman; +and while he stood and stared at her, she ran to him and grasped his +hands and clung to him in pitiful abandonment of grief. + +It was Nina Ide. In the dim light Wade could see tears and heart-broken +woe on her face. He had had some experience with the self-poise of the +daughter of Rodburd Ide. This emotion, which checked with sobs the words +in her throat, frightened him. + +"It's a terrible thing, and I don't understand it, Mr. Wade," quavered +the driver. He slipped down from the load and came and stood beside +them. "We was in Pogey Notch, and the wind was blowin' pretty hard +there, and I told the young ladies they'd better cover their heads with +the blankets. And I pulled the canvas over me, 'cause the snow stung so, +and I didn't see it when it happened--and I don't understand it." + +"When what happened?" Wade gasped. + +"They took her--whatever they was," stated the driver, in awed tones. "I +didn't see 'em or hear 'em take her. And I don't know jest where we was +when they took her. I went back and hunted, but it wasn't any use. They +was gone, and her with 'em. They wasn't humans, Mr. Wade. It was black +art, that's what it was." + +"Probably," said Tommy Eye, with deep conviction. He had led the group +that came out of the camp to greet the tote team. "There were ha'nts +here last night. They got Foolish Abe." + +"They sartinly seem to mean the Skeet family this time," said the +driver. "It was that Skeet girl--the pretty one that's called Kate--that +they got off'n my team." + +The men of the camp, surrounding the new arrivals, surveyed Nina Ide +with respectful but eager curiosity. + +"If I was a ha'nt," growled the chopping-boss, "and had my pick, I +reckon I'd have shown better judgment." His remark was under his breath, +and the girl did not hear it. She clung to Wade. Her agitation +communicated itself to him. A sense of calamity told him that there was +trouble deeper than the disappearance of the waif of the Skeet tribe. + +Her words confirmed his suspicion. "My God, what are we going to do, Mr. +Wade?" she sobbed. "I planned it; I encouraged her. It was wild, +imprudent, reckless. I ought to have realized it. But I knew how you +felt towards her. I wanted to help her and--and you!" + +Something in the horror of her wide-open eyes told him plainly now that +this could not be merely the question of the loss of one of the Skeets. +And with that conviction growing out of bewildered doubt, he went with +her when she led him away towards the office camp. A suspicion wild as a +nightmare flashed into his mind. In the wangan she faced him, as +woe-stricken, as piteously afraid, as though she were confessing a crime +against him. + +"It was John Barrett's daughter Elva on that team with me," she choked. +"She wanted to come--but I'll be honest with you, Mr. Wade. She wouldn't +have come if I hadn't encouraged her--yes, put the idea into her head +and the means into her hands. I've been a fool, Mr. Wade, but I'll not +be a coward and lie about my responsibility." + +He gazed at her, his face ghastly white in the lantern-light. + +"She wanted to--she was coming here--she is lost?" he mumbled, as though +trying to fathom a mystery. + +Infinite pity replaced the distraction in the girl's face. + +"Forgive me, Mr. Wade!" she cried. "Not for my folly--you can't overlook +that. Forgive me for wasting time. But I didn't know how to say it to +you." She put her woman's weakness from her, though the struggle was a +mighty one, and her face showed it. "I won't waste any more words, Mr. +Wade. John Barrett has been at my father's house for weeks. He has been +near death--he is near death now, but the big doctors from the city say +that he will get well. He must have been through some terrible trouble +up here." + +She looked at him with questioning gaze, as though to ask how much he +knew of the strain that had prostrated John Barrett, the stumpage king. + +"He was in great danger--and his exposure--" stammered Wade. + +But she went on, hurriedly: + +"It was fever, and it went to his head, and he talked and raved. His +daughter came from the city and nursed him, and she has heard him +talking, talking, talking, all the time--talking about you, and how you +saved him from the fire; talking about a woman who is dead and a man who +is alive, and a girl--" + +"Does Elva Barrett--know?" he demanded, hoarsely. + +"It was too plain not to know--after she saw that girl, Mr. Wade. The +girl was there at our house--she is there now. It isn't all clear to us +yet. We have only the ravings of a sick man--and the face of that girl. +Father doesn't understand all of it, either. But he knows that you do, +although you haven't told him." She clutched her trembling hands to hold +them steady. "And he has talked and talked of other things, Mr. +Wade--the sick man has. He has said that you have his reputation, and +his prospects, and the happiness of his family all in your hands, and +that you are waiting to ruin him because he has abused you; and he has +tossed in his bed and begged some one to come to you and promise +you--buy you--coax you--" + +"It's a cursed lie--infernal, though a sick man babble it!" Wade cried, +heart-brokenly. "It holds me up as a blackmailer, Miss Nina. It makes me +seem a wretch in Elva's eyes. And yet--was she--was she coming here +thinking I was that kind--coming here to beg for her father?" he +demanded. + +"We--I--oh, I don't like to tell you we believed that of you," the girl +sobbed. "No, I didn't believe it. But if you had only heard him lying +there talking, talking! And you were the one that he seemed to fear. And +we thought if you knew of it you wouldn't want him to worry that way. +And if we could carry back some word of comfort from you to him--She +wanted to come to you, Mr. Wade, and I encouraged her and helped her to +come--because--because--" The girl caught her breath in a long sob, and +cried: "She loves you, Mr. Wade! And I've pitied you and her ever since +that day in the train when I found out about it." + +It was not a moment to analyze emotions. Nina Ide, in her ingenuous +declaration of Elva Barrett's motives in seeking him, had made his heart +for an instant blaze with joy. For that instant he forgot the shame of +the baseless babblings of the sick man, the awful mystery of Elva +Barrett's disappearance. The blow of it--that Elva Barrett was +gone--that she was somewhere in those woods alone, or worse than alone, +had stunned him at first. Groping out of that misery, striving to +realize what it meant, he had faced first the hideous thought that she +might believe him mean enough to seek revenge. Then came the dazzling +hope that Elva Barrett so loved him that she adventured--imprudently and +recklessly, but none the less bravely--in order to make her love known. +Then over all swept the black bitterness of the calamity. + +"But you must have some suspicion--some hint how she was taken or how +she went!" he cried. "In Heaven's name, Miss Nina, think! think! You +heard some outcry! There was some hidden rock or stump to jar the sled! +The man did not search along the road far enough! She must be +lost--lost!" and his voice rose almost to a shriek. + +"There was no cry, Mr. Wade. And I went back with the man. We searched; +we called--we even went as far as the place where we covered ourselves +with the blankets. We could find no track, and the snow was driving and +sifting. The man does not know it was Elva Barrett," she added. + +He suddenly remembered the driver's statement. + +"She came in Kate Arden's clothes," confided the girl. "Those who saw +her ride out of Castonia, Mr. Wade, thought it was Kate Arden. And Kate +Arden, in Elva Barrett's dress, is sitting now beside John Barrett, +holding his hand, and his daughter's face has soothed him. He thinks it +is his daughter beside him. They are so like, Kate and Elva. We waited +until we had made sure. It was my plan. And Kate obeyed me. I don't know +what she is thinking of. She is sullen and silent, but she took the +place by his bed when I told her to. Then it could not be said that John +Barrett's daughter had come seeking Dwight Wade." + +Even in this stress he could still feel gratitude for the subterfuge +that checked the tongues of gossip. + +"I wish father had more authority over me," sobbed the girl. "He +wouldn't have let us come on such a crazy errand if I hadn't bossed him +into it." The lament was so guilelessly feminine that Wade put aside his +own woe for the moment to think of the girl's distress. + +"This will be your home until I can send you back, Miss Nina," he said, +gently. "I will have old Christopher bring in your supper and mend your +fire." + +"And about her, Mr. Wade?" she cried. + +"I'm going," he said, simply, but with such earnestness that her eyes +flooded again with tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE MAN WHO CAME FROM NOWHERE + + "He hadn't a word for no one, not even for me or Mike, + And whenever we spoke or tried to joke, he growled like a + Chessy tyke." + + +Dwight Wade found a lively conference in progress in the main camp. + +Tommy Eye was doing most of the talking, and it was plain that his +opinions carried weight, for no one presumed to gainsay him. + +"And I'll say to you what I'm tellin' to them here, Mr. Wade," continued +the teamster. "You saw for yourself what happened here last night. A +ha'nt done it. And the ha'nt done this last. They're pickin' Skeets +right and left." + +"Ha'nt must be in the pay of Pulaski D. Britt," remarked one rude joker. +"He's been the one most interested in gettin' the tribe out of this +section." + +Dwight Wade, love and awful fear raging in his heart, was in no mood to +play dilettante with the supernatural, nor to relish jokes. + +"We'll have done with this foolishness, men!" he cried, harshly. "A girl +has been lost in these woods." He was protecting Elva Barrett's +incognito by a mighty effort of self-repression. The agony of his soul +prompted him to leap, shouting, down the tote road, calling her name and +crying his love and his despair. "I want this crew to beat the woods and +find her." + +"She can't ever be found," growled a prompt rebel. "I heard the driver +tell. She was picked right up and lugged off. There ain't any of us got +wings." + +"Oh, you've got to admit that there are ha'nts!" persisted Tommy, with +fine relish for his favorite topic. "And they pick up people. I see one, +in the shape of a tree, pick up an ox once and break his neck." + +"D--n you for drooling idiots!" raved Wade, beside himself. It was the +first outlet for the storm of his feelings. + +He ordered them to get lanterns and start on the search--he strode among +them with brandished fists and whirling arms, and they dodged from in +front of him, staring in amazement. + +"My Gawd," mourned Tommy, "this camp has had the spell put on it for +sure! The ha'nt has driv' the boss out of his head, and will have him +next. And if it can drive a college man out of his head, what chance has +the rest of us got?" + +Panic was writ large in the faces of the simple woodsmen, and fear +glittered in their eyes. A single queer circumstance would merely have +set them to wondering; but these unexplainable events, following each +other so rapidly and taking ominous shade from the glass that lugubrious +Tommy Eye held over them, shook them out of self-poise. It needed but +one voice to cry, "The place is accursed!" to precipitate a rout, and +old Christopher Straight had the woodsman's keen scent for trouble of +this sort. + +"A moment! A moment, Mr. Wade!" he called. He patted the young man's +elbow and urged him towards the door. "I want to speak to you. Keep +quiet, my men, and go in to your supper." + +As he passed the cook-house door he sharply ordered the cook to sound +the delayed call--the cook being then engaged in discussing, with +chopping-boss and cookee, a certain "side-hill lounger," a ha'nt that +wrought vast mischief of old along Ripogenus gorge. + +"Mr. Wade," advised the old man, when they were apart from the camp, +"I'm sorry to see you get so stirred up over the Skeet girl, for I don't +believe she appreciates your kindness. I have this matter pretty well +settled in my own mind. I don't know just why Miss Nina is up here, nor +why she has brought that girl back--or tried to. It is plain, though, +that the girl has deceived her." + +"I don't understand," quavered Wade, struggling between his own +knowledge and old Christopher's apparent certainty. + +"The Skeet girl, having her own reasons for wanting to come this way +from Castonia, got as far as Pogey Notch, slipped off the team, and made +her way to Britt's camp on Jerusalem to join Colin MacLeod. It's all a +put-up job, Mr. Wade, and they've simply done what they set out to do in +the first place, when Britt and his crew followed John Barrett and me to +Durfy's. So I wouldn't worry any more about the girl, Mr. Wade. Let her +stay where she plainly wants to stay." + +Wade blurted the truth without pausing to weigh consequences. He +bitterly needed an adviser. Old Christopher's calm confidence in his own +theory pricked him. + +"Great God, man, it isn't the Skeet girl! It is John Barrett's +daughter--his daughter Elva!" + +For a moment Christopher gasped his amazement, without words. + +"There have been strange things happening outside since we've been +locked in here away from the news," the young man went on, excitedly. +"It is Elva Barrett, I tell you, Christopher, and she has been stolen." + +"Then it's a part of the plot--somehow--someway," insisted the old man. +"Colin MacLeod, or some one interested for Colin MacLeod, saw that +girl, and took her for the Skeet girl. I've never seen Elva Barrett, but +you've told me that the Skeet girl is her spittin' image--or words to +that effect," corrected the old guide. + +"And she was dressed in Kate Arden's clothes!" groaned Wade, remembering +Nina Ide's little scheme of deception. + +"Then she's at Britt's camp--mistaken for the Skeet girl, as I said," +declared Straight, with conviction. + +"But hold on!" he cried, grasping Wade's arm as the young man was about +to rush back into the camp, "that's no way to go after that girl--hammer +and tongs, mob and ragtag. In the first place, Mr. Wade, those men in +there are in no frame of mind to be led off into the night. I know +woodsmen. They've been talkin' ha'nts till they're ready to jump ten +feet high if you shove a finger at 'em. This is no time for an army--an +army of that caliber. They know well enough now at Britt's camp that it +isn't Kate Arden. And I'll bet they're pretty frightened, now that they +know who they've got. It's a simple matter, Mr. Wade. I'll go to Britt's +camp and get the young lady. I'll go now on snow-shoes and take the +moose-sled, and I'll be back some time to-morrow all safe and happy." + +"I'll go with you," declared Wade. + +"It isn't best," protested the old man. "I've no quarrel with Colin +MacLeod. It means trouble if you show in sight there without your men +behind you." + +"But I'm going," insisted Wade, with such positiveness that old +Christopher merely sighed. "I'll let you go into the camp alone," +allowed Wade, "for I am not fool enough to look for trouble just to find +it; but I'll be waiting for you up the tote road with the moose-sled, +and I'll haul her home here out of that hell." + +"I can't blame you for wantin' to play hoss for her," said the woodsman, +with a little malice in his humor. "And if she is like most girls +she'll be willin' to have you do it." + +Ten minutes later the two were away down the tote road. They said +nothing of their purpose except to Nina Ide, whom they left intrenched +in the wangan--a woods maiden who felt perfectly certain of the chivalry +of the men of the woods about her. + +The storm was over, but the heavens were still black. Wade dragged the +moose-sled, walking behind old Christopher in the patch of radiance that +the lantern flung upon the snow. Treading ever and ever on the same +whiteness in that little circle of light, it seemed to Wade that he was +making no progress, but that the big trees were silently crowding their +way past like spectres, and that he, for all his passion of fear and +foreboding, simply lifted his feet to make idle tracks. The winds were +still, and the only sounds were the rasping of legs and snow-shoes, and +the soft thuddings of snow-chunks dropped from the limbs of overladen +trees. + +In the first gray of the morning, swinging off the tote road and down +into the depths of Jerusalem valley, they at last came upon the +scattered spruce-tops and fresh chips that marked the circle of Britt's +winter operation. + +The young man's good sense rebuked his rebelliousness when Christopher +took the cord of the sled and bade him wait where he was. + +"I don't blame you for feeling that way," said the old man, interpreting +Wade's wordless mutterings; "but the easiest way is always the best. If +she is there she will want to come with me, where Miss Ide is waiting +for her, and the word of the young lady will be respected. I'm afraid +your word wouldn't be--not with Colin MacLeod," he added, grimly. + +And yet Dwight Wade watched the lantern-light flicker down the valley +with a secret and shamed feeling that he was a coward not to be the +first to hold out a hand of succor to the girl he loved. That he had to +wait hidden there in the woods while another represented him chafed his +spirits until he strode up and down and snarled at the reddening east. + +At last the waiting became agony. The sun came up, its light quivering +through the snow-shrouded spruces. Below him in the valley he heard +teamsters yelping at floundering horses, the grunting "Hup ho!" of +sled-tenders, and the chick-chock of axes. It was evident that the visit +of Christopher Straight had not created enough of a sensation to divert +Pulaski Britt's men from their daily toil. Wade's hurrying thoughts +would not allow his common-sense to excuse the old man's continued +absence. To go--to tear Elva Barrett from that hateful place--to rush +back--what else was there for Straight to do? In the end the goads of +apprehension were driving him down the trail towards the camp, +regardless of consequences. + +But when, at the first turn of the road, he saw Christopher plodding +towards him, he ran back in sudden tremor. He wanted to think a moment. +There was so much to say. The old man came into sight again, near at +hand, before Wade had control of the tumult of his thoughts. + +The sled was empty. + +Christopher scuffed along slowly, munching a biscuit. + +"They wouldn't let her go? I--I thought they had made you stay--you were +so long!" gasped the young man, trying by words of his own to calm his +fear. + +"She isn't there, Mr. Wade," said the old man, finishing his biscuit, +and speaking with an apparent calmness which maddened the young man. +This old man, placidly wagging his jaws, seemed a part of the stolid +indifference of the woods. + +"I brought you something to eat, Mr. Wade," Christopher went on. He +fumbled at his breast-pocket. "We've got tough work ahead of us. You +can't do it on an empty stomach." + +"My God! what are you saying, Straight?" demanded the young man. +"They're lying to you. She is there. She must be. There's no one--" + +"And I say she isn't there," insisted Christopher, with quiet firmness. +"I know what I'm talking about. You're only guessin'." + +"They lied to you to save themselves." + +"Mr. Wade, I know woodsmen better than you do. There are a good many +things about Colin MacLeod that I don't like. But when it came to a +matter of John Barrett's daughter Colin MacLeod would be as square as +you or I." + +"You told them it was John Barrett's daughter?" + +"I did not," said the old man, stoutly. "There was no need to. If it had +been John Barrett's daughter she would have been queening it in those +camps when I got there. She hadn't been there. There has been no woman +there. Colin MacLeod and his men didn't take Miss Barrett from that tote +team. And I've made sure of that point because I knew my men well enough +to make sure. She isn't there!" + +"There is no one else in all these woods to trouble her," declared Wade, +brokenly. + +"No one knows just who and what are movin' about these woods," said +Christopher, in solemn tones. "In forty years I've known things to +happen here that no one ever explained. Hold on, Mr. Wade!" he cried, +checking a bitter outburst. "I'm not talking like Tommy Eye, either! I'm +not talking about ha'nts now. But, I say, strange things have happened +in these woods--and a strange thing has happened this time. Barrett's +daughter is gone. She's been taken. She didn't go by herself." He gazed +helplessly about him, searching the avenues of the silent woods. + +"North or east, west or south!" he muttered, "It's a big job for us, Mr. +Wade! I'm goin' to be honest with you. I don't see into it. You'd better +eat." + +The young man pushed the proffered food away. + +"You eat, I say," commanded old Christopher, his gray eyes snapping. +"An empty gun and an empty man ain't either of 'em any good on a +huntin'-trip." + +He started away, dragging the sled, and Wade struggled along after him, +choking down the food. + +When they had retraced their steps as far as the Enchanted tote road, +Christopher turned to the south and trudged towards Pogey Notch. The +trail of the tote team was visible in hollows which the snow had nearly +filled. The snow lay as it had fallen. The tops of the great trees on +either side of the road sighed and lashed and moaned in the wind that +had risen at dawn. But below in the forest aisles it was quiet. + +Had not the wind been at their backs, whistling from the north, the +passage of Pogey Notch would have proved a savage encounter. The +stunted growth offered no wind-break. The great defile roared like a +chimney-draught. As the summer winds had howled up the Notch, lashing +the leafy branches of the birches and beeches, so now the winter winds +howled down, harpers that struck dismal notes from the bare trees. The +snow drove horizontally in stinging clouds. The drifting snow even made +the sun look wan. The quest for track, trail, or clew in that storm +aftermath was waste of time. But the old man kept steadily on, peering +to right and left, searching with his eyes nook and cross-defile, until +at the southern mouth of the Notch they came to Durfy's hovel. + +Christopher took refuge there, leaning against the log walls, and mused +for a time without speaking. Then he bent his shrewd glance on Wade +from under puckered lids. + +"There's no telling what a lunatic will do next, is there?" he blurted, +abruptly. + +Wade, failing to understand, stared at his questioner. + +"I was thinkin' about that as we came past that place where 'Ladder' +Lane trussed up John Barrett and left him, time of the big fire," the +old man went on. "Comin' down the Notch sort of brought the thing up in +my mind. It's quite a grudge that Lane has got against John Barrett and +all that belongs to him." + +Wade was well enough versed in Christopher Straight's subtle fashion of +expressing his suspicions to understand him now. + +"By ----, Straight, I believe you've hit it!" he panted. + +"I've been patchin' a few things together in my head," said the old man, +modestly, "as a feller has to do when dealin' with woods matters. I've +told you that queer things have happened in the woods. When a number of +things happen you can fit 'em together, sometimes. Now, there wasn't +anything queer at Britt's camps to fit into the rest. I came right on +'em sudden, and there wasn't a ripple anywhere. I didn't go into the +details, Mr. Wade, in tellin' you why I knew Miss Barrett wasn't there. +It would have been wastin' time. But now take the queer things! Out goes +Abe Skeet into the storm! Who would be mousin' around outside at that +time of night except a lunatic--such as 'Ladder' Lane has turned into +since the big fire? You saw on Jerusalem how Lane could boss Abe--he +jumped when Lane pulled the string. + +"And it was Lane that called him out of our camp," the old man went on. +"No one else could do it--except that old Skeet grandmother. Lane has +been in these woods ever since he abandoned the Jerusalem fire station. +He's no ordinary lunatic. He's cunnin'. He's only livin' now to nuss the +grudge. Now see here!" Christopher held up his fingers, and bent them +down one by one to mark his points. "He has ha'nted camps in this +section to locate Abe Skeet. Knowed Abe Skeet could probably tell where +Kate Arden had gone, Abe havin' been left to guard her. Called Abe out +to go with him to get that girl back--maybe havin' heard that John +Barrett got out of these woods scot-free and had dumped the girl off +somewhere else. Lane is lunatic enough to think he needs the girl to +carry out his plan of revenge. And he does, if he means to take her +outside and show her to the world as John Barrett's abandoned daughter, +as it's plain his scheme is. Lane and Abe started down towards Castonia. +Heard tote team, and hid side of road (would naturally hide). Saw girl +that looked like Kate Arden (even dressed in her clothes, I believe you +told me?). Followed the team, and when she covered herself in the +blanket, as though to make herself into a package ready for 'em, they +grabbed her off the team before she had time to squawk. Had her ready +muzzled and gagged, as you might say! Mr. Wade, as I told you, I've been +patchin' things in my mind. I ain't a dime-novel detective nor anything +of the sort, but I do know something about the woods and who are in 'em +and what they'll be likely to do, and I can't see anything far-fetched +in the way I've figgered this." + +While his fears had been so hideously vague Wade had stumbled on behind +his guide without hope, and with his thoughts whirling in his head as +wildly as the snow-squalls whirled in Pogey. Now, with definite point on +which to hang his bitter fears, he was roused into a fury of activity. + +"We'll after them, Christopher!" he shouted. "They've got her! It's just +as you've figured it. They've got her! She will die of fright, man! I +don't dare to think of it!" He was rushing away. Christopher called to +him. + +"Just which way was you thinkin' of goin'?" he asked, with mild sarcasm. +"I can put queer things together in my mind so's to make 'em fit pretty +well," went on the old man, "but jest which way to go chasin' a lunatic +and a fool in these big woods ain't marked down on this snow plain +enough so I can see it." + +Wade, the cord of the moose-sled in his trembling hands, turned and +stared dismally at Straight. The old man slowly came away from the +hovel, his nose in the air, as though he were sniffing for inspiration. + +"The nearest place," he said, thinking his thoughts aloud, "would be to +the fire station up there." He pointed his mittened hand towards the +craggy sides of Jerusalem. "They may have started hot-foot for the +settlement. Perhaps 'Ladder' Lane would have done that if 'twas Kate +Arden he'd got. But seein' as it's John Barrett's own daughter--" He +paused and rubbed his mitten over his face. "Knowin' what we do of the +general disposition of old Lane, it's more reasonable to think that he +ain't quite so anxious to deliver that particular package outside, +seein' that he can twist John Barrett's heart out of him by keepin' her +hid in these woods." + +The young man had no words. His face pictured his fears. + +"It's only guesswork at best, Mr. Wade," said Christopher. "It's tough +to think of climbin' to the top of Jerusalem on this day, but it seems +to me it's up to us as men." They looked at each other a moment, and the +look was both agreement and pledge. They began the ascent, quartering +the snowy slope. The dogged persistence of the veteran woodsman animated +the old man; love and desperation spurred the younger. The climb from +bench to bench among the trees was an heroic struggle. The passage +across the bare poll of the mountain in the teeth of the bitter blast +was torture indescribable. And they staggered to the fire station only +to find its open doors drifted with snow, its two rooms empty and +echoing. + +"I was in hopes--in hopes!" sighed the old man, stroking the frozen +sweat from his cheeks. "But I ain't agoin' to give up hopes here, +sonny." Even Wade's despair felt the soothing encouragement in the old +man's tone. + +"We've got to fetch Barnum Withee's camp on 'Lazy Tom' before we sleep," +said the guide. "There'll be something to eat there. There may be news. +We've got to do it!" And they plodded on wearily over the ledges and +down the west descent. + +They made the last two miles by the light of their lantern, dragging +their snow-shoes, one over the other, with the listlessness of +exhaustion. The cook of Withee's camp stared at them when they stumbled +in at the door of his little domain, their snow-shoes clattering on the +floor. He was a sociable cook, and he remarked, cheerily, "Well, gents, +I'm glad to see that you seem to be lookin' for a hotel instead of a +horsepittle." + +Not understanding him, they bent to untie the latchets of their shoes +without reply. + +"T'other one is in the horsepittle," said the cook, jerking his thumb +over his shoulder in the direction of his bunk in the lean-to. "He was +brought in. I've been lookin' for something of the sort ever since he +skipped from the Jerusalem station. Lunatics ain't fit to fool 'round in +the woods," he rambled on. + +"Who've you got in there?" demanded Christopher, snapping up from his +fumbling at the rawhide strings. + +"Old 'Ladder' Lane," replied the cook, calmly. "Murphy's down-toter +brought him here just before dark. He's pretty bad. Froze up +considerable. Toter heard him hootin' out in the swirl of snow on the +Dickery pond and toled him ashore by hootin' back at him. No business +tryin' to cross a pond on a day like this! 'Tain't safe for a young man +with all his wits, let alone an old man who has beat himself all out +slam-bangin' round these woods this winter. + +"Yes, he's pretty bad. Done what I could for him, me and cookee, by +rubbin' on snow and ladlin' ginger-tea into him, but when it come to +supper-time them nail-kags of mine had to be 'tended to, and here's +bread to mix for to-morrow mornin'. We don't advertise a horsepittle, +gents, but you wait a minute and I'll scratch _you_ up somethin' for +supper. The horsepittle will have to run itself for a little while." + +Wade and the old man stared at each other stupidly while the cook +bustled about his task. For the moment their thoughts were too busy for +words. Even Christopher's whitening face showed the fear that had come +upon him. + +"Guess old Lane was comin' out to get a letter onto the tote team," +gossiped the cook. "I was lookin' through his coat after I got it off +and found that one up there." + +He nodded at a grimy epistle stuck in a crevice of the log, and went +down into a barrel after doughnuts which he piled on a tin plate. + +Noiselessly Christopher strode to the log and took down the letter and +stared at the superscription, and without a word displayed the writing +to Wade. It was addressed to John Barrett at his city address. + +The cook was busy at the table. + +"By Cephas, this is _our_ business!" muttered the old man. And, turning +his back on the cook, he ripped open the envelope. On a wrinkled leaf +torn from an account-book was pencilled this message: + +"_You stole my wife. I've got your daughter. Now, damn you, crawl and +beg!_" + +"Look here, cook," called Straight, sharply, "there's bad business mixed +up with Lane. Don't ask me no questions." He flapped the open letter +into the astonished face of the man to check his words. "We've got to +speak to Lane, and speak mighty quick." + +"He was in a sog when I put him to bed," said the cook. "Didn't know +what, who, or where. They say lunatics want to be woke up careful. You +let me go." He took a doughnut from the plate and started for the +lean-to, grinning back over his shoulder. "He may be ready to set up, +take notice, and brace himself with a doughnut." + +The two men waited, eager, silent, hoping, fearing--each framing such +appeal as might touch the heart of this revengeful maniac. + +They heard the cook utter a snort of surprise; then they saw the flame +of a match shielded by his palm. A moment later he came out and stood +looking at them with a singularly sheepish expression. + +"Gents," he blurted, "I'll be cussed if the joke ain't on me this time! +I went in there to give the horsepittle patient a fresh-laid doughnut to +revive his droopin' heart, and--" + +"Is that man gone?" bawled Christopher, reaching for his snow-shoes. + +"Yes," said the cook, grimly; "but you can't chase him on snow--not +where he's gone. He's deader'n the door-knob on a hearse-house door." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE HOSTAGE OF THE GREAT WHITE SILENCE + + "Round the bellowin' falls of Abol we lugged him through the + brush, + And Death had marked his forehead: 'To a Woman. Kindly + Rush!'" + + +When Christopher and Wade started up and hurried into the lean-to, the +cook of the "Lazy Tom" camp went ahead carrying a lamp to light the +place whose rude interior had so suddenly been made mystic by death. + +"'Yes, s'r,' says I to him," he repeated, with queer, bewildered, +hysterical sort of chuckle. "I says to him, jolly as a chipmunk in a +beech-nut tree, I says, 'Set up and have a doughnut all fresh laid,' and +I'll be bunga-nucked if he wa'n't dead! And that's a joke on me, all +right!" + +He held the lamp over the features of old "Ladder" Lane, and Dwight Wade +and Christopher Straight bent and peered. + +"Look; if he ain't grinnin'!" whispered the cook, huskily. For one +horrid moment it seemed to Wade that the fixed grimace of the death-mask +expressed hideous mirth. The scrawl that the young man still clutched +in his fist held the words that the dead lips seemed to be mouthing: +"You stole my wife. I've got your daughter. Now, damn you, crawl and +beg!" And at the thought of Elva Barrett, hidden, lost--worse than +lost--somewhere in that great silence about them, Wade's agony and anger +found vent in the oath that he groaned above the dead man, who seemed to +lie there and mock him. + +But Christopher Straight gently laid his seamed hand on the shaggy +fringe of the gray poll. + +"It was a hot fire that burned in there, poor old fellow," he murmured. +"And those that knew you can't be sorry that it's gone out." + +He pressed his hand up under the hanging jaw, and smoothed down the +half-opened eyelids. And when he stepped back, after his sad and kindly +offices, the old man's face was composed; it was the worn, wasted face +of an old man who had suffered much; grief, hardship, hunger, and all +human misery were writ large there in pitiful characters, in hollow +temple, sunken cheeks, pinched nostrils, and lips drawn as one draws +them after a bitter sob. And over its misery, after a long look of +honest grief, the old woodsman drew up the edge of the bunk's worn gray +blanket, muttering as soothingly as though he were comforting a sick +man: "Take your rest, old fellow! There's a long night ahead of you." + +With bowed head Wade led the way into the main camp. He stumbled along +blindly, for the sudden tears were hot in his eyes. He regretted that +instant of anger as a profanation that even his harrowing fears for Elva +Barrett could not excuse. For Linus Lane, lying there dead, he +reflected, was the spoil of the lust of Elva Barrett's father, as his +peace of mind and his sanity had been playthings of John Barrett's +contemptuous indifference; and who was he, Dwight Wade, that he should +sit in judgment, even though his heart were bursting with the agony of +his fears? + +"In the woods a tree falls the way of the axe-scarf, Mr. Wade," said old +Christopher, patting his shoulder. "John Barrett felled that one in +there, and he and his got in the way of it. Don't blame the tree, but +the man that chopped it." + +"Where is she, Christopher? What has he done with her?" demanded the +young man, hoarsely. He did not look up. His eyes were full. He was +trying to unfold the scrap of paper, but his fingers trembled so +violently that he tore it. + +They had not marked the hasty exit of the cook. But his return broke in +upon the long hush that had fallen between Wade and the woodsman. He was +bringing Barnum Withee, operator on "Lazy Tom," and his chopping-boss, +and the men of "Lazy Tom" came streaming behind, moved by curiosity. + +"And I says to him--and these gents here will tell you the same--I says, +'Set up and have a fresh-laid doughnut!'" babbled the cook, retailing +his worn story over and over. + +"I didn't know you were here," said the hospitable head of the camp, +"till cook passed it to me along with the other news, that poor Lane had +parted his snub-line. I looked him over when he was brought in, but I +didn't see any chance for him." And after inviting them to eat and make +"their bigness" in the office camp, he went on into the lean-to. + +"Put on your cap, boy!" said old Christopher, touching Wade's elbow. The +grumble of many voices, the crowd slowly jostling into the camp, the +half-jocose comments on "Ladder" Lane disturbed and distressed +Christopher, and he realized that the young man was suffering acutely +from a bitter cause. "Come out with me for a little while." + +The wind had lulled. The heavens were clear. The Milky Way glowed with +dazzling sheen above the forest's nicking, where the main road led. +Wherever the eye found interstice between the fronds of spruce and +hemlock the stars spangled the frosty blue. There was a hush so profound +that a listener heard the pulsing of his blood. And yet there was +something over all that was not silence, nor yet a sound, but a +rhythmical, slow respiration, as though the world breathed and one heard +it, and, hearing it, could believe that nature was mortal--friend or +kin. + +Christopher walked to the first turn of the logging-road, and the young +man followed him; and when the trees had shut from sight the snow-heaped +roofs and the yellow lights and all sign of human neighbors, Christopher +stopped, leaned against a tree, and gazed up at the sparkling heavens. + +"I reckoned your feelings was gettin' away from you a bit, Mr. Wade," +said the old man, quietly, "and I thought we'd step out for a while +where we can sort of get a grip on somethin' stationary, as you might +say. In time of deep trouble, when they happen to be round, a chap feels +inclined to grab holt of poor human critters, but they ain't much of a +prop to hang to. Not when there's the big woods!" + +"The big woods have got her, Christopher," choked the young man, +despairingly. "And I'm afraid!" + +"The big woods look savagest to you when you're peekin' into them from a +camp window in the night," declared the old man. "But when you're right +in 'em, like we are now, they ain't anything but friendly. Look around +you! Listen! There's nothing to be afraid of. Let the big woods talk to +you a moment, my boy. Forget there are men for just a little while. I've +let the woods talk to me in some of the sore times in my life, and +they've always comforted me when I really set myself to listen." + +"My God, I can only hear the words that are written on this scrap of +paper!" cried Wade. He shook "Ladder" Lane's crumpled letter before the +woodsman's face, and Christopher quietly reached for it, took it, and +tore it up. + +"When a paper talks louder than the good old woods talk, it's time to +get rid of it," he remarked, and tossed the bits over the snow. + +"I ain't goin' to tell you not to worry," Christopher went on, after a +time. "I'm no fool, and you're no fool. It's a hard proposition, Mr. +Wade. A lunatic whirling in a snow-cloud like a leaf, round and round, +and then driftin' out, and no way in the world of tellin' where he came +from! And there's some one--off that way he came from--that you want +terrible bad! Yet even that lunatic's tracks have been patted smooth by +the wind. It's no time to talk to human critters, Mr. Wade. It would be +'Run this way and run that!' Let the woods talk to you! They've been +wrastlin' the big winds all day. They'll probably have to wrastle 'em +again to-morrow. And they'll be ready for the fight. Hear 'em sleep? The +same for you and for me, Mr. Wade. Go in and sleep, and be ready for +what comes to-morrow." + +He walked ahead, leading the way back to camp, and Wade followed, every +aching muscle crying for rest, though his heart, aching more poignantly, +called on him to plunge into the forest in search of the helpless +hostage the woods were hiding. + +It is not in the nature of woodsmen to pry into another's reason for +this or that. Barnum Withee gave Christopher Straight a chance to tell +why he and his employer were so far off the Enchanted operation; but +when Christopher Straight smoked on without explaining, Barnum Withee +smoked on without asking questions. In one of the dim bunks of the +wangan Wade breathed stertorously, drugged with nature's opiate of utter +weariness. And after listening a moment with an air of relief, +Christopher broke upon Withee's meditations. + +"Was you tellin' me where Lane has been makin' his headquarters since he +skipped the fire station?" he inquired, innocently. + +"I was thinkin' about him, too," returned Withee, promptly. +"Headquarters! Does an Injun devil with a steel trap on his tail have +headquarters while he's runnin' and yowlin'? Whether he's been in the +air or in a hole since he went out of his head, time of the fire, I +don't know. Eye ain't been laid on him till he come out of that +snow-squall, walkin' like an icicle and hootin' like a barn owl." + +"Heard of any goods bein' missed from any depot camps?" pursued the +woodsman, shrewdly. "That might tell where he's been hangin' out." + +"No," said the operator, suddenly brusque. Then he looked up from the +sliver that he had been whittling absent-mindedly, and fixed keen eye on +Straight. "Say, look here, Chris, if you and your young friend are over +here huntin' for Lane, or for any documents or papers or evidence to +make more trouble for Honorable John Barrett, I've got to tell you that +you can't ring me in. Honorable Barrett and me has fixed!" + +"I reckoned you would," said Christopher. "Stumpage kings usually get +their own way." + +"Well, it's different in this case," declared the operator, +triumphantly, "and when I've been used square I cal'late to use the +other fellow square, and that's why I'm tellin' you, so that you won't +make any mistakes about how I feel towards Mr. Barrett. I don't approve +of any move to hector him about that Lane matter. He says to me at +Castonia--" + +"When?" + +"No longer ago than yesterday. I came through from down-river with two +new teamsters and a saw-filer, and hearin' Mr. Barrett was able to set +up and talk a little business for the first time, I stepped into Rod +Ide's house, and we fixed. He throwed off all claims for extry stumpage +and damages on Square-hole. And when a man gives me more than I expect, +that fixes me with him." + +"Ought to, for sartin," agreed Christopher. "Change of heart in him, or +because you knowed about the Lane case?" The tone was rather satirical, +and Withee flushed under his tan. + +"You don't think I went to a sick man's bedside and blackmailed him, do +you, like some--" + +"Friend Barn," broke in the old woodsman, quietly, "don't slip out any +slur that you'll wish you hadn't." + +"Well," growled the operator, "it may be that 'Stumpage John' Barrett +ain't always set a model for a Sunday-school, but if I had as pretty a +daughter as that one that was settin' in his room with him, and as nice +a girl as she seems to be, though of course she didn't stoop to talk to +a grizzly looservee like me, I'd hate to have an old dead and decayed +scandal dug up in these woods, and dragged out and dumped over my +front-yard fence in the city!" + +And Christopher remembered what he had remarked on one occasion to +Dwight Wade, when they had seen the waif of the Skeet tribe on Misery +Gore, and now he half chuckled as he squinted at Withee and muttered in +his beard, "Lots of folks don't recognize white birch when it's polished +and set up in a parlor." + +"What say?" demanded the operator, suspiciously. + +"I'm so sleepy I'm dreamin' out loud," explained Christopher, blandly, +"and I'm goin' to turn in." And he sighed to himself as he rolled in +upon the fir boughs and pulled the spread about his ears. "There's some +feller said that good counsel cometh in the morning. Mebbe so--mebbe so! +But it will have to be me and the boy here for the job, because old +Dan'l Webster, with all his flow of language, couldn't convince Barn +Withee now that it's John Barrett's daughter that is lost in the woods. +I know now why something told me to go slow on the hue and cry." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +IN THE MATTER OF JOHN BARRETT'S DAUGHTER + + "Warmth and comfort? Ay, all these + Under the arch of the great spruce trees; + But our cup o' content holds naught but foam!-- + No woman's hand to make a home." + + +Wade did not wake when the cook's wailing hoot called the camp in the +morning. It was black darkness still. He slept through all the clatter +of tin dishes, the jangle of bind-chains as the sleds started, the yowl +of runners on the dry snow, and the creaking of departing footsteps. The +sun quivered in his eyes when he rolled in the bunk at touch of old +Christopher's hand on his shoulder. + +"Oh, but you needed it all, my boy!" protested the woodsman, checking +the young man's peevish regrets that he had slept so long. "Come to +breakfast." + +Barnum Withee had eaten with his men, but he was waiting in solitary +state in the cook camp, smoking his pipe, and moodily rapping the horn +handle of a case-knife on the table. + +"Law says," he remarked to his guests, continuing aloud his meditations, +"that employer shall send out remains of them that die in camp. But I +ain't employer in this case, and I'm short of hosses, anyway, and the +tote team only came in yesterday, and ain't due to go out again for a +week." + +"It makes a lot of trouble, old critters dyin' that ain't got friends," +observed Christopher, spooning out beans. + +"You may mean that sarcastic, but it's the truth just the same," +retorted Withee. "He ain't northin' to me. What I was thinkin' of, if +you were bound out--" + +"Ain't goin' that way," said the woodsman, giving Wade a significant +glance. + +"Well, from what things you let drop last night," grumbled the operator, +"I figured that you were more or less interested in old Lane, and +perhaps were lookin' him up for somethin', and if so you ought to be +willin' to help get him out and buried in a cemetery. He ain't a friend +of mine and never was, and it ain't square to have the whole thing +dumped onto me." + +Wade, his heart made tender by his own grief, gazed towards the lonesome +isolation of the lean-to with moistening eyes. Alone, living; alone, +dead! But Christopher put into cold phrase the burning fact they had to +face. + +"We've got business of our own for to-day, Barnum, and mighty important +business, too." + +And pulling their caps about their ears, and tugging their moose-sled, +they set away, up the tote road to the north, leaving Barnum Withee not +wholly easy in his mind regarding their motives. + +It was from the snow-swirl on Dickery Pond that "Ladder" Lane had +emerged, even then death-struck. It was straight to Dickery that +Christopher led the way, and two hours' steady trudging brought them +there. + +"So it was from off there he came," muttered the woodsman, blinking into +the glare of the snow crystals on its broad surface. "But where, in +God's name, he came from it ain't in me to say!" + +It was one of those still winter days when even the wind seems to be +bound by the hard frost. The sliding snow-shoes shrieked as shrilly with +the sun high as they had in the early morning. There was no hint of +melting. + +"There are five old operations around this pond, and a set of empty +camps on each one," said Straight. "I've been to each one of them in +times past, and I know where the main roads come out to the landings. +But it's slow business, takin' 'em one after the other. Perhaps we ought +to go back and beat the truth of this thing into Barnum Withee's thick +head, and start the hue and cry--but--but--I'd hoped to do it some +better way." + +"Straight," panted the young man, "it's getting to be perfectly +damnable, this suspense! Let's do something, if it's only to run up the +middle of that pond and shout!" + +"Well," snorted the old guide, irrelevantly, "I've been lookin' for +old Red Fins to come along for two days now, and I ain't disappointed. +If there's trouble anywhere in this section, old Eli has got a smeller +that leads him to it." Wade whirled from his despairing survey of the +pond and saw Prophet Eli. He was coming down the tote road on his +"ding-swingle," urging on his little white stallion with loose, clapping +reins. Huge mittens of vivid red encased his hands, and his conical, +knitted cap was red, and was pulled down over his ears like a +candle-snuffer. + +Wade felt a queer little thrill of superstition as he looked at him, and +then sneered at himself as one who was allowing good wit to be infected +by the idle follies of the woods. And yet there was something eerie in +the way this bizarre old wanderer turned up now, as he had appeared +twice before at times that meant so much, at moments so crucial, in +Wade's woods life. + +Prophet Eli swung up to them, halted, and peered at them curiously out +of his little eyes. + +"Green, blue, and yellow," he blurted, patting his much-variegated wool +jacket. "And red! Red mittens good for the arterial blood. Why don't you +wear them?" + +"Say, look here, prophet--" began Christopher, blandly respectful. + +"Green is nature's color. Calms the nerves. Blue, electricity for the +system--got a stripe of it all up and down my backbone. Good for you. +Ought to wear it. Yellow, kidneys and cathartic. You'd rather be sick, +eh? Be sick. Clek-clek!" He clucked his tongue and clapped his reins. +But Christopher grabbed at the stallion's headstall and checked him. + +"I believe the idea is all c'rect, prophet, and I'll use it, and I'll +try to make it right with you. But just now I'm wantin' a little +information, and I'll make it right with you for that, too. You're +sky-hootin' round these woods all the time. Now, where's Lane been +makin' his headquarters?--you ought to know!" + +"What do you want him for? State-prison or insane asylum?" snapped the +prophet. + +"I don't want him," said the woodsman, solemnly. "He's spoken for, Eli. +He's down there, dead, in Barn Withee's camps." + +The little gray eyes blinked quickly. What that emotion was, one could +not guess. For the voice of the prophet did not waver in its brisk +staccato. "Dead, eh? Hate-bug crawled into him and did it. I told him to +stay in the woods and the hate-bugs couldn't get him. Told him twenty +years ago. But he wasn't careful. Let the hate-bug get him at last. +Dead, eh? I'll go and get him." + +"Get him?" echoed Christopher. + +"Promised to bury him," explained the prophet, promptly. "Wanted to be +buried off alone, just as he lived. Rocks for a pillow. Expects to rest +easy. I helped him dig his grave and lay out the rocks a long time ago. +And I'll tell no one the place--no, sir." + +"Well, that lets Withee out of trouble and expense," said the woodsman, +"and you'll get a good reception down that way. Now, prophet, where's he +been hiding? You know, probably. It's important, I tell you." The old +man had struck his stallion, and the animal was trying to get away. But +Christopher held on grimly. + +"You call yourself a good woodsman?" squealed the indignant Eli. + +"I reckon I'll average well." + +"If any one wants anything of 'Ladder' Lane now," cried the prophet, "it +must be for something that he's left behind him! Left behind him!" he +repeated. He stood up on the "ding-swingle," and ran his keen gaze about +the ridges that circled the lake. + +"Was it something that could build a fire?" he demanded, sharply. +Christopher, in no mood for confidences, stared at the peppery old man. +"You call yourself a good woodsman, and don't know what it means to see +that!" He pointed his whip at a thin trail of white smoke that mounted, +as tenuous almost as a thread, above the distant shore of Dickery Pond. +"No lumbermen operating there for three years, and you see that, and are +lookin' for something, and don't go and find out! And you call yourself +a woodsman!" Without further word or look he lashed the stallion; the +animal broke away with a squeal, and Prophet Eli's "ding-swingle" +disappeared down the tote road in a swirl of snow. + +"No, I ain't a woodsman!" snorted Christopher. He started away across +the pond at a pace that left Wade breath only for effort and not for +questions. "I ain't a woodsman. Standin' here and not seein' that smoke! +Not seein' it, and guessin' what it must mean! I ain't a woodsman!" Over +and over he muttered his bitter complaints at himself in disjointed +sentences. "I'm gettin' old. I must be blind. A lunatic can tell me my +business." His anger rowelled him on, and when he reached the opposite +shore of the lake he was obliged to wait for the younger man to come +floundering and panting up to him. + +"I don't feel just like talkin' now, Mr. Wade," he said, gruffly. "I +don't feel as though I knew enough to talk to any one over ten years +old." He strode on, tugging the sled. + +An abandoned main logging-road, well grown to leafless moose-wood and +witch-hobble, led them up from the lake. Christopher did not have to +search the skies for the smoke. His first sight of it had betrayed the +camp's location. He knew the roads that led to it. And in the end they +came upon it, though it seemed to Wade that the road had set itself to +twist eternally through copses and up and down the hemlock benches. + +The camps were cheerless, the doors of main camp, cook camp, and hovel +were open, and the snow had drifted in. But from the battered funnel of +the office camp came that trail of smoke, reaching straight up. Crowding +close to the funnel for warmth, and nestled in the space that the heat +had made in the snow, crouched a creature that Wade recognized as +"Ladder" Lane's tame bobcat. This, then, was "Ladder" Lane's retreat. +Inside there--the young man's knees trembled, and there was a gripping +at his throat, dry and aching from his frantic pursuit of his grim +guide. + +"Mr. Wade," said Christopher, halting, "I reckon she's there, and that +she's all right. I'll let you go ahead. She knows you. I don't need to +advise you to go careful." + +And Wade went, tottering across the unmarked expanse of snow, the pure +carpet nature had laid between him and the altar of his love--an altar +within log walls, an altar whose fires were tended by--He pushed open +the door! Foolish Abe was kneeling by the hearth of the rusty Franklin +stove. And even as he had been toiling on Enchanted, so here he was +whittling, whittling unceasingly, piling the heaps of shavings upon the +fire--unconscious signaller of the hiding-place of Elva Barrett. + +For a moment Wade stood holding by the sides of the door, staring into +the gloom of the camp, for his eyes were as yet blinded by the glare of +out-doors. + +And then he saw her. Her white face was peering out of the dimness of a +bunk. Plainly she had withdrawn herself there like some cowering +creature, awaiting a fate she could not understand or anticipate. One +could see that those eyes, wide-set and full of horror, had been +strained on that uncouth, hairy creature at the hearth during long and +dreadful suspense. + +Through all that desperate search, in hunger, weariness, and despair, he +had forgotten John Barrett, contemptuous millionaire; he remembered that +John Barrett's daughter Elva had confessed once that she returned his +love, and he had thought that when they met again, this time outside the +trammels of town and in the saner atmosphere of the big woods, she might +understand him better--understand him well enough to know that John +Barrett lied when he made honest love contemptible by his sneers about +"fortune-seekers." They were all very chaotic, his thoughts, to be sure, +but he had believed that the ground on which they would meet would be +that common level of honest, human hearts, where they could stand, eye +to eye, hands clasping hands, and love frankly answering love. + +But love that casts all to the winds, love that forgets tact, prudence, +delicacy, love without premeditation or after-thought, is not the love +that is ingrained in New England character. She gazed at him at first, +not comprehending--her fears still blinding her--and he paused to murmur +words of pity and reassurance. + +And then Yankee prudence, given its opportunity to whisper, told him +that to act the precipitate lover now would be to take advantage of her +weakness, her helplessness, her gratitude. If he took this first chance +to woo her, demanding, as it were, that she disobey her father's +commands, and putting a price on the service that he was rendering her, +might her good sense not suggest that, after all, he was a sneak rather +than a man? + +They call the New England character of the old bed-rock sort hard and +selfish. It is rather acute sensitiveness, timorous even to concealment. + +And in the end Dwight Wade, faltering banal words of pity for her +plight, went to her outwardly calm. And she, her soul still too full of +the horror of her experience to let her heart speak what it felt, took +his hands and came out upon the rough floor. + +The shaggy giant squatting by the hearth bent meek and humid eyes on the +young man. "Me do it--me do it as you told!" he protested. He patted his +hand on the shavings. He was referring to the task to which Wade had set +him on Enchanted. To the girl it sounded like the confession of an +understanding between this unspeakable creature and her rescuer. Wade, +eager only to soothe, protested guilelessly, when she shrank back, that +the man was not the ogre he seemed, but a harmless, simple fellow whom +he had been sheltering and feeding at his own camp. And then, by the way +she stared at him, he realized the chance for a horrible suspicion. + +"I don't understand," she moaned. "It's like a dreadful dream. There was +an old man who sat here and muttered and raved about my father! And +this--this"--she faltered, shrinking farther from Abe--"who brought me +here in his arms! And you say he came from your camp! Oh, these +woods--these terrible woods! Take me away from them! I am afraid!" + +She dropped the shrouding blanket from her shoulders, and he saw her now +in the garb of the waif of the Skeets. And under his scrutiny he saw +color in her cheeks for the first time, replacing the pallor of +distress. + +"I had thought there was excuse for this folly--reason for it. I thought +it was my duty to--" She faltered, then set her teeth upon her lower +lip, and turned away from him. "Oh, take me away from these woods! +Something--I do not know--something has bewitched me--made me forget +myself--sent me on a fool's errand! The woods--I'm afraid of them, Mr. +Wade!" + +It came to him with a pang that the woods were not offering to his love +the common ground of sincerity that he had dreamed of. Elva Barrett, +ashamed of her weakness, would not remember generously an attempt to +take advantage of her distress when every bulwark of reserve lay in +ruins about her, and he felt afraid of his burning desire to take her in +his arms and comfort her. Thus self-convinced, he failed to realise that +the girl with her bitter words was merely striving, blindly and +innocently, to be convinced--and convinced from his own mouth--that she +had been wise in her folly, devoted in her mission, and honest in the +love that had found such heroic expression in her adventuring. + +She looked at him, and saw in his face only the struggle of doubt and +hopelessness and fear, and misinterpreted. "You know what the woods have +done to make shame and wretchedness, Mr. Wade!" she cried, a flash of +her old spirit coming into her eyes. "Men who have been honest with the +world outside and honest with themselves have forgotten all honesty +behind the screen of these savage woods." + +Her cheeks were burning now. She drew the blanket over herself, hugging +its edges close in front, covering the attire she wore as though it were +nakedness. And in that bitter moment it was nakedness--for the garb she +had borrowed from Kate Arden symbolized for her and for him a father's +guilty secret laid bare. + +"Take me away from the woods!" she gasped. + +The look that passed between them was speech unutterable. He had no +words for her then. In silence he made the long sledge ready for her. +Christopher helped him, silent with the reticence of the woodsman. If he +had even glanced at Elva Barrett no bystander could have detected that +glance. There were thick camp spreads on the sled. Christopher's +thoughtfulness had provided them, and when they had been wrapped about +her the two men set away, each with hand on the sled-rope. + +"We'll go the short way back to Enchanted," said the old guide, +answering Wade's glance. "Back across Dickery, up the tote road, and +follow the Cameron and Telos roads. It will dodge all camps, and keep us +away from foolish questions. I've got enough in my pack from Withee's +camp for us to eat." + +Abe floundered behind, keeping them in sight with the pertinacity of a +dog, and he ate the bread that Straight threw to him with a dog's mute +gratitude. + +Only the desperation of men utterly resolved could have accomplished the +journey they set before them. The girl rode, a silent, shrouded figure; +the men strode ahead, silent; Abe struggled on behind, ploughing the +snow with dragging feet. When the night fell they went on by the +lantern's light. + +It was long after midnight when they came at last to the Enchanted +camps, walking like automatons and almost senseless with fatigue. Wade +lifted the girl from the sled when they halted in front of the wangan. +Her stiffened and cramped limbs would not move of themselves. And when +she was on her feet, and staggered, he kept his arm about her, gently +and unobtrusively. + +"This is the best home I have to offer you," he said. "Nina Ide is here +waiting. We will wake her, and she will do for you what should be done. +Oh, that sounds cold and formal, I know--but the poor girl waiting in +there will put into words all the joy I feel but can't speak. My head is +pretty light, and my heels heavy, and I don't seem to be thinking very +clearly, Miss Barrett," he murmured, his voice weak with pathetic +weariness. + +She was struggling with sobs, striving to speak; but he hastened on, as +though at last his full heart found words. + +"This is--this--I hardly know how to say this. But I understand why you +came." He felt her tremble. "But, my God, Elva, I don't dare to believe +that you thought so ill of me that you were coming to plead with me for +your father's sake." It was not resentment, it was passionate grief that +burst from him, and she put her hands about his arm. + +"I told you it was folly that sent me," she sobbed. "But he had been +unjust to you, Dwight. Oh, it was folly that sent me, but I wanted to +know if you--if you--" She was silent and trembled, and when she did not +speak he clasped her close, trembling as pitifully as she. + +"Oh, if you only dared say that you wanted to know whether I still loved +you!" he breathed, in a broken whisper. "And I would say--" + +It seemed that his heart came into his throat, for her fingers pressed +more closely upon his arm. In that instant he could not speak. He +pretended to look for Christopher, but that wise woodsman's tact did not +fail. He saw Christopher disappearing into the gloom of the dingle, and +heard the careful lisp of the wooden latch in its socket and the +cautious creak of the closing door. There was only the hush of the still +night about him, and when he turned again the starlight was shining on +Elva Barrett's upraised face. And her dark eyes were imperiously +demanding that he finish his sentence--so imperiously that his tongue +burst all the shackles of his sensitive prudence. + +"And I would say that my love is so far above the mean things of the +world that they can't make it waver, and it is so unselfish that I can +love you the more be-because you love your father and obey him. And all +I ask is that you don't misunderstand me." There was deep meaning in his +tones. + +"Oh Dwight, my boy," she moaned, "it's an awful thing for a daughter to +disobey her father. But it's more awful when she finds that he--" But he +put his fingers tenderly on her lips, and when she kissed them, tears +coursing on her cheeks, he gathered her close, and his lips did the +service that his fingers retired from in tremulous haste. + +"My little girl," he said, softly, "keep that story off your lips. It is +too hard, too bitter. I may have said cruel things to your father. He +may tell you they were cruel. But remember that she had your eyes and +your face--that poor girl I found in the woods. And before God, if not +before men, she is your sister. And so I gave of my heart and my +strength to help her. And I know your heart so well, Elva, that I leave +it all to you. It's better to be ashamed than to be unjust." + +"She _is_ my sister," she answered, simply, but with earnestness there +was no mistaking. "And you may leave it all in my hands." + +Then fearfully, anxiously, grief and shame at shattered faith in a +father showing in the face she lifted to him, she asked: + +"It was he, was it not--the old man that took me away and sat before me +and cursed me? He was her--her husband?" + +His look replied to her. Then he said, soothingly: "It was not in our +hands, dear. But that which is in our hands let us do as best we can, +and so"--he kissed her, this time not as the lover, but as the faithful, +earnest, consoling friend--"and so--to sleep! The morning's almost here, +and it will bring a brighter day." + +She drew his head down and pressed her lips to his forehead. + +"True knighthood has come again," she murmured. "And my knight has taken +me from the enchanted forest, and has shown me his heart--and the last +was best." + +Still clasping her, he shook the door and called to the girl within; and +when she came, crying eager questions, he put Elva Barrett into her arms +and left them together. + +As he walked away from the shadow of the camp into the shimmer of the +starlight he felt the wine of love coursing his veins. His muscles +ached, weariness clogged his heels, but his eyes were wide-propped and +his ears hummed as with a sound of distant music. His thoughts seemed +too sacred to be taken just then into the company of other men. He +dreaded to go inside out of the radiance of the night. He turned from +the door of the main camp when his hand was fumbling for the latch, +pulled his cap over his ears, and began a slow patrol on the glistening +stretch of road before the wangan. The crisp snow sang like fairy bells +under his feet. Orion dipped to the west, and the morning stars paled +slowly as the flush crept up from the east. And still he walked and +dreamed and gazed over the sombre obstacles near at hand in his life +into the radiance of promise, even as he looked over the black spruces +into the faint roses of the dawn. + +Tommy Eye, teamster, stumbling towards the hovel for the early +foddering, came upon him, and stopped and stared in utter amazement. He +came close to make sure that the eerie light of the morning was not +playing him false. Wade's cheerful greeting seemed to perplex him. + +"It isn't a ha'nt, Tommy," said the young man, smiling on him. + +"I have said all along as how it had got you," declared Tommy, with +ingenuous disappointment, looking Wade up and down for marks of +conflict. "But it may be that the ha'nts want only woods folk and are +afraid of book-learnin'! So you're back, and the girl ain't, nor +Christopher, nor--" + +"We're all back," explained Wade, calculating on Tommy's news-mongering +ability to relieve him of the need of circulating information. "We found +the--the one that was lost. That was all! She was lost, and we found +her, and we even found Foolish Abe, and he came back with us last night. +There was no mystery, Tommy. They were simply lost, and we found them. +They're asleep." + +Tommy fingered the wrinkled skin of his neck and stared dubiously at +Wade. + +"You'll see Abe whittling shavings just the same as usual this morning," +added the young man. "By-the-way, you and he may be interested to know +that Lane, the old fire warden, died at Withee's camp the other day." +For reasons of his own Wade did not care to make either the news of the +rescue or its place too definite. + +"Then," declared Tommy, hanging grimly to the last prop left in his +theory, "that accounts for it. 'Ladder' Lane is dead, and has turned +into a ha'nt. It was him that called out the fool. And he'll be making +more trouble yet. You'd better send for Prophet Eli, Mr. Wade, because +the prophet is a charmer-man and can take care of old Lane." + +"He has taken care of him already," said the young man. "We saw Prophet +Eli, and he started right away to attend to the case." And Tommy's face +displayed such eminent satisfaction that Wade had not the heart to +destroy the man's belief that his book-learned boss had adopted a part +of the woods creed of the supernatural. It was a day on which he felt +very gentle towards the dreams of other persons, for his own beautiful +dream shed its radiance on all men and all of life. + +That she was there, safe, brought by amazing circumstances into the +depths of the woods, and under his protection, seemed like a vision of +the night as he walked back and forth and watched the morning grow. + +When the sun was high and the men had been gone for hours, he put his +dream to the test. He rapped gently on the wangan door, and her voice, a +very real and loving voice, answered. With his own hands he brought food +for the two girls and spread a cedar-splint table, and served them as +they ate, and ministered in little ways, through the hours of the day, +and watched Elva's pallor and weariness give way before tenderness and +love. With the poor shifts of a lumber-camp he, not intending it, taught +her heart the lesson that love is independent of its housing. + +He rode with them on the tote team to the northern jaws of Pogey Notch +the next day, and sent them on, nestled in a bower of blankets. There +had been no further word between them of the great thing that had come +into their lives. They tacitly and joyously accepted it all, and left +the solution of its problem to saner and happier days. But the face that +she turned back to him as she rode away under the frowning rocks was a +glowing promise of all he asked of life. And as he plodded back up the +trail he went to his toil with tingling muscles and a triumphant soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE CHEESE RIND THAT NEEDED SHARP TEETH + + "So, mister, please excuse us, but you open up that sluice, + Or Gawd have mercy on ye, if I turn these gents here loose!" + + --The Rapogenus Ball. + + +Rodburd Ide, fresh-arrived from Castonia in hot haste, saw well to it +that he and Dwight Wade were safe from interruption in the wangan camp. +He even drove a sliver from the wood-box over the latch of the door. +Wade, summoned down from the chopping by a breathless cookee to meet his +partner, gazed upon these nervous, eager precautions in some alarm. + +"Now, brace your feet, and get hold of something and hang on hard," +advised the "Mayor of Castonia." + +"Good Heavens, Mr. Ide, what has happened to her?" gasped the young man. +His trembling hands clutched at the edge of the splint table, hallowed +by Elva Barrett's smiles of love across it. + +"Her!" snorted the little man, in indignant astonishment. "You don't +think I've whaled up here hell-ti-larrup on a jumper to sit down and +talk about women, do you?" + +"But Miss Barrett--" gulped Wade. + +"Miss Barrett--" Ide checked himself, discreet even in his impatience. +"Miss Barrett is all right, and the girl is all right, and--say, +look-a-here, my boy, don't you think of a girl, don't you look at a +girl, don't you even dream of a girl, for the next two months!" He drove +his hard little fist upon the sacred table. + +He leaned forward, and his very beard bristled at the young man. "Forget +your mother, forget your grandmother, forget that there is anything to +you except grit and muscle. For if ever two men had a man's work cut out +for 'em we're the ones. If ever two men found themselves on the outside +of a ripe cheese and needed teeth to gnaw in, we're the men. Money! I +can't see anything but dollar bills hangin' from those spruce-trees. But +you've got to put on brad-boots and climb to get them. You've got to +walk over men to get 'em!" He was striding about the little room. "I +reckon I seem a little excited," he added, with a catch in his voice. +"But by the priest that hammered the tail for the golden calf, I've got +reasons to be excited. I've smelt it comin' for two years, son! I 'ain't +said anything. I didn't say anything to you when I took you into +partnership; I didn't dare to. But I smelt it all the time. I 'ain't +watched the comin's and goin's of certain men at Castonia for nothin'! +Let 'em bring guns and fishin'-poles! They can't fool me. I smelt it +comin'. And now, by ----, it's come!" Again he banged his fist on the +table and glared down on his partner. + +The partner stared back at him with so much dismay and reproachful +inquiry that Ide blew off his superfluous excitement in one vigorous +"Poof!" and sat down. + +"The sum and substance of it is, those old Hullin' Machine falls ain't +goin' to bellow away all them thousands of hoss-power in empty noise any +longer. But they've made a noise big enough to reach the crowd that's +organized to fight the paper trust. See now?" + +Wade's eyes gleamed in swift comprehension. + +"The independents are goin' to develop that power. They're goin' to +build the biggest paper-mill in the world there. They're goin' to extend +the railroad up to Castonia. They're goin' to do it all on an old +charter that every one had forgotten except the lobby clique that put it +through and has been holdin' it for speculation. And why I know it all +and no one else knows it on the outside yet, my boy, is because they've +had to come to _me_! They've _had_ to come to _me_!" + +And he promptly answered the eager though mute inquiry in the young +man's eyes. + +"Every dollar that I could save, rake, and borrow for years I've been +putting into shore rights and timber. What timber country I couldn't buy +I've leased stumpage on. I've smelt it all comin'. And now they've had +to come to me, Wade. They've bonded the shore rights for a purchase, and +it's all settled." + +"With all my heart I'm glad for you, Mr. Ide!" cried the young man, with +a sincerity that put a quiver into his voice. And both hands seized the +hands of the magnate of Castonia in a grip that brought gratified tears +to the other's eyes. + +"I know it has always been a surprise to you, Wade, that I was so ready +and anxious to give you a lay on the timber end," the little man went +on. "But I knew it was time to operate on these cuttin's this season. +There are things you can't hire done with plain money. I wanted courage, +grit, and honesty. Most of all, I needed absolute loyalty. There's been +too much buyin' up of men in these woods. The old gang is a hard one to +fight. I reckon I've got you with me." + +"Heart, soul, and body, now as from the first, Mr. Ide." + +"And the lay I've given you is the best investment I could have made," +declared the partner. "I want you to feel that it is straight business. +It was no gift. You're earnin' it. But the big bunch is ahead of you, +boy!" His tone was serious. + +"Your make will come out of the timber lay. I've said I smelt this +comin'. If it hadn't come this year we should have sent our logs 'way +down-river along with the rest, and done the best we could to steal a +profit after Pulaski Britt and his gang had charged us all the tolls and +fees they could think of, and made us accept their selling-scale. But +now! But now!" His voice became tense, and he leaned forward and patted +the young man's arm. "The Great Independent--and that's the name of the +new organization, and it's a name that's goin' to roar like the Hullin' +Machine in the ears of the trust--wants every log we can hand over to +'em this season. What they don't use in construction work and in their +new saw-mill they'll pile to grind into pulp next year. + +"I've got their contract, Wade. Every log to be scaled for 'em on +our landings! And I reckon that will be the first time a square +selling-scale was ever made on this river. No Pirate Britt and his +gang of boom-scale thieves for us this time! Every honest dollar we +make will come to us. And there'll be a lot of 'em, son." + +Wade, even though Rodburd Ide had so brusquely commanded him to forget +his love, felt that love stirring in the thrill that animated him now. +Did not success mean Elva Barrett? Did not fair return from honest toil +mean that he could face John Barrett, bulwarked by his millions? Forget +his love? Ide couldn't understand. His love was a spur whose every +thrust was delicious pain. But now that the great secret was out, +Rodburd Ide's tide of enthusiasm seemed to be in somewhat ominous and +depressing reflux. + +He spread upon the splint table a lumberman's map, and his hands +trembled as he did so. + +"You've done as I told you, and only yarded at the ends of the +twitch-roads, and haven't hauled to landings?" he inquired. + +Wade nodded. + +"I was waitin', I was waitin'," explained the other, nervously scrubbing +his hand over the map. "If nothin' had happened at Umcolcus Hullin' +Machine this year we'd have landed our logs on Enchanted Stream and run +'em down into Jerusalem, and taken our chances along with Britt's logs. +'Twas a hard outlook, Wade. The last time I dared to operate here I did +that, and you'll find jill-pokes with my mark stranded all along the +stream. The old pirate took my drive because he claimed control of the +dams, charged me full fees, and left behind twenty-five per cent. of my +logs, claiming that the water dropped on him. But I noticed he got all +of his out. It's what we're up against, my son. If I'd tried to fight +him with an independent drive he would have had me hornswoggled all the +way to the down-river sortin'-boom, and then would have had my heart out +on the scale. It's what we're up against!" he repeated, despondently. +"There isn't any law to it. It's the hard fist that makes the right up +this way. I'm tellin' you this so you can understand. You've got to +understand, my boy. I wish it was different. I wish it was all square. I +hate to do dirty things myself. I hate to ask others to do 'em." + +It was not entirely a gaze of reassurance that the young man turned on +him. Ide avoided it, and with stubby finger began to mark the map to +illustrate his words. Wade leaned close. He realized that a new and +grave aspect of the situation was to be revealed to him. Getting the +timber down off the stumps had absorbed his attention utterly. As to +getting it to market, he had been awaiting the word of his partner and +mentor. + +"Here it is!" growled Ide. "It's a picture of it! And if it ain't a good +picture of the damnable reason why no one else but Pulaski Britt and his +crowd can make a dollar on these waters, then I'm no judge. Here we are +on Enchanted--mountain here and pond here! The dam at our pond will give +us water enough to get us down to Britt's dam on Enchanted dead-water. +Then we've got to deal with Britt. Law may be with us, but in dealin' +with Britt up here in this section law is like a woodpecker tryin' to +pull the teeth out of a cross-cut saw. Britt has got the foot of +Enchanted Stream, and he controls Jerusalem Stream that gobbles +Enchanted. That's our outlook to the east of us. Now to the west, and +only two miles from our operation here, is Blunder Stream. Runs into +Umcolcus main river, you see, like Jerusalem Stream away over here to +the east. Straightaway run. Fed by Blunder Lake, up here ten miles to +the north--that is, it ought to be fed! And it ought to be the stream to +take our logs. But more than thirty years ago, without law or justice, +Britt closed in the rightful western outlet of Blunder Lake with a big +dam, and dug a canal from the eastern end to Jerusalem Stream, and every +spring since then he's used the water for the Jerusalem drive. A half a +dozen small operators have been to the legislature from time to time to +get rights. Did they get 'em? Why, they didn't even get a decent look! +Old King Spruce doesn't go to law or the legislature askin' for things. +King Spruce takes them. Then the laborin' oar is with the chaps who try +to take 'em away. Even if a thing is unrighteous, Wade, it doesn't stir +much of a scandal in politics to keep it just as it is. It's what we're +up against, I say!" + +He held down the map, his finger on Enchanted, as though typifying the +power that held them and their interests helpless. Wade gazed upon the +finger-end. He felt it pressing upon his hopes. His brows wrinkled, but +he said nothing. + +"The Great Independents will make that name heard by the next +legislature, I've no doubt," Ide went on, "but that's a year from now. +In the mean time we've got five millions or so of timber here at this +end, and its market and the money waitin' at the other end, which is +Castonia. And there's another thing, Wade, and it's the biggest of all: +we've got to hold our timber above the Hullin' Machine. Nature has fixed +the place for us. There's the dead-water behind Hay Island. With Britt +drivin' our logs, he'd ram 'em hell-whoopin' through the Hullin' +Machine, and find an excuse for it, and then buy 'em in down-river at +his own price. If we undertook to follow him down Enchanted and +Jerusalem, he wouldn't leave enough water to drown a cat in. I'm taking +the time to show you this thing as it stands, son. You've got to see all +sides of it." + +Ide's little gray eyes were gleaming at him, and the expression of his +face showed that he was narrowing possibilities to one prospect, and was +wondering whether his partner had grasped the full import of that +prospect. + +"I think I see all sides of it, Mr. Ide," he said, at last. Then he put +his fingers on the thin thread that marked the course of Blunder Stream. +"And the only side that doesn't hurt the eyes seems to be this side, +west of Enchanted Mountain." + +"Well, even then it depends on what kind of specs you've got on," +returned Ide. + +"Suppose we forget that dam at the west end of Blunder and Britt's canal +to the east for just a moment, Mr. Ide. If we got our logs down the side +of Enchanted Mountain and landed them on Blunder Stream we'd stand our +only show of heading Britt's drive at the Hulling Machine, wouldn't we?" + +"You was reckonin' on havin' water under 'em, wasn't you?" inquired the +little man, with good-natured satire. "Wasn't plannin' on havin' 'em +walk like a caterpillar, nor fly down, nor anything of the sort?" + +"I was reckoning on water," returned the young man, flushing slightly, +"but I was not discussing Blunder Lake. I asked you to leave that out +for a moment." + +"Leave out Blunder Lake, and you haven't got a brook that will float +chips," said Ide. Then he jumped up and shot his fists above his head. +"But with a drivin'-pitch in Blunder Stream we can have the head of our +drive down into Umcolcus River and to Castonia logan while Pulaski Britt +is still swearin' and warpin' with head-works across Jerusalem +dead-water. We'd have our head there before he had a log down the last +five miles of lower Jerusalem into the main river. We'll have our sheer +booms set and our sortin'-gap, and we'll hold our logs and let his +through--his and the corporation drive that he's master of, and has been +master of for thirty years. He's been the river tyrant, Wade; but with +our head first at Castonia, and our booms set, and we willin' to sort +free of expense to them followin', I'd like to see the man that would +dare to interfere with our common river rights. The old Umcolcus was +rollin' its waters for the use of the tax-payin', law-abidin' citizens +of this State before old Pulaski Britt and his log-drivin' association +gang of pirates was ever heard of. They've usurped, Wade! They've +usurped until they've made possession seem like ownership. I've picked +you as a man that can handle the men that's under him, and isn't afraid +of Pulaski Britt. And it's got to be a case of reach and take what +belongs to you. If they've got any law with 'em in this thing, it's law +they've stolen like they've stolen the timber lands." + +"I've never intended to break law in my dealings with men," said Wade, +with a cadence of mournfulness in his tones. "Law up in the big woods +doesn't seem to be quite as clear-cut as it is in men's relations +outside. But can there be honest law, Mr. Ide, that will allow men like +Pulaski Britt to step in and deprive a man of rightful profits earned +by his own hard labor--to deprive him of--" He was thinking then, +despite of himself, of Elva Barrett, but choked and added, wistfully, +"When it's only an even show a man asks, a fair chance to travel his own +course, it seems hard that there are men who go out of their path to +trip him." It was not lament. He had the air of one who displayed his +convictions to have them indorsed. + +"It's Britt's way," retorted the other, curtly. "He's made money by +doin' it, and expects to make a lot more by bossin' the river." + +"I want to see Mr. Britt," said Wade, quietly. + +"See Britt! You don't think for a minute you're goin' to induce him to +take our drive or do the square thing on the water question, do you?" + +"But I want to see him for a reason of my own, Mr. Ide. I'm frank to say +I don't expect any justice from Britt, after my experience with him; but +there is such a thing as justification for myself. I see you don't +understand." He noted the little man's wrinkling brows. "I don't know +that I'm exactly sure of my own mind. But I can't seem to bring myself +to fight this thing according to the code of the woods. I'm going into +it with every ounce of strength and hope that's in me, and there's just +one preliminary that I want for my peace of soul. I want to see Pulaski +Britt." + +"If I was gettin' ready to fight the devil," remonstrated Ide, "I reckon +I'd keep away from his brimstone-pot. He's at his Jerusalem camp," he +added, grudgingly. "He went through two days ago." + +"Then that's where I'll go to find him," said Wade, decisively. + +Rodburd Ide fingered his nose and gazed on his partner with frank +scepticism. "Whatever you want with Britt, you're wastin' your time +on him"--his tone was sullen--"and the wind-up will be another +peckin'-match with that long-legged rooster, MacLeod. I say, save +time and strength for our own business, Wade." + +"And I say I've got business with Pulaski Britt, and propose to go to +him like a man," declared Wade. "You and I can't afford to have any +misunderstanding about this, Mr. Ide. You have said you picked me to +handle this end. I've got to handle it in my own way, so far as dealings +with men go. I'll take your advice--I'll _ask_ your advice on details of +the work, because I don't know. As to my business with Mr. Britt, there +is no doubt in my mind. I want you to go with me." + +And in the end Mr. Ide went, nipping his thin lips, not wholly convinced +as to the logic of the step, but with his opinion of Dwight Wade's +courage and self-reliance decidedly heightened, and he reflected with +comfort that those were the qualities he had sought in his partnership. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +SHARPENING TEETH ON PULASKI BRITT'S WHETSTONE + + "The people in the city felt the shock of it that day. + And they said, in solemn gloom, + 'The drive is in the boom, + And O'Connor's drawn his wages; clear the track and give + him room.'" + + +For a long time they rode side by side on the jumper without a word. Mr. +Ide decided that his reticent companion was pondering a plan for the +approaching interview, and was careful not to interrupt the train of +thought. He was infinitely disappointed and not a little vexed when Wade +turned to him at last and inquired, with plain effort to make his voice +calm, whether John Barrett had recovered sufficiently to go home. + +"He? He went two weeks ago--he and his girl," snapped the little man, +impatiently. + +After a moment he began to dig at the buttons of his fur coat, and +dipped his hand into his breast-pocket. He brought out a letter. + +"Here's a line Barrett's girl left to be sent in to you the first +chance." He met the young man's reproachful gaze boldly. "When a man's +got real business to attend to," he snorted, "he ain't to blame if he +disremembers tugaluggin' a love-letter." He gave the missive into Wade's +hands, and went on, discontentedly: "What kind of a crazy-headed +performance was it those girls was up to when they came up into these +woods? I've had too much on my mind to try to get it out of my girl, and +probably I couldn't, anyway, if she took a notion not to tell me. She +has her own way about everything, just as her mother did before her," he +grumbled. + +"I have no possible right to discuss Miss Nina Ide's movements, even +with her father. Miss Barrett's affairs are wholly her own. May I read +my letter?" + +"May you read it?" blurted Ide, missing the delicacy of this +conventional request. "What in tophet do you think I've got to do with +your readin' your own letters?" And he subsided into offended silence, +seeking to express in this way his general dissatisfaction with events +as they were disposing themselves. + +Though the cold wind stung bitterly, Wade held the open letter in his +bare hands, for he longed for the touch of the paper where her hand had +rested. + + "MY DEAR DWIGHT,--We are going home. The darkness has not lifted + from us. For my light and my comfort I look into the north, where I + know your love is shining. My sister was sitting by my father's + side when I returned, and he was awake from his long dream and knew + her, but he had not spoken the truth to her, and if she knows she + has not told. And the cloud of it all is over us, and I cannot + speak to him or open my heart to him. He did not even ask where I + had been. It is as though he feared one word would dislodge the + avalanche under which he shrinks. And I have to write this of my + father! So we are going home. Love me. I need all your love. Take + all of mine in return." + +When Wade folded it he found Rodburd Ide studying his face with shrewd +side glance. + +"Have you any idea what 'Stumpage John' is goin' to do with the other +one--the left-hand one?" he inquired, blandly. "Favor each other +considerably, don't they? It told the story to me the first time I saw +them together, after the right-hand one got there to my place. You can't +hardly blame John for not takin' the left-hand one out with him, same as +my girl sort of expected he would, same as his own girl did, too, I +reckon." + +"Did he say anything to--" stammered Wade, and hesitated. + +"Nothin' to me," returned the magnate of Castonia, briskly. "Didn't have +to. Knowed I knew. Day he left he tramped up and down the river-bank for +more'n two hours, and then come to me with his face about the color of +the Hullin' Machine froth and asked me to call the girl Kate into the +back office of my store. I wasn't tryin' to listen or overhear, you +understand, but I heard him stutter somethin' about takin' her out of +the woods and puttin' her in school, and she braced back and put her +hands on her hips and broke in and told him to go to hell." + +"What?" shouted Wade, in utter astonishment. + +"Oh, not in them words," corrected Ide. "But that's what it come to so +far as meanin' went. And then she sort of spit at him, and walked out +and back to my house." + +He clapped the reins smartly on the flank of the lagging horse, as +though this sort of conversation wasted time, and added: "She's still at +my house, and the girl says she's goin' to stay there--so I guess that +settles it. Now let's get down to some business that amounts to +somethin'! What are you goin' to say to Pulaski Britt?" + +But if Dwight Wade knew, he did not say. He sat bowed forward, hands +between his knees, the letter between his palms, his jaw muscles ridged +under the tan of his cheeks, and so the long ride ended in silence. + +When they were once in the Jerusalem cutting it was not necessary to +search long for the Honorable Pulaski Britt, ex-State senator. They +heard him bellowing hoarsely, and a moment later were looking down on +him from the top of a ramdown. A pair of horses were floundering in the +deep snow, one of them "cast" and tangled in the harness. The teamster +stood at one side holding the reins helplessly. The snow was spotted +with blood. + +"You've let that horse calk himself, you beef-brained son of a +bladder-fish!" roared Britt. "You ain't fit to drive a rockin'-horse +with wooden webbin's!" He dove upon the struggling animal, and, hooking +his great fists about the bit-rings, dragged the horse to his feet. +"Stripped to the fetlocks!" mourned the owner. He surveyed the bleeding +leg and whirled on the teamster. "That's the second pair you've put out +of business for me in a week. Me furnishing hundred-and-fifty-dollar +horses for you to paint the snow with!" He ploughed across to where the +man stood holding the reins, and struck him full in the face, and the +fellow went down like a log, blood flying from his face. "Mix some of +your five-cent blood with blood that's worth something!" he yelped. "If +there's got to be rainbow-snow up this way, I know how to furnish it +cheaper." + +"That's a nice, interestin' gent down there for you to tackle just now +on your business proposition," observed Ide, sourly. "Now, suppose you +use common-sense, and turn around and go back to Enchanted!" + +But the Honorable Pulaski suddenly heard the jangle of their +jumper-bell, and stared up at them. + +"Gettin' lessons on how to run a crew, Ide?" he asked. And seeing that +the teamster was up and fumbling blindly at the tangled harness, he +advanced up the slope. "I 'ain't ever forgiven you for takin' Tommy Eye +away from me. That man's a _teamster_! It was a nasty trick, and perhaps +your young whelp of a partner there has found out enough about woods +law by this time to understand it." + +"Mr. Britt--" began Wade. + +"I don't want to talk to you at all!" snapped the tyrant, flapping his +hand in protest. + +"Nor I to you!" retorted Wade, in sudden heat. "But as Mr. Ide's partner +I have taken charge of the woods end of our operation, and I've got +business to talk with you. We haven't begun to land our logs yet +because--" + +"It's a wonder to me that you've got any cut down, you dude!" snorted +Britt, contemptuously. + +"Because we haven't had an understanding about the drive," went on the +young man, trying to keep his temper. "Now, about logs coming down +Enchanted and into Jerusalem--" + +"You'll pay drivin' fees for every stick." + +"And you'll take our drive with yours?" + +"No, sir. I won't put the iron of a pick-pole into a log with your mark +on it!" declared Britt.[5] + +[Footnote 5: Lest the remarkable attitude of the Honorable Pulaski D. +Britt be considered an improbable resource of fiction, the author +hastens to state that the Maine legislature, in considering the repeal +of a log-driving charter, had exactly this situation submitted to it.] + +"Mr. Britt," said Wade, his voice trembling in the stress of his +emotions, "as an operator in this section, as a man who is asking you +straight business questions as courteously as I know how, I am entitled +to decent treatment, and it will be better for all of us if I get it." + +"Threats, hey?" demanded Britt, malignantly. + +"No threats, sir. If you won't take our drive for the usual fees and +guarantee its delivery, will you let us drive it independently?" + +"Not with my water--and you'll pay fees just the same!" + +"_Your_ water! Who made you the boss of God's rains and rivers? Have you +any charter, giving you the right to turn the State waters of Blunder +Lake from their natural outlet and keep everybody else from using them?" + +Britt clacked his finger in his hard palm and blurted contemptuous +"Phuh!" through his beard. + +"Show me any such charter, Mr. Britt, or tell me where to find the +record of it, and I'll accept the law." + +"Hell on your law!" cried the tyrant of the Umcolcus. + +"Aren't you willing to let the law decide it, Mr. Britt?" + +"Hell on your law!" + +Three times more did Wade, his face burning in his righteous anger, his +voice trembling with passion, ask the question. Three times did the +Honorable Pulaski Britt fling those four words of maddening insult back +at him. And Wade, his face going suddenly white, snatched the reins from +Ide's hands, struck the horse, whirled him into the trail, and drove +away madly. Down the aisles of the forest followed those four words as +long as Pulaski Britt felt that their iteration could reach the ears of +listeners. + +"So you finished your business with him, did you?" inquired Ide, at +last, allowing himself, as a true prophet, a bit of a sneer. + +"I got just what I went after," snarled the young man. "I got in four +words the fighting rules of these woods, explained by the head devil of +them all, and, by ----, if that's the only way for an honest man to save +his skin up here, they can have the fight on those lines! Take the +reins, Mr. Ide; I want to straighten this thing in my mind." + +Little passed between them on the return journey, but they talked far +into the night, leaning towards each other across the little splint +table in the office camp. + +The next morning they climbed the side of Enchanted, following the main +road that had been swamped to Enchanted Stream. On the upper slopes they +came upon the log-yards, and heaps of great, stripped spruces piled +ready for the sleds. Farther up the slopes they heard the monotonous +"whush-wish" of the cross-cut saws and the crackling crash of falling +trees. + +In the Maine woods it is not the practice to haul to landings until the +tree crop is practically all down and yarded on the main roads. This +practice in the case of the Enchanted operation that winter was +providential; for in the conference of the night before Rodburd Ide and +his partner had definitely abandoned Enchanted Stream. That decision +left them the alternative of Blunder Stream. It was the only plan that +fitted with Rodburd Ide's new hopes based on the log contract in his +breast-pocket. For months he had dimly foreseen this crisis without +clear conception as to how it was to be met. But the possibilities of +the gamble had fascinated him. + +In his calculations he had tried to keep prudence to the fore. But he +had been waiting so long that at last prudence became dizzy in the swirl +of possibilities. He had never intended to make Dwight Wade his mere +cat's-paw. But the vehement courage of that sturdy young man, as +displayed in the battle of Castonia, had touched something in Rodburd +Ide's soul. All through his quiet life he had seen might and mastery +make money out of the woods. And so at last he himself ventured, +trusting much to the might and mastery he found in this self-reliant +young gentleman whom Fate had flung into his life. Gasping at the +boldness of it, he was willing that the whole winter's cut of the +Enchanted operation should be landed upon Blunder Stream. That there was +a way to get their water he admitted to himself, but he did not dare to +think much upon the means. Dwight Wade, driven by fierce anger against +Pulaski Britt, who blocked his way to the girl whom his own hands could +win but for Britt, smote the splint table and declared that there should +be a spring flood in Blunder Stream. + +"And if you fear lawsuits, being a man of property, Mr. Ide, you should +not know what I intend to do. You may be held as a partner. Dissolve +that partnership. You may be held as an employer. Discharge me when this +log-cut is landed. Protect yourself. I have only my two hands for them +to attach." + +The little man blinked at him admiringly, and then patted his shoulder. + +"You needn't tell me what you intend to do. You are the one for this +end, and I can trust you. But when it comes to responsibility and the +law, Wade, if those thieves try it on, after all they've stolen, you'll +find Rod Ide right with you. You're my partner, and you'll stay my +partner," declared Ide, stoutly. + +He repeated it as they swung around the upper granite dome of Enchanted, +and looked down the western slope into Blunder valley. + +"There's the place for your main road, Wade," he said--"down that +shoulder there! Swamp a half-mile of the steep pitch and you'll come +into the Cameron road, and it will take you to the stream. You'll need +about fifteen hundred feet of snub-line for that sharp incline there, +and I'll have it up to you by the time you are ready for it. Put the +swale hay to the rest of the pitches. It will trig better than gravel. +Don't let 'em put a chain round a runner. You want to keep your road so +smooth that every load of logs will go down there like a boy down a barn +rollway. Sprinkle your levels and keep 'em glare ice. By ----, it's a +beauty of an outlook for a landing-job! Cut your high slopes this trip. +Keep your logs above the level of that shoulder, and every hoss team +will make a four-turn day of it. We'll save a dollar a thousand on the +landing-proposition alone, over and above the Enchanted road chance! And +up there--" He gazed to the north up the valley over the wooded ridges, +and then hushed his voice, as though there lay somewhere in that blue +distance a thing that he feared. + +"Up there is a lake of water, Mr. Ide, that God designed to flow down +this valley, and it's going to find its own channel again--somehow! I +hope that doesn't sound like cheap boasting. It's only my idea of the +right." + +He led the way back around the granite dome above the spruce benches, +and the old man followed in silence. + +Two hours later Rodburd Ide was off and away for Castonia, his +jumper-bell jangling its echoes among the trees. He had hope in his +heart and a letter in his pocket. The hope was his own. The letter was +addressed to John Barrett's daughter, and the superscription had brought +a little scowl to the brows of the magnate of Castonia. Somehow it +seemed like communication with the enemy. But Dwight Wade, writing it in +the stillness of the night, while the little man snored in his bunk, had +seemed in his own imaginings to be putting into that letter, as one lays +away for safe keeping in a casket, all that heart and soul held of love +and candor and tenderness. It was as though he intrusted those into her +hands to preserve for him against the day when he might take them back +into life and living once more. Just now they did not seem to belong to +this life on Enchanted; they did not harmonize with the bitter +conditions. He pressed down the envelope's seal with the fantastic +reflection that he was sending out of the conflict witnesses in whose +presence he might stand ashamed. + +Therefore, it was not treason that Rodburd Ide bore in the pocket of his +big fur coat. Dwight Wade had sent tenderer emotions to the rear. He +stood at the front, ready to meet iron with iron and fire with fire. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE DEVIL OF THE HEMPEN STRANDS + + "When the snub-line parts and the great load starts + There's nothing that men may do, + Except to cower with quivering hearts + While the wreck goes thundering through." + + --The Ballad of Tumbledick. + + +Days of winter snow and blow; days of sunshine, hard and cold as the +radiance from a diamond's facets; days of calm and days of tempest; days +when the snowflakes dropped as straight as plummets, and days when the +whirlwinds danced in crazy rigadoons down the valleys or spun like +dervishes on the mountain-tops! And all were days of honest, faithful +toil in the black growth of Enchanted, and the days brought the +dreamless sleep o' nights that labor won. + +In those long evenings hope lighted a taper that shone brightly beside +the lantern of the office camp in whose dull beams Dwight Wade wrote +long and earnest letters. But these were not to John Barrett's daughter; +the conditions of their waiting love had tacitly closed the mail between +them. + +Again Dwight Wade, in the honesty of his soul, had seen a light of hope +that contrasted cheerily with the red glare of might against might which +made his decency quail. He saw a chance to win as a man, not as a thug. + +The most brilliant young attorney of the newer generation in the State +had been Wade's college mate. To him Wade detailed in those long +letters the iniquitous conditions that fettered independent operators in +the north country, and gave the case into his enthusiastic keeping. It +meant digging into the black heart of the State's political corruption, +timber graft, and land steals. It was a task that the young attorney, +with earnest zeal and new ideals of civic honor, had long before entered +upon. He seized upon this store of new ammunition with delight, and Wade +rejoiced at the tenor of his replies. That the law and the right would +intervene in Blunder valley to preserve him from a conflict in which he +must use the shameful weapons selected by Britt for the duello was a +promise that he cherished. And thus heartened, he toiled more eagerly. + +It was well into February before they began to haul their logs to the +landing-place on Blunder Stream. But even with an estimated five +millions to dump upon the ice of Blunder, time was ample, for the +snub-line down the steep quarter-mile of Enchanted's shoulder made a +cut-off that doubled the efficiency of the teams. It was the crux of the +situation, that snubbing-pitch. With its desperate dangers, its +uncertainties, its celerity, it was ominous and it was fascinating. But +it was the big end of the great game. Dwight Wade made himself its +captain. Tommy Eye, master of horses, came into his own and was his +lieutenant. + +Those two trudged there together in the gray of the dawn; they trudged +back together in the chilled dusk, still trembling with the racking +strain of it all. + +Wade, cant-dog in hand, stood beside the snubbing-post and gave the word +for every load to start, and watched every inch of its progress with +tense muscles and pounding heart. Tommy Eye mounted the load and took +the reins from the deposed driver as each team came to the top of the +pitch; and the snorting, fearing horses seemed to know his master touch, +and in blind faith went into their collars and floundered down under +the fateful looming of the great load. Thus, every hour of the day, +Tommy Eye silently, boldly ventured his life in the interests of the man +who had once saved it, and Dwight Wade watched over his safety from the +top of the slope. No word passed between the two. But they understood. +There was no other man in the north country with the soothing voice, the +assuring touch on the reins, and the mystic power to inspire confidence +in dumb brutes--no other man that could bring the qualities that Tommy +Eye brought to his task, coupled with the blind courage to perform. The +horses turned their heads to make sure that he held the reins and was +adventuring with them. Then they went on. + +The snubbing-post was a huge beech, sawed to leave four feet of stump. +It had been adzed to the smoothness of an axe-handle. The three-inch +hawser clasped it with four turns, and two men, whose hands were +protected by huge leather mittens, kept the squalling coils loosened and +paid out the slack, when the cable was hooked to the load of logs on its +way down the slope in order to hold it back. And when the coils yanked +themselves loose and the rope ran too swiftly, even making the leather +mittens smoke, Wade, with his cant-dog, threw the hawser hard against +the stump and checked it. It was a trick that Tommy Eye taught him, and +it required muscle and snap. At the instant of peril he drove his +cant-dog's iron nose into the roots of the stump, surged back on his +lever, and pinched the rope between post and ash handle of the tool. +Friction checked and held the load, but it was muscle-stretching, +back-breaking labor. + +And all the time there was the rope to watch to make sure that no rock's +edge or sharp stick had severed a strand, for broken strands uncoil like +a spring under the mighty strain. There were the flipping bights of the +coiled hawser to guard against as the men paid it out. Men are caught +by those bights and ground to horrible death against the snubbing-post. + +In time that rope came to have sentiency in the eyes of Wade. Some days +it seemed to be possessed by the spirit of evil. It would not run +smoothly. It fed out by jerks, getting more and more of slack at each +jump. It began to sway and vibrate between post and load, a wider arc +with every jerk, a gigantic cello-string booming horrible music. It +snarled on the post; it growled grim and sinister warning along its +tense length. So terrible are these wordless threats that men have been +known to surrender in panic, flee from the snubbing-post, and let +destruction wreak its will. Hence the silent and understanding +partnership between Tommy Eye, shadowed by death on the load, and Dwight +Wade fiercely alert at the snubbing-post. + +There came a day when the spirit of evil had full sway. + +The weather was hard, with gray skies and a bone-searching chill. The +hawser, made smooth as glass by attrition, was steely and stiff with the +cold. It had new voices. Once it leaped so viciously at the legs of one +of the post-men that he gave a yell and ran. In the tumult of his +passion and fear Wade cursed the caitiff, his own legs in the swirl of +the bights, his cant-dog nipping the rope to the post and checking it +short. And far down the slope Tommy Eye, his teeth hard shut on his +tobacco, waited without turning his head, a mute picture of utter +confidence. + +It was while Wade held the line, waiting for the men to re-coil the +hawser into safe condition to run, that the Honorable Pulaski Britt +appeared. He came trotting his horses down the Enchanted main road and +jerked them to a halt at the top of the pitch. Two men were with him on +the jumper. Each wore the little blue badge of a game warden. + +"We are after a man named Thomas Eye, of your crew," said one of the +men, catching Wade's inquiring gaze. "We've traced that cow-moose +killing to him--the Cameron case." + +For an instant Wade's heart went sick, and then it went wild. Such an +impudent, barefaced plot to rob him of an invaluable man at this crisis +in his affairs seemed impossible to credit. It was vengefulness run mad, +gone puerile. + +"Mr. Britt has signed the complaint and has the witnesses," said the +warden. "We've got a warrant and we'll have to take the man." + +"And there he is on that load," said the Honorable Pulaski, pointing his +whip-butt. + +"Hold that line, men," commanded Wade, coming away from the post. "Tommy +Eye has not been out of my camp, wardens. He is absolutely indispensable +to me. He has killed no moose. But if it can be proven I'll pay his +fine." + +"It takes a trial to prove it," said the warden, dryly. "That's why +we're after him." + +"Britt, I didn't think you'd get down to this," stormed the young man. + +"I'm not a game warden," retorted the baron of the Umcolcus. "You're +dealin' with them, not me." + +He sat, slicing his whip-lash into the snow, and watched the young man's +bitter anger with huge enjoyment. And when Wade seemed unable to frame a +suitable retort he went on: "If you think I've got anything to do with +taking that crack teamster out of your crew, you'd better thank me. +Anything that interferes with your landing your logs in a blind pocket +like Blunder Stream is a godsend to you and Rod Ide." His temper began +to flame. "What do you think you're going to do there? Do you calculate +to steal any of my water? Do you think that whipper-snapper whelp of a +lawyer that you've set yappin' at our heels is goin' to spin a thread +for you against the men that have run this section for thirty years? If +you've only got the law bug in your head, give it up. But if you have +the least sneakin' idea of troublin' that dam up there"--he shook his +fist into the north--"coil your snub-line and save time and money; for, +by the eternal Jehovah, blood will run in that valley before water +does!" + +In the pause that followed one of the wardens asked, "Do you propose to +resist the arrest of Eye, Mr. Wade?" + +The question was an incautious one. In a flash the young man saw that +this last sortie of the Honorable Pulaski was not so much an adventure +against Tommy Eye as against himself--with intent to embroil him with +the officers of the law. That might mean more trouble than he dared +reflect upon. He had a very definite apprehension of what the legal +machinery of Britt and his associates might do to him if he afforded any +pretence for their procedure. + +One of the wardens dropped off the jumper at a word from Britt, and the +timber baron urged his horses down the slope, the other officer +accompanying him. + +Tommy Eye sat on his load, still with gaze patiently to the front, +waiting in serene confidence the convenience of his employer. That back +turned to Wade was the back of the humble confider, the back of the +martyr. In his sudden trepidation at thought of his own imperilled +interests, were he himself enmeshed in the law, Wade had thought to +leave Tommy's possible fate alone. But now, almost without reflection or +plan, he ran down the hill. The martyr's serene obliviousness struck a +pang to his heart. In those days of strife and toil and understanding +Tommy Eye had grown dear to him. Britt, turning, yelled to the officer +at the top of the slope, "Give that snub-line a half-hitch and hold that +load!" + +A bit of a rock shelf broadened the road where the logs were halted. +Britt lashed his horses around in front of the load with apparent intent +to intimidate Tommy. The warden dropped off the jumper and shut off +retreat in the rear. And Wade, running swiftly, carrying his cant-dog, +came and leaped upon the load and stood above Tommy--his protecting +genius, but a genius who had no very clear idea of what he was about to +do. + +No one ever explained exactly how it happened! + +The warden, who was at the top of the pitch and who did it, gazed a +moment, saw what he had done, and fled with a howl of abject terror, +never to appear on Enchanted again. The men at the snub-post stated +afterwards that he came to them, hearing Pulaski Britt's orders, elbowed +them aside with an oath, and took the hawser. He probably undertook to +loosen the coils to make a half-hitch; but a game warden has no business +with a snub-line when the devil is in it. + +It gave one triumphant shriek at its release, and then--"Toom! Toom! +Toom!"--it began to sing its horrible bass note. It was slipping faster +and faster around the snubbing-post under the strain of Tommy Eye's +load, which it had been holding back. + +Tommy Eye knew without looking--knew without understanding. He +knew--that most terrible knowledge of all woods terrors--that he was +"sluiced." He screamed once--only once--and the horses came into their +collars. Their hot breath was on the back of Pulaski Britt's neck when +he started--started with a hoarse oath above which sang the shrill yelp +of his whip-lash, and behind him, on the icy slope, slid the great load +of logs now released from anchorage to the snubbing-post and guided only +by the nerve of Tommy Eye. + +"Jump, Mr. Wade! Jump!" gasped the teamster. But Wade drove the peak of +his cant-dog into a log and clung to the upright handle. He looked +back. The great hawser spun itself off the spindle of the post and +chased down the hill in spirals, utterly loose and free. + +It was no dare-devil spirit that held him on the load. His soul was sick +with horrible fear. It was something that was almost subconsciousness +that kept him there. Perhaps it was pity--pity for Tommy Eye, so brave a +martyr at his post of duty. In the flash of that instant when the great +load gathered speed he stiffened himself to leap, then he looked at +Tommy's patched coat and remembered his oft-repeated little boast: "I've +never left my hosses yet!" And so if Tommy could stay with his horses, +he, Dwight Wade, could stay with Tommy! There was a queer thrill in his +breast and the sting of sudden tears in his eyes as he decided. + +The first rush of the descent was along an incline, steep but even. +There were benches below--each shelf ten feet or so of jutting +level--that broke the descent. Wade saw the jumper of Pulaski Britt +strike the first bench. The old man went off the seat into the air, and +when he fell he dropped his reins, clutched the seat, and kneeled, +facing the pursuers, his face ghastly with terror. He crouched there, +not daring to turn. Even if he had held his reins they would have been +as useless in his hands as strips of fog. Ledges and trees hemmed either +side. There was only the narrow road for his flying horses, and they ran +straight on, needing neither whip nor admonitions. + +The groan of five thousand feet of timber chafing the bind-chains when +their great load struck the shelf was like the groan of an animal in +agony. The chains held. It was Tommy who had seen to every link and +every loop. Then, for the first time in his life, Wade heard the scream +of horses in mortal fear. The lurch of the forward sled lifted the pole, +and for one dreadful instant both animals kicked free and clear in air. + +Tommy Eye shot two words at them like bullets. "Steady, boys!" he +yelled. His head was hunched between his shoulders. His arms were +out-stretched and rigid. Tommy Eye, master of horses! It was his lift on +the bits at just the fraction of a second when they needed it that set +them on their feet when the pole dropped. And down the next descent they +swooped. + +From his height Wade looked straight into the eyes of Pulaski Britt. It +seemed that with every plunge of their hoofs Tommy Eye's horses would +smash that puffy face. The checks of the benches, when the huge load +struck and staggered from time to time, allowed Britt's lighter equipage +a little start. But the mighty projectile that drove on him down the +smooth slopes gained with every yard, for the thrusting pole swept the +horses off their feet in plunge after plunge. And then it was Tommy +Eye's desperate coolness that helped them to their infrequent footing. +All of the man's face that Wade could see was a ridged jaw muscle above +the faded collar of his coat. The peak of his cap hid all but that. + +There was a curve at the foot of the snub slope. The wall of trees that +closed the vista was disaster spelled by bolled trunk and sturdy limb. +There stood the nether millstone: the upper was rushing down, and the +grist would be flesh of horses and men. No man could see any other +alternative. That horses, shaken every now and then on the up-cocked +pole as helplessly as kittens, could bring that load around the curve +was not a hope; it could be nothing but a dream of desperation. + +As to what Tommy Eye dreamed or thought, his passenger had no hint. +There was only the patch of cheek showing under the tilted cap. But the +reins were just as tight, the out-stretched arms just as steady. Wade +crouched low, his eyes on that rigid jaw muscle. + +Suddenly, with a yell like the cry of something wild, Eye sprang to his +feet, bestriding the logs, bracing himself for some mighty effort. They +were at the Curve of Death! There came a surge on the tight reins, eight +hoofs dug the snow in one frantic thrust, and they went around--they +went around! With horses and driver straining to one side the great load +pitched, swerved, and, after one breathless instant, swept on in the +road around the curve. + +Twenty rods farther on they struck the hay, spread thickly for the +trig--the checking of the runners. And the sled-runners, biting +it, jerked and halted, the bind-chains creaked, the chafing logs +groaned--and they were stopped! The lathering horses stood with legs +wide spraddled, their heads lowered, their snorting noses puffing up +the snow. + +Tommy Eye dug the tobacco from his cheek and thoughtfully tossed it +away. Britt's team had disappeared, reins dragging, the horses running +madly, the whitened, puffy face flashing one last look as it winked out +of sight among the trees. + +"I've dreamed of such a thing as this," observed Tommy, at last, a +strange tremor in his tones. "I've dreamed of chasin' old P'laski Britt, +me settin' on five thousand feet of wild timber and lookin' down into +his face and seein' him a-wonderin' whether they'd let him into the +front door of hell or make him go around to the back. It's the first +time he was ever run good and plenty, and I done it--but," he sighed, +"it was damnation whilst it lasted!" + +He turned now and gazed long and wistfully at Wade. + +"Ye stuck by me, didn't ye, Mr. Wade?" he said, softly. "Stuck by me +jest like I was a friend, and not old, drunken Tommy Eye! I reckon we'll +shake on that!" And when they clasped hands he asked, with the wistful, +inexpressible pathos of his simple devotion to duty: "What was it all +about? I jest only know they sluiced me!" + +And Wade gasped an explanation, Tommy Eye staring at him with wrinkling +brows and squinting eyes. + +"Come to arrest me for northin' I hadn't done?" he shrilled. "Come to +take me off'n a job where I was needed, and where I was earnin' my +honest livin'?" + +"They had the warrant, and Britt swore out the lying complaint." + +"Mr. Wade," said Tommy, after a solemn pause, "I've done a lot of things +in this life to be ashamed of--but jest gittin' drunk, that's all. I +ain't never done a crime. But jest now, if it hadn't been for that +toss-up between supper in camp or hot broth in tophet to-night, I'd be +travellin' down-country, pulled away from you when you need me worst, +and all on account of P'laski Britt. If that's the chances an honest man +runs in this world, I'm an outlaw from now on!" + +Wade stared at him in amazement, for there was a queer significance in +Tommy's tone. + +"An outlaw!" repeated Tommy, slapping his breast. "Yes, s'r, I'm an +outlaw! An outlaw so fur as P'laski Britt is concerned. I've showed him +I can run him! Did you see him lookin' at me? He'll dream of me after +this when he has the nightmare." + +He took Wade by the arm. + +"I 'ain't been sayin' much, Mr. Wade, but I see how things are gettin' +ready to move in this valley. You ain't built for an outlaw. But you +need one in your business. I'm the one from now on." + +He pulled his thin hand out of his mitten and shook it towards the north +in the direction in which Blunder Lake lay. + +"You need an outlaw in your business, I say! I'm tough from now on. I'll +be so tough in April that you'll have to discharge me. There's no +knowin' what an outlaw will do, is there, Mr. Wade? I'd ruther go to +jail as an outlaw than as a drunk, like I've done every summer. They +look up to outlaws. They make drunks scrub the floors and empty the +slops." His voice trembled. "Oh, you needn't worry, Mr. Wade! I'll be +proud to be an outlaw. And I ain't northin' but old Tommy Eye, anyway." + +He slid down off the load and went between the horses' heads, and +fondled them and kissed them above their eyes. + +"Brace up, old fellers!" he said. "You won't have to pull no more +to-day. I reckon you've done your stunt!" + +"I--I don't understand this outlaw business, Tommy," stammered Wade, +looking down on him from the load. Tommy peered up, his head between the +shaggy manes of the horses. + +"Don't you try to, Mr. Wade!" he cried, earnestly. "There ain't no good +in tryin' to understand outlaws. They ain't no kind to hitch up to very +close. Don't you try to understand them!" And as he bent to unhook the +trace-chains he muttered to himself: "I ain't sure as I understand much +about 'em myself, but there's one outlawin' job that it's come to my +mind can be done without takin' private lessons off'n Jesse James, or +whoever is topnotcher in the line just now. In the mean time, let's see +that warden try to arrest me!" + +But as days went by it became apparent that the wardens and the +Honorable Pulaski D. Britt considered that they had precipitated an +affair on Enchanted whose possible consequences they did not care to +face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE "CANNED THUNDER" OF CASTONIA + + "A woodsman hates a coward as he hates diluted rye, + Stiff upper-lip for livin', stiff backbone when you die!" + + +When April came, and with caressing fingers began to stroke the +softening snow from the mountain flanks, she found full half a million +of the Enchanted cut still on the yards. + +"If it's to be a gamble, let's make it a good one," Rodburd Ide had +counselled his partner. "Pile on every stick that winter's back will +carry. Pile till it breaks!" + +Dwight Wade had a trustworthy "kitchen cabinet" of advisers in old +Christopher Straight, Tommy Eye, and the chopping-boss; and with them as +counsellors he ventured further than his own narrow experience would +have prompted. + +On nights when April slept and the trickling slopes were stiffened by +the cold, the crew of the Enchanted stole a march on spring. They awoke +at sundown with the owls. They ate breakfast in the gloom of early +evening. And, with the moon holding her lantern for them in the serene +skies, they rushed their logs into the waiting arms of Blunder valley. +That those arms would surrender the timber when the time was ripe seemed +more certain as the days went by. The word of their zealous young man of +law was encouraging. There had been pleas, representations, digging +over of old charters, hunt through dusty records, citation of +precedents, and some very direct talk regarding a thorough legislative +investigation of conditions in the north country to regulate the rights +of independent operators. + +It was admittedly too big a question to be hurried. Litigation fattens +by what it feeds on. Grown ponderous, it marches, slow and dignified, in +short stages between terms, and sits and rests and puffs at every +cross-road of argument, exception, appeal, and writ of error. Even that +exigency of five millions of timber waiting in Blunder valley could not +hasten the settlement of the young reformer's main contention or the big +question. But there are in this life some deeper sentiments than +enthusiasm in reform. The old college friendship between Dwight Wade, +famous centre of Burton's eleven, and the little quarter-back whom he +had shielded was one of those deeper sentiments. And now the lawyer, for +the sake of that friendship, was willing to buy Dwight Wade's success in +Blunder valley by honorable compromise on certain points where +compromise was honorable. + +With a man open to sane reason and moral decency a compromise might have +been effected. But after Pulaski D. Britt had craftily drawn out proffer +of a truce and proposition of a trade in one phase of the great question +of water-rights, he burst into a bellow of "blackmail" that echoed from +end to end of the State. The words bristled in the newspapers controlled +by the land barons and was rolled on the tongues of gossip. And as +humanity in general, selfish in its easy-going way and jealous of +resolute activity, likes to believe ill of reformers, men were readier +to believe Britt than to give a motive of honest friendship its due. The +jeers of the mob make what some people like to call "public opinion." +And sometimes when public opinion is loudly gabbling and can be +politely referred to in case of doubt, there can be found judges who +will listen with one ear to the voices of the street and with the other +to the specious representations of the man in power. + +So it came about that the judge presiding at the _nisi prius_ term in +the great county dominated by Pulaski D. Britt hearkened in chambers to +some very distressing details set before him by that gentleman and +certain other "employers of labor" and "developers of the great timber +interests." The judge pursed his lips and with his tongue clucked +horrified astonishment at stories of brutal assaults made "on members of +Pulaski Britt's crew" (this being Dwight Wade's desperate defence of +himself, as pictured by Britt), and other tales of lunatics provoked to +deeds of violence towards aforesaid "developers"; of incendiaries +spirited away from officers; of men stolen out of Britt's crew (poor +Tommy Eye's rescue from torture, as revamped for evidence by the +Honorable Pulaski D. Britt); and, lastly, of that desperate and +malignant attempt on the life of Honorable Pulaski D. Britt when a load +of timber was sluiced at him from the shoulder of Enchanted Mountain. + +Dwight Wade had not put into the hands of his lawyer the details of +those pitiful secrets of the woods; for not only his honor as a man set +a seal on his lips, but the sacredness of his love imposed higher +obligation still. So his lawyer listened, amazed, incredulous, but +incapable of refuting these tales in the categorical way that the law +demands. + +So much, then, for what "the gang" had done for Pulaski D. Britt and his +interests. Britt lacked neither words nor will to make the story a black +one. + +As to what they intended to do, the Honorable Pulaski declaimed, with +quivering finger rapping tattoo on the map of the Blunder valley, his +voice hoarse with emotion and the perspiration of apprehensiveness +streaking his puffy cheeks. + +And with past enormities standing undefended, what might not a judge +believe as to future atrocities when the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had +made the prediction, his chief exhibit of intended outlawry being five +millions of timber stranded in Blunder valley, and requiring "stolen +water" to move it? His last argument was an uncontradicted allegation of +attempted compromise, his last word "Blackmail!" shot at the face of the +opposing lawyer while his stubby finger vibrated under the lawyer's +nose. + +Therefore, at the end of it all, the clerk of courts wrote, the judge +signed, and five minutes after the ink was dry High Sheriff Bennett +Rodliff buttoned his coat over the folded paper and set his face towards +Enchanted. + +Forty-eight hours later, having travelled by train, by stage, by sledge, +and on foot, he stood before Dwight Wade in the midst of his crew at the +landings in Blunder valley, gave the paper to him, and watched his face +while he read it. Being a man who enjoyed his own authority and exulted +in the power of the law when it dealt crushing blows, the high sheriff +noted with satisfaction that the young man's face grew pale under its +tan. + +"Get the sense, do you?" inquired the sheriff, allowing himself the +relaxation of a chew of tobacco after his headlong rush into the north; +"it's an injunction. You can't meddle with Blunder Lake dam; can't h'ist +gates; can't take water!" He gazed about him at the heaped logs piled in +the bed of the stream. "Kind o' seems to me," he observed, with smug +rebuke, "that I'd have been slow in landin' logs down here till I knowed +what the law court was goin' to do about these water-rights. Law steps +slow and careful, and this whole thing has got to wait till it gets way +up to the full bench. Lettin' you have water here might be an admission +by the big crowd that they was all wrong on the chief proposition. The +big crowd ain't that kind!" + +Wade had read the injunction through to its bitter end. Every stilted +phrase, every estopping, restraining word of its redundancy, was like a +bar between him and his hopes. It was a temporary injunction. But the +date set for a hearing on the question of permanency was a date that +made those log-piles in Blunder valley loom in his dizzy gaze like +monuments to buried expectations. + +"Where was our lawyer when this damnable document was issued?" he cried, +shaking the paper under the sheriff's nose. His heart was aflame against +the thing called Law. The sheriff stood there as Law's representative, +expressing in his blank face such unfeeling acceptance of the situation +as hopeless, that Wade wanted to jam the paper between those jaws +wagging blandly on their tobacco. + +"Oh, he was there!" remarked Rodliff, dryly. "Perhaps if he hadn't been +there your case would have come off better. Judges ain't got much use +for lawyers when the shyster kind get shown up in a graft game. The +fellow who named this Blunder valley years ago," he observed, running +his eyes over the log-piles once more, "must have had a gift of +second-sight. Rod Ide's always been cal'lated to be level-headed. It's a +wonder to me he let you fool him into this. I've heard considerable +about it outside. But it's worse than I'd reckoned on." + +For a sickening instant the thing showed to Wade in its blackest light. +To be sure, it was the Law that struck down his hands. But it was plain +that the Law was, after all, only a part of the game--and his enemies +had invoked it and had won. + +"Look here, men!" shouted the high sheriff, turning from his survey of +this defeated wretchedness, "I want you to take note of what I've done +here. I've served an injunction on your boss. It means that he's got to +leave Blunder Lake dam alone. Him and all his crew! Understand?" + +The men had been slowly gathering near on the log-piles, in order to get +drift of what this visit meant. Some of them had private reasons for +wondering what business a high sheriff was on; all of them were curious. +And the sheriff saw Tommy Eye in the forefront. + +"By-the-way, Eye," he called, "the wardens want you! You'd better come +along out with me and save trouble." + +"I'm an outlaw," cried Tommy, defiantly, "and I won't come with nobody!" + +The sheriff blinked at the man who had been his uncomplaining prisoner +for so many summers, and seemed to be trying to digest this defiance. + +"I'm an outlaw!" repeated the man. "I ain't to work for nobody. I've +jacked my job here. I'm just plain outlaw. I ain't responsible to +nobody. Nobody ain't responsible for me. You tell that to everybody +concerned. I'm an outlaw!" + +Rodliff, still with wondering eyes on Tommy, slowly worked a revolver +out of his hip-pocket. + +"Come down off'n that pile!" he shouted. "I want you!" + +But once the revolver was out the target was not visible. Three leaps, +his calk boots biting the logs, put Tommy out of sight behind the pile. +Two minutes later they heard him among the trees far up the slope of +Blunder valley. He was still shouting his declaration of outlawry, and +the diminuendo of tone indicated that he was running like a deer. + +The high sheriff shoved back his revolver, scowling up at the grinning +faces on the log-piles. But he found no hint of similar amiability in +Wade's expression when he turned to face the young man; and after +surveying him up and down with much disfavor, he shook his fist in a +gesture that embraced them all, and started away, flinging over his +shoulder the contemptuous remark that he seemed to have "lighted in a +pretty tough gang." The significance of that expressed conviction was +not lost on the young man. It revealed what machination was doing. +Britt, bulwarked by the courts and public sentiment, was not to be +fought by the outlawry he had invoked as the code of combat. + +An hour later Dwight Wade was urging his horse towards Castonia. If +Rodburd Ide or a message from Rodburd Ide were on the way north he would +meet the situation so much the sooner. The sting of his bitter thoughts +and the goad of his impatience would not allow him to stay at Enchanted. +He wanted to know the exact facts "outside." He did not dare to +jeopardize his partner by the rashness his bitter anger once +contemplated. + +A half-mile down the tote road Tommy Eye dashed at him from the covert +of the spruces. + +"I reckoned you'd be goin', Mr. Wade!" he panted. "I ain't intendin' to +bother you--but what did Ben Rodliff say that was--that paper that he +clubbed you with?" + +The pitiful intensity of his loyal anxiety struck Wade to the heart. "It +was an injunction, Tommy," he explained, patiently. "It's an order from +the court. Oh, it's horribly unjust! It may be law, but it isn't +justice; for justice would take into account a man's common rights, and +wouldn't tie them up by pettifogging delays." He was talking as much to +himself as to the poor fellow who clung to the thill. The words surged +into his mouth out of his full soul. "I have been square with men, +Tommy, square and decent. I believe in law, and I want to respect it. +But when law obeys Pulaski Britt's bidding, and takes you by the throat +and kneels on you and chokes you, and lets such a man as Britt walk past +on his own business, free and clear, it's law that's devil-made." + +But the incantation of that law was having its effect on a nature that +was more docile than it realized. In his hot anger he had said he would +fight Britt with the tyrant's own lawless choice of weapons. He looked +back and remembered that he had intended to do so. A sheriff with a gold +badge and a bit of paper had prevailed over his bitter resolution when +Pulaski Britt and his army at his back would have failed to cow him. + +The dull roll of a distant detonation came to them in the little silence +that followed on Wade's outburst. It came from the west, where men of +the Enchanted crew were at work widening the granite jaws of Blunder +gorge to give clear egress to the Enchanted drive. In that moment of his +utter despair the roar of the rend-rock was a mocking voice. + +"And that's all there is to an injunction?" demanded Tommy. "Ben Rodliff +hands you a paper, and spits tobacker-juice on the snow, and calls you a +fool, and goes down past here, like he did a little while ago, swingin' +his reins and singin' a pennyr'yal hymn? Only has to do that to tie up +the whole Enchanted drive that we hundred men have sweat and froze and +worked to get onto the landings?" + +"Only that, Tommy," replied Wade, bitterly. "The law is sitting there on +Blunder dam. You can't see it, but it's there, and it says, 'Hands +off!'" + +"There's something you can see, though," Tommy declared. "You can see +two men in a shack that's been built over the gates of Blunder Lake dam. +One sleeps daytimes, the other sleeps nights, and they've both got +Winchesters. I've been there private and personal, and looked 'em +over." + +"I don't want any of my men lurking about that dam," commanded Wade. + +Tommy Eye cinched his worn belt one notch tighter over his thin haunches +and buttoned his checkered wool jacket. "I ain't one of your men," he +growled, with such sudden and sullen change in demeanor that Wade stared +at him in amazement. "I've gone into the outlaw business, and I've told +you so, and I've told Ben Rodliff so." + +They heard the thudding boom of dynamite once more, and the absolutely +fiendish look that came into Tommy's face as he turned his gaze towards +Blunder valley enlightened his employer. + +"That sounds good to me!" shrieked the teamster. It was as though one of +the docile Dobbins of the hovel had suddenly perked up ears and tail and +begun to play the part of a beast of prey. + +When Tommy ran back into the spruces Wade shouted after him, insistently +and angrily. But he did not reply, and after a time Wade drove on, +cursing soulfully the whole innate devilishness of the woods. That +another weak nature had run amuck after the fashion to which he had +become accustomed in his woods experience seemed probable; but he had +neither time nor inclination to chase Tommy Eye. As to Blunder Lake dam, +he reflected that the eternal vigilance of the Winchesters guaranteed +Pulaski Britt's interests in that direction, and, soul-sick of the whole +wicked situation, he was glad that the Winchesters were there. He had +failed. He could at least own that much man-fashion to Rodburd Ide. + +It was a messenger that he met--not the partner himself. And as he had +anticipated, the messenger summoned him to Castonia. The last few miles +of his journey took him along the bank of the Umcolcus. The big river +had already thrown off its winter sheathing and was running full and +free. It was waiting for the northern lakes, still ice-bound, to +surrender their waters and sweep the logs down to it. + +Rodburd Ide's stout soul uttered no complaints when the two had locked +themselves in the little back office of the store. But his mute distress +and bewilderment in the face of calamity sanctioned by the law touched +his young partner more than complaints would have done. The fighting +spirit was gone out of the little man. + +"I didn't reckon it could go against us that bad, not after what the +lawyer said. He seemed to know his business, Wade. But maybe he was too +honest to fight a crowd like that. It's a crusher to come after hopes +was up like mine was. I even went to work the minute the ice slid +down-river, and set our sheer-booms above the logan and got the +sortin'-gap ready. I was that sure our logs were comin' down. But it +ain't your fault, Wade, and it ain't mine. It's just as I told you once +before. It's what we're up against!" + +And then, striving for a pretext to end the doleful session, he invited +Wade to walk up the river-bank. He wanted to show him the site for the +new great mills. "They can't steal that much away from me, my boy," he +said, trying to be cheerful. "The mills will have to buy out of the +corporation drive this year, seeing that we're coopered on our contract. +That means so much more good profit for Britt and his crowd. They've got +their smell of what's comin', too, and that's probably why they fought +so hard to get the injunction. They're in for a big make and their own +prices this year. But the more I know about that charter of the Great +Independent the more trouble I can see for the old crowd when the next +legislature gets to tearin' this thing to pieces. The G. I.'s know what +they're doin'. They'll have their rights. And when the big wagon starts +little fellers like you and me can climb aboard and ride, too. But the +big wagon won't start till next year," he added, sadly. + +Out-of-doors they did not talk. The roar of the Hulling Machine +dominated everything, and the spume-clouds swaying above it spat in +their faces. On the platform of Ide's store the pathetic brotherhood of +the "It-'ll-git-ye Club" sat in silent conclave, stunned into a queer +stupor by the bellow of the Hulling Machine, even as habitual +opium-eaters succumb to the blissful influence of the drug. + +Above the falls an island divided the river. On the channel side the +waters raced turbulently. The island sentinelled the mouth of the +logan that deeply indented the shore on the quiet side of the river. +Ide had installed a system of sheer-booms. They spanned the current +diagonally, and were to be the silent herders that would edge the +log-flocks away from the banks, crowd them to centre at the sorting-gap, +and keep them running free. Below the sorting-gap there were two +sheer-booms--divergent. One ushered the down-river logs back into the +current that dashed towards the Hulling Machine. The other would swing +the logs of the Enchanted drive into the quiet holding-ground of the +logan. + +[Illustration: "'WHAT I SAY ON THIS RIVER GOES!'"] + +The thought of the heaped logs in Blunder valley, the memory of the +dynamite bellowing its farewell to him over the tree-tops, and now the +spectacle of these empty booms, had the eloquence of despair and the +pathos of failure for Dwight Wade. And as the two of them--he and his +partner--stood there and gazed silently, they were forced to face bitter +accentuation of their stricken fortunes. Pulaski D. Britt, master of the +Umcolcus drive, came on his way north at the head of his men. It was an +army marching with all its impedimenta. There were many huge bateaux +swung upon trucks that had hauled them around the white-water. Men +launched them into the eddy above the Hulling Machine, and began to load +them with tents, cordage, and the wangan stores. + +Rodburd Ide and his young partner stood at one side, and surveyed this +scene of activity without speaking. And Britt marched up to them, +raucous and domineering with the masterfulness of the river tyrant. It +had long been the saying along the Umcolcus that Pulaski Britt got mad a +week before the driving season opened, and stayed mad a week after it +ended. + +"Ide," he cried, "you and I seem to be always in trouble with each other +lately! But it's of your own makin', not mine! These sheer-booms that +you've stuck in here obstruct navigation. I want to get my boats up. +You've got to cut these booms loose." + +"Mr. Britt," returned Ide, his tones quivering with passion, "two men in +each bateau crew can shove those booms down with pick-poles and let a +bateau over without wasting a minute's time. You've brought those +bateaux over all your own sheer-booms below here--you've got your own +booms above. You've been riding over 'em for thirty years. Now be +reasonable." + +"You run back down there to your store and get onto your job of sellin' +kerosene and crackers," advised the Honorable Pulaski, sarcastically. +"Don't you undertake to tell me my business. As river-master, I say +those logs obstruct navigation, and what I say on this river goes!" + +"You talk, Britt, as though a title that you've grabbed onto, the same +as you have everything else along this river, amounted to anything in +law," objected the magnate of Castonia. "I own the land that those booms +are hitched to, and you're not goin' to bluff me by any of your +obstruction-to-navigation talk. You've managed to get most things along +this river this spring your own way, but I reckon I know when you've +gone about far enough. Don't try to rub it in!" + +Mr. Britt, serene in his autocracy as drive-master, was in no mood to +bandy arguments nor waste time on such as Rodburd Ide. + +He whirled away, lifted a wooden box from one of the wagons, and set it +down gingerly. + +"MacLeod!" he called. The boss came away from the river-bank, where he +was superintending stowing of supplies. "Unpack this dynamite, and blow +damnation out of those booms--the sortin'-gap first!" + +The man twisted his face in a queer grimace. + +"I don't think I'll do it, Mr. Britt," he said, curtly. + +He looked away from Britt when the tyrant began to storm at him, and +fixed his eyes on Wade's face with an expression there was no reading. + +"No, I ain't no coward, either," he said, at last, interrupting his +employer's flow of invective. "But dynamitin' other folks' booms with +the folks lookin' at you ain't laid down in a river-driver's job; and I +ain't got any relish for nailin' boot-heels all next summer in a jail +workshop." + +"I'll take the responsibility of this!" shouted Britt. + +"Then you'd better do the job, sir," suggested MacLeod, firmly. "Law has +queer quirks, and I don't propose to get mixed into it." + +There was no gainsaying the logic of the boss's position. The Honorable +Pulaski noted that the men had overheard. He noted also that there were +no signs of any volunteers coming from the ranks. And so, with the +impetuosity of his temper, when the eyes of men were upon him, he set +his own hand to the job. With a cant-dog peak he began to pry at the +box-cover. + +And Colin MacLeod, hesitating a moment, walked straight up to Dwight +Wade--to that young man's discomposure, it must be confessed. Wade set +his muscles to meet attack. But MacLeod halted opposite him, folded his +arms, and gazed at him with something of appeal in his frank, gray eyes. +There was candor in his look. In their other meetings Wade had only seen +blind hate and unreasoning passion. + +"Maybe you've got an idea that I'm a pretty cheap skate, Mr. Wade," he +blurted. "Maybe I am, but it ain't been so between me and men unless +there was women mixed in. My head ain't strong where women is mixed in. +You hold on and let me talk!" he cried, putting up his big hand. "I've +got eleven hundred dollars in the bank that I've saved, my two hands, +and a reputation of bein' square between men. That's all I've got, and I +want to keep all three. I had you sized up wrong at the start. I mixed +women in without any right to. I misjudged the cards as they laid. I +used you dirty, and I got what was comin' to me. Now I've found out. I +know how things stand with you all along the line, from there"--he +pointed south towards the outside world that held Elva Barrett--"to +there on Enchanted. And I'm sorry! I'm sorry I ever got mistaken, and +made things harder for a square man. You heard what I just said to Mr. +Britt. I wanted you to hear it. All is, I'd like to shake hands with you +and start fresh. It may have to be man to man between us yet on this +river, but, by ----, for myself I want it man-fashion." + +He cast a glance behind him. Britt had the box open, and had dug out of +the sawdust some cylinders in brown-paper wrappings. When MacLeod +whirled again to face Wade the latter put out his hand without +reservation in face or gesture. Months before, such amazing repentance +and conversion might have astonished him, but now he understood the real +ingenuousness of the woods. Pulaski Britt, hardened by avarice and +outside associations, was not of the true life of the woods. This +impulsive boy, with his mighty muscles and his tender heart, was of the +woods, and only the woods. + +MacLeod came one step nearer to Rodburd Ide, and pulled off his hat. + +"If it ain't too much trouble, Mr. Ide, I wish you'd tell Miss Nina that +I've done it square and righted it fair. And don't scowl at me that way, +Mr. Ide! It was a dream--and I've woke up! It was a pretty wild +dream--and a man does queer things in his sleep. Your girl ain't for me +or my kind, and I know it, now that I've woke up. I'd like to tell her +so, and explain, but I don't know how to do it, Mr. Ide. You do it for +me. I ask you man-fashion!" + +He started away from them hastily, strode back to the bateaux, and began +to swear at the men who had stopped work to gaze on the Honorable +Pulaski. The latter had already embarked in a bateau, carrying several +of those ominous sticks wrapped in their brown-paper cases. + +"Britt," shrieked Ide, "we've been to law with you to find out our +rights! Ain't you willin' to take your own medicine?" + +"Hell on your law!" blazed the drive-master, contemptuously. + +"Give us time to get an injunction before you destroy our good +property," demanded the little man, choking with his ire. + +For answer Britt shook one of the dynamite sticks above his head without +even turning to look back. His men crowded the boat over the boom at the +sorting-gap, and Britt lighted the fuse and tossed the explosive upon +the anchored log platform. + +"Oh, if our men were only here instead of at Enchanted!" mourned Ide. + +"They're just where we ought to have them, Mr. Ide," the young man +growled. + +Britt was safely away up-river when the dynamite did its work; his men +had rowed like fiends. It was a beautiful job, viewed from the +stand-point of destruction. The downward thrust of the mighty force +splintered the platform into toothpicks and let the booms adrift. + +The partners of Enchanted did not exchange comments. They gazed after +the destroyer. Taking his time, as though to prolong their distress, +Britt dynamited the booms above, and then stood up and jerked his arm as +a signal for his crew to follow. They went splashing up the river, six +oars to a bateau, and disappeared, one boat after the other, bound for +the mouth of Jerusalem Stream. Already the jaws of the Hulling Machine +were gulping down the gobbets of splintered logs. + +"How soon can you replace those booms, Mr. Ide?" Wade edged the words +through his teeth, as a man stricken with lockjaw might have spoken. And +without waiting for reply, he hurried on. "Put 'em in, Mr. Ide, because +you're going to need 'em. And put along this shore all the men in +Castonia who can handle guns. Winchesters and dynamite, with 'Hell on +law' for a battle-cry! That's what he's given us. It's good enough for +me. Will you put those booms in, Mr. Ide?" + +"I'll put 'em in, and I'll protect 'em after they're put in," declared +the little man, stoutly. The fighting spirit was in him again. + +They looked at each other a moment, and turned and hurried back towards +the settlement. Neither man seemed to feel that words could help that +situation nor emphasize determination. + +Prophet Eli was in front of Ide's store with his little white stallion +when the two arrived there. The old man surveyed Wade shrewdly when he +hastened to Nina Ide, who was waiting for a word with him. + +"Boy! boy!" whispered the girl, clasping his tanned hand in both of +hers, "I don't like to see your eyes shine so! They're hard. But I know +how to soften them. I have a letter for you from the one woman of all +the world. Come with me and get it." + +"Keep it for me," he muttered--"keep it until I come for it. I'm not fit +to touch it now. It might make a decent man of me, and--and--I don't +want to be--not just yet, Miss Nina." He whirled away, climbed upon his +jumper, and lashed his horse back along the trail towards Enchanted. The +words of that half-jeering ditty of Prophet Eli's followed him, as they +had on that memorable first day at Castonia, and grotesque as the lilt +was, it seemed to express the young man's flaming resolution: + + "Oh, the little brown bull came down from the mountains, + Shang, ro-ango, whango-whey! + And as he was feelin' salutatious, + Chased old Pratt a mile, by gracious, + Licked old Shep and two dog Towsers, + Then marched back home with old Pratt's trousers." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +"'TWAS DONE BY TOMMY THUNDER" + + "Twenty a month for daring death--or fighting from dawn + to dark-- + Twenty and grub and a place to sleep in God's great public + park. + We roofless go, with the cook's bateau to follow our hungry + crew-- + A billion of spruce and hell turned loose when the Allegash + drive goes through." + + --Ballad of the Drive. + + +Wade's poor beast was staggering when at last he topped the horseback +overlooking Enchanted valley. He himself plodded behind the jumper, +clinging to it, walking to keep awake. He had started in the dusk, he +had been nearly twenty-four hours on the road from Castonia, and it was +growing dusk again. He was too utterly weary to be surprised when Tommy +Eye came hurrying down from a knoll that commanded a long view of the +tote road. The light of a little camp-fire glowed on the knoll, and he +saw that a horse was tethered there. + +"I'm gettin' to be a worse outlaw than ever, Mr. Wade," declared the +teamster. "I've stole one of your hosses, and grub and hay from the +store camp, and I'm livin' here in the woods. I've been waitin' for +you," he added, wistfully. "I might have slept a little last night when +I didn't know, but I reckon I didn't. I figgered you'd come. I've been +waitin' for you. They can't say I'm one of your men, Mr. Wade. I'm +livin' here in the woods." + +"Look here, Eye," blurted his employer, roughly, "I haven't any time nor +taste for fool talk just now. You take the horse back to camp and get on +your job." He started on. + +"You don't sound as though you'd got what you went after," cried Tommy, +unabashed. He came trotting behind. "You didn't get satisfaction, then, +Mr. Wade! Injunction still there, hey? You didn't get--" + +"What did you suppose I'd get from Pulaski Britt, you infernal fool?" +His own brutality towards the faithful servitor made him ashamed. But +the spirit of evil that had taken possession of him was speaking through +lips that he surrendered in weariness of body and bitterness of soul. +And when a shade of repentance smote him at sight of Tommy trotting +sorrowfully at his side, he gasped out of his woe. "He has dynamited our +booms, Tommy. Did it with his own hands. And now"--he threw up his arms +towards Blunder Lake--"wait till to-morrow!" + +Tommy Eye stopped without a word and let Wade go on. + +"Wait till to-morrow?" he mumbled, as he scrambled back up the knoll. +"Wait till to-morrow, when I've got a two-hoss load of canned thunder +planted under Blunder dam, and the devil helpin' me by puttin' them two +to sleep ev'ry night, snorin' like quill-pigs?" He waited until Wade had +stumbled out of sight, then cinched upon his horse the blankets that had +served for couch during his vigil, mounted, and urged the animal through +the woods, kicking heels into its flanks. + +There were men of the crew who heard an unwonted sound in the midnight +hush of the Enchanted camp. It was a dull, heavy, earth-thudding noise +that swept down from the north over the tree-tops and travelled on +through the forest. Men awoke and asked themselves what had awakened +them, and went to sleep again, and knew not what it meant. + +Wade did not hear the sound. Exhaustion had fettered his senses when he +crawled into his bunk in the office camp. What he did hear, as he roused +himself in the gray of early dawn to set his hand to the desperate task +he was resolved upon, was the splattering rush of a horse's feet in the +spring ooze of the tote road and a human voice that shrieked, +hysterically: "Man the river, damn ye! Man the river!" + +It was Tommy Eye. He was crouched on the back of his horse when the men +came tumbling out. His little eyes were like fire-points. The wattles of +his neck were blood-gorged. He spat froth as he raved at them. + +"Man the river, I tell ye! She's b'ilin' full from bank to bank. Ben +Rodliff's injunction busted to blazes and the Enchanted drive started +slam-whoopin', and it's me that's done it!" + +"You hellion, have you blowed Blunder dam?" shouted the chopping-boss, +while Dwight Wade was still gasping for words. + +"Blowed Blunder dam!" shrieked Tommy, "Why, I've blowed Blunder dam so +high that Ben Rodliff's injunction can't get to it in a balloon. I've +blowed a gouge ten feet deep in the bed-rock. I've let the innards out +of Blunder Lake. She's runnin' valley-full, ice-cakes dancin' jigs on +the black water! And when they ask who done it, tell 'em it was +me--Tommy Eye, the outlaw! Tommy Eye, with a two-hoss load of canned +thunder!" He tried to shake his fists above his head, but groaned, and +one arm dropped as though it were helpless. Blood was caked on his hand +and wrist. He did not wait for Wade to ask the question. + +"It's the pay I got for wakin' 'em up in time to run, Mr. Wade. I give +'em a chance. They give me a thirty-thirty! They'd have give me more if +they could have shot straighter. I'm an outlaw, but there ain't no blood +on my head, Mr. Wade." + +He slid off the horse and staggered towards the cook camp. + +"Gimme mine in my hand, cook!" he called. "I'll eat it while I'm +runnin'. For it's man the river, boys!" + +And the rest of them ate running, too. Wade led them, determined that no +one should head him in the race. He heard the husky breathing of the +hundred runners at his back when he swept around the granite dome of +Enchanted and came in view of the valley. They stopped, panting, and +surveyed the scene for a moment. They saw the tumbling waters, yeasty +and brown. They heard the groan and grunt of dissolving log-piles as the +fierce tide tore at them and bore away the logs. And each man took a new +grip on his cant-dog handle and loped on. + +It was plain that Tommy Eye had spoken the truth. That flood was not the +mere outrush through shattered dam-gates. Blunder Lake was emptying +itself through a rent deeper than nature had set in its side. In a +stream-bed of intervales and broad levels the Enchanted drive would have +been scattered to its own disaster. But Blunder valley was slashed deep +between the hills. The turbid flood that raced there was penned. The +log-herds could only butt the granite cliffs and surge on. There was but +one outlet--the mad current of Blunder Stream pouring down to its +junction with the Umcolcus. + +They "manned the river," scattering along, one man posted at a curve in +sight of another. A hat waved meant that a jam was forming and called +for help. And when timber jack-strawed too wildly to be readily loosened +by cant-dog and pick-pole they dynamited. There was no time for +"knittin'-work" on that drive. + +Tommy Eye, with meal-sack slung over his shoulder, made himself +custodian of the "canned thunder." It was Larry Gorman, woodsman poet, +who first called him "Tommy Thunder." If you go into the north country +you can probably find some one to sing you the song that Larry Gorman +composed, the first verse running: + + "Come, listen, good white-water chaps. Who was that man, I wonder, + Who turned himself to an outlaw bold and put the bang-juice under? + Who was it cracked the neck of her, 'way up at old Lake Blunder, + When hell broke loose and sluiced our spruce? + 'Twere done by Tommy Thunder!" + +His was the recklessness of mania. Men who saw him coming along the +shore with his horrid burden dodged into the woods. Where and when he +slept no one knew. Daytime and night-time he was racing to where logs +had cob-piled. Roars that boomed among the hills told that he had +arrived. In the first gray of morning men saw him warming his dynamite +over a camp-fire, and shuddered and hurried away. To find the king log +of a jam and drop his cartridge where it would have instant effect, he +took chances that made men turn their backs. It isn't pleasant to see a +man macerated by grinding logs or scattered across the sky. + +No word passed between Tommy Eye and Dwight Wade. Those days and nights +when the Enchanted drive was on its roaring way down Blunder Stream +towards the Umcolcus River were not the sort of days that invited +conversation. On the ordinary stream-drives to the main river, in the +desperate hurry of the driving-pitch, men work as many hours as they can +stand up. With the drive under control, they can at least stop sluicing +in the dead hours of the night. But the Enchanted drive that spring was +a wild beast that never closed its eyes. As it raged along they did not +dare to leave it alone for an hour. Men raced beside it, clutched at it, +clung as long as they were able, and dropped off, stunned by the stupor +of exhaustion. + +After a few hours some one's prodding foot stirred them back to +wakefulness, and they stumbled up and began the fight once more. Outside +of a charge in battle, there is no place where individual rivalry is so +keen and eager as in a driving-crew on hard waters. Men do not require +to be urged to do their utmost. "Coward" and "shirk" are sneers that cut +deeply down-river. + +Wade, rushing from point to point, cant-dog in hand, his shoes mere +pulp, his clothes in tatters, saw men asleep with their faces in the tin +plates that the cookee had heaped with food. They had gone to sleep with +the first mouthful, hungry as demons, but overcome the moment their feet +stopped moving. + +Some he found asleep where they were posted to "card"[6] certain ledges. +He beat them about the head with the flat of his hand, and they awoke +and thanked him with wistful smiles that touched his heart. But brutal +force had started the Enchanted drive, brutal force marked its rush, and +it had to be brutal force that could keep it going. Brutal force took +toll in the logs that were splintered by dynamite, but it was a toll +that circumstances demanded. A man unwilling to take the chances that +Tommy Eye took would have wasted thousands of feet instead of hundreds, +and Wade knew it, and gulped words of gratitude when they met, hurrying +on the shore. + +[Footnote 6: To disentangle and set free logs caught in the rocks.] + +Half-way to the Umcolcus, Lazy Tom Stream enters Blunder, and here Wade +found Barnum Withee rushing in his logs and eager to accept an +invitation to join drives. Withee was asking no questions. He did not +need to. He understood. What had been done upstream was none of his +business. He could declare that much when he got his drive down, and +could defend himself from complicity. In the mean time he would take +advantage of the situation. + +There were now one hundred and sixty herders of the wild flock, with +Barnum Withee, one of the best men on the river, to take command of the +rear. + +So Wade went to the front--to Castonia, sweeping down the swollen +Umcolcus in one of Withee's bateaux with four men at the oars. He had +played violence against violence in the big game. It was natural to +suppose that Pulaski Britt by this time had his fists clinched ready to +retaliate. + +On either side of his bateau as he hurried to Castonia the logs ran +free. But they were all his own logs, this advance-guard, marked with +the double diamond and cross. + +Had Rodburd Ide done his part, and were they being held at Castonia? + +He found the booms set again, Rodburd Ide in command at the sorting-gap, +and various members of the "It-'ll-git-ye Club" sitting along the shore +with guns across their knees. Every able-bodied man in Castonia was on +the booms with a pick-pole, and already the double-diamond logs were +swirling and herding in the logan. + +"It's done, and they'll have us into court, but, by ----, we'll have +some ready money to fight 'em with!" screamed the little man, grasping +Wade's hand as the bateau swung broadside to the sorting-gap platform. +And when he had heard the story of "Tommy Thunder, outlaw," that his +partner hurriedly related, his mouth parted in a grin, even though his +forehead puckered with apprehension. + +"But will it let us out, Wade?" he asked. "The man took it on himself +out of his grudge against Britt. But will it let us out?" + +"It's your money that is in this thing, and not mine," returned the +young man, "and I suppose it's natural for you to think of your property +first. But as for me, Mr. Ide, I'll take what profits are coming to me +from this operation, and I'll stand in with poor old Tommy Eye, jointly +indicted, jointly in the dock, jointly in jail, till the last dollar is +spent. For he did just what I meant to do!" + +For an instant Ide's eyes flickered. Then they became shiny. + +"My boy," he said, "the Enchanted Township Lumber Company is +incorporated, and you and I own the stock. With your consent, I'm goin' +to make over ten shares of that stock to Thomas Eye before I sleep +to-night. I reckon this company stands ready to fight its battles and +protect its members." + +"Mr. Ide," gulped Wade, contritely, "forgive me for that hasty speech. +But God help me, partner, I've been in hell since I saw you last, and +I'm full of the fires of it! I think you can understand." + +He crouched there in the bateau, clutching the gunwale with hands that +trembled until they shook his body to and fro. His face was streaked +with the grime of days and nights of toil. His eyes were haggard with +sleeplessness. Fasting had hollowed his cheeks. Such lines as only the +bitter things of life can set in the human countenance were traced deep +upon the brown skin. In his rags and his weariness he was as one who had +been conquered instead of one who had fulfilled. The little man of +Castonia reached down and patted his shoulder with a hand that had a +father's sympathy in its touch. + +"Bub," he murmured, "I'm goin' to take some other time to tell you what +I think of you. Just now I want you to go down to the house. My Nina +will know what to do for you and what to say to you. She has some +letters for you to read before you go to sleep, and I reckon they'll +give you pleasant dreams." + +Kate Arden opened the door and welcomed him with a smile, the first he +had ever seen on her face. His heart came into his mouth at sight of +her. Never had she seemed so like Elva Barrett. But before he had word +with her Nina Ide came running, floury hands outspread, her face alight +above her housewife's tire. She stood on tiptoe, put her arms around his +neck, and kissed him. + +"Brother Dwight! Brother Dwight!" she half sobbed. "Oh, Brother Dwight, +I didn't know--I didn't realize--I didn't understand, or I would have +held you back until you had torn these two arms from my shoulders. I +prayed for you and watched for you. They buy their logs with blood up +there. But it shall not be with your blood, Dwight. I have hated father +all these days. He knew what you were going back to, and didn't stop +you!" + +"It was all my own affair, little girl," Wade returned, gently--"my +duty, to which I was bound by fair man-promise. And I've got our logs +into the river, but it has been the kind of work that blisters souls, +Sister Nina!" His voice had a pathetic quaver of weariness. + +"I was at the sorting-gap when the first one came, and I knelt and +kissed it," she said, smiling at him from misty eyes. "And then I wrote +to the one of all the world and told her about a hero." + +An hour later he lay asleep in a darkened room, the tense lines gone +from his face, his lax hand spread over a letter, finding the sweetest +solace in slumber he had known for many a day. + +At the first peep of light next morning he was at the sorting-gap in +full command, removing a burden of responsibility from Rodburd Ide which +had made that little man a quaking wreck of his ordinarily self-reliant +self; for in every log that had come spinning around the upper bend of +the Umcolcus his fears had seen the peak of Pulaski Britt's rushing +bateau. + +That the river tyrant would come, furious beyond words, was a fact +accepted by Dwight Wade, and Wade was ready to meet him. But every hour +that passed without bringing the drive-master meant so much more towards +the success of the Enchanted drive. + +The logs came in stampeding droves. Withee's were mixed among the +"double diamonds," but there were no delays at the sorting-gap. Two +crews fed them through--one for day and one for night, with a dozen +lanterns lighting their work. Wade was resolved that Britt should lack +at least one argument in the bitter contention. The sorting should be +done faithfully and promptly, and the down-river drive should be hurried +on its way. But at the end of four days not one of the logs nicked with +the "double hat," Britt's registered mark, had shown up. Nor did Britt +himself appear. + +A sullen, suffering man of Britt's crew, who came walking into Castonia +with hand held above his head to ease the agony of a felon, brought the +first news. + +Blunder Lake dam had been blown up, he reported, and such a chasm had +been opened in the bed-rock that the lake had vomited its waters to the +west until the bed of Britt's shallow canal to the east was above the +water-line. Britt had only his splash dams along Jerusalem for a +driving-head. In the past years the pour of the canal had given him a +current in Jerusalem dead-water. Now he was trying to warp his logs +across there with head-works and anchor. But the south wind was howling +against him, and no human muscle could turn the windlass, even when the +oaths of the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt dinned in the ears of his +toilers. All this the new-comer related. + +"And it's something awful to hear!" said the man. "He walks the platform +of that head-works, back and forth and back and forth. He cusses God and +the angels, the wind and all it blows across. And then when he is well +worked up to cussin', he 'tends to the case of the devil that blowed up +Blunder Lake dam. And his face is as red as my shirt, and the veins +stick out on his for'ead as big as a baby's finger. They say that you +can't cuss only about so much without somethin' happenin' to you. I've +read about the cap'n of a ship that done it too much once, and his ghost +is still a-sailin'. All I've got to say is that if Pulaski Britt don't +stop, he'll get his." + +The "It-'ll-git-ye Club" had listened to this recital intently. It +agreed forebodingly. In fact, in special session the club passed a vote +of dismal prophecy for the whole Jerusalem operation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE PARADE PAST RODBURD IDE'S PLATFORM + + "'Twas a hundred wet miles to the handiest rail, + And his home it was fifty more; + And behind on our bateau's bubblin' trail + Raced Death with his muffled oar." + + --Ballad of the Drive. + + +Two days later the "It-'ll-git-ye's," as sombre prophets, were +distinctly cheered by the sight of Boss Colin MacLeod borne past Rodburd +Ide's store on a litter. They were hurrying him to the hospital +down-river, and he had his teeth set into his lip to keep back the +groans. + +"No, sir! No fifty more miles of that for you, my boy," declared Ide, +when he was told that MacLeod's arm and leg were broken. "Into my house +you go, and the doctor comes here." And MacLeod was put to bed in the +spare room, weeping quietly. + +"It was the head-works warp done it, Mr. Wade," he moaned, turning +hollow eyes upon his sympathizer. "Broke and snapped back. I told him +man's strength couldn't warp them logs across against that wind, but he +was bound to make us do it. He said I was a coward, Mr. Wade. But I took +the place at the guide-block to show I wasn't. And then he cursed me for +gettin' hurt!" + +When Wade left the room he found Kate Arden waiting outside. During the +days he had been at Castonia the girl had appeared to avoid him. She had +paled when he spoke to her, replied curtly, and hurried away as though +she feared he was about to broach some topic that would distress her. +Yet it was not towards him merely that she had displayed that +apprehensive reserve. Not even to Nina Ide did she open her heart, and +Nina told Wade of this with wonderment and grief. She had been docile, +even to the subterfuge of sitting silent by John Barrett's bedside when +Elva Barrett had resigned her trust to seek Dwight Wade in the +wilderness. She had made no comment, asked no questions. She had showed +dumb gratitude, and eagerly sought such household tasks as could be +intrusted to her untrained hands. But wistful shrinking, the air of a +wild thing confined but not tamed, was with her ever. + +Now, when she faced Wade outside the door, her eyes shone like stars, +her cheeks flamed, and the old fearlessness and determination were in +her features. + +"I shall take care of him," she said. "I shall nurse him, and no one but +me! I shall know how, Mr. Wade. He'll need me now. You go and tell them +all that I shall nurse him. No one else shall do it." + +It was the woods mate claiming her own. It was more than love as +convention has classed it. It was the fire, lighted by the primordial +torch of passion, which burns and does not reason, not to be smothered +by rebuff or abuse; its pride not the calculating pride of a resentment +that can divorce it from its object, but the pride of blind, utter +loyalty through all. + +Dwight Wade had gone near enough to the heart of things to understand +this love. + +He looked at her a little while, sympathy lighting his eyes and +vibrating in his voice as he answered her: + +"You shall have him, poor little girl, because he needs you." + +He opened the door for her, closed it behind her, and left them alone +together. + +Two days later the "It-'ll-git-ye Club" realized the full climax of +ominous prophecy and was correspondingly content. The Honorable Pulaski +D. Britt was brought out from Jerusalem dead-water and taken down-river, +a helpless hulk of a man grunting stertorous breaths, the right hand, +which had waved command all those years along Umcolcus, now hanging +helpless at his side, his right leg dangling uselessly as they lifted +him along to a wagon. + +It was the fate that the choleric tyrant had invited. That last and +mightiest rage of his life, when with swollen veins and purple face he +had stamped about the head-works platform, had done for Pulaski Britt +and his weakened blood-vessels what those who knew him well had +predicted. Wade was not surprised, for the suppression of Britt by this +means and at this frantic climax in Britt's affairs was too entirely +logical. It came to him suddenly that he felt a sense of relief, and +then he wondered with shame whether he had hoped for it. Then he +dismissed the speculation as unprofitable and not agreeable. The tyrant +was in chains of his own forging. His logs came limping along in +scattered squads, and were sent through the sorting-gap and down-river. + +The new master of the corporation drive was not cordial when he +appeared, hurrying towards headwaters. But he was not hostile, either. +He surlily demanded expedition at the Castonia sorting-gap, and went on +up-river. + +There are some combatants who, seeing a crisis approaching, feel that it +is their best policy to sit down and wait until the crisis comes to +them. This implies the calculation that perhaps the crisis may go around +the other way, but it is not the policy for the intrepid. In his present +mood Dwight Wade decided to go to meet the crisis, with head erect and +shoulders back. + +He addressed the president of the Umcolcus Lumbering and Log-driving +Association, requesting a conference with him and the directors of the +body. If the letter thinly screened a demand for that conference it was +the fault of Dwight Wade's resolute determination to face the issue. + +The letter remained long unanswered. Its receipt was not even +acknowledged. The delay seemed to be contemptuous slighting of a +possible overture of amicable settlement. Rodburd Ide sadly reasoned to +this conviction, and daily gazed towards the south in search of the +sheriff bringing writs of attachment with as much trepidation as he had +gazed north in the black days when he expected Pulaski Britt. + +Dwight Wade was hardly more sanguine. And yet he was heartened by +letters from his lawyer, who was up and at the foe once more. The lawyer +intimated that an earnest conference was going on among the big fellows +of the timber interests. In the past, prior to sittings of the +legislature, they had heard the ominous stampings of the farmer's +cowhide boots and the mutterings about unrighteous privileges, filched +State timber lands, and unequal taxation. In the secret sessions of +those directors the stand-pat roarings of their woods executive had +drowned all pacific suggestions of compromise. But now the Honorable +Pulaski D. Britt lay at home, unable to lift the ponderous hand which +had pounded emphasis. + +In the end Wade decided that the big fellows were waiting to settle what +they were to say before they summoned him to conference. That he was +correct was proven by the letter that came at last. It was a courteous +letter; it appointed a time of meeting, and named as the place John +Barrett's office in "Castle Cut 'Em." + +On the evening before Wade left Castonia, Colin MacLeod summoned him, a +cheerful convalescent who looked out daily into the new flush of June, +and restlessly moved his stiffened limbs in his chair, and counted the +days between himself and the free life out-of-doors. + +"Mr. Ide was tellin' me why you are goin' and where you are goin'," said +MacLeod, with simple earnestness. Kate Arden was sitting with her head +on his knee, and he was smoothing her hair gently. "I wanted the little +girl to stay here while I talked this to you. I told you about my dream +once, man-fashion. I've told her about it. I ain't excusin' or screenin' +myself. I didn't know, that's all. I never tried to fool this little +girl, Mr. Wade. They lied who said I did. I pitied her, Mr. Wade. But +it's a hard place to start in lovin' a girl where I saw her first--and +I'd seen some one else before I saw her. But I know now, sir. I've told +her so all these days that she's been with me, so true and tender. I +reckon I never was in love before. I wouldn't have acted that way with +you, sir, if I really was in love and trusted. But there ain't no +mistake this time, Mr. Wade!" He gulped, a sob in his throat and a smile +in his eyes. "I'm her man for ever and ever. She knows it and she's +glad. And I know she's all mine, and I'm the happiest man in the whole +north country." + +He broke in upon Wade's eager burst of congratulation. + +"There's just one more word I wanted to say--sort of in the way of +business, Mr. Wade." There was a peculiar expression upon his face. +"Maybe when you're outside some one--_some one_ may drop a word or +inquire about her business--you know--something about her." His look of +strange significance became deeper, and Wade understood. "All is, you +might say that she and Colin MacLeod are goin' to get married, and Colin +MacLeod ain't askin' anybody for her--only herself and God. God ain't +denyin' His Fathership to a girl as good as she is. Colin MacLeod ain't +askin' anything else--ain't allowin' anything else. Say that to 'em. +He's got his own two hands and eleven hundred dollars saved, and the big +woods for her and for him. She and I wouldn't be happy outside the big +woods, Mr. Wade. Say it all to 'em, sir, if any one drops a word to +you--and they probably will, because you've had words with them. You'll +know how to say it. But make it plain that it will be dangerous business +for any man to reach out his hand to her or to me with anything in +it--and tell 'em it's Colin MacLeod says that," he added, bitterly. + +"The only things you need, Colin," cried Wade, advancing towards him, +"are good-will and friendship, and both are in the hand I give you." + +At the door he turned. + +"Will you wait until I come back, Colin?" he asked. "I would like to +stand up with you when you are married--Nina Ide and I." + +"I'll wait, Mr. Wade," returned the other, tears of gratitude springing +to his eyes. "And may luck go with you in this business." + +That fervent wish, put again into words, followed him next morning when +he departed from Castonia. This time it was Tommy Eye who said it--Tommy +Eye, fresh down with the rear of the drive, and a very timorous and +apprehensive figure of an outlaw. But he seemed to be a little +disappointed after Wade had assured him that the matter of Blunder Lake +dam would be assumed by the Enchanted Company, and that Tommy himself +had nothing to fear. + +"I reckon you can do it, Mr. Wade. You can do most anything you set out +to," sighed Tommy. "Howsomever, I kind of figgered on that outlaw +business to keep me away from down-river. The city ain't good for the +likes of me. They begin to rattle the keys of the calaboose the minute I +get off'n the train." + +"Tommy," commanded Wade, severely, "don't you go down-river this season. +You stay here and attend to the work we've got marked out for you." + +"That's just as good a wheel-trig as the outlaw proposition would be," +declared Tommy, his face clearing. "Orders from you settles things, Mr. +Wade. Here I stay." + +On the morning of his departure Rodburd Ide's daughter walked with Wade +to the store, where the stage started. In the days of their late +intimacy the girl had grown into his heart. The sincerity of a sister, +self-reliance and womanly sympathy had characterized her attitude +towards him from the first; and she had welcomed a friendship which +lifted her to a comrade's level. She was as yet an altruist in matters +of the heart; she frankly and openly interested herself only in the +loves of others. + +Wade knew all the unspoken words that her sympathy dictated when, +standing out before them all, she clasped his hand before he clambered +over the wheel of the old stage. + +He saw no very clear horizon for his own love, but his comrade's smile +heartened him, and the flutter of her handkerchief carried its message +of good courage when the stage pitched down the slope that hid Castonia +settlement. + +The road to "Castle Cut 'Em" lay before him. At that moment the +Honorable John Barrett loomed so largely as a foe that Dwight Wade's +thoughts were of his fight. Of his love he hardly dared to think at all. + +The "It-'ll-git-ye Club" watched the departure of the stage that day +with more than usual interest, also with somewhat deeper gloom. + +The knowledge that Dwight Wade and his partner had assumed all blame +for the destruction of Blunder Lake dam was current in all the north +country. + +King Spruce's delay in visiting punishment only made the situation +graver in the estimation of the prophets of evil. King Spruce had many +weapons, and in the past had promptly seized the one nearest at hand and +dealt a crushing blow when provocation was given. The fact that the new +drive-master had passed on without even as much as a threat of +retribution was taken as an ominous presage. It was agreed that when +King Spruce remained grimly silent so long, in order to revolve a +project of retaliation, he must be whittling an especially mighty +bludgeon. + +The members of the "It-'ll-git-ye Club" very frankly expressed thoughts +of this tenor to the half-dozen men who arrived at Castonia in the early +morning to take the stage down-river with Wade. The men gloomily agreed. +Two of them showed signs of funk at the last moment, and had to be +coaxed on board the stage by the young man. + +These were the sort of men that Wade had seen a year before in the +general rooms of "Castle Cut 'Em." They were independent operators and +stumpage-buyers, who had responded to the messengers and letters that +Wade had been sending out. + +There were more of them who joined the party at the railroad; others +came into the train as it stopped here and there on the way to the +junction. All of them seemed impressed by that sense of gloom and +apprehension; there was not a sanguine face. + +But in their unanimity of dolorousness they displayed a further +interesting characteristic. They seemed entirely ready to accept this +young man as their leader and their champion; in fact, as he went among +them, they confessed that they had come along only because he had +assured them that he would bear the brunt of the approaching conflict. +The experience of years had shown them that they had no one man or +combination of men among themselves who could go up against King Spruce. +They even distrusted each other's honesty, for every man realized all +the iniquity of the game of graft and grab that had characterized their +dealings with each other and with the main power in the past. + +That they should let this new-comer lead them was because he had already +proved his mettle and his fearlessness, and the whole north country knew +it. He had beaten Pulaski Britt at his own game, he had defied King +Spruce, and now he was willing to beard the tyrant in his own castle, +and only asked their presence at his back in order that the sight of +them might prove his assertions and aid to win some grace for all of +them. + +Therefore, they had answered his appeal and had gone with him. But they +went without alacrity, and were encouraged only by the despondent belief +that at least matters could not be made any worse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE PACT WITH KING SPRUCE + + "We 'lowed he was caught, and we never thought we'd see + Mike any more; + But he took and he kicked a bubble up, and he rode all safe + to shore." + + --The "Best White-water Man." + + +So it came about that once more, after a year had passed, Dwight Wade +walked up the hill towards "Castle Cut 'Em," where the sunlight +shimmered upon grim walls. The mills along the canal screamed at him as +he passed. His fancy detected derision in the squall of the saws. + +A score of men plodded along with him--broad-backed, silent men who, now +that they were under the frown of King Spruce's citadel, muttered their +forebodings to one another. Resentment and desperation had left their +hearts open to the young man's appeal when he urged a union against the +tyrant. But now their reluctance hinted that their determination was +built on some very shifty sands. He remembered the man who had declaimed +a year before so stoutly, and had been turned aside from his purpose by +a few words whispered in a corner. + +And so it was without high hopes that Wade led the way into the broad +stairway to the castle. He wished that the men would pound down their +feet on those stairs so that King Spruce would know that they were +coming as bold and honest men should come. But his little army tiptoed +up, their heavy boots creaking as do the boots of decorous mourners at a +funeral. + +When he opened the door of the big general room his face did not show +that he was disheartened. He had determined not to come to John Barrett +as a mere petitioner. He was no longer allowing hope to soften the +bitter business of demanding. + +He saw the situation more plainly now than he saw it when he had bidden +farewell to Elva Barrett in Pogey Notch. There could be no hope of truce +between himself and John Barrett. By winning the love of John Barrett's +daughter, by possessing himself of the secret of John Barrett's shame, +he realized that he had committed offences that the pride of Barrett +could not pardon. He had followed this by striking the first blow +against the autocracy of King Spruce in the north country, and he was +now appearing before King Spruce's high chamberlain as the leader of the +rebels whom his deed had spurred to rebellion. + +In spite of his great love for Elva Barrett, he felt a sense of +exaltation because he had the power to put that love behind him in his +dealings with the man he had resolved to fight. It was a relief to +convince himself now that Barrett was his implacable foe. Any other +belief would have made him less courageous. + +And when John Barrett, at sound of the tramp of many feet in the outer +room, opened the door of his private office and stood framed there, +Dwight Wade welcomed the spectacle of his antagonist. Barrett's face was +saturnine when he surveyed the group. + +"I do not understand this, Mr. Wade," he said. "You and I arranged a +conference. But there was no arrangement for a general hearing." + +"The question of conditions on the Umcolcus is a question that takes in +all of us who operate there, Mr. Barrett," said Wade. "I'm present to +answer to matters that can be charged to my individual responsibility, +but the interests of all of us have a bearing on that responsibility, +and we are here to have a fair understanding." + +Barrett stepped back, and motioned the young man to enter the private +office. + +"If you have come to speak for these men," he said, "you may step in +here, and we will see if we can arrange to have the directors meet them +later." + +"Well, Mr. Wade," he remarked, when they were alone, "so you have become +a magnate in the north country in strictly record time!" + +"Sarcasm won't help us any in settling this matter!" cried the young +man, warmly. "I can understand very well, Mr. Barrett, how you from your +position look down on me in mine. But I have at least become some sort +of a business man, and I--" + +"You have become an almighty good business man," declared the land +baron, with such a ring of sincerity in his voice that the young man +stared at him in sudden astonishment, "and in a little while we will +talk business." + +"That is all I'm here to talk," said Wade, the red coming into his +cheeks. + +When he had left the group of the lumbermen he noticed that some of them +bent lowering looks upon him. They had seen other men invited apart and +bought from their purpose. Wade wondered if the Honorable John Davis +Barrett was not about to trade amnesty on the Blunder dam charge for +betrayal of the men who had come at his back to "Castle Cut 'Em." + +Then a sense of shame at such suspicion came to him, as John Barrett +began to speak: + +"Mr. Wade," said he, "you are more of a chap in every way than you were +the last time you were in this office, but--you are still young." From +that moment the older man had the advantage. And yet Barrett was not +calm. He sat down at his desk, and tossed his papers as he talked. His +gaze wavered. His jowls hung heavy and flabby. The marks of his +prostrating illness had not left him. But in the gloom of his face there +was depression that did not arise from physical causes. Barrett's bitter +experience had drawn its black cloud around him. He pulled out the shelf +of his desk, set his elbows upon it as though to steady his nerves, and +faced Wade. + +"Young man," he began, "the way the world looks at those things--from +the stand-point of some one who hasn't been through the fire--I can +afford to look down on you from my height as a moneyed man, and as +something more in this State. An outsider might think so. But, by ----, +you are the one that can look down on me, for you are square and clean!" + +He would not allow Wade to interrupt. + +"I haven't called you in here to buy or bulldoze you. There is a matter +between us that hasn't been settled. I made you a promise on Jerusalem +Mountain that I didn't keep. I had excuses that seemed good to me then. +They don't look that way now. They didn't look good to me when I got off +my sick-bed at Castonia. Did Rodburd Ide tell you anything about my talk +with the girl?" + +"He told me, Mr. Barrett." + +The magnate plunged on desperately. + +"I don't think you're dull, Mr. Wade, but you can't understand what it +meant to me when my child turned on me, spat in my face, and left me. It +wasn't merely the bitterness of that one moment--the blistering memory +of it goes to sleep with me and wakes up with me. It's with me in every +look my daughter Elva gives me, though the poor child tries to hide from +me that her old faith and trust have left her. I'm not going to whine, +young man, but I'm in hell--in hell!" + +His voice broke weakly. Then there was silence in the room. Wade heard +only the yell of the distant saws and the shuffle of the woodsmen's feet +as they paced the big reception-hall of King Spruce. + +Between the two men there was too much understanding for empty words of +sympathy. + +"Lane is dead," blurted the millionaire, at last. "What will become of +the girl?" + +"MacLeod is to marry her. She nursed him through his sickness at +Castonia; they love each other very sincerely, Mr. Barrett, and you need +have no trouble about her future. Neither of them will ever trouble you; +in fact, MacLeod asked me to say as much for him." + +Barrett was silent a long time, his gaze on the floor. He looked up at +last, and his eyes shone as though a comforting thought had come to him. + +"There's one thing I can do. I've got money enough to make them +independent for life. Be my agent in that, Mr. Wade, and--" + +"I have another message from MacLeod. I have grown to know the man +pretty well, and you'd best take my advice. He says it will be dangerous +business for any man to put out a hand to him with anything in it." + +"You mean they won't take a fortune when I am ready to hand it to them?" + +"I mean it, Mr. Barrett. There are strange notions among some of the +folks of the big woods. Your money is of no use. I advise you frankly +not to offer it. At any rate, I'll not insult MacLeod by being your +messenger." + +The timber magnate whirled his chair and gazed away from Wade, looking +into the depths of his big steel vault. + +At the end of a few minutes Wade spoke to him, but he did not reply. +When the young man accosted him again, after a decent pause, Barrett +spoke over his shoulder without turning his face. + +"The directors and myself will meet your party in the board-room across +the hall in half an hour, Mr. Wade." + +It was not the voice of John Barrett. It was the thin, quavering tone of +a man who was mourning, and wished to be left alone. + +Wade went quietly away. + +He was John Barrett once more when Wade saw him half an hour later at +the head of the big table in the directors' room. All the board was +there except Britt. + +The lumbermen whom Wade headed stood in solid phalanx at the foot of the +room. There were no chairs for them. But they accepted this fact +patiently. + +Wade, a little in advance of his associates, looked into the face of the +Honorable John Barrett, now impassive once more. But there was a strange +gleam in the eyes. In the hush it seemed that the directors were waiting +for Wade to speak--it was the coldly contemptuous silence of King Spruce +ready to hearken. + +The young man accepted this waiting as his challenge. He stepped to the +lower end of the huge table; John Barrett arose at the other end, and +bent forward, leaning on his knuckles. + +"Gentlemen," he said, his tone courteous, his air pacificatory, "Mr. +Dwight Wade, of the Enchanted Lumber Association is here to-day to +confer with us on those matters that have already been considered by us +in executive session. I wish first, with your permission, to inform him +on one point that we have already decided. My statement will enable us +to avoid discussion of an unpleasant matter--I may say, an unprofitable +matter." + +It was plain to be seen that Mr. Barrett was dominating this session, as +he had undoubtedly dominated the preliminary session in which the +sentiment of King Spruce towards Dwight Wade had been crystallized. +Somehow the young man understood that the strange look in Barrett's eyes +meant reassurance. + +"The destruction of Blunder Lake dam was a mistake," continued Barrett, +but without even a note of reproach in his voice. + +"I am ashamed to have to fight that way for common rights that have been +stolen," said the young man. "It's nasty fighting, and I don't want to +fight that way any more." + +"We don't, either," broke in a director, bluntly. "There's no money in +it." + +"A moment, gentlemen," interposed Barrett, "I have the floor. I don't +propose to speak any ill of an associate--an unfortunate associate. I +refer to Mr. Britt, who has for so many years been our executive in the +north woods. But I can say frankly, as I have said to his face, that we +have deplored some of his measures as unwise. We have tried to restrain +him, but we have not been able to hold him back. Let us be charitable, +gentlemen, and say merely that old-fashioned lumbering in this State has +been conducted on wrong ideas. The manner of putting in Blunder Lake dam +is a case in point. In compromising the present disputes between the +timber interests and the other tax-paying interests of the State, I'll +be frank to say that the history of that dam would not be helpful. +Prosecuting you, Mr. Wade, would entail going into the history of that +dam. Therefore, we shall not prosecute you; and an arrangement has +already been made by which you are purged of contempt of court in the +matter of the injunction." + +He grew earnest. + +"You have undoubtedly come here to tell us, Mr. Wade, that the woods are +being butchered for immediate profit; that the present system of +lumbering forces operators to use destructive measures. But we can't +enter into argument on that. We admit it. We have been slow about +getting together to correct those abuses. We also admit that the time +seems to have arrived when we must have a different system. I have been +upon my timber tracts during the past year, and have received new light +on a great many matters that I had not taken pains to inform myself on. +I now view the situation differently, and my associates have coincided +with my views." + +For the others it was merely a business confession of error, an appeal +for compromise. To Dwight Wade, looking into the eyes of John Barrett +and studying his strange expression, it was much more, and his heart +beat quickly. "The whole situation will undoubtedly take a new aspect +from now on. We propose, on our part, to leave the past just as it is; +set mistakes against mistakes, gentlemen, and clean the slates." + +He straightened, dropping his air of confidential appeal. + +"Next week, gentlemen, the convention of my party will nominate me to be +the next governor of this State. I need not tell you that the nomination +means election. I fully realize my responsibilities. I propose to assume +them, and to execute them honestly. I declare here before my associates, +as I shall later to the people of the State, that if I am elected I +shall be a governor of the whole people, and not of any faction. +Personally I shall be glad, Mr. Wade, to have you and all others +interested come before the next legislature, present complaints and +arguments, and let this whole matter be settled justly. You will find +that you and your supporters, as well as we, have interests to protect +against the demagogues. In the new conditions that are coming to +prevail in public matters, those who manage to keep the full measure of +their rights are exceedingly fortunate. Against those new conditions it +is folly to fight. But in correcting abuses the pendulum sometimes +swings too far. I think we can fairly ask you, Mr. Wade, and those +operators who may follow your leadership, to join us in protecting what +rightfully belongs to us--to all of us. You will understand that I am +offering no hint of bulldozing nor inviting corrupt collusion. It has +come to a time when we cannot afford to jeopardize our party or our +property, and the safety of both is concerned in a full and frank +settlement of this question of the timber lands." + +He gazed inquiringly at this young man who had come up to the fortress +to fight, and now found fortress and foe dissolving like a mirage. There +was but one manly attitude to take towards a public pledge of that sort. + +"Mr. Barrett," declared Wade, earnestly, "on that basis you have my +honest co-operation." He took his hat. There was no excuse for remaining +longer in a directors' meeting of the Umcolcus Lumbering Association. +His head whirled with the suddenness of this new situation. + +There was a general mumble of indorsement from the men massed at the +rear of the room, but one of the group spoke out after a moment's +hesitation: "I'm glad to hear you talk of a square deal before next +legislature, Mr. Barrett, but I can't help rememberin' that when some of +us went up to the state-house two years ago, to see if we couldn't get a +few rights, we butted square up against a lobby that was handlin' some +fifteen thousand dollars of King Spruce's money to beat us with, and to +keep things right where they were." + +There was no mistaking Barrett's sincerity now. + +"Gentlemen," he cried, "I have just been admitting that there have been +mistakes made in handling this matter. I didn't intend to go into +details. It is not a pleasant task. But when I say that this matter +shall have fair and square hearing in future, I mean it. And I pledge +for myself and my associates--call us 'King Spruce,' if that means most +to you--that not one dollar will be used by us in the next legislature, +except for expenses of counsel and witnesses before the committees--the +same legitimate expenses that you of the opposition will incur." + +There was no Thomas among them who could persist in the face of a +declaration like that. They dispersed. + +Barrett overtook Wade in the corridor, slipped his hand beneath the +young man's arm, and, without a word, led him back into the private +office. + +"I want to ask you a question, Mr. Wade," he said, still holding him by +the arm. "Once, in stress of feelings and under peculiar circumstances, +I promised certain things and did not fulfil them. You therefore have a +perfect right to be sceptical as to my good faith now. I ask you--are +you?" + +"No, Mr. Barrett, I am not," returned Wade, with simple earnestness. + +"Thank you, my boy!" His voice broke on the words. "When even a square +and clean man gets to my age he begins to realize that the world is a +bigger creditor of his than he had figured in the past," he went on, +after a pause. "In the last few months I have had some bills presented +to me that have found me a miserable bankrupt in spite of what my vault +holds. You know what my debts are. Linus Lane was right when he told me +that my kind of currency couldn't pay those debts. The dead have gone, +leaving me their debtor; the living hold me their debtor still. My boy, +when I realize what I owe and how useless that stuff is in there"--he +shook his hand at the open door of the vault--"I loathe my money! You +know what I owe to one child, and you have brought me word that I can +never pay her. You know just as well what I owe to another child--I have +taken from her most of her faith and love and happiness. Thank God, I +can pay that debt in part, and I know the human heart well enough now to +understand that I shall be paying the greater part." + +He left Wade abruptly, and walked to the window and looked down into the +street. He beckoned to the young man without turning his head. Wade, +coming to his side, saw Elva Barrett's pony phaeton. + +"I told my creditor to come here, and you see she is prompt," said +Barrett, with a wistful smile. "She has accepted what I offer in +settlement of my debt, and I offer you my hand, and tell you, with all +the earnestness of my soul, that since I have come to realize values I +approve my creditor's judgment. I have agreed to pay promptly on demand. +Don't keep her waiting." + +He pushed his "collateral" out into the corridor, and shut the door +behind him. + +Wade ran down the stairway, his hat in his hand, and came upon the +sidewalk into the glare of the June sunshine. She was there! The silk of +the phaeton's parasol strained a soft and tender light upon her face, +and her glorious eyes received him, coming towards her, as though into +an embrace. He swayed a little as he crossed the sidewalk, for his eyes +swam. And before he reached her he turned and cast one look back at the +great building behind him. He seemed to want to reassure himself about +something--to see solid bricks and stone--to convince himself that it +was not a fairy palace in which he had so amazingly and suddenly found +the full fruition of all his hopes. + +"What have they been doing to you in the ogres' den, Dwight, boy?" she +asked, a ripple of laughter in her voice. + +"I--I don't know!" he stammered. "It all happened so suddenly. Take me +away, sweetheart, where I can see a tree. I want to find my bearings +once more!" + +The pony trotted away demurely--so demurely that the girl surrendered +one hand to him, and he held it tight-clutched between them, wordless, a +mist in his eyes. + +"Then it did astonish you, after all?" she ventured, breaking the +silence. + +For reply he pressed her hand. She was first to speak again. + +"I know what a strange boy you are, Dwight," she said, with a touch of +humor in her tones. "For the peace of your soul for ever and ever, and +the satisfaction of your pride, I want to tell you that my father +offered me to you--I did not beg you from my father; but"--she hesitated +and looked at him slyly--"I didn't question the legal tender! Now that +you are a business man, I suppose we ought to use business terms!" + +But with his great love shining in his eyes, he pointed away from the +staring houses, where the road wound on under the trees and the peace of +perfect understanding lay beneath. + + THE END + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + +Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise, +every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and +intent. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of King Spruce, A Novel, by Holman Day + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KING SPRUCE, A NOVEL *** + +***** This file should be named 34948.txt or 34948.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/9/4/34948/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, D Alexander and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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