diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/62768-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62768-0.txt | 4861 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 4861 deletions
diff --git a/old/62768-0.txt b/old/62768-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 12eb365..0000000 --- a/old/62768-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4861 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Red Pirogue, by Theodore Goodridge Roberts - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Red Pirogue - A Tale of Adventure in the Canadian Wilds - -Author: Theodore Goodridge Roberts - -Illustrator: Frank T. Merrill - -Release Date: July 27, 2020 [eBook #62768] -[Most recently updated: April 16, 2021] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED PIROGUE *** - - - - - THE RED PIROGUE - - - - - A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE CANADIAN WILDS - - - - - STORIES BY - Captain Theodore Goodridge Roberts - - Comrades of the Trails - The Red Feathers - Flying Plover - The Fighting Starkleys - Tom Akerley - The Red Pirogue - - L. C. PAGE & COMPANY (Inc.) - 53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. - - - - -[Illustration: “UP CAME THE RAGING WATERS, UP AND PAST THE JUMPING, -SQUIRMING CANOE.”] - - - - - The RED PIROGUE - - A Tale of Adventure in the Canadian Wilds - - RELATED BY - Captain Theodore Goodridge Roberts - - Author of “The Fighting Starkleys,” “Comrades of the Trails,” - “Red Feathers,” “Tom Akerley,” etc. - - ILLUSTRATED BY - Frank T. Merrill - - BOSTON - L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY - (INCORPORATED) - MDCCCCXXIV - - - - - Copyright, 1922, - By Street & Smith Corporation - - Copyright, 1924, - By L. C. Page & Company - (INCORPORATED) - - All rights reserved - - Made in U.S.A. - - First Impression, January, 1924 - - PRINTED BY C. H. SIMONDS COMPANY - BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A. - - - - - CONTENTS - - I. A Queer Fish - II. The Drifting Fire - III. The Strange Behavior of Dogs and Men - IV. Obstructing the Law - V. Visitors to French River - VI. Hot Scent and Wet Trail - VII. A Trap for the Hungry - VIII. The Red Dogs at Work - IX. The Sick Man - X. In the Nick of Time - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - “Up came the raging waters, up and past the jumping, - squirming canoe.” - - “The old man drew alongside and peered at Ben” - - “Sat down on a convenient chopping block” - - “‘To shoot gentlemen with?’ asked the little girl - in an awe-struck whisper” - - “‘Stand there and stand steady’” - - - - - THE RED PIROGUE - - - - - CHAPTER I - - A QUEER FISH - - -Young Ben O’Dell emerged from the woodshed into the dew and the -dawning day with a paddle in his hand, crossed a strip of orchard, -passed through a thicket of alders and choke cherries and between -two great willows and descended a steep bank to a beach of sand and -pebbles. Thin mist still crawled in wisps on the sliding surface of -the river. Eastward, downstream, sky and hills and water were awash -and afire with the pink and gold and burnished silver of the new -day. - -Ben was as agreeably conscious of the scents of the place and hour -as of the beloved sights and sounds. He sniffed the faint fragrance -of running water, the sweeter breath of clover blooms, the sharper -scent of pennyroyal. He could even detect and distinguish the mild, -dank odors of dew-wet willow bark, of stranded cedar blocks and of -the lush-green stems of black rice and duck grass. - -He crossed the beach to the gray sixteen-foot pirogue which was used -for knocking about between the point and the island and for tending -the salmon net. It wasn’t much of a craft—just a stick of pine -shaped by ax and draw knife and hollowed by ax and fire—but it saved -Uncle Jim McAllister’s canvas canoe much wear and tear. It was heavy -and “crank,” but it was tough. - -Ben launched the pirogue with a long, grinding shove, stepped aboard -and went sliding out across the current toward the stakes and floats -of the net. The upper rim of the sun was above the horizon by now -and the shine and golden glory of it dazzled his eyes. - -It was now that Ben first noticed the other pirogue. He thought it -was a log, but only for a moment. Shading his eyes with his hand he -made out the man-cut lines and the paint-red glow. It was a pirogue -sure enough and the largest one Ben had ever seen. It was fully -twenty-five feet long, deep and bulky in proportion and painted red -from end to end. It lay motionless on the upper side of the net, -caught lengthwise against the stout stakes. - -Ben, still standing, dipped his long paddle a dozen times and in a -minute he was near enough to the strange pirogue to look into it. -The thing which he saw there caused him to step crookedly and -violently backward; and before he realized what he had done the -crank little dugout had rolled with a snap and he was under water. - -He came to the surface beside his own craft which had righted but -was full of water and no more than just afloat. He swam it into -shallow water, pushed it aground, threw his paddle ashore and then -turned again to the river and the big red pirogue lying motionless -against the net stakes. - -“Nothing to be scared of,” he said. “Don’t know why I jumped like -that. Fool trick!” - -He kicked off his loose brogans one by one, dipped for them and -threw them ashore. - -The sun was up now and the light was brighter. The last shred of -mist was gone from the river. - -[Illustration: “FOR A FEW SECONDS THE TWO GAZED IN SILENCE.”] - -“It startled me, that was all,” he said. “It would startle any -man—Uncle Jim himself, even.” - -He waded until the swift water was halfway between his belt and his -shoulders, then plunged forward and swam out and up toward the red -pirogue. He hadn’t far to go, but now the current was against him. -He made it in a few minutes, however. He gripped a gunnel of the big -dugout with both hands and hoisted himself high and looked inboard. -At the same moment the occupant of the strange craft sat up and -stared at him with round eyes. For a few seconds the two gazed in -silence. - -“Who are you?” asked the occupant of the red pirogue. - -“I’m Ben O’Dell,” replied the youth in the water, smiling -encouragingly and brushing aside a bang of wet hair. “I live on the -point when I’m not away downriver at school. I was surprised when I -first saw you—so surprised that I upset and had to swim.” - -“Is that O’Dell’s Point?” asked the other. - -“Yes. You can’t see the house for those big willows on the bank.” - -“Are you Mrs. O’Dell’s boy?” - -“Yes, I’m her son. I’m not so small as I look with just my head out -of water. I guess I’d better climb in, if you don’t mind, and paddle -you ashore.” - -“You may climb in, if you want to—but I can paddle myself all -right.” - -“Is she steady? Can I put all my weight on one side, or must I get -in over the end?” - -“She’s steady as a scow.” - -Ben pulled himself up and scrambled in. A paddle lay aft. He took it -up and stroked for the shore. - -“It was a funny place to find you,” he ventured. - -“Why funny?” she asked gravely. - -“Well—queer. A little girl all alone in a big pirogue and caught -against the net stakes.” - -“I’m eleven years old. I caught the pirogue there on purpose because -I thought I was getting near to O’Dell’s Point and I was afraid to -land in the dark.” - -“Do you know my mother?” - -“No-o—not herself—but I have a letter of intr’duction to her.” - -They stepped ashore and crossed the beach side by side. Ben felt -bewildered, despite his eighteen years of life and six feet of -loosely jointed height. This small girl astonished and puzzled him -with her gravity that verged on the tragic, her assured and superior -manners, her shabby attire and her cool talk of “a letter of -intr’duction.” He possessed a keen sense of humor but he did not -smile. Even the letter of introduction struck him as being pathetic -rather than funny. He was touched by pity and curiosity and -profoundly bewildered. - -They climbed the steep, short bank. - -“You are big,” she remarked gravely as they passed between the old -apple trees. “Bigger than lots of grown men. I thought you were just -a little boy when I couldn’t see anything but your head. You must be -quite old.” - -“I’m eighteen; and I’m going to college this fall—if mother makes -me. But I’d sooner stop home and work with Uncle Jim,” he replied. - -At that moment they cleared the orchard and came upon the ell and -woodshed of the wide gray house and Mr. James McAllister in the door -of the shed. McAllister backed and vanished in the snap of a finger. - -“He is shy with strangers, but he’s a brave man and a good one,” -said Ben. - -Mrs. O’Dell appeared in the doorway just then. - -“Mother, here’s a little girl who came from somewhere or other in a -big red pirogue,” said Ben. “I found her out at the net. She has a -letter for you.” - -Mrs. O’Dell was a tall woman of forty, slender and strong, with the -blue eyes and warm brown hair of the McAllisters. She wore a cotton -dress of one of the changing shades of blue of her eyes, trim and -fresh. The dress was open at the throat and the sleeves were rolled -up to the elbows. She stepped forward without a moment’s hesitation -and laid a strong hand lightly on one of the little girl’s thin -shoulders. She smiled and the blue of her eyes darkened and -softened. - -“A letter for me, dear?” she queried. - -“Yes Mrs. O’Dell—from dad,” replied the stranger. - -“You are Richard Sherwood’s little girl?” - -“Yes, I’m Marion.” - -“And you came alone? Not all the way from French River?” - -“Most of the way—alone. I—dad——” - -Ben became suddenly aware of the fact that the queer little girl was -crying. She was still looking steadily up into his mother’s face but -tears were brimming her eyes and sparkling on her cheeks and her -lips were trembling. He turned away in pained confusion. For several -minutes he stared fixedly at the foliage and green apples of the -orchard; when he ventured to turn again he found himself alone. - -Ben passed through the woodshed into the kitchen. There he found his -uncle frying pancakes in a fever of distracted effort, spilling -batter, scorching cakes and perspiring. - -“Where are they?” he asked. - -Uncle Jim motioned toward an inner door with the long knife with -which he was working so hard and accomplishing so little. Ben took -the knife away from him, cleared the griddle of smoking ruins and -scraped it clean. - -“You didn’t grease it,” he said. “I’ll handle the pork and do the -turning and you handle the batter.” - -This arrangement worked satisfactorily. - -“Where’d you find her, Ben?” whispered McAllister. - -“In a big pirogue drifted against the stakes of our net,” replied -the youth. “She was asleep when I first glimpsed her and I thought -it was somebody dead. It gave me a start, I can tell you.” - -“It sure would. Well, I reckon she’s as queer a fish as was ever -taken in a salmon net on this river.” - -“It was a queer place to find her, all right. Who’s Richard -Sherwood, Uncle Jim? Do you know him? How did mother come to guess -who she was?” - -“I used to know him. All of us did for a few years, a long time ago. -He was quality, the same as your pa—but he wasn’t steady like your -pa.” - -“Quality? You mean he was a gentleman?” - -“That’s what he’d ought to been, anyhow—but I reckon the woods up -French River, and one thing and another, were too much for his -gentility. Ssh! Here they come!” - -Mrs. O’Dell and little Marion Sherwood entered the kitchen hand in -hand. The eyes of both wore a suggestion of recent tears and hasty -bathing with cold water, but both were smiling, though the little -girl’s smile was tremulous and uncertain. - -“Jim, this is Dick Sherwood’s daughter,” said the woman. “You and -Dick were great friends in the old days, weren’t you?” - -“We sure was,” returned McAllister awkwardly but cordially. “He was -as smart a man in the water as ever I saw. Could dive and swim like -an otter. And a master hand with a gun! He could shoot birds -a-flying easier’n I could hit ’em on the ground. John was a good -shot, too, but he wasn’t a match for your pa, little girl. I hope he -keeps in good health.” - -“Yes, thank you,” whispered Marion. - -“Marion’s pa has left French River for a little while on business, -and Marion will make her home with us until he returns,” said Mrs. -O’Dell. - -There was bacon for breakfast as well as buckwheat pancakes, and -there were hot biscuits and strawberry preserves and cream to top -off with. The elders did most of the talking. Marion sat beside Jim -McAllister, on his left. Jim, having taken his cue from his sister, -racked his memory for nice things to say of Richard Sherwood. He -sang Sherwood’s prowess in field and stream. At last, spooning his -preserves with his right hand, he let his left hand rest on his knee -beneath the edge of the table. - -“And brave!” he said. “You couldn’t scare him! I never knew any man -so brave as Dick Sherwood except only John O’Dell.” - -Then a queer change of expression came over his face. Young Ben, who -was watching his uncle from the other side of the table, noticed it -instantly. The blue eyes widened; the drooping mustache twitched; -the lower jaw sagged and a vivid flush ascended throat and chin and -cheek beneath the tough tan of wind and sun. Ben wondered. - -Breakfast over, the man and youth went outside, for there were -potatoes to be hilled and turnips to be thinned. - -“What was the matter with you, Uncle Jim?” inquired Ben. - -“Me? When?” asked McAllister. - -“Just a little while ago. Just after you said how brave Mr. Sherwood -was—from that on. You looked sort of dazed and moonstruck.” - -“Moonstruck, hey? Well, I’ll tell you, Ben, seeing as it’s you. That -little girl took a-holt of my hand when I said that about her pa. -And she kept right on a-holding of it.” - -“Girls must be queer. I knew something was wrong, you looked so -foolish. But if her father was such a fine man as you tried to make -out at breakfast, what’s the matter with him? You told me that the -woods had been too much for his gentility, Uncle Jim.” - -“Sure it was—the woods or something; but he was smart and brave all -the same when I knew him. I wasn’t lying; but I’ll admit I was -telling all the good of him I could think up, so’s to hearten the -poor little girl. It worked, too.” - -“Do you know why he left French River? And why did he leave her to -come all that way alone?” - -“I’ll ask Flora, first chance I get. I’m just as curious as yerself, -Ben.” - -They were halfway to the potatoes with their earthy hoes on their -shoulders when Ben halted suddenly and faced his uncle with an -abashed grin. - -“I forgot to tend the net,” he said. “It may be full of salmon for -all I know—and all the salmon full of eels by this time.” - -McAllister’s long, lean frame jerked with laughter. - -“That suits me fine, Ben,” he exclaimed as soon as he could speak. -“We’ll go tend it now. I’d sooner be on the river this fine morning -than hilling potatoes, anyhow; and maybe we’ll find another grilse -from French River.” - -Uncle Jim was impressed by the red pirogue. He had seen bigger ones -but not many of them. In the days of his unsettled and adventurous -youth, when he was a “white-water boy,” chopping in the woods every -winter and “stream-driving” logs every spring, he had once helped to -shape and dig out a thirty-five-foot pirogue. But that had been -close onto fifty miles farther upriver and back in the days of big -pine timber. - -“She’s a sockdolager, all right,” he said. “Didn’t know there was -any such pines left on French River. What’s underneath the blankets, -aft there?” - -Ben stepped into the grounded craft, went aft and lifted the -blankets, disclosing a lumpy sack tied at the neck with twine, a -battered leather gun case and a bundle wrapped in a rubber ground -sheet and securely tied about with rope. - -“It’s her dunnage!” exclaimed Uncle Jim. “Off you walked and left it -laying! You’re a fine feller to catch a young lady in a net, you -ain’t! Where was your wits, Ben?” - -“I was upset, that’s a sure thing,” admitted the youth. “And I’m -still a good deal puzzled about these Sherwoods,” he added. - -In the net they found four salmon, three still sound and one already -fallen a prey to devouring eels. Several eels had entered the -largest fish by way of the gills and mouth and what had been salmon -was now more eel. The silver skin was undamaged and the eels were -still inside. - -With Marion Sherwood’s baggage, the salmon and the skinful of eels, -Ben and his uncle had to make two trips from the river to the house. -The eels were thrown to the hogs as they were, alive and in their -attractive container. The undamaged fish were cleaned, salted and -hung in the smokehouse. During that operation and the journey to the -potato field and between brisk bouts of hoe work, James McAllister -told his nephew most of what he knew of the Sherwoods of French -River. - -Mr. Richard Sherwood first appeared at O’Dell’s Point twenty-six -years ago when James McAllister was only twenty years of age. He was -direct from England, by way of the big town sixty miles downriver. -He arrived with three loaded canoes and six Maliseet canoemen from -the reservation near Kingstown and jumped knee-deep into the water -before the canoes could make the shore and set up a shout that -started the echoes on the far side of the river. - -“Jack O’Dell. Guncotton Jack! Tally-ho! Steady the Buffs!” - -The Maliseets wondered; the mowers on island and mainland ceased -their labors to give ear; and John O’Dell, in the orchard, hooked -his scythe into the crotch of an apple tree and started for the -beach at top speed with Jim McAllister close at his heels. O’Dell -went down the bank in two jumps. The stranger saw him and splashed -ashore. They met halfway between the willows and the water and shook -hands two-handed. They were certainly glad to see each other. - -That was how Richard Sherwood came to O’Dell’s Point. He was a -fine-looking young man, red and brown, with a swagger in his -shoulders and a laugh in his dark eyes. But all the world was young -then. Even Captain John O’Dell was only twenty-six. - -Sherwood had been a lieutenant in O’Dell’s company of the second -battalion of the Buffs. The two young men had served together in a -hill war in India; and Sherwood had been present when O’Dell, -refusing to accept another volunteer after three had been shot down, -had advanced with a cigarette between his lips and lighted the fuse -of the charge of guncotton which the first volunteer had placed -under the gate of the fort. He had lighted the fuse with the coal of -his cigarette, while the entire garrison shot down at him and his -men shot up at the garrison and then had turned and walked downhill -to the nearest cover with blood flowing down his neck, the top gone -from his helmet, the guard of his sheathed sword smashed on his hip -and a slug of lead in the calf of his right leg—still smoking the -cigarette. - -John O’Dell had resigned his commission soon after the death of his -father and returned home to Canada and his widowed mother and the -wide gray house at O’Dell’s Point. That had been just two years -before Richard Sherwood’s arrival on the river. - -Sherwood lived with the O’Dells until December. He was a live wire. -He worked on the farm, swam in the river, shot duck and partridge -and snipe, hunted moose and made a number of trips upstream in -search of land to buy and settle on. He wanted thousands of acres. -He had big but somewhat confused ideas of what he wanted. He liked -the life. It was brisk and wild. He confided to young Jim McAllister -that he wouldn’t object to its being even brisker and wilder than he -found it in the vicinity of O’Dell’s Point. The O’Dells, he said, -were just a trifle too conscious of their duty toward, and -superiority to, the lesser people of the river. - -Jim McAllister admired Sherwood vastly in those days and was with -him on the river and in the woods as often as possible. The -McAllisters lived in the next house above the point. The family -consisted then of Ian and Jim and Agnes and Flora and their parents -and a grandfather. - -They were not like the O’Dells exactly, those McAllisters, but they -were just as good in their own way. Their habitation was less than -the O’Dell house by four bedrooms, a gun room, a library and a -drawing-room with two fireplaces; and their farm was of one hundred -and sixty acres against the square mile of mainland and forty-acre -island of the O’Dells. And yet the two families were loyal friends -of long standing. The first McAllister to settle on the river one -hundred and ten years ago had been a sergeant in the regiment of -which the first O’Dell had been the commanding officer. - -Jim McAllister took Mr. Richard Sherwood upriver in December, -twenty-six years ago, to introduce him to some of the mysteries of -trapping fur. Sherwood was restless and traveled fast. After a time -they struck French River at a point about ten miles from its mouth -and within a few hundred yards of the log house of Louis Balenger. -Balenger had Iroquois blood in his veins and was from the big -northern province of Quebec. He had come to French River with his -family five or six years before, traveling light and fast. When Jim -McAllister saw where he was he urged Sherwood to keep right on, for -Balenger had the reputation of being a dangerous man. - -But Louis sighted them and hailed them, ran to meet them and had -them within the log walls of his house as quick as winking. And -there was rum on the table and the fire on the hearth burned -cheerily and Mrs. Balenger said that dinner would be ready in half -an hour. The dinner was plentiful and well cooked, the eyes of the -Balenger girls were big and black and bright and the conversation of -Louis was pure entertainment though somewhat mixed in language. - -That was the beginning of Richard Sherwood’s fall from grace in the -eyes of the O’Dells and McAllisters and most other people of unmixed -white blood on the big river. Jim McAllister returned to O’Dell’s -Point alone; and even he had turned his back reluctantly on the -exciting hospitality of the big log house. Even as it was, he had -remained under that fateful roof long enough to lose the price of a -good young horse to his merry host at poker. He made all haste down -the white path of French River for ten miles and then down the wider -white way of the big river for twenty miles and reported to his -friend John O’Dell before showing himself to his own family. - -Captain O’Dell gave Jim two hours in which to rest, eat and rub the -snowshoe cramps out of his legs with hot bear’s grease; and then the -two of them headed for French River, backtracking on Jim’s trail -which had scarcely had time to cool. They reached Balenger’s house -next day, before noon. Mrs. Balenger opened the door to them and -welcomed them in. Jim McAllister followed John O’Dell reluctantly -into the big living room. There sat Sherwood and Balenger at a table -beside the wide hearth with cards in their hands, just as Jim had -last seen them two days before. - -Louis Balenger laid down his cards, sprang to his feet and advanced -to meet the visitors. He expressed the honor which he felt at this -neighborly attention on the part of the distinguished Captain -O’Dell. But Richard Sherwood did not move. John O’Dell was very -polite and cold as ice and dry as sand. He bowed gravely to Madame -Balenger and her daughters, refused a glass of punch from the hand -of Louis on the plea that he was already overheated and requested -Dick Sherwood to settle for the play and come along. Sherwood -refused to budge. He was angry and sulky. - -O’Dell’s Point saw nothing more of Richard Sherwood for nine long -months. He appeared one August evening in a bark canoe, spent the -night with the O’Dells and headed upriver again early next morning, -swearing more like a river-bred “white-water boy” than an English -gentleman. The captain told Jim McAllister something of what had -passed between himself and Sherwood. Sherwood, it seems, had lost -all his little property—the price of a good farm, at least—to Louis -Balenger, and he had wanted a few hundred dollars to set about -winning it all back with. - -John had refused to lend him money for poker but had offered him -land and stock and a home and help if he would cut his acquaintance -with Louis Balenger and the entire Balenger tribe. Sherwood refused -to consider any such offer, said that Delphine Balenger was worth -more than all the other inhabitants of the country rolled together -and that he would not lose sight of her even if he had to work his -fingers to the bone in the service of Louis, and went away in a -raging temper. - -Once a year, for eight years, John O’Dell tried to get Sherwood away -from the Balengers and French River but always in vain. Sherwood -worked for Louis and according to Louis’ own methods; and as he was -always the goat he was frequently on the run from the wardens of the -game laws. - -Down at O’Dell’s Point life went on evenly and honestly and yet with -a fine dash of romance. Captain John O’Dell wooed and wed Flora -McAllister and Jim McAllister was jilted by a girl at Hood’s Ferry -and several elderly people died peacefully. Up on French River, -Delphine Balenger ran away with a lumberman from the States after -Dick Sherwood had spent ten years in slavery and disgrace for love -of her; and Sherwood set out on the lumberman’s track with murder in -his heart. He lost his way and was found and brought home by -Delphine’s younger sister. Then Sherwood quarreled with Louis -Balenger and Louis shot him twice, left the Englishman for dead and -vanished from French River forever. Julie Balenger nursed poor -Sherwood back to life and strength and, soon after, married him. - -This is what Uncle Jim told young Ben O’Dell of the Sherwoods of -French River. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - THE DRIFTING FIRE - - -When the little Sherwood girl first saw the library she did not -believe her eyes. It was not a large room, and there were not more -than six hundred volumes on the shelves; but Marion had to pull out -and examine a score of the books before she believed that the rest -were real. She had not known that there was so much printed paper in -the whole world. She had seen only three books before this discovery -of the O’Dell library, the three from which her father had taught -her to read. He had told her of others and she had pictured the book -wealth of the world on one shelf three feet long. - -Ben O’Dell looked into the library through one of the open windows. - -“Have you read ‘Coral Island’?” he asked. - -Marion shook her head. - -“It’s good,” continued Ben. “But ‘Treasure Island’ is better. They -are both on my shelves, farther along. ‘Midshipman Easy’ is fine, -too—but perhaps it’s too old for you. Have you read many books?” - -“I’ve read three,” she replied. “Dad taught me to read them. He -taught Julie and me to read at the same time, and he said we were -very clever. He could read as easy as anything.” - -“Who is Julie?” he asked. - -“She is my mother,” replied the little girl, with averted face. -“They taught me to call her Julie when I was a baby and they used to -laugh. She—she was ill two years ago—and I haven’t seen her -since—because she’s in Heaven.” - -Ben’s face grew red with pity and embarrassment; for a minute both -were silent. He found his voice first. - -“What books have you read?” he asked. - -“‘Rob Roy,’ by Sir Walter Scott,” she answered in a tremulous -whisper which scarcely reached him. “It was quite a big book, in -green covers—and I liked it best of all. And ‘Infantry Training.’ It -was a little red book. Julie and I didn’t find it very interesting. -The third was ‘The Army List.’ It had dad’s name in it and _your_ -father’s too, and hundreds and hundreds of names of other officers -of the king.” - -“But—you read those—‘Infantry Training’ and ‘The Army List’?” - -“Yes—plenty of times.” - -“And only one story like ‘Rob Roy’?” - -“We hadn’t any more.” - -Ben O’Dell leaned his hoe against the side of the house and hoisted -himself through the open window. The little girl looked at him; but, -knowing that there were tears in her eyes he did not meet her -glance. Instead, he took her by the hand and led her across the room -to his own particular shelves of books. - -“Here’s what I used to read when I was your age,” he said. “I read -them even now, sometimes. ‘Treasure Island’—you’ll like that.” He -drew it out and laid it on the floor. “‘From Powder Monkey to -Admiral,’ ‘My Friend Smith,’ ‘The Lady or the Tiger,’ ‘Red Fox,’ -‘The Gold Bug,’ ‘The Black Arrow,’ ‘Robbery Under Arms,’ ‘Davy and -the Goblin’—you’ll like all these.” - -The little girl stared speechless at the pile of books on the floor. -Ben recrossed the room, climbed through the window and reshouldered -his hoe. He met Uncle Jim at the near edge of the potato patch. - -“I’ve been waiting for you,” said McAllister. “I don’t want to take -any advantage of you by starting in at these spuds ahead of you.” - -“I stopped a minute to show the little Sherwood girl some good books -to read,” explained the youth. - -“Can she read?” asked Uncle Jim. “How would she learn to read, way -up there on French River?” - -“Her father taught her. He taught her and her mother to read at the -same time. And her mother’s dead. I’m sorry for that kid, Uncle Jim. -Mighty tough, it seems to me—no mother—and to be left all alone in a -big pirogue by her father. I’d like to know why he did that.” - -“So would I,” returned McAllister. “I asked your ma and she didn’t -seem to know exactly. Couldn’t make out anything particular from the -letter nor from what the little girl told her—but it’s something -real serious, I guess. He had to run, anyhow. He is fond of the -little girl, no doubt about it. His letter to Flora told that much. -And he was mighty fond of his wife too, I reckon; and I wouldn’t -wonder if there wasn’t more good in him than what we figured on, -after all. He had wild blood in him, I guess; and Louis Balenger was -sure a bad feller to get mixed up with.” - -They worked in silence for half an hour, hilling the potatoes side -by side. - -“I’d like to know why he left her in the pirogue. Why he didn’t -bring her all the way,” said Ben, pausing and leaning on his hoe. - -“How far down did he bring her?” returned McAllister. - -“I don’t know.” - -“Likely he was scared. Maybe the wardens were close onto his heels. -It looks like he figgered on just coming part way with her, by his -having the letter to your ma already written.” - -Again they fell to work and for ten minutes the hoes were busy. Then -McAllister straightened his back. - -“It’s years since I was last on French River,” he said. “I’d like -fine to take another look at that country. We’d maybe learn -something we don’t know if we got right on the ground. We wouldn’t -have to be gone for long. Two days up, one day for scouting ’round -and one day for the run home—four or five days would be plenty.” - -“When can we go?” - -“Not before haying, that’s a sure thing. Between haying and harvest -is the best time, I reckon. I feel real curious about Dick -Sherwood’s affairs now—more curious than I’ve felt for years.” - -“He sounds mighty interesting to me! and I shouldn’t be surprised to -learn that you were wrong when you said the woods had been too much -for his gentility, Uncle Jim.” - -“Neither would I, myself. But how d’ye figger it, Ben?” - -“Well, the little girl has good manners.” - -“She sure has! I never saw a little girl with better manners. I’m -hoping her pa hasn’t done something they can jail him for—or if he -has, that they can’t catch ’im. I’m all for keeping the laws—even -the game laws—but maybe if I’d lived on French River along with -Louis Balenger instead of at O’Dell’s Point alongside O’Dells all my -life, I’d be busy this minute keeping a jump ahead of the wardens -instead of hilling potatoes. You never can tell. There’s more to -shootin’ a moose in close season nor the twitch of the finger. -There’s many an outlaw running the woods who would have been an -honest farmer like yer Uncle Jim if only he’d been born a McAllister -and been bred alongside the O’Dells.” - -“I’ve been thinking that myself,” returned Ben gravely. -“Environment, that’s it! The influence of environment.” - -“It sure sounds right to me, all right,” said McAllister. “We’ll -call it that, anyhow; and we won’t forget that Dick Sherwood taught -his little girl good manners and how to read.” - -The thought of getting away from the duties of the farm for a few -days was a pleasant one to both the honest farmer and his big -nephew. Jim McAllister was not an enthusiastic agriculturalist. He -loved the country and he didn’t object to an occasional bout of -strenuous toil; but the unadventurous round of milking and weeding -and hoeing day after day bored him extremely even now in his -forty-sixth year. But for the mild excitement of the salmon net in -the river and his love for his widowed sister and his nephew and his -respect for the memory of the late Captain John O’Dell he would long -ago have turned his back on the implements of husbandry and taken to -the woods. - -Young Ben, on the other hand, was keen about farm work. He preferred -it to school work. He was young enough to find excitement where none -was perceptible to his uncle. He loved all growing things, but he -loved cattle more than crops, horses more than cows. The practical -side of farm life was dear to him and he took pleasure in the duties -which seemed humdrum to his uncle; but the side issues, the sporting -features, were even dearer. He loved the river better than the -meadow and he saw eye to eye with McAllister in the matter of the -salmon net. A flying duck set his blood flying and the reek of -burned powder on the air of a frosty morning was the most delicious -scent he knew. He loved wood smoke under trees and the click of an -iron-shod canoe pole on pebbles, and the tracks of wild animals in -mud and snow. The prospect of a visit to French River was far from -unwelcome to him. - -That was an unusually warm night, without a breath of air on -O’Dell’s Point. Ben went to bed at ten o’clock and somehow let three -mosquitoes into his room with him. He undressed, extinguished his -lamp and lay sweltering in his pajamas on the outside of his bed. -Then the mosquitoes tuned their horns and sounded the charge. They -lasted nearly half an hour; by the time they were dead Ben was wider -awake than he had been at any time during the day. He went to the -window and looked out at the sky of faint stars and the vague dark -of the curving river. His glance was straight ahead at first, then -eastward downstream. - -Ben saw a light, a red light, drifting on the black river. His first -thought was that it might be some one with a lantern, but in a -moment he saw that the light could not be that of a lantern, for it -grew and sparks began to fly from it. A torch, perhaps. The torch of -a salmon spearer? Not likely! For years it had been unlawful to kill -salmon or bass with the spear and there was no lawbreaker on the -river possessed of sufficient hardihood to light his torch within -sight of O’Dell’s Point. More than this, the light was running with -the current; and it was increasing every moment in height and length -far beyond the dimensions of any torch. - -Ben groped for his shoes and picked them up, felt his way cautiously -out of the room and down the back stairs. In the woodshed he put on -his shoes and equipped himself with paddle and pole. Then he ran for -the river, ducking under the boughs of the old apple trees and -descending the bank in a jump and a slide. Dim as the light was he -saw that the big pirogue was gone before he reached the edge of the -water. The sixteen-footer was there but nothing was to be seen of -the giant from French River. He looked downstream and saw the light -which had attracted him from his window vanishing behind the head of -the island, out in the channel. It was like a floating camp fire by -this time. - -Ben threw pole and paddle into the sixteen-footer, ran her into the -water and leaped aboard. He shot her straight across the current for -a distance of several hundred yards, until he was clear of the head -of the island, then swung down on the track of the drifting fire. He -paddled hard, urged by a very natural curiosity. This and the -disappearance of the red pirogue from the point and the fact that he -was out on the dark river in his pajamas instead of tossing on his -hot bed, thrilled him pleasantly. - -He drew steadily down upon the fire which was now leaping high and -tossing up showers of sparks and trailing blood-red reflections on -the black water. As he drew yet nearer he heard the crackle of its -burning and the hiss of embers in the water. He heard a dog barking -off on the southern shore. He heard the roaring breath of the fire -and felt its heat. He swerved slightly and drew abreast of it. - -He saw that the fire was in a boat of some sort, that the vessel was -full of flame and crowned with flame, that it was heaped high from -bow to stern with blazing driftwood and dry brush. The lines of the -craft showed black and clear-cut between the leaping red and yellow -of the flames above and the sliding red of the water below. He -looked more intently and recognized the lines and bulk of the big -red pirogue. - -The red pirogue, the property of his mother’s guest, adrift and -afire in the middle of the river! Who had dared to do this thing? No -neighbor, that was certain. Canoes, nets, all sorts of gear, were as -safe on the beach at O’Dell’s Point as in the house itself. This -must be the work of a stranger and of an insane one, at that. - -Ben continued to drift abreast of the red pirogue and watch it burn. -He kept just out of range of the showering sparks and the scorching -heat. He felt indignant and puzzled. But for the assurance of his -own eyes he could not have believed that any inhabitant of the -valley possessed sufficient temerity thus to remove property from -O’Dell land and destroy it. If he should ever discover the identity -of the offender he would make him regret the action, by thunder! He -would show him that the O’Dells were not all dead. No other theft of -such importance as this had been made on the O’Dell front in a -hundred years. But could this be properly classed as a theft? It -seemed to Ben more like an act inspired by insolence than the -performance of a person driven by greed or necessity. - -“Hello! Hello!” hailed a voice from the gloom on the right. - -“Hello,” answered Ben, turning his face toward the sound. - -A small sturgeon boat appeared in the circle of fierce light, -paddled by a square-shouldered old man with square whiskers whom Ben -recognized as Tim Hood of Hood’s Ferry. - -[Illustration: “THE OLD MAN DREW ALONGSIDE AND PEERED AT BEN.”] - -“Hold hard there!” cried Hood. “What pranks be ye up to now?” - -“Pranks? What are you talking about?” returned the youth. - -The old man drew alongside and peered at Ben, shading his eyes with -a hand against the glare of the fire. - -“Oh, it’s yerself!” he exclaimed. “Well, what d’ye know about this -here? What be the joke an’ who be the joker?” - -“That’s what I’d like to know,” replied Ben, turning again to -contemplate the drifting fire. - -The mass of wood had settled considerably by this time and was now a -mound of hot crimson and orange with low flames running over it. The -gunnels of the pirogue were burning swiftly, edging the long mass of -glowing embers with a hedge of livelier flame. The big pirogue -hissed from end to end and was girdled by misty puffs of steam. - -“Looks to me like a pirogue,” said old Tim Hood. “A big one, like -the ones we uster make afore all the big pine was cut off -hereabouts.” - -Ben was about to tell what he knew but he checked himself. Pride and -perhaps something else prompted him to keep quiet. Why should he -admit to this old ferryman that some one on the river had dared to -take a pirogue from the O’Dell front? Very likely it would amuse -Hood to believe that the influence of this distinguished family for -honesty and order was waning, for the ferryman was the only person -within ten miles of O’Dell’s Point who had ever openly denied the -virtue of the things for which the O’Dells of the Point had stood -for more than a hundred years. During Captain John’s term of -occupation, and even in the days of Ben’s grandfather, Tim Hood had -openly derided the elegant condescension of the O’Dell manners and -the purity of the O’Dell speech and made light of learning, military -rank and romantic traditions. So Ben did not tell the old man that -the pirogue had been set adrift from O’Dell’s Point. - -“I saw it from my bedroom window and couldn’t make out what it was,” -he said. - -“Same here,” replied Hood. “An’ whatever it was, it won’t be even -that much longer.” - -He swung the sturgeon boat around and paddled away into the gloom. - -Ben also deserted the fated pirogue which was now shrouded in a -cloud of steam. He backed and headed his sluggish craft for the -bulky darkness of the left shore. - -“I’m glad I didn’t tell him,” he reflected. “He’d have laughed and -sneered, the way he does about everything he doesn’t know anything -about. And I’m mighty glad I didn’t say anything about the little -girl—about her coming to the point all alone and me finding her -drifted against the net stakes. He’d have made the worst of -that—would have said Sherwood had run away and deserted her and -sneered at both of them.” - -When he got into shallow water he headed upstream and exchanged the -paddle for the pole. He had paddled and drifted far below the tail -of the little island. The water was not swift and the bottom was -firm. He poled easily, keeping close inshore. He searched his -knowledge of his neighbors and his somewhat limited experience of -life and human nature for a solution of the puzzle and for a reason -for the removal and destruction of the red pirogue. But he failed to -see light. The more he thought of it, the more utterly unreasonable -it seemed to him. It was a mystery; and he had inherited a taste for -the mysterious with his McAllister blood. - -Upon reaching the tail of the island Ben kept to his course and -entered the thoroughfare between the island and the left shore. Here -the shallow water ran swiftly over sand and bright pebbles in a -narrow passage. In some places the water was so shoal that Ben had -to heave straight down on the pole to scrape over and in other -places it eddied in deep pits in which water-logged driftwood lay -rotting and big eels squirmed. Both the island shore and the -mainland shore were grown thick and tall with willows, water maples -and elms. Under the faint stars the thoroughfare was black as the -inside of a hat. - -Ben was almost through the dark passage, almost abreast of the head -of the island, when he thrust the pole vigorously into seven feet of -water instead of into seven inches and lost his balance. The crank -little pirogue did the rest and Ben went into the hole with a mighty -splash. He came to the surface in a second, overtook the drifting -craft in a few strokes and herded it into shallow water under the -wooded bank. He waded hurriedly toward the stranded bow and collided -with something alive—something large and alive. - -Ben was staggered, physically and in other ways, for several -seconds. Then he pulled himself together, shook his O’Dell courage -to the fore and jumped straight with extended arms. But the thing -was gone. He stumbled, recovered his balance and listened -breathlessly. Thing? It was a man! He had felt clothing and smelled -tobacco. He heard a rustle at the top of the bank and instantly -dashed for the sound. But the bank was steep and tangled with -willows. He ripped his pajamas, he scratched his skin and finally he -lost his footing and rolled back to the stranded dugout. He stepped -aboard, pushed off and completed his journey. - -Uncle Jim smote Ben’s door with his knuckles next morning, as usual, -and passed on his way down the back stairs. Ben sighed in his sleep -and slept on. Mrs. O’Dell came to the door twenty minutes later and -was surprised to find it still closed. She knocked and received no -answer. She opened the door and looked into the little room. There -was Ben sound asleep, his face a picture of health and contentment. -The mother smiled with love and maternal pride. - -“He is so big and young, he needs a great deal of sleep,” she -murmured. - -Her loving glance moved from his face and she saw the front of his -sleeping jacket above the edge of the sheet and her eyes widened. -The breast of the jacket was ripped in three places and stained in -spots and splashes with brown and green. And on one of his long arms -a red scratch ran from wrist to elbow. - -“Ben!” she cried. - -He opened his eyes, smiled and sat up. - -“Look at your arm!” she exclaimed. “And your jacket is torn! What -has happened to you, Ben dear?” - -Then he remembered and told her all about his midnight adventure. -She sat on the edge of his bed and listened gravely. The more she -heard, the graver she became. - -“I bet the man I bumped into is the one who did it,” concluded Ben. - -“Yes—but I can’t think what to make of it,” she said. “Something -queer is going on. Perhaps an enemy of poor Mr. Sherwood’s is -lurking around. I shall tell Jim, but nobody else.” - -“The little girl will ask about her red pirogue some day,” said Ben. -“It was a fine pirogue—the best I ever saw.” - -“We must try not to let her know that it was willfully burned,” -replied his mother. “The poor child has suffered quite enough -without knowing that her father has an enemy mean enough to do a -thing like that. We must see that no harm comes to her, Ben.” - - - - - CHAPTER III - - THE STRANGE BEHAVIOR OF DOGS AND MEN - - -Five days after the burning of the red pirogue, another queer thing -happened at O’Dell’s Point. It happened between three and five -o’clock of the afternoon. - -Jim McAllister had driven off downstream early that morning with two -horses and a heavy wagon to buy provisions at the town of Woodstock. -The round trip was an all-day job. Ben O’Dell shouldered an ax after -dinner and, accompanied by the youngest of the three O’Dell dogs, -went back to mend a brush fence and see if the highest hay field was -ripe for the scythe. Mrs. O’Dell and little Marion Sherwood washed -and dried the dinner dishes and Mrs. O’Dell took a great ham from -the oven and set it to cool in the pantry. At three o’clock she and -the little girl took an armful of books to the old orchard between -the house and the river. Red Lily went with them; Red Chief, the -oldest of the O’Dell setters, remained asleep in the kitchen. - -Mrs. O’Dell and the little girl from French River returned to the -house at five o’clock, having finished “Treasure Island.” Red Chief -arose from his slumbers and welcomed them with sweeps of his plumed -tail. Mrs. O’Dell went to the pantry to see how the ham looked—and -the ham wasn’t there! - -Some one had been in the pantry, had come and gone by way of the -kitchen, and yet Red Chief had not barked. Mrs. O’Dell was not only -puzzled but alarmed. A thief had visited the house of the O’Dells, a -thing that had not happened for generations; and, worse still, a dog -of the famous old red strain had failed in his duty. And yet Red -Chief had many times proved himself as good a dog as any of his -ancestors had been. Red Chief, the wise and true and fearless, had -permitted a thief to enter and leave the house without so much as -giving tongue. It was a puzzling and disturbing thought to the woman -who held the honor of her dead husband’s family so high that even -the honor of the O’Dell red dogs was dear to her. - -She said nothing about the stolen ham to her little guest but she -took the old setter by his silken ears and gazed searchingly into -his unwavering eyes. But there was neither guile nor shame in those -eyes. Devotion, courage, vision and entire self-satisfaction were -there. The old dog’s conscience was clear. - -Mrs. O’Dell went through the pantry. Two loaves of bread had gone -with the ham. She searched here and there through the rest of the -house but could not see that anything else had been taken. Nothing -of value was gone, that was certain, and she felt less insecure -though as deeply puzzled. She decided not to mention the vanished -food and the old dog’s strange passivity to her son or her brother. - -A week passed over O’Dell’s Point without an unusual incident. Ben -and Uncle Jim commenced haying in the early upland fields; and then -O’Dell’s Point received its first official visit from the law. Ben -brought the horses in at noon, watered them and followed them into -the cool and shadowy stable; and there he found Mel Lunt and a -stranger smoking cigars. Ben was startled, for he knew Mel Lunt to -be the local constable; and the consciousness of being startled -drove away his natural shyness and added to his indignation at the -glowing cigars. His eyes brightened and his cheeks reddened. - -“Young man, what do you know about Richard Sherwood?” asked the -stranger, stepping forward and knocking the ash from his cigar. - -“We don’t smoke in here, if you don’t mind,” said the overgrown -youth. “It isn’t safe.” - -“This here’s Mr. Brown from Woodstock, Ben,” said Lunt hastily. -“He’s depity sheriff of the county.” - -“Mel’s said it. Don’t you worry about the cigars, young man, but -tell me what you know, an’ all you know, about Richard Sherwood.” - -Ben’s face grew redder and his throat dry. - -“I must ask you—again—not to smoke—in this stable,” he replied, in -cracked and jerky tones. - -“Yer stalling, young feller!” exclaimed the stranger. “Tell me what -I’m asking you an’ tell it straight. Yer trying to hide something.” - -Jim McAllister stepped into the stable at that moment. - -“Sure he’s trying to hide something, Dave Brown,” said McAllister. -“He’s trying to hide what he thinks of you for a deputy sheriff—that -you’re as ignorant as you are fresh. He’s remembering his manners -and trying to hide your want of them. He’s half O’Dell an’ half -McAllister; so if you two want to talk in this stable about Richard -Sherwood or anything else, I guess you’d better go out first and -douse those cigars in a puddle or something.” - -“I’m here in the name of the law, Jim McAllister,” said Mr. Brown, -uncertainly. - -“Same here, only more so,” returned Uncle Jim pleasantly. - -“He’s in the right of it, Mr. Brown,” said Mel Lunt. - -The officials left the stable, ground their cigars to extinction -with the heels of their boots and came back. - -“Yer darned particular,” remarked the deputy sheriff. - -“Nothing out of the way,” returned McAllister. - -“Well, we’re looking for Richard Sherwood from French River,” said -the other. “He cleared out a couple of weeks ago an’ took his little -girl with him. She’s gone too, anyhow. I heard he used to be a -friend of the folks living here, so I come to ask if you’d seen him -in the last two weeks. I didn’t come to set yer darned stable -afire.” - -“No, we haven’t seen Sherwood,” replied McAllister. “What’s the -trouble? Has he taken to poaching again?” - -“It’s worse than poaching, this time. I was up on French River ten -days ago, taking a look over the salmon pools and one thing an’ -another, to see if the game wardens were onto their job, an’ darn it -all if I didn’t trip over a bran’ new grave in a little clearing. -There’s an old Injun who calls himself Noel Sabattis lives there, -an’ he told me he’d buried a dead man there a few days ago. I asked -questions and he answered them; and then he helped me dig—and there -was a man who’d been shot through the heart!” - -“You don’t say!” exclaimed McAllister. “Who was he?” - -“Louis Balenger.” - -“Balenger? What would bring him back, I wonder? What else did you -find out?” - -“Nothing. We’re looking for Richard Sherwood.” - -“What has he ever done that would lead you to suspect him of a thing -like that? I used to know him and he was no more the kind to kill a -man than I am. Did the old Injun say Sherwood did it?” - -“No, not him. He wouldn’t say a word against Sherwood. But he don’t -matter much, one way or the other, old Noel Sabattis! He ain’t all -there, I guess. He says he found Balenger in Sherwood’s pirogue, -dead, when Sherwood and the little girl were off trout fishing. When -Sherwood come back he helped Noel dig the grave; and next day he lit -out and took the girl with him—so that Injun says.” - -“Why don’t you blame it on the Injun?” - -“He didn’t run away.” - -“That’s so. Well, we haven’t seen Richard Sherwood around here.” - -“Nor anything belonging to him, I suppose?” - -Jim McAllister scratched his chin. - -“We have seen his daughter,” said Ben O’Dell, with dignity. “She is -our guest. She’s in the house now, with my mother. She’s only a -little girl—only eleven years old—and I hope you don’t intend to -question her about Balenger’s death.” - -“That’s what I heard. She’s stopping here, you say, but you ain’t -seen her father. That’s queer. How’d she come?” - -Ben told of his discovery of the pirogue and the girl against the -stakes of the salmon net, but he did not mention the letter which -the little voyager had brought to his mother. That letter, whatever -it contained, seemed to him entirely too private and purely social a -matter to be handed over to the inspection of a deputy sheriff. - -“Did she come down all the way from French River alone, a little -girl of eleven?” asked Brown. “Is that what ye’re trying to stuff -into me?” - -“You can’t talk to Ben like that,” interrupted McAllister. “He’s a -quiet lad but he’s an O’Dell—and if you’d been born and bred on this -river you’d know what I mean. Ask Lunt.” - -“That’s right,” said Lunt. “The O’Dells hev always been like that. -If they tell anything, it’s true—but I ain’t sayin’ as they always -tell all that they know. Now Ben here says the girl was alone when -he found her, but he ain’t said that he knows she come all the way -from French River alone by herself. How about that, Ben?” - -“She told me that her father came part way with her,” said Ben. - -“How far?” asked the deputy sheriff. - -“She didn’t tell _me_.” - -“Well, maybe she’ll tell _me_.” - -“No, she won’t—because you won’t ask her that or anything like it,” -said young O’Dell. - -“What d’ye mean, I won’t ask her?” - -“There you go again!” interrupted Jim McAllister. “Didn’t I tell you -that Ben here’s an O’Dell?” - -“Well, what about it? I’m the deputy sheriff of this county and -O’Dells are nothing to me when I’m in the performance of my duty.” - -“Let me try to explain,” said Ben, crimson with embarrassment and -the agitation of his fighting blood. “I respect the laws, Mr. Brown, -and I observe them. I was taught to respect them. But I was also -taught to respect other laws—kinds that you have nothing to do -with—officially. Laws of hospitality—that sort of thing. My father -was a good citizen—and a good soldier—and I try to do what I think -he would do under the same circumstances. So if you attempt to -question that—that little girl—my mother’s guest—about her -father—whom you’re hunting for a murderer—I’ll consider it -my—unpleasant duty to knock the stuffing out of you!” - -The deputy sheriff stared in amazement. - -“Say, that would take some knocking!” he retorted. “How old are you, -young feller?” - -“I’m going on eighteen,” replied Ben quietly. - -“And you think you can best me in a fight?” - -“Yes, I think I can. I’m bigger than you and longer in the reach—and -I’m pretty good.” - -“But yer sappy. And yer all joints. I’m no giant but I’m weathered. -The milk’s out of my bones.” - -“My joints are all right, Mr. Brown. You won’t find anything wrong -with them if you start in questioning that little Sherwood girl -about her father.” - -“I wasn’t born on this river,” said the deputy sheriff, “and I’m a -peaceful citizen with a wife an’ children in Woodstock, but I -consider myself as good a sportsman as any O’Dell who ever waved a -sword or a pitchfork. There’s more man in me than deputy sheriff. -I’ll fight you, Ben, for I like yer crazy ideas; and if you trim me -I’ll go away without asking the girl a single question about her -father. But if I trim you I’ll question her.” - -Ben looked at his uncle and the lids of McAllister’s left eye -fluttered swiftly. - -“That wouldn’t be fair,” said Ben, turning again to Brown. “And I -can’t make it fair, for I’m determined that you shall not worry my -mother’s guest, whatever happens. If you did manage to beat me, -there’d still be Uncle Jim. So you wouldn’t get a square deal.” - -Brown looked at McAllister. - -“Does he mean that _you_ would object to me asking the girl a few -civil questions?” he inquired. - -“Sure, I’d object,” said McAllister. - -“But you ain’t one of these O’Dells!” - -“I’m a McAllister—the same kind even if not exactly the same -quality.” - -Mr. Brown looked puzzled. - -“I’m a little above the average myself,” he said thoughtfully. “Tell -me why you two’ve got to bellyaching so about me wanting to ask that -little girl a few questions, will you? Maybe I’m stupid.” - -“Suppose some fool of a sheriff found a dead man and thought you’d -killed him and found out where you’d run to from one of your own -kids,” said McAllister. “The kid loves you, wouldn’t hurt you for a -fortune, but in her innocence she tells what the sheriff wants to -know and he catches you. And we’ll suppose you did it and they prove -it on you. Nice game to play on your little daughter, wouldn’t it -be?” - -The deputy sheriff turned to Mel Lunt. - -“How does it strike you, Mel?” he asked. - -“It’s a highfalutin’ notion, all right for O’Dells an’ sich, but no -good for ordinary folks like us,” replied the constable. - -“Is _that_ so!” exclaimed Mr. Brown. “You guess again, blast yer -cheek! If you can’t see why a little girl hadn’t ought to be set to -catch her own father an’ maybe send him to jail or worse, I can. -Yes, I can see it, by thunder! Any gentleman could, once it was -explained to him. So you don’t have to worry about that, Ben.” - -At that moment a gong sounded. - -“That’s for dinner,” said Ben, “and I know my mother will be -delighted if you’ll dine with us. Uncle Jim, will you take them to -the house while I feed the horses?” - -McAllister said a few words in his sister’s ear which at once -enlightened and reassured her. There were fresh salmon and green -peas for dinner and custard pies. The meal was eaten in the dining -room. Badly painted and sadly cracked pictures of O’Dells, male and -female, wonderfully uniformed and gowned, looked out from the low -walls. - -The deputy sheriff rose to the portraits and the old table silver. -His manners were almost too good to be true and his conversation was -elegant in tone and matter. He amused Ben O’Dell and McAllister and -quite dazzled little Marion Sherwood; but it was impossible to know, -by looking at her, whether Mrs. O’Dell was dazzled or amused. Her -attitude toward her unexpected guests left nothing to be desired. A -bishop and a dean could not have expected more; two old Maliseets at -her table would not have received less. - -Only Mel Lunt of the whole company did not play the game. He opened -his mouth only to eat. He raised his eyes from his plate only to -glance swiftly from one painted and sword-girt gentleman on the wall -to another and then at the brow and nose of young Ben O’Dell which -were the brow and nose of the portraits; and all his thought was -that a deputy sheriff was pretty small potatoes after all and that a -rural constable was simply nothing and none to a hill. - -A little later Mel Lunt’s mare was hitched to the buggy and Mel had -the reins in his hands when Mr. Brown paused suddenly with one foot -on the step. - -“Guess I might’s well take a look at the pirogue,” he said, with his -face turned over his shoulder toward Ben and McAllister. - -“She’s gone,” replied Ben. “She was taken off our beach one night -nearly two weeks ago.” - -The deputy sheriff lowered his foot and turned around. - -“Taken?” he asked. “Who took her?” - -Ben said that he didn’t know and explained that he believed she had -been taken, because she would have run aground on the head of the -island if she’d simply drifted off. - -“That sounds reasonable,” returned Brown. “Heard anything of her -being picked up below here?” - -“Not a word,” said Ben. - -The deputy sheriff climbed to the seat beside the constable then and -the pair drove away. - -Ben and Jim McAllister returned to the haying and worked in the high -fields until after sundown. Little Marion Sherwood went to bed -immediately after supper. Uncle Jim went next, yawning, and was soon -followed by Ben. The moment Ben sank his head on his pillow he -discovered that he wasn’t nearly so sleepy as he had thought. For a -few minutes he lay and pictured the fight between himself and the -deputy sheriff which had not taken place. He was sorry it had not -materialized, though he felt no bitterness toward Mr. Brown. He -rather liked Mr. Brown now, in fact. But what a fine fight it would -have been. The thought suggested to him the great fight in “Rodney -Stone,” which he tried to remember, only to find that the details -had become obscure in his mind. He left his bed and went downstairs -with the intention of fetching the book from the library. He was -surprised to find his mother busily engaged in locking and double -bolting the front door. - -“What’s the idea, mother?” he asked. “Why lock that old door now for -the first time since it was hung on its hinges?” - -She told him of the disappearance of the ham and bread. - -“But wasn’t one of the dogs in the house?” he asked. - -“Yes, Red Chief was in the kitchen; and he didn’t make a sound,” she -answered. “He must have mistaken the thief for a friend, for you -know how he is about strangers. It has made me nervous, Ben.” - -“And nothing was taken except the ham and bread?” - -“I haven’t missed anything else.” - -“It can’t be much of an enemy, whoever it is, to let us off as easy -as that. It sounds more like a hungry friend to me.” - -“You are thinking of Richard Sherwood, Ben.” - -“Yes, mother. He might be hanging ’round and not want even us to -suspect it. It’s an old trick I guess, from what I’ve read—not going -as far away as the police expect you to.” - -“But Red Chief doesn’t know Richard Sherwood. It was Red Chief’s -grandfather, I think, that Mr. Sherwood used to take out when he -went shooting. I believe he trained several of the red dogs to the -gun. He had a wonderful way with animals.” - -“Do you think that any of our neighbors are hungry enough to steal -from us, mother? It never happened before. They always came and -asked for anything they wanted.” - -“I am sure it was not a neighbor. I can’t understand it. I am -afraid, Ben.” - -Ben felt no anxiety concerning their safety or that of their -property but he was puzzled. He could not think of any explanation -of Red Chief’s behavior. He did not draw his mother’s attention to -the fact that any one wishing to enter the old house could still do -so by any one of the many windows on the ground floor, none of which -had a fastening. - -They entered the library together and Mrs. O’Dell held the lamp -while Ben searched along his own shelves for “Rodney Stone.” He -found the book but he missed several others. - -“Has the little girl any books upstairs?” he asked. - -“No, she puts every one back in its place before supper, always.” - -“I wonder if Uncle Jim has ‘Charles O’Malley’ and ‘Vanity Fair’ up -in his room.” - -“I’m sure that he hasn’t—but shall we go and see?” - -They went. Uncle Jim was sound asleep. The missing books were not in -his room. They searched every inhabited corner of the house but -failed to find either “Charles O’Malley” or “Vanity Fair.” - -“They were in their places yesterday,” said Ben. - -“They must have been taken last night,” said his mother. - -“And it was Red Lily who was in the house last night; the old dog -and the pup were loose outside.” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, let’s go to bed, mother. Who’s afraid of a burglar who steals -books?” - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - OBSTRUCTING THE LAW - - -Mrs. O’Dell ceased to worry about the mysterious thefts and the red -setter’s failures in duty when her son presently told her what he -had heard from the deputy sheriff of the tragedy on French River. -Now all her anxiety was for the little girl who had come to her so -trustingly in the big pirogue, the little girl whose mother was dead -and whose father was a fugitive from the police. She pitied -Sherwood, too, but her mental attitude toward him was more confused -than her son’s. - -Ben refused to believe for a moment that Dick Sherwood had shot his -enemy, Louis Balenger, or any other unarmed man. His reasoning was -simple almost to childishness. Balenger had evidently been shot from -cover and when in no position to defend himself; and that, and the -fact that Sherwood had been John O’Dell’s friend for years, were -proof enough for Ben that Sherwood was innocent of Louis Balenger’s -death. - -Jim McAllister wasn’t so sure, but he suspected that the old Indian, -Sabattis, had put something over on Sherwood as well as on the -deputy sheriff and constable. Jim had known Dick Sherwood as a good -sportsman; had seen him laugh at fatigue and danger; had watched him -work with young dogs and young horses, training them to the gun and -the bit, gentle and understanding. Jim admitted that there was wild -blood in Sherwood, but no mean blood. A man like Sherwood might be -fooled by a clever rascal like Balenger into forgetting some of the -social duties and niceties of his kind—yes, even to the extent of -breaking a game law occasionally under pressure. But it would be -dead against his nature to draw trigger on an unarmed man. Jim -maintained that Sherwood had been nobody’s enemy but his own. But to -the question of why he had run away, if innocent, he could find no -answer. - -Ben had an answer—but it was so vague and obscure that he had not -yet found words in which to express it. - -Mrs. O’Dell did not try to weaken her son’s and brother’s belief in -the fugitive’s innocence. But her knowledge of human nature was -deeper than theirs both by instinct and experience. She did not -judge Sherwood in her heart, however, or voice her thought that he -was probably guilty. He had been guilty of lesser crimes, lesser -madnesses. He had forgotten his traditions and turned his back on -his old friends. He had followed his wild whims at the expense of -his duty to life and in the knowledge of better things; and she -suspected that such a course might, in time, lead even a gentleman -to worse offenses than infringements of the game laws. But she knew -that he loved his child and had loved the child’s mother. And so she -felt nothing for him but pity. - -In the short note which little Marion had brought from her father -Sherwood stated his innocence of Balenger’s death far more -emphatically than he wrote of his love for his daughter and her -mother. And yet Flora O’Dell believed in his love for the little -girl and the dead woman and was not at all sure of his innocence. - -The deputy sheriff and the local constable returned to O’Dell’s -Point within two days of their first visit. They confronted Ben and -Uncle Jim as the two farmers descended to the barn floor from the -top of a load of hay. - -“Look a here, young feller, why didn’t you tell me all you knew -about that pirogue?” demanded Mr. Brown in a nasty voice, with a -nasty glint in his eyes. “You went an’ made yerself out the champion -man of honor an’ truth teller in the world an’ then you went an’ -lied to me!” - -“What was the lie?” asked Ben. - -“You said somebody stole Sherwood’s pirogue.” - -“Took it off our front, that’s what I said.” - -“No use arguing. The pirogue was filled up with dry wood and set -afire, and you know it! And you know who set her afire! Out with -it—an’ save yerself from jail. I’m listening.” - -“Old Tim Hood has been talking to you, I suppose.” - -“Yes, he has.” - -“Then you know as much about it as I do—and maybe more. Yes, and -maybe more, if you know all he knows—for he’s the only person I can -think of around here who’d have the cheek to take anything off our -front and destroy it.” - -“Cheek! Come off the roof! I got yer measure now, young man; so tell -me why you set that pirogue afire, and be quick about it.” - -“I didn’t set it afire, I tell you! I saw it burning from my bedroom -window and paddled down after it and took a look at it. Tim Hood -came out in a sturgeon boat to take a look, too. That’s all I know -about it.” - -“Say, d’ye see any green in my eye?” - -“Easy there, Dave Brown!” cautioned McAllister. “You know all Ben -knows about the burning of that blasted pirogue now—and now you go -asking him about yer eye. What’s the sense in that? That’s not the -way to handle a lad like Ben.” - -“Cut it out, Jim McAllister! You can’t put any more of that -high-an’-mighty, too-good-to-sneeze O’Dell slush over on me. I fell -for it once, but once was enough. O’Dell! Save it to fool Injuns -with!” - -Ben’s face was as colorless as his shirt. - -“You’ve done it now,” said McAllister grimly. - -“I reckon ye’ve went a mite too far, Mr. Brown,” said Mel Lunt. - -“Come into the next barn where there’s more room,” said young Ben -O’Dell in a cracked voice. - -“I’m not fighting to-day, I’m arresting,” replied Brown. - -“Arresting any one in particular?” asked Uncle Jim. - -“This young man.” - -“What for?” - -“I suspect him of burning Sherwood’s pirogue with the intention of -destroying evidence.” - -Mel Lunt shook his head. McAllister laughed. Ben stood straight and -grim, waiting. - -“You are a deputy sheriff, Dave Brown, but you ain’t the law,” said -McAllister. “You don’t know the law—nor you don’t know this -river—and somebody’s been filling you up with hot air. What you need -is a licking to kind of clear yer brain. After that, you can tell -Judge Smith down at Woodstock all about it—and see what happens. -Ben’s the doctor. Will you take your treatment here or in the other -barn where there’s more room?” - -Mr. Brown lost his temper then, turned and hurled himself at Ben. -Ben sent him back with a left to the chest and a right to the ribs. - -“Yer in the wrong of it, Mr. Brown,” complained the constable. “I -warned ye that Tim Hood was sartain to git ye in wrong.” - -The deputy sheriff paid no attention to Lunt but made a backward -pass with his right hand. Ben jumped at the same instant. There was -a brief, wrenching struggle; and then the youth leaped back and -dropped an automatic pistol at his uncle’s feet. McAllister placed a -foot on the weapon. Again Brown rushed upon Ben and again he -staggered back. There was no room for circling or side-stepping in -the narrow space between the load of hay and the hay-filled bays. It -had to be action front or quit. - -The deputy sheriff was shaken but not hurt, for young O’Dell had -spared his face. He lowered his head and charged like a ram. Ben -gave ground before that unsportsmanlike onset; and, alas for Mr. -Brown’s nose and upper lip, he gave more than ground. - -“Ye’d best quit right now,” wailed Mel Lunt. “Yer gittin’ all messed -up an’ ye ain’t in yer rights an’ folks’ll maybe think as I was -mixed up in it too.” - -Brown made a fourth attack and tried to obtain a wrestler’s hold low -down on the overgrown youth; but Ben, cool as a butter firkin in a -cellar, hooked him off. Brown charged yet again, and then once more, -and then sat down on the floor. - -They bathed his face and held cold water for him to drink. Ben -fetched sticking plaster from the house, covertly, and applied -strips of it here and there to his late antagonist’s damaged face. - -“Never see such a hammerin’ since Alec Todd fit Mike Kane up to -Kane’s Lake twenty year ago,” said Mel Lunt, extracting crushed -cigars from his superior’s vest pockets. “But them two fit with feet -an’ everything, an’ Ben here didn’t use nothin’ but his hands. I -reckon they larn ye more’n joggofy where ye’ve been to school. Dang -me if even his watch ain’t stopped!” - -The deputy sheriff and the constable drove away fifteen minutes -later, the deputy sheriff sagging heavily against his companion’s -shoulder. - -“Now they’ll maybe let us get along with the haying,” remarked -McAllister. - -“And perhaps he will get along with his own job of hunting for the -man who shot Balenger, instead of wasting his time talking about -that pirogue,” said Ben. “How would the pirogue help him? What did -he mean by speaking of it as evidence?” - -“Old Tim Hood’s put that crazy notion into his head, where there’s -plenty of room for crazy notions,” replied the uncle. “Old Tim’s a -trouble hunter and always was—a master hand at hunting trouble for -other people. And he don’t like the O’Dells and never did. Yer -gran’pa gave him a caning once, a regular dusting, for starving an -old horse to death.” - -“Do you think I’ll have to go to jail for fighting Brown?” asked Ben -with ill-concealed anxiety. “It would be a blow to mother—but I -don’t see what else I could do but fight him, after the things he -said.” - -“Now don’t you worry about that,” said McAllister, smiling. “Brown -hasn’t much sense but he’s got a lot of vanity—and a little ordinary -horse sense too, of course. He and Mel Lunt are busy this very -minute making up as likely sounding a story as they can manage -between them all about how he fell down on his face.” - -Nothing more was seen or heard of the deputy sheriff at O’Dell’s -Point. He evidently carried his investigations farther afield. No -further inquiries were made concerning the fate of the big, red -pirogue. Nothing more was heard of Louis Balenger or Richard -Sherwood. - -But more bread vanished from the pantry and again the red dogs -failed to give the alarm. And the stolen books reappeared in their -exact places on the library shelves. - -The little girl was kept in ignorance of the suspicions against her -absent father and also of the thefts of food and the mysterious -borrowing of the books. The others discussed the situation -frequently, but always after she had gone to bed. Ben was of the -opinion that Richard Sherwood was in hiding somewhere within a few -miles of the house and that it was he who had helped himself from -the pantry and library. He held to this opinion in spite of the -behavior of the dogs. - -His mother and uncle believed otherwise. They maintained that -Sherwood, innocent or guilty, would go farther than to O’Dell’s -Point for a place in which to hide from the police. Otherwise, why -run at all? they argued. He had started well ahead of the chase, -judging by what they had heard, with plenty of time to get clear out -of the province. Jim believed that the food and books had been taken -by an Indian. He knew several Indians in the neighborhood who could -read and more who were sometimes hungry because they were too lazy -to work; and they were all on friendly terms with the dogs. A sick -Indian would ask for food, but a well one wouldn’t for fear that a -little job of work might be offered him. Haying was the last time in -the year to expect one of those fellows to come around asking for -anything. As for the books, an Indian who was queer enough to want -to read would be queer enough to take the books on the quiet and -return them on the sly. That’s how James McAllister figured it out. - -The last load of hay was hauled in and Ben told his mother of the -contemplated trip up to French River. She replied that she was -afraid to be left alone with little Marion Sherwood in a house which -neither doors nor dogs seemed able to guard. Ben had not thought of -this, for he felt no suggestion of violence, of any sort of menace, -in the mild depredations of the mysterious visitor. - -“I’m sorry that I’m not as brave as I used to be,” said Mrs. O’Dell. -“I want you to have your trip. Perhaps your Uncle Ian will sleep -here while you two are away. He is sometimes very reasonable and -unselfish, you know, and this may be one of the times.” - -Ben crossed lots to the old McAllister homestead two miles above the -point, where Ian McAllister, a fifty-year-old bachelor, lived in -manly discomfort and an atmosphere of argument, hard work and -scorched victuals with his old friend and hired man, Archie Douglas. -Both Ian and Archie were known as “characters” on the river. Both -were bachelors. In their earlier years, before Ian had acquired the -farm of his fathers, they had been brisk fellows, champion choppers -in the woods, reckless log cuffers and jam busters on the drives, -noted performers of intricate steps at barn dances and plowing -frolics and foolish spenders of their wages—white-water boys of the -first quality, in short. - -But time and the farm had changed them for better and for worse. -They never left the farm now except to go to Woodstock on business -and to pay the O’Dells two brief visits every month. They worked in -rain and shine. They read a few heavy theological volumes and argued -over them. They played chess and the bagpipes in a spirit of grim -rivalry. They did the cooking week and week about and week and week -about they likewise condemned the cooking. - -The McAllister hay of this year had been a heavier crop than usual -and the price of beef promised to be high next Easter, so Ben O’Dell -found his Uncle Ian in an obliging humor. Ian promised to sleep at -the O’Dell house every night while his nephew and brother were away -from home. - -“It be Archie’s week for the cookin’,” he said, “so I reckon a -decent breakfast an’ human supper every day for a while won’t do me -no harm. But what’s the matter with yer ma? What’s come over her? It -ain’t like Flora to be scairt. What’s she scairt of?” - -In justice to his mother Ben had to tell Ian something of the recent -strange happenings at the Point. He told of little Marion Sherwood’s -arrival, of her father’s flight from French River and the suspicions -of the deputy sheriff and of the elaborate destruction of the red -pirogue, but he did not mention the thefts. He feared that Ian -McAllister’s attitude toward a thief, even a hungry and harmless -thief, would not be as charitable as his own or his mother’s or his -Uncle Jim’s. - -“Mother’s more afraid for the little girl than for herself,” he -said. “Coming to us like that, all alone in the pirogue, mother -wouldn’t have anything happen to her for the world. She doesn’t want -her to be frightened, even. Whatever Richard Sherwood may have done, -the poor little girl is innocent.” - -“Well, I ain’t surprised to hear that Sherwood’s shot that feller -Balenger,” said Ian. “Sherwood’s been headin’ for destruction a long -time now, what with one foolishness an’ another—an’ Balenger needed -shootin’. But Sherwood hadn’t ought to of done it, for all that! -That’s what comes of bein’ wild an’ keepin’ it up.” - -“I don’t believe Sherwood did it,” said Ben. “He was my father’s -friend once and Uncle Jim says he was a good sportsman, so I don’t -believe he would ever be coward enough to shoot an unarmed man.” - -“Ye never can tell,” returned Ian, wagging his head. “Louis Balenger -led him a dog’s life for years, so I’ve heard tell, an’ I reckon his -spirit was jist about broke by the time Louis shot a hole in him an’ -beat it. He lived quiet enough an’ law-abidin’ all the years -Balenger was away, I guess; an’ now it looks like Balenger had come -back to French River to start some more divilment an’ Sherwood had -up an’ shot ’im. Sure it was cowardly—but once ye break a man’s -spirit, no matter how brave he was once, ye make a coward of him. If -he didn’t do it, why did he run away?” - -“That’s what I can’t figure out, Uncle Ian—but it seems to me a good -sportsman might be broken down to some kinds of cowardice and not -others. His nerves might get so’s they’d fail him without his—well, -without his soul turning coward—or even his heart. There’s many a -good horse that shies at a bit of paper on the road that has the -heart to pull on a load till it drops.” - -“Mighty deep reasonin’,” said Ian McAllister. “That’s what comes of -schoolin’. We’ll chaw it over, me an’ Archie; but whatever kind of -coward Richard Sherwood may be, I’ll look after yer ma an’ the -little girl while yer away.” - -Ben and Uncle Jim set out for French River next morning at an early -hour in the canvas canoe. They made ten miles by noon, poling close -inshore all the way. They boiled the teakettle, ate the plentiful -cold luncheon with which Mrs. O’Dell had supplied them and rested -for an hour and a half. Six miles farther up they came to heavy -rapids around which they were forced to carry their dunnage and -canoe. - -“Here’s where he left her and the pirogue, I wouldn’t wonder,” said -McAllister. “Once clear of the rapids, she’d be safe to make the -point. But if she was my daughter, I’d take her all the way to -wherever she was going, no matter what was chasing me! He ain’t the -man he was when I first knew him, I guess.” - -“Why didn’t you stick to him then?” asked Ben. “What did you all -drop him for, just because he got mixed up with a bad crowd? That -was no way to treat a friend.” - -“John kept after him eight or nine years. Once a year, year after -year, yer father made the trip to French River and tried to get him -to break with the Balengers and offered him land and a house down to -the point.” - -“But what did you do? You didn’t do anything, Uncle Jim.” - -“I was leery about visiting French River, in those days. I’d seen -just enough of that outfit to guess how easy it would be to get -mixed up with them. And Sherwood wasn’t encouraging. All he’d do -would be to cuss John out for a prig and a busybody. And it’s a long -way between his clearing and O’Dell’s Point.” - -“Well, he’s hiding for his life now like a wounded snipe; and I -guess he wouldn’t be if you hadn’t been so scared about your own -respectability, Uncle Jim.” - -McAllister scratched his chin at that but said nothing. - -They reached the mouth of French River before sundown and made camp -there for the night. They were early astir next morning, breakfasted -before the mist was off the water and then launched into the black -deep tide of the tributary stream. The fall of the banks was sheer -down to and beneath the water’s edge. Poling was out of the -question, so the paddles were used. Ben occupied the stern of the -canoe, being a few pounds heavier than his uncle and a glutton for -work. Wood duck and whistlers flew up and off before their approach. -A mink swam across their bows. They passed old cuttings where the -stumps of giant pines were hidden by a second growth of tall young -spruces and firs. - -They paddled for two hours before they marked any sign of present -human habitation. They saw a film of smoke then, frail blue against -the dark green of the forest. Ben swung into the left bank, which -was considerably lower and less abrupt here than farther down, and -edged the canoe against a narrow strip of muddy shore. Here was a -path, deep-worn and narrow, leading up through the tangled brush; -and in the shallow water lay a few rusty tins. - -They ascended the path up and over the bank and through a screen of -underbrush and water birches into a little clearing. At the back of -the clearing stood a small log cabin with an open door and a chimney -of sticks and clay. From this chimney ascended the smoke that had -attracted them. When they were halfway across the clearing a short -figure appeared in the black doorway. - -“Injun,” said Uncle Jim over his shoulder. - -The man of the clearing came a short way from his threshold and sat -down on a convenient chopping block. He had a pipe in his mouth and -in his right fist a fork with a piece of pork rind impaled on its -prongs. Odors of frying buckwheat cakes and Black Jack tobacco -drifted forward and met the visitors. The visitors halted within a -few yards of the old Maliseet. - -“Good morning, Noel Sabattis,” said McAllister. - -“Good day,” returned Noel, regarding the two with expressionless and -unwinking eyes. - -[Illustration: “SAT DOWN ON A CONVENIENT CHOPPING BLOCK.”] - -“I’m afraid your pancakes are burning,” said Ben. - -The Maliseet ignored this. - -“You police?” he asked. - -“Not on yer life!” replied Uncle Jim. “I’m Jim McAllister and this -is Ben O’Dell and we’re both from O’Dell’s Point down on the main -river.” - -“Come in,” said Noel, getting quickly to his feet and slipping -nimbly through the doorway ahead of them. - -He was stooping over the griddle on the rusty little stove when the -others entered the cabin. He invited them to share his meal, but -they explained that they had already breakfasted. So he broke his -fast alone with amazing swiftness while they sat on the edge of his -bunk and watched him. A dozen or more pancakes generously doused -with molasses and three mugs of boiled tea presented no difficulties -to old Noel Sabattis. When the last pancake was gone and the mug was -empty for the third time, he relit his rank pipe and returned his -attention to the visitors. He regarded them searchingly, first -McAllister and then young Ben, for a minute or two in silence. - -“Li’l girl git to yer place a’right?” he asked. - -“Yes, she made it, and she’s safe and well,” answered Jim. - -“Police git Sherwood yet? You see Sherwood, hey?” - -“Not that I’ve heard of. And we haven’t set eyes on him. But Dave -Brown and Mel Lunt gave us a couple of calls. They said they’d been -up here and seen you.” - -“Dat right,” returned Noel. “You t’ink Sherwood shoot dat Balenger -feller maybe?” - -“I don’t!” exclaimed Ben. - -“I hope he didn’t,” said Jim. “We’re his friends.” - -“Friends? Dat good,” returned the Maliseet slowly. “Didn’t know he -had none nowadays ’cept old Noel Sabattis.” - - - - - CHAPTER V - - VISITORS TO FRENCH RIVER - - -Old Noel Sabattis talked more like a Frenchman than the kind of -Indian you read about. He wasn’t reticent. Perhaps he had a thin -strain of French blood in him, from away back, long ago forgotten. -He called himself pure Maliseet. His vocabulary was limited but he -made it cover the ground. Sometimes he grunted in the approved -Indian manner but he could say as much with a grunt as most men can -with six words. His heart was in it; and with grunts and blinks of -the eye and his limited vocabulary he told Ben O’Dell and Jim -McAllister all that he knew about poor Sherwood. - -Noel was a lonely man. He had been a widower for close upon thirty -years. His children had grown up and gone to the settlements a -lifetime ago. But he had refused to go to any settlement. He had -left his old trapping and hunting grounds on the Tobigue and come on -to French River about ten years ago. He found Sherwood and Julie and -their baby on the river in the big log house that had been Louis -Balenger’s. They were the only regular settlers on the stream but -there was a big camp belonging to a fishing club five miles farther -up. - -Julie Sherwood was a fine little woman though she was Balenger’s -daughter, and prettier than you had any right to expect to see -anywhere. Sherwood was quite a man when she was close to him; but -even then Noel thought that he wasn’t all he might have been. He had -a weak eye—honest enough, but weak; and whenever his wife was out of -his sight he was like a scared buck, ready to jump at a shadow. But -he was kind and generous and Noel liked him. Julie was generous and -friendly, too. They offered Noel as much room as he needed in their -house and a place at their table; but Noel was an independent fellow -and said that he’d have a roof of his own. He set to work at -chopping out a clearing within a few hundred yards of Sherwood’s -clearing, and Sherwood helped him. - -It wasn’t long before Noel Sabattis knew a great deal about Dick -Sherwood and, naturally, about the Balengers. Both the man and the -woman talked to him as if they trusted him; but she was the more -confiding of the two. It was she who told of Sherwood’s treatment at -the hands of her father and her older sister. She was bitter against -both her father and her sister, but she made the bitterest -accusations when her husband was not within earshot, for they would -have humiliated him. And he was already too humble and she was -giving all her thought and love to awakening his old self-respect in -his heart. - -She told Noel that her father had impoverished Sherwood years ago, -when she was a child of ten or eleven, by cheating at cards, and -then had tricked him into his debt and his power by further -cheating—and all under the guise of friendship and good-fellowship. -Her mother had told her so in a deathbed confession. Then her father -had tried to make a rogue of Sherwood. He had succeeded temporarily, -but with such difficulty and by means of such cruel efforts that he -had made a coward of him. Yes, a coward—and that was worse than all -the rest, it had seemed to Julie. She told the Maliseet that he, -Richard Sherwood, who had been a soldier, had no courage now except -what he got from her. - -Noel used to advise them to leave French River. He put it strong, in -spite of the fact that he would have been desolate if they had gone. -Julie said they were planning to go to the settlements as soon as -the baby was big enough to travel and Sherwood agreed with her. Noel -suggested that Louis Balenger might come back and pump two more -bullets into Sherwood. At that the big, broken Englishman paled -under his tan but the woman didn’t flinch. She said that her father -would never return but that she was not afraid of him anyway. - -Noel and the Sherwoods lived peacefully in their adjoining clearings -year after year. Noel and Sherwood trapped fur together; but -Sherwood never went very far afield. His mind and nerves went -“jumpy” whenever he got more than a few miles away from his wife and -child. As the years passed he seemed normal enough when with them, -more nearly a sound man each year; but once out of sight of them his -eyes showed fear. - -Noel often tried to argue him out of his fear. When a young man and -a soldier he had not been afraid of hurts or life or death, so why -be a coward now, Noel argued. His old enemy Balenger was gone, so -what was he afraid of? He had broken game laws and stolen furs from -other men’s traps and even acted as Balenger’s tool once in the -matter of a “rigged” game of poker down in Woodstock—but he was -living as honestly now as any man and had the best wife and daughter -in the province. So why continue to be ashamed and afraid? He was -his own master now. He had education and strong muscles. Why didn’t -he go away to the settlements with Julie and the child and forget -all about French River? He owed it to himself and those two, Noel -argued; and if he’d only forget Louis Balenger he’d be as good a man -as he’d ever been. - -Strange to say, Julie did not back Noel Sabattis as strongly as she -should have in his efforts to get her husband to leave the scene of -his disgrace. She, brave as a tiger in her attitude toward every -known peril and ready to give her life for either her husband or -child, was afraid of the unknown. She was afraid of the world of -cities and men beyond the wilderness. Her parents had brought her to -French River when she was scarcely more than a baby but she had -fragmentary memories of streets of high houses and wet pavements -shining under yellow lamps and her mother in tears and a stealthy -flight. Even her father, clever and daring and wicked, had been -forced to flee in fear from a city! How then would Dick Sherwood -fare among men? Her fear of cities haunted her like a -half-remembered nightmare. - -Julie said that they would leave French River in a year or two—and -always it was put off another year or two. - -Julie died very suddenly of a deadly cold. She was ill for only two -days. It shook old Noel Sabattis even now to think of it. Sherwood -was like a man without a mind for weeks. He moved about, sometimes -he ate food that was placed before him, but he seemed to be without -life. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t believe his wife was gone. -Realization of his loss came to him suddenly; and Noel had to strike -him, club him, to save him from self-destruction. - -Sherwood’s courage was all gone after that. Without Julie he knew -that he was good for nothing and afraid of everything. Because he -was worthless and a coward Julie had died. A doctor could have saved -her and if he had lived in the settlements she could have had a -doctor. - -A year passed and Noel tried to arouse Sherwood. There was still the -little girl to think of. Why didn’t Sherwood get out with the girl -and work among men and make a home for her? What right had he to -keep her in the woods on French River? But Sherwood was hopeless. He -knew himself for a failure. He had failed in the woods in the best -years of his life, and he knew that he would fail in the -settlements. He had thought it over a thousand times. Failure -outside, among strangers, would make the future terrible for the -child. What could he do in towns or cities now, he who clung to an -old Indian and a little girl for courage to live from day to day? - -Strangers? He would not dare look a stranger in the face! - -But Marion might sicken suddenly as her mother had and die for the -need of a doctor! Then he would be guilty of her death, as he was -already guilty of Julie’s death—because he was weak as water and a -coward! Noel was right. He would take the girl away. He would take -her downriver. He would forget the few poor shreds of pride left to -him and ask the O’Dells to help her and him. He would go soon, -sometime during the summer, before winter at the latest. - -Then Louis Balenger came back to French River, all alone, and gave -Sherwood the glad hand and Noel a cigar and little Marion a gold -ring from his finger. He and Sherwood talked for hours that night -after Noel had returned to his own cabin. Sherwood told Noel about -it in the morning, early, while Balenger still slept. Balenger had -offered Sherwood a job in a big city, a job in his own business, a -partnership—and comfort and education and security for the little -girl. But Sherwood knew that Balenger was lying—that there would be -no security with him—that the business was trickery of some sort and -that a weak and cowardly tool was required in it. And Noel, who had -looked keenly into Balenger’s eyes at the moment of their meeting, -knew that Sherwood was right. - -Sherwood took his daughter fishing up Kettle Brook and told Noel not -to let Balenger know where he was. He was pitifully shaken. Noel -kept away from the other clearing all morning. He went away back -with his ax, hunting for bark with which to patch his canoe. He was -in no hurry to see more of Balenger; but he went to face him at -noon. There was no sign of the visitor in or around the house. He -went to the top of the bank and saw the red pirogue grounded on the -narrow lip of mud, half hidden from him by the over-hanging brush. -But he saw that there was something in the pirogue. He went down the -narrow path and looked closer—and there lay Louis Balenger in the -pirogue, dead! He had a bullet hole in him. He had been shot through -the heart. - -Sherwood and the little girl came home before sundown with a fine -string of trout. Noel met them at their own door, cleaned the trout, -then led the father away while the daughter set to work to fry the -fish for supper. He told Sherwood what had happened and Sherwood was -dumbfounded. He could see that Sherwood had not done the shooting. -For that matter, the distracted fellow had not taken his rifle up -the brook with him. - -Noel showed the body—where he had hidden it in the bushes. He took -Sherwood to the pirogue and showed him faint stains in it. He had -tried to wash away the stains but with only partial success. - -Sherwood spoke then in a whisper, trembling all over. He said that -he didn’t do it but that he had planned to tell Balenger to get out -that night and shoot him if he refused to go. Then he grabbed Noel -by the arm and accused him of killing Balenger. His eyes were wild, -but old Noel kept cool. Old Noel said that he knew nothing of the -shooting, that neither of them had done the thing and that the woods -were wide open. Sherwood didn’t care who had pulled the trigger. It -was all up with him, whoever the murderer was! His only chance was -to run and run quick. Every one knew what was between him and Louis -Balenger and he would be hanged for a murderer if he was caught. And -what would become of Marion then? - -Noel had a difficult time with Sherwood, who was mad with terror for -a few minutes, but he calmed him at last sufficiently to take him -back to the house. Sherwood ate his supper in a quivering silence. -When the little girl kissed him he burst into tears. As soon as -Marion was asleep Noel and Sherwood dug a grave and buried Balenger. -Sherwood worked like a tiger. His mood had changed. He was defiant. -The law would never catch him to misjudge him! Fate and the world -were all against him now but he would fool them! Nothing would hurt -his little daughter while he was alive—and he intended to live! - -He would take Marion to the O’Dells and make his way into the States -and get work where no one knew he was a failure or had ever been a -coward. For he was not a coward now, by Heaven! He feared nothing -but the hangman. Fate had hit him just once too often, kicked him -when he was down and tried to crush his little girl. But he would -outwit fate! - -They returned to the cabin. Sherwood’s eyes gleamed in the lamplight -and his face was flushed. He wrote a note, telling Noel it was for -Mrs. O’Dell, the widow of his old friend. He packed a bag, his gun -and a bed roll, muttering to himself all the while. Then he went -outside and looked up at the summer stars and laughed. Noel was -frightened. Sherwood walked about the clearing for a few minutes, -stumbling over stones and bumping against stumps and muttering like -a crazy man. He quieted down and Noel got him into the house and -onto his bed. He was limp as a rag by that time. Noel brewed tea for -him, which he drank. He fell asleep; but he didn’t get much rest, -for he twitched and muttered and jumped in his sleep all night. Noel -spent the night on the floor beside Sherwood’s bed, wide awake. - -Sherwood looked much as usual next morning, except for his eyes. -There was something more than fear in his eyes, something Noel -couldn’t find a name for. And he wouldn’t talk, beyond telling the -little girl that they were going away and what she was to do with -the letter which he gave her. She kissed him and asked no questions -but her eyes filled with tears. Noel tried to turn him, to change -his mind about running away, pointing out that if he left French -River now the law would be sure that he was guilty of his enemy’s -death. - -It was useless, even dangerous, to argue, for he turned on the old -Maliseet for an instant with a look in his eyes that shook even that -tough heart. Noel was wise enough to understand that misfortune had -at last goaded Sherwood beyond endurance, that it was useless to -reason, now that all control was gone with one who had never -listened to reasoning even under the most favorable circumstances. - -Sherwood put his dunnage into the pirogue. The faint stains were -well forward and he covered them with ferns and stowed the dunnage -over all. He placed the little girl amidships, tenderly. She was an -expert canoeman but he placed her as carefully as if she were still -a babe in arms. Then he paddled downstream in the big pirogue -without so much as a backward glance at his friend, old Noel -Sabattis. - -Noel gave the pirogue a start to the first bend in the stream, then -launched his old bark canoe and gave cautious chase. He was afraid -of that poor, broken, weak, cowardly, crazy Dick Sherwood. Crazy, -that was right! That’s why he suddenly felt afraid of him. - -Noel had to paddle hard to catch sight of the pirogue before it -turned into the main river. He kept close inshore, glimpsing the -pirogue every now and again without showing himself in return. He -saw Sherwood and the child disembark at the head of the rapids and -make a line fast to the stern of the big dugout and drop it slowly -down through the white and black water. That eased his anxiety -considerably, for he saw that Sherwood was sane in his care of -little Marion, at least. Had he been mad in every respect he would -have run the rapids or made a try at it. - -Noel carried his canoe around to the pool below; when he next caught -sight of the big pirogue he was astonished to see that the little -girl was in the stern, paddling steadily and easily and that -Sherwood had vanished. Perhaps Sherwood had taken to the woods in a -spasm of terror or perhaps he was still in the pirogue, lying low. -Noel continued to follow cautiously. He saw nothing more of -Sherwood. He saw Marion rest and drift. He saw her eat. Once she ran -the bow of the pirogue against the beach and remained there for more -than an hour, seated motionless, save for slow turning of her head, -as if she listened and watched for something or some one. At last -she continued her journey and Noel followed again. He felt quite -sure that Sherwood had taken to the woods. Mad! - -When within five or six miles of O’Dell’s Point Noel turned and -headed upstream for home. He knew that there was no dangerous water -between Marion and the Point and that she would reach safe landing -soon after sundown. He got back to French River next day. - -That was his story. It was the story he had told to the deputy -sheriff and Mel Lunt, though he had not given those worthies so -detailed a version of it. - -“Are you the only settler on the river?” asked Ben. - -“Only one left,” replied Noel. - -“But don’t strangers come here sometimes, sportsmen and that sort of -thing?” - -“Yes—but the sports who fish dis river don’t come dis summer. But I -see one stranger. I tell Sherwood ’bout dat feller, but he don’t -care. He too crazy. I tell Lunt ’bout ’im too an’ Lunt call me a -liar.” - -“What about the stranger?” asked McAllister. “Suspicious-looking -character was he, or what?” - -“Dat right. He come onto dis clearin’ one day, sudden, an’ look -t’rough dat door at me an’ say ‘Hullo, frien’, you know good feller -’round here somewheres name of Louis Balenger, hey, what?’ ‘Nope, -don’t never see Balenger,’ I tell dat man. ‘Balenger go off dis -river ten-twelve year ago an’ don’t come back. You his brodder, -maybe, hey?’ ‘Brodder be tam!’ dat stranger say. ‘Do bizness wid him -one time. Got somet’ing for him, but it don’t matter. Good day.’ Den -he walk off quick, dat stranger, an’ I don’t foller him, no. He -smile kinder nasty at me, wid two-t’ree gold tooth, so I t’ink maybe -Noel Sabattis may’s well go right on wid cookin’ his little dinner. -Don’t see dat stranger no more.” - -“When was that?” asked Ben. - -“When dat feller come ’round? Four-five day afore Louis Balenger -come back, maybe.” - -“_Before_ he came back? Did you tell him about it?” - -“Tell Balenger? Nope. Don’t tell Balenger not’ing. Don’t like dat -feller Balenger, me.” - -“And the stranger went away? He didn’t wait for Balenger?” - -“Dat right. Don’t see ’im, anyhow. Don’t see no canoe, don’t smell -no smoke.” - -“Perhaps he hid and waited for him. Perhaps he did the shooting!” - -“P’r’aps. Dat what I tell Sherwood—but he don’t listen. He don’t -care. He don’t git it, Sherwood. Too scairt. Too crazy. Tell Lunt -’bout how maybe dat stranger shoot Balenger, too. Dat when he call -me a liar.” - -Noel showed his visitors the exact spot in which the big pirogue had -lain when Balenger had been found dead in it and explained its -position and that of Balenger’s body. - -Ben took a stroll by himself, leaving his uncle and the old Maliseet -smoking and yarning. He walked up and down the river along the -narrow strip of shore under the bank, a few hundred yards each way, -trying to picture the shooting of Louis Balenger. Then he walked up -and down along the top of the bank, sometimes at the edge of the -tangle of trees and brush and sometimes in it, still trying to make -a picture in his mind. He busied himself in this way until supper -time. - -Ben took to his blankets early that night and was up with the first -silver lift of dawn. He left the cabin without waking the others, -hurried down to the edge of the river, got out of his shirt and -trousers and moccasins almost as quickly as it can be said and -plunged into the cool, dark water. He swam down with the current a -short way, out in midstream, then turned and breasted the smooth, -strong river. There was gold in the east now but the shadows were -deep under the wooded banks. Fish rose, breaking the surface of the -water into flowing circles that widened and vanished. Birds chirped -in the trees. Crows cawed from high roosts. Rose tinged the silver -and gold in the east and the river gleamed. Ben swam slowly, with -long strokes, thrilled with the wonder of the magic of water and -wood and the new day. - -Ben landed on the other side of the river in a level wash of -sunshine and flapped his arms and hopped about on a flat rock. In a -minute his blood raced warm again and his skin glowed. He was about -to plunge in again for the swim down and across to Noel’s front when -his attention was attracted to the bank behind and above him by a -swishing and rustling in the brush. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - HOT SCENT AND WET TRAIL - - -Ben turned and looked upward. He saw dew-wet branches shaking, as if -some one or something of considerable bulk was moving in the thick -underbrush at the top of the bank. A red deer most likely, perhaps a -moose, possibly a bear, he reflected. He felt thrilled. Moose and -deer were not uncommon things in his experience but they always gave -his heart a fine tingle. The thought of a bear was yet more -thrilling. - -The shaking of the brush continued. The movement was progressive. -Whatever the animal was, it was descending the heavily screened bank -directly toward the young man. Ben realized that if it was anything -as tall as a full grown moose it would be showing a head, or ears at -least, by this time. The disturbance of stems, branches and foliage -descended to within five yards of him. Then the round black head of -a big bear emerged from the green covert. - -Ben knew that bears were not dangerous except under unusual -conditions and that they were never more willing to attend to their -own peaceful affairs and avoid unpleasant encounters than in the -late summer of a good year for berries; and yet he felt -embarrassingly defenseless as he regarded the round mask and pointed -muzzle. One may derive a slight feeling of preparedness in emergency -from even so little as the knowledge of being strongly shod for -flight or kicking or the knowledge of being toughly garbed in -flannel and homespun against minor scratches. But Ben wore neither -flannel, leather nor homespun to support his morale. He decided that -deep water would be the only place for him if the bear should take a -fancy to the flat rock upon which he stood. - -The bear was evidently puzzled and somewhat discouraged by Ben’s -appearance. It stared at him for half a minute or more and Ben -returned the stare. Then it withdrew its head from view and again -the alders and birches and wide-boughed young spruces shook and -tossed to its passage through them. But now the disturbance receded. -It moved up the steep pitch of the bank and was lost to Ben’s sight -in the dusk of the forest. - -“There’s the power of the human eye for you!” exclaimed Ben. - -But he was wrong. The human eye had nothing to do with it. The -impulse necessary for the bear’s retreat was derived from bruin’s -own optic nerves rather than from the masterful glare of Ben’s orbs. -In short, that particular bear had never before encountered an -undressed human being, had been puzzled for a minute to know just -what species of the animal world he belonged to and had then quite -naturally jumped to the shocking conclusion that some one had -skinned the poor man without killing him. So the bear had turned and -retired. - -Instead of plunging immediately into the brown water and swimming -back to Noel’s front and breakfast, Ben stepped ashore. He was -interested in the bear. He was curious to know just how far he had -chased it with his masterful glance. Had the big berry eater only -retreated to the top of the bank or had he kept right on? If he -hadn’t kept right on another glance would set him going again, that -was a sure thing. - -Ben moved cautiously, not on account of the bear but in -consideration of his own skin. Wild raspberries flourished among the -tough and rasping bushes and saplings and perhaps poison ivy lurked -among the groundlings. So Ben moved cautiously and slowly up the -bank, parting the brush before him with his hands and looking twice -before every step. But despite his care he received a few scratches. -When halfway up the steep slope he paused, stood straight and -glanced around him over and through the tops of the tangle. He saw -the bow of his uncle’s canoe outthrust from its slanting bed in the -bushes on Noel’s front. He saw the spot, the edge of moist dark -soil, where the big pirogue and its grim freight had been discovered -by Noel Sabattis. - -Ben continued his cautious ascent of the bank, still with curiosity -concerning the bear in the front of his mind but with the mystery of -Louis Balenger’s death looming largely behind it. He gained the -level ground at the top of the bank, still with his gaze on his -feet. He was about to stand upright again and survey his -surroundings when a glitter in the moss a few inches from his -forward foot caught his eye. - -Ben stooped lower and picked up a sliver of white metal. It was a -part of a clip for keeping a fountain pen in a pocket and he -instantly recognized it as such. He stooped again and examined the -moss; and, a second later, he found the pen itself. He was on his -knees by this time, searching the moss with eager eyes and all his -fingers. And here was something more—a little pocket comb in a -sheath of soft leather. - -Ben forgot all about the bear and was seized by an inspiration. He -turned around and lay down flat on the moss, braving prickles and -scratches. He placed his chest on the very spot where he had found -the broken clasp, the pen and the comb, then raised himself on his -elbows and looked to his front, his right and his left. He was now -in the prone position of firing, the steadiest position for straight -shooting. - -Ben turned his face in the direction of the tree-screened clearings -downstream on the other shore. He looked through a rift between -stems and trunks and foliage, clear through and away on a slant -across the narrow river to the spot of moist shore against which the -big pirogue had lain with the dead body of Balenger aboard. His view -was unobstructed. - -“Not much under three hundred yards,” he said. “Pretty shooting!” - -Then he discarded his imaginary rifle, marked his position by -uprooting a wad of moss, gripped the broken clasp, the pen and the -comb securely in his left hand and got to his feet. His blood was -racing and his brain was flashing. The bear was forgotten as if it -had never been. - -He descended the bank with considerably less caution than he had -exerted in the ascent, but with more speed, and he paid for his -haste with his skin. But the price didn’t bother him. He didn’t -notice it. He regained the flat rock, glanced down and across over -the sunlit surface of the brown water, then dived. He swam swiftly, -though he kept his left hand clasped tight. When he landed and -opened his hand he found the water had scarcely touched the leather -case of the little comb. He donned his clothes in about six motions -and leaped up the path. - -Ben found McAllister and the old Maliseet busy at the little rusty -stove, frying bacon and pancakes as if for a prize. - -“Hullo, you were up early,” said Uncle Jim. “Did you catch the first -worm?” - -“I guess I did something like that,” answered Ben breathlessly. -“Look at these.” - -He stepped over to the table and laid the sliver of silver, the pen -and the comb in a row beside one of the tin plates. He turned to old -Noel Sabattis. - -“Did you ever see these before?” he asked. - -“Yep, sure I see ’em afore,” replied Noel. “Where you git ’em dis -mornin’, hey? Where you been at, Ben? What else you got?” - -“A fountain pen,” said McAllister. “And a slick little comb in a -leather case. Where’ve you been shopping so early, Ben?” - -Ben paid no attention to his uncle. His eyes were on Noel’s wrinkled -face. - -“Do they belong to you?” he asked. - -“Nope. What you t’ink I want wid a comb, hey?” - -“Were they Sherwood’s?” - -“Nope. Never see t’ings like dat on Sherwood. See ’em on dat -stranger I tell you about.” - -“I thought so!” cried Ben. “I thought so! We’ve got him on toast! -And Sherwood’s clear!” - -He took up the comb. - -“Look at this,” he said, pointing at gilt lettering stamped into the -soft leather of the case. “Read it, Uncle Jim. ‘_Bonnard Frères, -Quebec, P. Q._’ How’s that for a morning’s work on an empty -stomach?” - -Uncle Jim was bewildered. - -“The stranger came from Quebec,” he said. “Sure, I get that. Noel -saw these things on him, and now you’ve found them somewheres. It -proves he was here; but Noel told us that yesterday. I can’t see how -it proves he shot any one—Balenger nor any one else. If you’d found -his rifle, now that would be something. But a fountain pen?” - -“You meet him dis mornin’, hey, an’ rob ’im, hey?” queried Noel. - -“Nothing like it!” exclaimed Ben. “I found these things in the moss -at the top of the bank on the other side of the river. That’s the -very spot where he lay when he fired at Balenger. He broke the -snap—the clasp there—when he was wriggling about for a clear shot -through the brush, I guess, and the pen and the comb fell out of his -pocket. He was in such a hurry to get away after he’d fired, when he -saw he’d hit, that he didn’t notice the pen and comb. They were -pressed into the moss. I know that’s what happened; and we know he -came from Quebec; and Noel knows what he looks like. That’s enough, -I guess—enough to save Sherwood, anyhow.” - -“Yer figuring quite a ways ahead, Ben,” said Uncle Jim. - -“He shoot Balenger a’right, sure ’nough,” said Noel. “But how you -show dem police he do it wid one little pen an’ one little comb?” - -“It’s simple. You’ll understand about the shooting when you see the -place. It’s simple as a picture in a book. And for the rest of it, -he must have been a friend of Balenger’s before he became his enemy. -Perhaps he and Balenger were partners of some sort. Then he was a -bad character, like Balenger—and dangerous. He was dangerous, right -enough—and a dead shot. So the police would know something about -him, wouldn’t they—the Quebec police? That stands to reason. Didn’t -he look like a bad character, Noel?” - -“Yep, mighty bad. Nasty grin on him an’ bad eye, too. Dat feller -scare me worse nor Balenger scare me. When he look at me, den I -can’t look at his eye an’ I look lower down an’ see dat comb an’ dat -pen a-stickin’ outer de pocket on his breast.” - -“There you are,” said Ben to McAllister. “Very likely the Quebec -police have his photograph and thumb prints; and I guess they have -more brains than Mel Lunt. I’ll write down Noel’s description of him -and all the other particulars I know, and go to Quebec and fix it.” - -Ben was in high spirits, gobbled his breakfast and then had to wait -impatiently for the others to finish and light their pipes. The tin -dishes were left unwashed, the frying pan and griddle unscoured and -the three embarked in old Noel’s leaky bark and went up and across -the river to the flat rock. On the way Ben told of his experience -with the bear, saying that but for the peculiar behavior of bruin he -would not have gone ashore and climbed the bank and found the clew -that was to clear Sherwood’s name in the eyes of the law. - -“Just chance,” he said. “But for that bear, I might have hunted a -week and never happened on those things.” - -Uncle Jim and Noel were deeply impressed by the story of the bear. - -“That was more than chance,” said McAllister, voicing a whisper of -his old Highland blood. “I’ve heard of happenings like that from old -Gran’pa McAllister when I was a boy. Nature won’t hide murder, he -used to say. I guess yer right, Ben, after all. I reckon it’ll work -out the way you figure it—but it sure did look kinder mixed up to me -when you first told it.” - -They climbed the bank above the flat rock, found the spot and there -each lay down in his turn, set his elbows in the correct position -and looked through and over the sights of an imaginary rifle at the -spot three hundred yards away where the bad heart of Louis Balenger -had suddenly ceased to function. - -“Dat’s right,” said Noel Sabattis. - -“Guess we’ve got him, Ben,” said Uncle Jim. - -The visitors set out on their homeward journey within an hour of -Ben’s demonstration of how the shot had been fired by the owner of -the fountain pen and pocket comb. But before packing their dunnage -they marked the murderer’s position with a peg in the ground and -blazes on several young spruces and they measured the distance in -paddle lengths from that point to the point where the bullet had -done its work. Then they went, in spite of old Noel’s protests and -Uncle Jim’s willingness to remain until next morning. But Ben was in -a fever of impatience. Now was not the time to humor Noel’s love of -talk or his uncle’s instinctive objections to unseemly haste. Now -was the time to follow the clew, to jump onto the trail and keep -going, to hammer out the iron while it was hot. This was no time for -talk. They had talked enough, reckoned enough, told enough and heard -enough. Now was the time for action, for speed. Ben was right, and -he had his way as far as McAllister and Noel Sabattis were -concerned. - -Ben took the stern of the fine canvas canoe and humped all his -weight onto the paddle. Not only that, but he requested a little -more weight from Uncle Jim in the bow; and the canoe boiled down -French River like a destroyer. - -It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when they approached the -thrashing, flashing head of the big rapids on the main river. Uncle -Jim waved his paddle toward the landing place above the first untidy -rank of jumping, jostling white and black water. The imposing shout -and hum of the rapids came threateningly to their ears. - -“We’ll run her,” cried Ben. - -“D’ye know the channel?” shouted McAllister, glancing back over his -shoulder. - -“I asked Noel. It’s close along this shore. He’s often run it.” - -“But it ain’t easy at low water. We’d best land and carry around.” - -“You can’t miss it, Noel says. And we’re in a hurry. Sit tight and -keep your eye skinned, Uncle Jim. Here we go!” - -They went. McAllister was an old riverman and had been down these -rapids many times in past years, but never before when the river was -low. In high water it was a simple matter for any good canoeman to -shoot Big Rapids, but in dry seasons it was only attempted by the -most skilled or most daring and not always successfully. Uncle Jim -was seasoned, but he got a lot of thrills in a short time at five -o’clock by the sun of this particular afternoon. - -As usual, it seemed to him that the jouncing, curling, black -“ripples” with their fronts shot with green and amber and their tops -crested with white lather, rushed up to the canoe. That is the way -with strong black and white water. The canoe seemed to be -stationary, trembling slightly from bow to stern as if gathering -herself to spring at the last moment to meet the shock, but -otherwise as motionless as if held by ropes. Up came the raging -waters, up and past the jumping, squirming canoe. Big black rocks -bared themselves suddenly from white veils of froth and green veils -of smooth water, shouldered at the canoe, roared at her, then -vanished to the rear. - -Uncle Jim felt a strong impulse, an impulse of curiosity, to look -back at young Ben O’Dell. But he did not obey it. He kept his -half-shut eyes to the front and now made a dig with his paddle to -the right and now a slash to the left. Spray flew. The canoe -jounced, shivered and jumped and yet seemed to hang unprogressing -amid the furious upward and backward stream of water and rock and -rocky shore. Thin films of water slipped in over the gleaming -gunnels and heavy lumps of water jumped aboard and flopped aboard, -now from the right and now from the left. Uncle Jim received a -tubful of it smash in the chest. - -Uncle Jim enjoyed it, but he did not approve of it. It was too -darned reckless; and he still believed that the very least that -would happen to them before they reached smooth water would be the -destruction of the canoe. But he wondered at Ben. He had taught Ben -to handle a canoe in rough water and smooth, but never in such rough -and tricky water as this. And here was the young fellow twisting and -shooting and steadying her down in a manner which McAllister had -never seen surpassed in his whole life on the river. His anxiety for -Ben was almost topped by his pride in Ben. - -And it looked as if they’d make it, by thunder! Here was the last -ripple roaring up at them, baring its black teeth between white -lips. And here was the slobbering black channel, shaking with -bubbles and fringed with froth, and here was the canoe fair in it. -The shouldering rocks sloshed past. Through! - -Uncle Jim heard a sharp _crack_ clear above the tumult of the -rapids. He knew what had happened without looking. Ben’s paddle had -snapped. He shot his own paddle backward over his shoulder. But he -was too late, though he could not possibly have been quicker. The -canoe swerved like a maddened horse and struck the last ledge of Big -Rapids with a bump and a rip. Then she spun around and rolled over -and off. - -Uncle Jim and Ben swam ashore from the pool below the rapids, Ben -with his uncle’s paddle gripped firmly in one hand. - -“We were through,” said Ben. “If my paddle had lasted another ten -seconds we’d have made it.” - -McAllister grasped his hand. - -“Sure thing we were through!” he cried. “Ben, I’m proud of you! I -couldn’t of done it, not for my life! Never saw a prettier bit of -work in a nastier bit of water in all my born days!” - -Ben beamed and blushed. - -“It was great, wasn’t it?” he returned. “But I’m sorry about the -canoe, Uncle Jim. She is badly ripped, I’m afraid. There she is, -still afloat. I’ll go out and fetch her in.” - -“But what about those things—the pen and comb?” asked Uncle Jim with -sudden anxiety. “Were they with the dunnage?” - -“They’re safe in my pocket here, sewn in and pinned in,” replied -Ben. “I thought something like this might possibly happen and I -wasn’t taking any chances.” - -McAllister smiled gravely and tenderly. - -“I guess you were taking more chances than you knew about, lad,” he -said. “But it was a fine shoot, so why worry?” - -Ben took off his wet coat, jumped into the pool, swam out to the -wounded canoe and brought it ashore. Together they emptied her and -lifted her out of the water. Her strong, smooth canvas was torn -through and ripped back for a distance of two feet and five of her -tough, flat ribs were cracked and telescoped. - -“We had a barrel of fun, Ben, but I reckon we didn’t save much -time,” said Uncle Jim. - -They hid the canoe where she would be safe until they could return -for her, and continued their journey on foot. They walked along the -edge of the river, on pebbles and smooth ledges of rock, until long -after sunset. Then they climbed the high bank and hunted about for a -road of some sort that might lead them to a house and food. They -were on the wrong side of the river to find the highroad; and after -half an hour of searching they decided that they were on the wrong -side of the river for finding anything. McAllister had matches in a -watertight box, so they built a big fire, made beds of ferns and dry -moss and fell asleep hungry but hopeful. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - A TRAP FOR THE HUNGRY - - -Ben O’Dell and Jim McAllister reached home soon after dinner time -next day, canoeless, baggageless and empty but very well pleased -with themselves. They found Mrs. O’Dell and little Marion Sherwood -drying the last spoon. - -Mrs. O’Dell gave the returned voyagers just one look before -replacing the chicken stew on the stove to reheat and the baked -pudding in the oven. Then she looked again and welcomed them -affectionately. - -“I hope you had a good time,” she said. “We didn’t expect you home -so soon. Why didn’t you bring your blankets and things up with you?” - -“We didn’t fetch them home with us,” said Uncle Jim. “Left them a -long ways upriver, Flora. There wasn’t much to fetch back—a few old -blankets and a teakettle and a mite of grub. But we had a good time. -For a little while there I was having more fun than I’ve had in -twenty years, thanks to Ben.” - -“I ran Big Rapids, mother,” said Ben, with a mixed expression of -face and voice. “I was paddling stern, you know, and we were in a -hurry, and I let her go. The water was at its lowest and worst, but -we got through—all but.” - -“Sure we got through!” exclaimed McAllister. “It was the prettiest -bit of work I ever saw! We were clean through, and we’d of been home -earlier, blankets an’ all, if Ben’s paddle hadn’t bust.” - -“Jim McAllister! You let Ben shoot Big Rapids at low water?—that -boy? What were you thinking of, Jim?” - -“Let nothing, Flora! He was aft, because he’s a bigger man than I am -and a better one—though a mite reckless, I must say. I warned him, -but not extra strong. And he did it! If there’s another man on the -river could do it any better, show him to me!” - -“You are old enough to have more sense, Jim. And if you did it, -where’s your dunnage? Why did you leave it all upriver?” - -“Did you run a canoe through those rapids, Ben?” asked the little -Sherwood girl. “Right down those rapids between here and French -River—those rapids all full of rocks and black waves and -whirlpools?” - -“Yes—just about,” answered Ben. - -“You are very strong and courageous,” she said. - -Ben’s blush deepened and spread. - -“Oh, it wasn’t much. Nothing like as bad as it looks. And we didn’t -quite make it, anyhow. My paddle broke off clean just above the -blade just before we struck smooth water—and so we struck something -else instead!” - -“You are very courageous. Dad wouldn’t do it, even in our big -pirogue. We let it through on a rope.” - -“And he did right,” said Uncle Jim. “Yer dad showed his sense that -time. I ain’t blaming Ben, you understand, for I don’t. It was -different with Ben. He didn’t have any little girl in the canoe with -him, but only a tough old uncle who was seasoned to falling into -white water and black before Ben here was ever born. I enjoyed it. -Ben was right, sure—but Dick Sherwood was righter, Marion. He came -down those rapids with you just the way any other real good father -would of done it.” - -The little girl said nothing to that, but she went over and stood -close to Uncle Jim and held his hand. Flora O’Dell grasped her son’s -big right hand in both of hers. Her blue eyes filmed with tears. - -“Ben, you upset in Big Rapids?” she whispered faintly. - -“We were clear through, mother, and upset into the pool,” he said. - -“I want you to be brave,” she continued, her voice very low in his -ear. “But I want you to remember, dear, that you are the only O’Dell -on this river now—on this earth—and that life would be very terrible -for me without—an O’Dell.” - -Ben was deeply touched. Pity and pride both pierced his young heart. -Now he fully realized for the first time the wonder and beauty of -his mother, of the thing that brightened and softened in her brave -eyes, her love, her loneliness, her love for him. And now she called -him an O’Dell; and he knew that she thought of all O’Dells as men -possessed of the qualities of his heroic father. His heart glowed -with pride. - -“I’ll remember, dear—but we were really in a hurry, mother,” he -answered. - -For fully ten minutes he felt twenty years older than his age. - -After Ben and Uncle Jim had eaten and the little girl had gone out -to the orchard with a book Ben told his mother all they had learned -from old Noel Sabattis and of the clew he had discovered to the -identity of Balenger’s murderer. He showed her the pen and comb. She -felt remorse for having doubted poor Sherwood’s innocence. - -“Then he must be crazy—and that is almost as unfortunate,” she said. -“It is almost as bad for both of them.” - -“I don’t believe he’s really insane,” said Ben. “He acted like it -part of the time, by Noel’s account, but not all the time. He was -sane enough when he dropped the pirogue down the rapids on a rope -instead of trying to run them. His nerves are bad and I guess he’s -sick. What Noel said sounded to me as if he was sick with fever—and -he’s afraid—afraid of all sorts of things. But I guess he’d soon be -all right if he knew he was safe from the law and was decently -treated. He hasn’t got Balenger to worry about now. Was any more -food taken while we were away, mother?” - -“You still think it is Richard Sherwood who takes the food?” she -asked nervously. - -“I think so more than ever now, since Noel told us about him. He -hadn’t the nerve to go far away from his daughter.” - -“I wouldn’t wonder if Ben’s right,” said McAllister. - -“I hope he isn’t!” exclaimed Mrs. O’Dell in a distressed voice. “A -cruel thing happened last night and it was my fault. I—I told Ian -about the thefts when he asked me why I was afraid to sleep without -a man in the house. I didn’t want him to think me just a—an -unreasoning coward. And he set a trap in the bread box last night, a -steel fox trap. I didn’t know anything about it. I would have taken -it away if I had known.” - -“A trap!” cried Ben, his face flushing and then swiftly paling and -his eyes darkling. “A trap in this house! To hurt some one in need -of bread! If he wasn’t your brother I’d—I’d——” - -“Same here!” muttered Uncle Jim. - -“I didn’t know until this morning,” continued Mrs. O’Dell, glancing -from her son to her brother with horrified eyes. “I found it -outside, with an ax lying beside it. He had pried it open with the -ax. There was blood on it. I—I went over to see Ian then—he’d gone -home early—and I saw him and told him what—how I felt. I think he -understood—but that won’t help the—the person who was hurt.” - -She was on the verge of tears but Ben comforted her. - -Ben and Jim McAllister spent the remainder of the afternoon in -searching the woods for the poor fellow who had put his hand into -the trap. Ben was sure that the person whom they sought was Sherwood -and Uncle Jim agreed with him; but whoever the unfortunate thief -might be, Ben felt that he was entitled to apologies and surgical -aid and an explanation. These things were due to the sufferer and -also to the good name of O’Dell. In setting a trap to catch a hungry -thief in the O’Dell house Ian McAllister had flouted a great -tradition of kindness and smudged the honor of an honorable family. - -The woods were wide, the ground was dry and showed no tracks, the -underbrush was thick. Their search was in vain. They shouted words -of encouragement a score of times, at the top of their voices, but -received no reply. - -The three talked late that night after the little girl had gone to -bed. Ben was determined to follow up the clew which he had obtained -on French River immediately and personally, to save the poor fellow -who had once been his father’s friend from the blundering of the law -and from destruction by his own fears. And not entirely for the sake -of the old friendship, perhaps. There was their guest to consider, -the brave child upstairs. His mother and uncle saw the justice of -his reasoning, but without enthusiasm. His mother felt uneasy for -him, afraid to have him to go to a big city on such a mission. He -had been away from home for months at a time during the past six or -seven years, but that had been very different. He had been at school -in a quiet town on the river, among people she knew. And she feared -that his efforts in Sherwood’s behalf would interrupt his education. -She said very little of all this, however, for she knew that in this -matter her son’s vision was clearer and braver and less selfish than -her own. Uncle Jim felt no anxiety concerning Ben, for his faith in -that youth had grown mightily of late, but he wanted to know what -was to become of the harvest. - -It was decided that a good Indian or two should be hired to help -McAllister with the harvesting of the oats, barley and buckwheat, -and that Ben should go to Woodstock next day and discuss Richard -Sherwood’s unhappy situation with Judge Smith and return to O’Dell’s -Point for a night at least before going farther. Mrs. O’Dell and -Uncle Jim would do everything they could to find Sherwood and -reassure him. All three were convinced by now that Sherwood and the -unfortunate thief were one, in spite of the fact that the red dogs -had behaved as if the thief were an old and trusted friend. - -Ben set out for Woodstock after an early breakfast. The long drive -was uneventful. The road was in excellent condition for a road of -its kind, the mare was the best of her kind on the upper river, the -sun shone and the miles rolled steadily and peacefully back under -the rubber tires of the light buggy. - -Ben stabled the mare at the Aberdeen House stables, saw her rubbed -dry and watered and fed, then sat down to his own dinner. He was -well along with his meal when Deputy Sheriff Brown walked into the -hotel dining room, turned around twice as a dog does before it lies -down, then advanced upon Ben’s table. Ben felt slightly embarrassed. -He saw that Mr. Brown’s face still showed something of the effects -of their last meeting. The deputy sheriff held out his hand and Ben -arose and took it. - -“I’ll eat here too, if you don’t mind,” said Mr. Brown. - -Ben was relieved to see that, despite the faint discoloration around -the other’s eyes, the expression of the eyes was friendly. - -“You gave me a good one, Ben,” said the arm of the law, speaking -between spoonfuls of soup. “I’ve been thinkin’ it over ever since -and the more I think on it the clearer I see why you did it. I was -danged mad for a spell, but I ain’t mad now. Yer a smart lad, Ben, -if you’ll excuse me for sayin’ so; and jist pig-headed enough to be -steady and dependable, if you don’t mind me expressin’ it that way.” - -“It is very kind of you to think so,” replied Ben. - -“Oh, I’m like that. No meanness in Dave Brown. If he’s wrong he’s -willin’ to admit it once he’s been shown it—that’s me! I guess you -were right that time in yer barn, Ben. I know darn well that you -acted as if right was on yer side, anyhow.” - -Ben looked him steadily but politely in the eye for several seconds, -then leaned forward halfway across the narrow table. - -“I came down to-day to tell something important to Judge Smith and -perhaps to ask his advice about it, but I think I’ll tell it to you -instead,” he said in guarded tones. - -The deputy sheriff’s eyes brightened and he too leaned forward. - -“Something about French River?” he whispered. - -“You’ve guessed it, Mr. Brown. Uncle Jim and I went up there and saw -old Noel Sabattis and heard all he had to tell. Among other things, -we heard about that stranger Noel saw once a few days before Louis -Balenger showed up again.” - -“There was nothin’ to that, Ben. The old man said he didn’t see hair -nor track of him after that one minute. It wasn’t even a good lie. -It was jist the commencement of one—an’ then Noel got wise to the -fact that he couldn’t git it across even if he took the trouble to -invent it.” - -Ben smiled and sat back. The waitress was at his elbow. He ordered -peach pie with cream and coffee. Mr. Brown ordered apple pie with -cheese on the side and tea, and the waitress retired. Again Ben -leaned forward. - -“That wasn’t a lie, and that stranger shot Balenger,” he said. - -“Shoot. I’m listenin’.” - -“He shot him from the top of the bank on the other side of the -river, upstream, exactly two hundred and eighty-six yards away.” - -“Was yours apple or mince?” asked the waitress, suddenly reappearing -with both arms full of pieces of pie and brimming cups. - -The deputy sheriff turned the face of the law on her. - -“Leave it an’ beat it an’ don’t come back to-day!” he cried. - -“He came from the city of Quebec,” continued Ben, “and I wouldn’t be -surprised to learn that the police there know something about him.” - -Mr. Brown looked at once suspicious and impressed. - -“It wouldn’t surprise you much to learn anything, Ben,” he said. -“Have you got him tied under yer chair? Introduce me, will you?” - -Ben laughed good-naturedly, produced the pen, the comb and the -broken clip and told all that he knew about them, including old -Noel’s searching description of the stranger’s appearance. - -“Ben, I hand it to you,” said the deputy sheriff. “I give you -best—for the second time. Yer smart and yer steady—and yer lucky! -What’s yer next move?” - -“What would you suggest, Mr. Brown?” - -“Me suggest? That’s polite of you, Ben, but I’d sooner listen to -you. I got a high opinion of the way you work yer brains—_and_ yer -luck, if you don’t object to me mentionin’ yer luck.” - -“I was thinking that you might make a special constable of me or if -I’m too young for that you might engage me as a private detective, -and we’ll go to Quebec and find out what the chief of police there -knows about an acquaintance of Louis Balenger’s with three gold -teeth and a scar just below his right ear.” - -“Exactly what I was goin’ to suggest!” exclaimed Mr. Brown. “Shake -on it! I’ll fix it—an’ the sooner the quicker. What about the day -after to-morrow? If you get here as early as you did to-day we can -take the two-o’clock train.” - -Ben spent hours of the next day searching in the upland woods and -the island thickets for Richard Sherwood. The incident of the trap -had increased his pity for and his sense of responsibility toward -the broken fugitive. Again his efforts were unsuccessful. He found -nothing—no ashes of a screened fire, no makeshift shelter, no -furtive shape vanishing in the underbrush. He left a message in the -woods and down among the willows, repeated on half a dozen of pages -torn from his notebook and impaled on twigs. Here is the message: - -You are safe and we are your friends. The trap was a mistake. Please -come to the house. - - Ben O’Dell. - -He told his mother and Uncle Jim what he had done and they approved -of it. He and Uncle Jim drove away next morning; and he and the -deputy sheriff caught the two-o’clock train for Quebec. - -O’Dell’s Point experienced busier days than usual after Ben O’Dell’s -departure on the trail of the marksman from Quebec. The harvest was -heavy, and Jim McAllister was the busiest man on the river. By the -application of a few plugs of tobacco as advances on wages he -procured the services of Sol Bear and Gabe Sacobie, two good -Indians. They were good Indians, honest and well-intentioned and -hardy, but they were not good farm hands. If McAllister had hired -them to take him to the head of the river they would have toiled -early and late, bent paddles and poles and backs, made the portages -at a jog trot and grinned at fatigue. That would have been an -engagement worthy of a Maliseet’s serious consideration and effort. -But the harvesting of oats and barley was quite a different matter. -Sol and Gabe could see nothing in the laborious pursuit of the dull -oats but the wages. Squaws’ work, this. So Uncle Jim had to keep -right at their heels and elbows to keep them going. - -Jim McAllister kept the sad case of Sherwood in his mind. After the -day’s work and the milking and feeding, when the Maliseets were -smoking by the woodshed door and his sister and little Marion were -sewing and reading in the sitting room, he wandered abroad with a -stable lantern. He showed his light in the high pastures, along -brush fences and through the fringes of the forest. Sometimes he -whistled. Sometimes he shouted the name of the man who had tried to -teach him to shoot duck and snipe on the wing half a lifetime ago. -He did these things five nights running but without any perceptible -result. And no food had been missed since the night the trap had -been set and sprung. It looked to Jim as if his brother’s cruel and -stupid act had driven Sherwood away, had shattered his last thread -of courage, dispelled the last glimmer of his sense of -self-preservation and his last ray of hope. - -Jim McAllister believed that misfortune, grief and fear had been too -much for Dick Sherwood’s sanity even at the time of Balenger’s -death. He believed him to have been temporarily insane even -then—partially and temporarily insane. His caution at Big Rapids -showed that he had then possessed at least a glimmer of reasoning -power and nervous control. Friendship, companionship, assurance of -his own and Marion’s safety might have saved him then, Jim -reflected. But now Jim couldn’t see any hope for him. The trap had -finished what Louis Balenger’s cruelty and Julie’s death had begun. -Sherwood had undoubtedly taken to the limitless wilderness behind -O’Dell’s Point, sick, hungry, wounded and crazy with fear. He was -probably dead by now. - -Sunday came, a day of rest from hauling oats and barley. Sol and -Gabe and Gabe’s squaw breakfasted in the kitchen. Mrs. O’Dell and -Uncle Jim and the little Sherwood girl breakfasted in the dining -room. Uncle Jim was at his third cup of coffee and already dipping -into a pocket for his pipe when his sister startled him by an -exclamation. - -“Hark! Who’s that?” - -He pricked up his ears. - -“It’s only the Injuns talking, Flora,” he said. - -“No, I heard a strange voice.” - -The door between the kitchen and dining room opened and old Noel -Sabattis entered. He closed the door behind him with a backward -kick. - -“How do,” he said. - -His shapeless hat of weather-beaten felt was on his head, a dark -pipe with a rank aroma protruded from his mouth. He held a paddle in -one hand and an ancient double-barreled duck gun, a muzzle loader, -in the other. Marion Sherwood stared at him wide-eyed for a moment. -Then she shot from her chair, flew to him and embraced him. - -“Mind yerself!” he exclaimed. “Look out for dat gun!” - -“Why have you come, Noel?” she cried, pulling at his belt. “Why -didn’t you come to see me before? Has dad come home?” - -“Nope, not yet. Two-t’ree day he come. How you feel, hey?” - -“I am very well, thank you,” she replied, “but worried about dad—and -I’ve missed you. Now you must take off your hat and speak to Mrs. -O’Dell, who is very kind.” - -McAllister and the little girl relieved the old Maliseet of his gun, -paddle and hat and Mrs. O’Dell brought a chair to the table for him -and fetched more eggs and bacon from the kitchen. - -Noel inquired about Sherwood at the first opportunity. - -“He’s gone, I guess,” said Jim. “I’m afraid he’s done for. One night -when Ben and I were away, the last night we were away, a darned -nasty thing happened. My brother, Ian McAllister, set a fox trap in -the pantry. Whoever has been taking the food got a hand into it and -had to pry himself clear of the jaws with an ax—and nothing’s been -taken since. It was dirty work! If Sherwood was the man, then I -guess there’s no chance of ever finding him—not alive, anyhow. I’ve -hunted for him, night and day, but ain’t seen track nor hair of him. -He’s kept right on running till he dropped, I guess. That would jist -about finish him, that trap. He’d think the whole world was against -him for sure.” - -“Yer brodder do dat, hey?” cried old Noel, angry and distressed. -“You got one fool for brodder, hey? Go trappin’ on de pantry for to -catch dat poor hungry feller Sherwood! You better keep ’im ’way from -me, Ma-callister; or maybe he don’t last long!” - -“He thought it was a local thief, I guess,” answered Jim. - -“Maybe Sherwood don’t run far,” said Noel. “But he lay mighty low. -You hunt ’im wid dem red huntin’ dogs, hey?” - -“No, I didn’t take the dogs in with me. They’re bird dogs. They -don’t follow deer tracks nor man tracks. The only scent they heed is -partridge and snipe and woodcock.” - -Noel shook his head. - -“No dog ain’t dat much of a fool,” he said. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - THE RED DOGS AT WORK - - -Jim McAllister and old Noel Sabattis set out for the woods back of -the point within an hour of Noel’s arrival. They took uncooked food -and a kettle and a frying pan in a bag, a cold lunch and a flask of -brandy in their pockets, four blankets, two waterproof ground -sheets, an ax and Noel’s old duck gun. They took Red Chief and Red -Lily, the oldest and next older of the three red dogs. They moved -inland along a thin screen of alders and choke-cherries and -goldenrod until they reached a point of dense second-growth spruce -and fir—this to avoid attracting the attention of Sol Bear, Gabe -Sacobie and Molly Sacobie. The red dogs moved obediently “to heel” -until the cover of the wood was gained. - -The point of woods soon widened and merged into the unpeopled forest -which lay unbroken behind the river farms for scores of miles to the -right and left and spread northward for scores of unbroken miles. An -eighty-rod by ten-mile strip of this forest belonged to the O’Dell -property. This strip of wilderness had supplied generations of -O’Dells with timber and fuel and fencing without showing a -scar—nothing but a few stumps here and there about the forward -fringe of it and a mossy logging road meandering in green and amber -shadows. Generations of O’Dells and McAllisters had shot and hunted -here without leaving a mark. Maliseets had taken toll of it in bark -for their canoes, maple wood for their paddles and ash wood for the -frames of their snowshoes for hundreds of years; and yet to any but -the expert eye it was a wilderness that had never been discovered by -man. - -Jim and Noel and the dogs quartered the ground as they moved -gradually northward, a man and a dog to the right, a man and a dog -to left, out for five hundred yards each way and in and out again, -expanding and contracting tirelessly through brush and hollow. The -men kept direction by the sunlight on the high treetops and touch -with each other by an occasional shrill whistle. Red Chief, the -oldest dog, worked with Noel, and Red Lily with Jim. - -The fact that Jim did not carry a gun puzzled Red Lily, and the fact -that Noel Sabattis carried a gun and did not use it puzzled Red -Chief even more. Red Lily caught the scent of partridge on leaf and -moss, stood to the scent until McAllister called her off or ran -forward impatiently and flushed the birds. She did these things half -a dozen times and the man always failed to produce a gun or show any -interest in the birds. Then she decided that he wasn’t looking for -birds, so she hunted hares; but he recalled her from that pursuit in -discouraging tones. She smelled around for something else after -that. And it was the same with Red Chief. That great dog, the -present head of that distinguished old family of red sportsmen gave -Noel Sabattis five chances at partridge and two at cock without -getting so much as an acknowledgment out of the ancient Maliseet. -The fellow didn’t shoot. He didn’t even make a motion with the duck -gun. And yet he looked to Red Chief like a man who was after -something and knew exactly what it was; so Red Chief ignored the -familiar scents and tried to smell out the thing Noel was looking -for. - -At noon the men and dogs met and sat down beside a tiny spring in a -ferny hollow. McAllister made a small fire and boiled the kettle. -The cold lunch was devoured by the four and the men drank tea and -smoked pipes. Then the fire was trodden out and the last spark of it -drenched with wet tea leaves. The search was resumed. - -The sun was down and though the sky was still bright above the -treetops a brown twilight filled the forest when the efforts of the -searchers were at last crowned with success. The honor fell to the -lot of Red Chief. Noel was about to turn and close on the center -with the intention of rejoining Jim and making camp for the night -when he heard the dog yelp excitedly again and again. He hurried -toward the sound. He forced his way straight through tangled brush -and over mossy rocks and rotting tree trunks, straight into the -heart of a tree-choked hollow. The dusk was almost as deep as night -in there but he saw the red dog yelping over something on the -ground. He joined the dog and looked close. The thing on the ground -was a man. It was Richard Sherwood, unconscious, perhaps dead. - -Noel’s tough old heart failed him for a moment. It seemed to turn -over against his ribs and he withdrew his glance from his friend -and, for a moment, put an arm over the red dog’s shoulder for -support. Then he laid his gun down and produced the flask from his -hip. He forced a few drops of brandy between Sherwood’s colorless -lips. His hand shook and some of the liquor spilled and ran into the -wild, gray-shot beard. He felt unnerved—far too unnerved to go on -with this thing alone. He believed that Sherwood was dead; and -though he was glad of the red dog’s presence he wanted human -companionship, too. - -He moved away a few yards and discharged the right barrel of the old -gun into the tops of the gloomy forest. The report thumped and -thundered through the crowding, listening forest. Reserving the left -barrel for a second signal, he returned to the body, raised the -inert head again and forced a little more of the brandy between the -cold lips. Red Chief whined and thrust his muzzle into Sherwood’s -face. Noel drew back a little, gathered dry twigs and moss together -blindly and set a match to them. The red and yellow flames shot up. -The light steadied his nerves but did not ease his heart. He fed a -few sticks to the fire, moved off hurriedly and fired the second -barrel of the big gun. When the echoes of the report had thumped to -silence he heard the shrill, faint whistle of Jim’s reply. - -Noel became aware of a new note in the dog’s whines and yelps. He -stooped close and saw that Sherwood’s eyes were open and alive. - -“I’ve fooled you,” whispered Sherwood. “I’m as good as dead—and the -little girl is safe.” - -Then he closed his eyes. Red Chief ceased his whining, moved back a -yard and lay down. Noel built up the fire. - -Red Lily came leaping to the fire, followed by Jim McAllister. She -yapped with delight and anxiety at sight of Sherwood, nosed his -beard, flashed a red tongue at his pale forehead. Again he opened -his eyes for a few seconds. - -McAllister and Noel Sabattis worked over Sherwood for hours. The -poor fellow was delirious, exhausted, burning with fever and -suffering intense pain. They managed to get a little brandy and -about a gill of water down his throat. He did not know them. He -thought Louis Balenger was there. - -“I’ve fooled you this time,” he said. “Marion is safe. Safe with -people you can’t scare or trick. Safe from me—and safe from you. -Leave her alone—or you’ll get caught in a trap—and die of it—like -me.” - -Later, he said, “You can’t touch her, Balenger. Even the red dogs -would kill you. They’re my friends.” - -His right hand and arm were in a terrible state. The hand had been -crushed straight across and torn by the steel teeth of the trap -which Ian McAllister, in unthinking cruelty, had set in the O’Dell -pantry. Hand and wrist were dark and swollen. The arm was swollen to -the shoulder. Jim bathed it with warm water, then with hot water. -They applied wads of hot, wet moss to the arm; but they had no -bandages and nothing of which to make bandages for the wounded hand. -And in their haste they had come without medicines—without quinine -or iodine. - -Sherwood was still alive at dawn. He even seemed to be a little -stronger and in less suffering. His arm was no worse, that was -certain. They gave him a little more stimulant and a few spoonfuls -of condensed milk diluted in warm water. It was evident from his -appearance that he had been without nourishment of any sort for days -and yet he seemed unconscious of hunger. He was far too ill and weak -to feel anything but the pain of his hand and arm. - -Jim set out for home after breakfast, on a straight line, to fetch -in bandages and quinine and to get his sister’s advice as to the -wisdom of using iodine. He believed that nourishment and simple -remedies would revive Sherwood so that they could safely remove him -to the house in the course of a day or two. Then he would get a -doctor from Woodstock, Doctor Scott whom he knew, to deal with the -injured hand. He believed that the inflammation of the hand and arm -could be reduced in the meantime by simple treatment. He left both -dogs and the gun with Noel Sabattis and the sick man. - -The searchers must have covered close upon thirty miles of ground in -their hunt for Sherwood but they had not gone more than eight miles -straight to the northward. McAllister traveled a bee line, pausing -now and then to look up at the sun from an open glade. He reached -the house within two hours and twenty minutes of leaving the camp in -the secluded hollow. - -Back in the heart of the tree-choked hollow old Noel Sabattis bathed -Sherwood’s hand and arm and applied wads of steaming moss to the arm -and shoulder just as Jim McAllister had done. Sherwood and the dogs -slept. Noel felt sleepy, too. He had been awake through most of last -night and through half of the night before and during the past two -days he had exerted himself more than usual. He blinked and blinked. -His eyelids wouldn’t stay up. He looked at his sleeping friend and -the sleeping dogs. His eyes closed and he made no effort to open -them. Instead, he sank back slowly until his head and shoulders -touched the soft moss. - -Old Noel Sabattis slept deep and long. The moss was soft and dry. -The sun climbed and warmed the still air and sifted shafts of warm -light through the crowding boughs. Sherwood lay with closed eyes, -motionless, muttering now and again. Red Chief arose, shook himself, -hunted through the woods for a few minutes, circled the hollow, then -returned to the fallen fire and sleep. The other dog awoke a little -later, scouted around for ten minutes, drank at the ferny spring and -returned to sleep. The hours passed. Red Chief awoke again, sniffed -the still air and got purposefully to his feet. He entered and -vanished into the heavy underbrush with a single bound. Red Lily -awoke in a flash and flashed after him. They were both back in less -than a minute. They awoke Noel Sabattis by licking his face -violently. They were in too great a hurry to be particular. - -Noel awoke spluttering and sat up. The big dogs jumped on him and -over him a few times, then turned and disappeared in the underbrush. -The old man wiped his face with the back of his hand and reached for -the duck gun. He had reloaded it before breakfast. He raised the -hammers, produced two copper percussion caps from a pocket of his -rag of a vest, capped each nipple and lowered the hammers to half -cock. Then he crawled after the dogs. He found them awaiting him -impatiently at the outer edge of the hollow. They jumped about him, -nosed him and made eager, choky noises deep in their throats. They -moved forward slowly and steadily then, with Noel crawling after. -But they did not advance far; suddenly they lay down. - -Noel listened. He heard something. He set his best ear close to -ground while one dog watched him with intent approval and the other -gazed straight ahead. He raised himself to his knees, lifted his -head cautiously and looked to his front through a screen of tall -brakes. He saw two men approaching, one of whom he recognized as Mel -Lunt; and though he could see only their heads and shoulders he knew -that they were placing their feet for each step with the utmost -care. Also, he saw that each had a rifle on his shoulder. - -Noel’s round eyes glinted dangerously. Man hunters, hey! Sneaks! -Sneaks sneaking around to jail poor Sherwood, hunting him down by -tracking his friends. He stooped for a moment and patted each dog on -the head. - -“Lay close,” he whispered. - -He stood straight, advanced two paces and halted. He brought the old -gun up so that the muzzles of the two barrels were in line with the -heads of the intruders and in plain sight and the butt was within a -few inches of the business position in the hollow of his right -shoulder. - -“How do. Fine day,” he said. - -Old Tim Hood of Hood’s Ferry and Mel Lunt the local constable -stopped dead in their tracks as if they were already shot. They -didn’t even lower their rifles from their shoulders. Their startled -brains worked just sufficiently to warn them that a move of that -kind might not be safe. For a few seconds they stared at Noel in -silence. Then Tim Hood spoke in a formidable voice that matched his -square-cut whiskers. - -“What d’ye mean by p’intin’ that there gun at us?” he asked. - -“What it look like it mean?” returned Noel. - -“That’s all right, Tim,” said Mel Lunt. “He’s a friend of mine.” - -“T’ell ye say!” retorted Noel. - -“Well, ye know me, I guess. I was up to yer place on French River. -I’m the constable, don’t ye mind? Me an’ Sheriff Brown was up -there.” - -“Sure t’ing, Lunt. What you want now?” - -“Ye can’t talk to me like that!” exclaimed Hood. “I don’t take sass -from no Injun nor from no danged O’Dell! Where’s this here Sherwood -the law be after? Take us to ’im!” - -“Keep dat rifle steady, Lunt,” cautioned Noel. “An’ you too, old -feller. I got jerks on de finger when I was little papoose an’ -mighty sick one time—an’ maybe still got ’em, I dunno. Got hair -trigger on dis old gun, anyhow.” - -“Don’t ye be a fool, Noel Sabattis,” said Lunt. “I’m a constable. I -want this man Richard Sherwood, who’s suspicioned of the murder of -the late Louis Balenger, an’ I know ye’ve got him somewheres ’round -here. I’m talkin’ to ye official now, Noel, as the arm o’ the law ye -might say. Drop yer gun an’ lead us to him.” - -“Sherwood? Ain’t I told you he don’t shoot dat feller Balenger? He -don’t shoot nobody. You ask Brown. You ask Ben O’Dell. Ask anybody. -Pretty near anybody tell you whole lot you don’t know, Lunt!” - -“’Zat so? I’ll ask Mr. Brown when I see ’im, don’t ye fret! I reckon -we kin stand here’s long as ye kin hold up that old gun; and -then—but we’ll show ye all about that later.” - -“Maybe,” said Noel. “Hold ’im good long time, anyhow.” - -He glanced down and behind him, under his left elbow, for an -instant. Red Lily still lay flat among the ferns but Red Chief was -not there. He wondered at that but he did not worry. His admiration -for the red dogs was great, though his acquaintance with them had -been short. - -In the meantime, Jim McAllister was returning on a bee line through -the woods, with iodine and quinine and bandages and boric powder in -his pockets and a basket containing a bottle of milk and a dozen -fresh eggs in his right hand. When he was within half a mile of poor -Sherwood’s retreat he was met by Red Chief. The old dog leaped about -him, squirmed and wriggled, ran forward and back and forward again. -Jim knew that he was needed for something and quickened his pace. -Red Chief led him straight. Soon the dog slackened his pace and -glanced back with a new expression in his eyes. It was as if he had -laid a finger on his lips for caution. Jim understood and obeyed, -anxious and puzzled. He stooped, looked keenly to his front and set -his feet down with care. - -Jim heard voices. A few seconds later, he glimpsed the shoulders of -two men among the brown boles of the forest, topping the underbrush. -He saw rifles slanted on their shoulders. He set the basket of eggs -and milk securely in a ferny nook and continued to advance with -increased caution. He recognized the voice of Mel Lunt. Then he -heard Noel’s voice. He heard the old Maliseet say, “I kin hold her -annoder hour yet. Den maybe git so tired me finger jerk, hey? Maybe. -Dunno.” - -He saw Noel facing the others, standing with his back square to the -dense growth of Sherwood’s retreat. He saw the duck gun. In a flash -he understood it all; and in another flash of time indignation -flared up in him like white fire. Lunt, that brainless sneak! And -old Tim Hood, whose only pleasure was derived from the troubles of -others! So they had spied on him, had they? Tracked him on his -errand of mercy! - -McAllister ran forward. Noel saw him coming, grinned and steadied -the big gun. McAllister seized a rifle with each hand and yanked -them both backward over their owners’ shoulders. He moved swiftly -around and confronted the intruders. The glare of his gray eyes was -hard and hot. He tossed one rifle behind him and held the other in -readiness after a jerk on the bolt and a glance at the breech. - -“Guess I go bile de kittle now,” said Noel Sabattis; and he lowered -the duck gun and retired. His old arms trembled with fatigue, but -his old heart was high and strong. - -“What have you two got to say for yerselves?” asked McAllister, -turning his unnerving gaze from Lunt to Hood and back to Lunt. -“Ain’t you read the game laws for this year? Hunting season opens -October first, as usual. Or maybe you forgot I’m a game warden.” - -“Cut it out, Jim McAllister!” retorted Lunt. “I’m a constable. Ye -ain’t forgot that, I guess.” - -“Sure, I know that. And as you won’t be one much longer, I’ll use -you now. Arrest Tim Hood an’ take him down to Woodstock to the -sheriff—an’ hand yerself over too while ye’re about it. The charge -is carrying loaded rifles in these woods in close season.” - -“None o’ that,” said old Tim Hood. “Ye can’t fool me, Jim. Me an’ -Mel ain’t here to kill moose or deer—an’ well ye know it. We be here -to take a man the law wants for murder. So back out an’ set down, -Mr. Jim McAllister. This ain’t no job for a game warden.” - -“I’ll be as easy on you as I can,” returned Jim. “Ye’re out for -Sherwood, I know. Well, Sherwood didn’t murder anybody. The shooting -was done by a stranger from Quebec and Dave Brown and young Ben -O’Dell are looking for him now in Quebec.” - -“I ain’t been officially notified o’ that,” said Lunt. “As a private -citizen I reckon it’s a lie—an’ as an officer of the law I couldn’t -believe it anyhow. I’m here to do my duty.” - -“Did you call me a liar, Mel?” - -“I ain’t here to pick over my words with you nor no man. I’m here to -do my duty.” - -“Toting a rifle in close season. Show me yer warrant for Richard -Sherwood’s arrest.” - -“Show nothin’,” snarled old Tim Hood. - -Jim moved backward until he reached the discarded rifle. He laid the -second rifle beside it. Red Lily had joined him and Red Chief at the -moment of their arrival on the scene. - -“Guard ’em, pups,” he said. - -The big red dogs stood across the rifles. McAllister walked close up -to the intruders, unarmed, his hands hanging by his sides. - -“Hood, ye’re an old man and a spiteful one, and because of yer age -I’m only telling you to get off O’Dell land as quick as you know -how,” he said. “I’ll keep yer rifle till you pay yer fine for -carrying it in close season. Beat it! But ye’re not too old to kick, -Mel Lunt. Ye’re my own age and heft and it ain’t my fault ye’re not -as good a man. You had ought to thought of that before you called me -a liar.” - -He swung his right hand, wide open, and delivered a resounding smack -on the constable’s left ear. Lunt staggered, cursing. Jim stepped in -and placed a smart left on the nose and upper lip. Lunt made a -furious but blind onslaught and was met by a thump on the chest that -shook his hat from his head and his socks down about his ankles. Jim -was unskilled as a boxer; but he was powerful and in good condition; -the Highland blood of the McAllisters and the pride of the O’Dells -were raging in him and he had picked up a few notions from young -Ben. He biffed Mel again, but not in a vital spot. - -Old Tim Hood, that bitter soul, was not idle. He dashed toward the -rifles on the ground, his square-cut white whiskers fairly bristling -with rage. Murder was in his heart—but there was no courage back of -it. He beheld the masks of the red dogs—wrinkled noses, curled lips, -white fangs and blazing eyes. His dash stopped suddenly within a -yard of the rifles. He heard throaty gurgles. The bristles went out -of his whiskers. He turned and jumped away in a cold panic. But rage -still shook in his heart. He stooped and fumbled in the moss and -ferns for a stone with which to smash Jim McAllister on the back of -the head. It was a style of attack with which he had been familiar -in his younger days. He found the thing he wanted, conveniently -shaped for the hand and about seven pounds in weight. - -Hood straightened himself, stone in hand, just in time to glimpse a -red flash. Then something struck him all over and down he went, flat -on his back, and the stone went rolling. For half a second he kept -his eyes open. Half a second was long enough. He saw white fangs -within an inch of his face, crimson gums, a black throat, eyes of -green fire. His heart felt as if it would explode with terror. He -screamed as he waited for the glistening fangs to crunch into his -face. He waited and waited. - -Mel Lunt was glad to run as soon as he realized that McAllister was -too good for him. He saw that the thing to do was to run while he -could and get to Woodstock as soon as possible and interview the -high sheriff of the county. There might be something in the story -about the man from Quebec, though he doubted it. He needed a warrant -for Sherwood’s arrest, anyway; and after that he would settle with -McAllister and old Noel Sabattis. So he staggered southward; and Jim -sped him with a kick. - -Then Jim turned and whistled Red Chief off Tim Hood’s chest. The old -dog came trotting, waving his red plume. Red Lily continued to stand -guard over the rifles. Jim walked over to where Hood lay motionless -with closed eyes. - -“Get up,” he said. “You ain’t hurt. No one touched you.” - -Mr. Hood opened his eyes, sat up and looked around him. - -“Lunt has gone south,” said Jim. “I reckon you can overhaul him if -you hurry. Beat it!” - -The bitter old ferryman got to his feet without a word and headed -south at a very creditable rate of speed. - - * * * * * - -In the city of Quebec, in the midst of excitements and novelties, -Deputy Sheriff Brown and young Ben O’Dell went earnestly and -successfully about their business. Mr. Brown’s mind and heart were -set on catching a murderer; Ben’s thoughts and efforts were all bent -upon clearing and saving the innocent. The success of either meant -the success of both, so they worked in perfect accord. - -Ben was the superior in imagination and intelligence but Brown knew -the ways of the police and of cities. Brown obtained audience with -the chief of police and Ben’s manner of telling the story of the -French River shooting did the fine work. The stranger who had -dropped his pen and comb on French River was soon identified as one -Norman Havre, alias “Black” McFay, alias Joe Hatte, known to the -police. Louis Balenger’s record was also known to them. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - THE SICK MAN - - -Jim McAllister and Noel fed Sherwood with milk, dosed him with -quinine, bathed his hand with a hot solution of boric powder and -touched it with iodine, placed hot compresses on his arm and -bandaged him generously if not scientifically. He responded -encouragingly to the treatment. It was easy to see that the pain in -his arm had lessened. For a few hours of the afternoon he appeared -to be cooler and felt cooler, lay awake without gabbling and slept -without muttering and tossing. Once he recognized Noel Sabattis and -spoke to him by name; and Noel patted his head and told him not to -worry about anything for everything was going fine. - -Sherwood was delirious during the night but not to the extent of the -night before. In the morning he showed marked improvement, took his -bitter dose of quinine as if he knew that it was good for him, drank -an egg beaten up in milk, spoke affectionately to the red dogs and -then to Jim McAllister, in puzzled tones, with something of -recognition and more of fear and suspicion in his eyes. - -“What are you going to do with me?” he asked. - -“Take you home, Dick, and get a doctor for you,” replied Jim. - -“What’s the idea?” - -“I’m Jim McAllister. I live with my sister and young Ben O’Dell and -your little girl—all one family—at O’Dell’s Point. And that’s where -Noel and I mean to take you to. That’s the idea. So there’s nothing -for you to worry about.” - -“Where’s Louis Balenger?” - -“You don’t have to worry about him any more. He’s dead.” - -“Yes, I remember that. Noel and I buried him. You remember that, -Noel? He was dead, wasn’t he?” - -“Yep, he won’t never move no more,” replied the Maliseet. - -“Did I shoot him?” asked the sick man. - -“No, you didn’t,” said Jim sternly. “You weren’t anywheres near him -when he was shot; and if you hadn’t been sickening with fever you -wouldn’t of run away. Balenger was shot by a man from Quebec and Ben -O’Dell is hunting him this very minute.” - -“Who’s Ben O’Dell?” - -“He’s John’s son. Now you quit talking and take a rest.” - -“I was at John’s funeral. You didn’t know it but I was there. No one -knew it, for I was ashamed to show myself. He was my friend. He was -my company commander once.” - -“I know all about that, Dick. But you mustn’t talk any more now. Yer -a sick man.” - -Sherwood fell asleep. Jim and Noel made a stretcher of two poles, -crosspieces and a pair of blankets; at ten o’clock they broke camp. -They made a mile in slow time, then set the stretcher down and fed -their patient. They marched again, walking with the utmost care, but -Sherwood soon became excited and they had to halt, make a fire and -bathe and dress his hand and arm. Again they dosed him and fed him. -They rested until long past noon. They thought him to be asleep when -they raised the stretcher for the third time, but he awoke -instantly. - -“Leave me alone!” he cried. “You can’t fool me! I know you. You set -a trap for me.” - -They kept on. - -“That trap wasn’t set for you, Dick,” said McAllister over his -shoulder. “That was a mistake.” - -“I didn’t shoot Balenger, honest I didn’t!” pleaded Sherwood. “I was -going to—if I had the nerve—but I didn’t do it. I was scared—afraid -they’d hang me and Marion would starve—that’s why I ran. But you set -a trap for me—and caught me—and now you’ve got me.” - -“Nobody catch you!” cried Noel. “You all safe now. Jim an’ me take -you to Marion. You sick an’ crazy, dat’s all. Go to sleep. Shut up!” - -He was quiet for a time but again broke out in terrified ravings -before they had gone far. They had to set him down to quiet him. -Again they built a fire, boiled the kettle, applied hot compresses -to his arm. They fed him a hot drink and he went to sleep. But Jim -saw that it would be dangerous to try to carry him farther that day, -that all the traveling must be done in the morning when the fever -was at its lowest. They had already covered about four of the eight -miles. Old Noel rubbed his arms and said he had never before -traveled such hard miles. - -Jim was tired and anxious, but more anxious than tired. His anxiety -was for the farm and his sister and the little girl almost as much -as for the sick man. He was afraid of old Tim Hood, though he didn’t -admit it frankly even to himself. But Hood had always been a tricky -character as well as a spiteful one and he had held a grudge against -the O’Dells for many years; yesterday, when the old fellow’s eyes -had met his for an instant after the humiliating adventure with Red -Chief, Jim had seen danger there. So after drinking a mug of tea he -continued on his way, promising to return some time during the -night. He took one of the rifles and Red Lily with him. - -Jim reached home in time for supper. The last load of grain was in, -but Bear and Sacobie and Mrs. Sacobie had not yet taken their -departure. He asked all three to remain until after breakfast next -morning, which they gladly agreed to do; and then, without his -sister’s knowledge, he arranged with the men that one should stand -guard on the barns all night and one on the house. He told them that -he had caught Tim Hood in the woods with a loaded rifle and disarmed -him and that the old man was mad enough for anything. Hood was not -popular with the Indians or any other poor and needy folk on the -river, so Jim knew that the watch would be well kept. - -He didn’t say a word about Mel Lunt. He wasn’t worrying about the -constable, knowing that his worst faults were stupidity and -professional vanity. That Lunt would try to get even with him was -very likely, but by means and methods within the law—to the best of -Mel’s knowledge and belief, at least. He would probably make another -effort to arrest Sherwood if he was able to obtain a warrant through -the blundering of his superiors at Woodstock; and he was sure to try -to get a warrant for Jim’s arrest. But Jim didn’t worry about -anything Mel Lunt might do. Old Hood was the man he feared. - -Jim managed a few minutes of private conversation with his sister, -and they decided that if Sherwood should reach the house next day -the little girl should be kept in ignorance of his identity—at least -until medical care had cured him of his wild delirium. They believed -that Doctor Scott and good nursing would accomplish this in a day or -two. Little Marion was not of a prying disposition. To tell her that -the sick man in the big spare room was not to be disturbed would be -enough. The big spare room was so far from Mrs. O’Dell’s room, in -one corner of which Marion occupied a small bed, that there would be -no danger of poor Sherwood’s humiliating and pitiful and cruelly -illuminating fever talk reaching the child’s ears. - -Jim spent a few minutes with the little girl before she went to bed. -She took him to the library, set the lamp on the floor, sat down -beside it and pulled a portfolio of old colored prints out from -under one of the bookcases. She had discovered it a few days ago. -The prints were of hunting scenes—of men in red coats and white -breeches riding tall horses after red foxes, flying over green -hedges, tumbling into blue brooks, but always streaming after the -black and liver and white dogs who streamed after the fox. - -“My dad once told me about that,” said Marion. “He used to do it -before he came out to this country, whenever he wasn’t soldiering.” - -“Rough on the fox,” said Uncle Jim. “Worse than trapping him, I -guess. Why didn’t they shoot him and be done with it?” - -“That’s what I said to dad,” replied Marion. “But he said it wasn’t -so, for as soon as the fox felt tired he jumped into a hole in the -ground and then the hunt was finished. They must have chased foxes a -great many years in England, for I am sure these pictures are a -great deal older than dad.” - -“Sure thing, much older,” agreed Jim. “Those pictures were bought in -London by Ben’s great-grandfather.” - -The little girl returned the portfolio to its place and drew forth a -shallow box of polished mahogany. - -“Have you seen these, Uncle Jim?” she asked. - -McAllister smiled. He had seen the contents of the box, but he also -saw what she was up to. She was entertaining him in the hope that by -so doing she might be allowed to sit up a few minutes past her usual -bedtime. - -“I don’t mind seeing them again,” he said. - -She raised the lid of the box and disclosed to view two short brown -pistols beautifully inlaid with silver about the grip and lock, a -little metal flask, a cluster of bullets, a little ramrod, a lot of -paper wads and dozens of tiny metal caps. All these curious articles -lay on dark-green felt, the pistols in a central position, each of -the different sorts of munitions in its own little compartment. The -barrels of the pistols were short but large of bore. - -“Ben showed me these,” she said. “He told me all about how to load -them. They are very, very old. You don’t just put a cartridge in, -like you do with a rifle or shotgun, but you ram the bullets and -powder and wads down the muzzles, with that little stick and then -put those little caps on, the same way Noel Sabattis does with his -duck gun. I’ve seen Noel put the caps on his gun, but dad’s was like -a rifle. Noel’s duck gun must be very old.” - -“Yes, but it’s still of more use than those pistols ever were,” -replied Jim, thinking of the good work the Maliseet’s great weapon -had done only yesterday and of the purpose for which the little -dueling pistols had been so beautifully and carefully made in the -ignorant days of the gay youth of one of Ben O’Dell’s kind but -conventional ancestors. - -“What were the little pistols used for, Uncle Jim?” asked Marion. - -“Well, you see, in the old days it wasn’t all clover being a man of -high family,” he said. “It had its drawbacks. You were a man of -mark, for sure. If a man is sassy to you nowadays, calls you names -or anything like that, all you got to do is sass him back or kick -him if you can; and all he can do is kick back—and that’s all there -is to it, no matter who you are or who yer grandfather used to be. -But in the old days when these pistols were made it was different. -If a man was rude to you then—said he didn’t like the way yer nose -stuck out of yer face or that the soldiers in yer regiment all had -flat feet or maybe got real nasty and called you a liar—you had to -throw a glassful of port wine or sherry wine into his face. Then it -was up to him to ask you, as polite as pie, to fight a duel with -him. And you had to do it or yer friends would say you weren’t a -gentleman—and that was considered a rough thing to say about a man -in those days. So you had to do it, even if the law was against it. -That’s what those little pistols were for.” - -[Illustration: “‘TO SHOOT GENTLEMEN WITH?’ ASKED THE LITTLE GIRL IN AN -AWE-STRUCK WHISPER.”] - -“To shoot gentlemen with?” asked the little girl in an awe-struck -whisper. - -“Yes—but they’d hit almost any kind of man if they were aimed -right.” - -“And have these ones done that—shot people, Uncle Jim?” - -“I guess they never shot anybody very seriously, dear. The O’Dell -who owned them was a kind man, like all the O’Dells before and -since, and brave as a lion and steady as a rock and a dead-sure -shot. So whenever he was fussed and tricked into proving he was a -gentleman—which everybody knew already—by fighting with a fool, he’d -shoot the other lad in the hand that held the pistol—or the elbow or -maybe the shoulder. It wasn’t long before folks quit being rude to -him.” - -Just then Mrs. O’Dell entered the library. Marion closed the box, -shoved it back beneath the bookcase and kissed McAllister good -night. - -Jim posted Sol Bear and Gabe Sacobie, charged them to keep a sharp -lookout and armed them with sled stakes. Enthusiastic Indians were -not to be trusted with explosive weapons on such a job as this at -night. And he left Red Lily with them. With two good Indians and a -red dog outside and a squaw and another red dog in the kitchen he -felt that old Tim Hood would not accomplish any very serious damage -no matter how spiteful and reckless he might be feeling. Then he set -out for the spot in the wilderness, due north and four miles away, -where he had left the sick man and Noel Sabattis and Red Chief. - -Jim might have spared himself these elaborate precautions had he -known that Tim Hood’s cowardice was still in excess of his rage. The -old fellow still agreed with Mel Lunt, the thrice foiled but ever -hopeful, that the safest and quickest way of getting in the first -return blow at Jim McAllister was through the unfortunate Sherwood. -So he continued to work with Lunt, to support the might and majesty -of the law as interpreted by that persistent local constable. The -O’Dell barns were not threatened that night. Sol and Gabe twirled -their sled stakes in vain and at last fell asleep at their posts. - -Jim found the camp without much difficulty. Sherwood was sleeping -then but Noel said that he had been awake and raving for hours. Jim -slept for an hour, then bathed and dressed the sick man’s hand and -arm, with Noel’s assistance, dosed him with quinine and a full mug -of cold water. All was quiet after that until about three o’clock, -when Sherwood’s restlessness again awoke the others. Again they -applied hot compresses to his arm and gave him water to drink and -tucked his blankets securely around him. - -Sherwood awoke again shortly after dawn, hungry, clear of eye and as -sane as you please. He drank fresh milk, a bottle of which Jim had -brought in last night. He recognized Jim and of course he knew Noel -Sabattis. He thanked them for all the trouble they were taking for -him and said that he wasn’t worth it. - -“When I made sure Marion was safe and would soon be happy enough to -forget me I didn’t care how soon I pegged out,” he said. “I was ill, -very ill. The sickness had been in me for weeks, I think—I don’t -know how long. I was delirious even in the daytime and my nights -were wide-awake nightmares. All my past haunted me. If I had ever -been unkind to Julie or the baby I’d of gone mad and killed myself. -But I’d never been unkind to them—not intentionally—just weak and a -coward.” - -“You a’right now, anyhow,” interrupted Noel. “Marion a’right too. -Take annoder drink.” - -Sherwood drank obediently. - -“The last night I crawled in,” he continued, “and got my hand in -that trap—well, that finished me! I don’t know how I got the trap -clear of my hand. I don’t know how I got into the woods.” - -“My brother Ian set that trap and no one else knew anything about -it,” said Jim. “I guess he didn’t stop to think what he was doing. -Ben and I were away. But Doctor Scott’ll fix yer hand, don’t you -worry.” - -“But will I be safe, Jim? From the law?” - -“Sure thing! There’s nothing you need fear the law about. I reckon -Ben and Dave Brown know exactly who shot Balenger by this time and -like enough they’ve caught him. But that don’t matter one way or the -other. The police know you didn’t do it. But why didn’t you tell us -you wanted food? Why didn’t you come right in and eat with us?” - -“I was ashamed. And I was crazy with fear. I was sick, too—sick with -fever, I suppose. I thought every one was hunting me to hang me and -half the time I thought I’d really shot Balenger. I had a picture in -my mind of just how I did it. But I couldn’t go far away from the -little girl.” - -“How was it the dogs never tackled you?” asked Jim. - -“Never mind dat!” exclaimed Noel. “Shut up an’ lay quiet! You shut -up too, McAllister! You start him talkin’ crazy ag’in, maybe.” - -“Dogs know me, and that red breed better than any,” said Sherwood. -“I think that the red dogs inherited a friendship for me.” - -“Maybe so, Dick; but Noel is right. Rest now. Don’t try to think any -more or yer fever’ll be up again. We’ve got four miles to carry you -yet.” - -They started after breakfast with Sherwood in the stretcher. They -made the four miles by noon. They set the stretcher down behind a -clump of bushes at the back of the barnyard and Jim went ahead to -warn his sister and get little Marion out of the way. Marion was -given lessons to learn in the library. - -Sherwood was unconscious, murmuring, dry of hand and lip and flushed -of brow by the time Jim laid him on the bed in the big spare room. -His appearance shocked Mrs. O’Dell and at sight of his right hand -she turned away to hide her tears. But she dried her tears and set -to work as soon as the men had cut and pulled away Sherwood’s -tattered clothing and placed him between the cool sheets. She gave -the torn hand and swollen arm the most thorough and tender treatment -it had yet received. - -The little girl was told of the sick man in the spare room whom -Uncle Jim and Noel Sabattis had found in the woods. She was -cautioned not to play in the hall outside his door or make a noise -in the garden under his windows, for he was very weak and needed -sleep. She was impressed. She questioned old Noel. - -“Where did you find him in the woods, Noel?” she asked. - -“Way off nort’, layin’ on de moss,” replied Noel. “Red Chief find -’im first.” - -“Do you often find sick men lying in the woods?” - -“Nope. Sometime.” - -“It is a good thing the bears didn’t find him and eat him up.” - -“B’ars don’t eat men up.” - -“I hope dad isn’t in the woods still. I saw him go into the woods, -away upriver, but he said he would come here for me in a few weeks.” - -“Sure, he come here for you. Come in two-t’ree days now, maybe.” - -“If he was sick and got lost in the woods like the man in the big -spare room, what would happen to him, Noel?” - -“What happen to him if he get lost in de woods, hey? Same what -happen to dis feller—me an’ Jim McAllister an’ dese here dogs find -’im. Nobody git lost ’round here widout we find ’im quick an’ fetch -’im home.” - -Jim drove away soon after dinner, headed for Woodstock and Doctor -Scott. He reached the town in two hours. He drove to the doctor’s -house, only to learn that the doctor was out in the country, -downriver, and wasn’t expected home for an hour or two. - -Jim stabled the mare, treated himself to a big cigar and strolled -along Front Street. He was greeted by several people he knew. Soon -he was greeted by a man he didn’t know but who evidently knew him. - -“Yer Jim McAllister, ain’t you?” inquired the stranger, halting -squarely in his path. - -The stranger wore the uniform of a policeman. Jim didn’t like his -looks or his voice. - -“Christened James,” said Jim, dryly, “and with a handle in front of -it when I’m smoking a fifteen-cent cigar.” - -“Yer wanted, Mister James McAllister,” returned the other. “Come -along, cigar an’ all.” - -“Who wants me?” - -“Sheriff Corker.” - -“Lead me to him, sonny. I can do some business with the sheriff -myself. But I’m in a hurry.” - -They walked along side by side. The sheriff was not at home. - -“We’ll wait,” said the policeman to the sheriff’s cook. - -Jim McAllister looked at his watch. - -“I guess not,” he said. “We’ll call again, some other day.” - -“Guess again,” returned the young man in blue. - -“My second guess is the same,” retorted Jim. - -“I’ve heard about you, Mr. McAllister. Yer smart, but you ain’t the -only one. I know yer a game warden an’ a big man upriver, but all -that don’t cut no ice to-day. There’s a warrant out for you.” - -“You don’t say! Sworn out by Mel Lunt and old Tim Hood, hey? Where -is it, chief?” - -“I ain’t the chief. And I ain’t got the warrant. But the sheriff -will know what to do next.” - -“If he don’t I can tell him. Mel got two, didn’t he—two warrants? -One was for Richard Sherwood, wasn’t it?” - -“That’s right.” - -“Suppose we take a scout around for Sheriff Corker. I’m in a hurry.” - -“Guess we best set right here an’ wait for him.” - -“What’s yer name?” - -“My name? Bill Simpson.” - -“Jerry Simpson’s son, from down on Bent Brook.” - -“That’s right, Mr. McAllister.” - -“I know yer father well. Smart man, Jerry Simpson. You look like -him. Now about the hurry I’m in. There’s a sick man out at the -O’Dell house and I’ve got to get out to him with Doctor Scott. He’s -the man poor Mel Lunt’s got the warrant out for. Mel’s crazy. I’ve -got Mel cold—and old Hood too—for toting rifles and ball ca’tridges -through the woods in close season. There’s nothing against Sherwood -and Dave Brown is up in Quebec now, looking for the man who did the -thing they’re chasing poor Sherwood for. Mel Lunt is making a fool -of Sheriff Corker. You come along with me, Bill, and save the -sheriff’s face—and maybe an innocent man’s life, too. Mel’s fool -enough to drag Sherwood right out of bed, sick an’ all.” - -“I’d sure like to do it, Mr. McAllister, but I dassint. I’m on duty -in town all day. If I went with you I’d lose my job.” - -“Now that’s too bad, but if you can’t, you can’t. The sheriff will -wish you did when Dave Brown gets back from Quebec. I’ll have to go -by myself, then.” - -“Sorry, Mr. McAllister, but I got to keep you right here till the -sheriff comes home. Rules is rules.” - -“And reason is reason, Bill—and when a man can’t see reason it’s -time to operate on his eyes.” - -There was a brief, sharp scuffle in the sheriff’s front hall. Young -Bill Simpson proved too quick for Jim McAllister. He didn’t hit any -harder than he had to with his official baton—but it was too hard -for Uncle Jim. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - IN THE NICK OF TIME - - -By four o’clock, Richard Sherwood seemed to be as ill as when his -friends had found him in the forest—as hot and dry with fever, as -grievously tortured with pain, as blackly tormented of mind. That he -was much stronger than he had been and that the mangled hand and -inflamed arm looked better were just now the only indications of -improvement. - -Mrs. O’Dell and Noel Sabattis did everything they could think of for -his relief. Mrs. O’Dell feared for his life, but old Noel was -hopeful. - -“Tough feller, Sherwood,” he said. “Dat four-mile trip to-day fuss -’im up some, but he ain’t so bad like when we find ’im. T’ink he -dead man for sure dat time, me an’ Jim. Doctor fix ’im a’right.” - -Mrs. O’Dell left the sick room for a little while. Marion saw tears -on her cheeks. - -“Won’t the man from the woods get well, Aunt Flora?” she asked. - -“He is very ill, dear—and in great pain—with a wounded hand,” -replied the woman, kissing her. - -“Does Noel think he will have to be put in the ground—like Julie -was—my mother Julie?” - -The woman held the little girl tight for a moment. - -“Noel thinks he will get well,” she whispered. - -At six o’clock Sherwood was sleeping quietly, heavy with fever and -evidently unconscious of his hand. By seven he was tossing and -talking wildly again. There was no sign of Jim McAllister or the -doctor. - -Eight o’clock came, and still there was no word or sign of Jim or -Doctor Scott. The sick man was bathed in perspiration by this time. - -“Dat fix ’em,” said Noel to Flora O’Dell. “Dat sweat out de fever -off his blood, a’right.” - -Marion went to bed at eight-thirty. Five minutes later wheels -rumbled, the red dogs barked and a knock sounded on the kitchen -door. Mrs. O’Dell heard the dogs and wheels and came hurrying down -the back stairs. Noel, who was already in the kitchen, hastened to -the door. The lamp was on the table behind him. He pulled the door -wide open, and in the instant of recognizing Mel Lunt and old Hood -on the threshold he also saw and recognized the muzzle of a shotgun -within six inches of his chin. - -Noel stepped back a few paces and the visitors followed him sharply. -Hood kicked the door shut behind him just in time to keep out the -red dogs. While Lunt kept Noel covered, Hood snapped the steel -bracelets into place. - -“Yer arrested,” said Hood. “Where’s McAllister?” - -At that moment, both intruders saw Mrs. O’Dell standing near the -foot of the back staircase, gazing at them with amazement and -growing apprehension in her blue eyes. - -“I don’t want to p’int no weepon at a lady, but you come away from -there an’ set down an’ keep quiet,” said Lunt. - -Mrs. O’Dell sat down on the nearest chair, which was only a few feet -away from the narrow staircase. - -“Where’s yer brother Jim, ma’am?” asked Lunt. - -“He went to Woodstock for a doctor,” she replied. - -“None o’ yer lies, mind!” cried Hood. - -The expression of Flora O’Dell’s eyes changed, but she did not -speak. - -“Then he’s in jail by this time,” said Lunt. - -“I don’t understand,” said Mrs. O’Dell, turning her darkling glance -from Hood to Lunt. “He went to town for Doctor Scott. Why should he -go to jail? And why have you put handcuffs on Noel Sabattis?” - -“It be for us to ask questions an’ for ye to answer ’em,” cried old -Hood in his worst manner. “Ye got a sick man here in the house, -ain’t ye? Come now, speak up sharp. Ain’t no use yer lyin’ to us.” - -“Yes, he is very sick,” Mrs. O’Dell replied, her voice low and -shaken. “He is dangerously ill. My brother has gone to get a doctor -for him.” - -“He kin be doctored in jail,” said Hood. - -“That’s right, ma’am,” said Lunt. “The doctor can ’tend him in jail. -We gotter take him now. Where is he?” - -“It would kill him to move him to-night!” - -“Well, what of it? He’ll likely be hung anyhow,” retorted the bitter -old ferryman. - -“That is not true and you know it!” cried Mrs. O’Dell. “You are -persecuting him in wicked spite. You are a spiteful, hateful old -man! And you, Melchar Lunt—you must be crazy to enter this house, -armed, and threaten me and my guests!” - -Hood uttered a jeering laugh. - -“We got the warrants all straight and proper,” said Lunt. “I’m in my -rights, performin’ my duty under the law, whatever ye may think. We -wouldn’t be so ha’sh if we wasn’t in a hurry.” - -“You are in a hurry because you know that you haven’t much time for -your dirty, cruel, cowardly work, and you are afraid!” - -“Misnamin’ us won’t help ye none, nor the murderer upstairs -neither,” sneered Hood, moving toward her. - -She sprang to her feet and stood with her back to the narrow foot of -the staircase. Noel Sabattis made a jump at Hood, but Lunt seized -him and flung him down and threatened him with the gun. Hood -advanced upon Mrs. O’Dell and suddenly clutched at her, grabbing her -roughly by both arms. He gripped with all the strength of his short, -hard fingers and tried to wrench her away from the staircase. She -twisted, freed a hand and struck him in the face, twisted again, -freed the other hand and struck him again. He staggered back with -one eye closed, then rushed forward and struck furiously with his -big fists, blind with rage and the sting in his right eye. Several -blows reached her but again she sent him staggering back. - -“Quit that!” cried Lunt. “Ye can’t do that, ye old fool!” - -He grabbed Hood by the collar, yanked him back and shook him. - -“Are ye crazy?” he continued. “Young O’Dell would tear ye to bits -for that! Go tie the Injun’s legs. Then we’ll move her out of the -way both together, gentle an’ proper, an’ go git the prisoner.” - -Hood obeyed sullenly. He bound Noel’s feet together with a piece of -clothesline and tied him, seated on the floor, to a leg of the heavy -kitchen table. - - * * * * * - -Little Marion Sherwood had heard the dogs and the wheels and -immediately slipped out of bed. Perhaps it was Ben, she had thought. -That would be fine, for she missed Ben. Or it was Uncle Jim and the -doctor from Woodstock to make the sick man well. She had gone to the -top of the back stairs and stood there for a long time, listening, -wondering at what she heard. She had been puzzled at first, then -frightened, then angered. She had fled along the upper halls to the -head of the front stairs and down the stairs. She had felt her way -into the library and to a certain bookcase and from beneath the -bookcase she had drawn the shallow, mahogany box which contained the -little pistols with which gentlemen had proved themselves gentlemen -in ancient days. - -She had opened the box and worked with frantic haste—with more haste -than speed. She had worked by the sense of touch alone and fumbled -things and spilled things. Bullets had rolled on the floor, powder -had spilled everywhere, wads and caps and the little ramrod had -escaped from her fingers again and again; but she had retained -enough powder, enough wads, two bullets and two caps. She had -returned up the front stairs and along the narrow halls. - - * * * * * - -Now that Noel was tied down, Lunt stood his gun against the wall and -gave all his attention to Mrs. O’Dell. - -“I don’t want to hurt ye,” he said. “An’ I ain’t goin’ to hurt ye. -But I gotter go upstairs, me an’ Tim Hood, an’ fetch down the -prisoner ye’ve got hid up there. I’m sorry Tim mussed ye up, ma’am, -but ye hadn’t ought to obstruct the law. Will ye kindly step aside, -Mrs. O’Dell?” - -“I won’t! If you force your way past me and carry that man off -to-night you’ll be murderers, for he’ll die on the road. If you try, -I’ll fight you from here every step of the way.” - -“We’re in our rights, ma’am. I’m a constable an’ here’s the warrant. -It ain’t my fault he’s sick—even if that’s true. You grab her left -arm, Tim, an’ I’ll take her right, an’ we’ll move her aside an’ nip -upstairs. But no rough stuff, Tim!” - -A voice spoke in a whisper behind Mrs. O’Dell, from the darkness of -the narrow staircase. - -“Put your right hand back and take this pistol.” - -The woman recognized the voice but failed to grasp the meaning of -the words. The little girl was frightened, naturally. That thought -increased her unswerving hot rage against the men in front of her. -She did not move or say a word in reply. - -She felt something touch her right hand, which was gripped at her -side. Again she heard the whisper. - -“Take it, quick. It’s all loaded, the way Ben told me. I have the -other. Point it at them, quick!” - -The men moved toward her. She opened her fingers and closed them on -the butt of a pistol. She felt a weight on her shoulder and saw a -thin arm and small hand and the other old dueling pistol extended -past her ear. She raised her own right hand and cocked the hammer -with a click. - -“They are loaded!” cried the little girl shrilly. “And the caps are -on, and everything. Ben showed me how to load them. And I’ll pull -the trigger if you come another step, you old man with the queer -whiskers! The bullets are big. And I put two in each pistol and -plenty of powder.” - -“Stand close together, you two, and move to the left,” said Mrs. -O’Dell. “Do you hear me, Lunt? Do as I tell you, or I’ll shoot—and -so will the little girl. These are real pistols. That’s right. -That’s far enough. Stand there and stand steady.” - -“This is a serious matter, Mrs. O’Dell,” exclaimed Lunt. “You are -guilty of threatenin’ the law with deadly weapons—of resistin’ it -with firearms.” - -Mrs. O’Dell put up her left hand and relieved the child of the other -pistol, at the same time speaking a few words in a low voice but -without taking her glance or her aim off the intruders. Marion -slipped past her, ran over and took Lunt’s gun from where he had -stood it against the wall. - -[Illustration: “‘STAND THERE AND STAND STEADY.’”] - -“Steady, both of you,” warned the woman. “Keep your eyes on me. You -will notice that I am not aiming at your heads. I’m aiming at your -stomachs—large targets for so short a range.” - -Marion carried the shotgun over to the table and placed it on the -floor beside old Noel Sabattis. Then, moving swiftly and with -precision, she opened a drawer in the table, drew out a knife and -cut the thin rope which bound the Maliseet’s legs together and to -the table. - -Noel seized the gun at the breech with his manacled hands and got -quickly to his feet. With both hands close together on the grip of -the stock, he pushed the lever aside with a thumb. The breech fell -open, disclosing the metal base of a cartridge. He closed the breech -by knocking the muzzle smartly on the edge of the table. His hands -had only an inch of play, but that was enough. They overlapped -around the slender grip, with the hammer within easy reach of a -thumb and the trigger in the crook of a finger. - -“Dat a’right,” he said, glancing over the intruders. “Good gun, hey? -Light on de trigger, hey?” - -“Sure she’s light on the trigger!” cried Lunt. “Mind what ye’re -about, Noel! A joke’s a joke—but ye’ll hang for this if ye ain’t -careful!” - -Noel smiled and told them to sit down on the floor. They obeyed -reluctantly, protesting with oaths. Then he asked the little girl to -open the door and admit the dogs, which she did. The red dogs -bounded into the kitchen, took in the situation at a glance and -surrounded the two seated on the floor. Red Chief and Red Lily -showed their gleaming fangs, whereupon old Tim Hood became as silent -and still as a man of wood. - -“I think you have them safe, Noel,” said Mrs. O’Dell. - -Noel nodded. - -“Then I’ll go up and give him his quinine,” she said, handing the -pistols over to the enthusiastic little girl. - -Noel and Marion sat down on chairs in front of the constable and the -ferryman. The three dogs stood. Everything pointed at the two on the -floor—five pairs of eyes, the muzzles of firearms and the muzzles of -dogs. - -“Forgit it, Noel,” said Mr. Lunt. “Cut it out. What’s the use? I’m -willin’ to let bygones be bygones. Call off yer dogs an’ swing that -there gun o’ mine off a p’int or two an’ Tim an’ me will clear out. -Careful with them pistols, little girl, for Heaven’s sake! Noel, -ain’t she too young to be handlin’ pistols? She might shoot -herself.” - -Noel smiled and so did Marion. - -“I’ll give ye the warrants, Noel, an’ say no more about it,” -continued the constable. “We got three warrants here—an’ the charges -agin’ ye are real serious—but I’m willin’ to forgit it. So there -ain’t no sense in keepin’ us here, clutterin’ up Mrs. O’Dell’s -kitchen.” - -“She don’t care,” replied Noel. “An’ Marion don’t care. You like it -fine, Marion, hey? ’Taint every night you git a chance for to set up -so late like dis, hey?” - -“Yes, thank you, I enjoy it,” said the little girl. “It is great -fun. It is like a story in a book, isn’t it, Noel?” - -“Hell!” snorted old Tim Hood. - -Noel cocked an eye at the ferryman and he cocked the gun at the same -time. - -“Lemme unlock yer handcuffs for ye,” offered Lunt. “Ye’ll feel more -comfortable without ’em, Noel.” - -“Guess not,” returned Noel. “Feel plenty comfortable a’ready.” - -Wheels sounded outside, and voices; and the youngest of the red dogs -barked and turned tail to his duty and frisked to the door. The -others stood firm and kept their teeth bared at the men on the -floor, but their plumed tails began to wag. Old Noel’s glance did -not waver, but Marion’s eyes turned toward the door. - -The door opened and men crowded into the kitchen and halted in a -bunch and stared at the unusual scene before them. There was Doctor -Scott, with a black bag in his hand. There was Uncle Jim, with a -white bandage on his head which made his hat too small for him. And -there was Sheriff Corker fixing a cold glare on the two men seated -on the floor. And over all showed the smiling face of young Ben -O’Dell. - -Jim McAllister was the first to speak. - -“Where’s Flora?” he asked. - -“Upstairs,” answered Noel. “Everyt’ing a’right an’ waitin’ for de -doctor.” - -He stood up, lowered the hammer of the gun and placed the weapon on -the table. - -“Now you take dis handcuffs off darn quick, Mel Lunt,” he said. - -The constable scrambled heavily to his feet and obeyed. - -Doctor Scott crossed the room and vanished up the narrow stairs. -Sheriff Corker found his voice then and addressed Lunt and old Tim -Hood at considerable length and with both force and eloquence. His -words and gestures seemed to make a deep and painful impression on -them, but the rest of the company paid no attention. Ben kissed the -little girl, shook hands with Noel Sabattis, grabbed the leaping -dogs in his arms, told fragments of his Quebec adventures to any one -who chose to listen and asked question after question without -waiting for the answers. - -Uncle Jim seated himself beside the table and lit a cigar, cool as a -cucumber, smiling around. Sheriff Corker marched Lunt and Hood out -of the kitchen and out of the woodshed, still talking, still -gesticulating violently with both hands. Those in the kitchen heard -wheels start and recede a minute later. Marion went to Uncle Jim and -asked him what he had done to his head. He told her of his -difficulty with the young policeman which had caused all the delay, -of the home-coming of the sheriff when Doctor Scott was bandaging -his head, and of the arrival of Ben and Mr. Brown at the sheriff’s -house a few minutes later. - -“But what are you doing with those old pistols?” he asked. - -“Those two men came to take the sick man away,” she said. “They tied -Noel to the table and fought with Aunt Flora. I heard them; so I -loaded the pistols—and then they were at our mercy.” - -Mrs. O’Dell appeared and ran into her son’s arms. She backed out -presently, and they both moved over to where Uncle Jim and the -little Sherwood girl sat side by side, hand in hand. Noel Sabattis -and the dogs followed them. - -“The doctor says it is slow fever, but that the worst is over with,” -said Mrs. O’Dell. “He must have had it for weeks and weeks. And the -arm can be saved. The crisis of the fever came to-night—and a drive -into town to-night would have killed him.” She slid an arm around -the little girl. “But for Marion, they would have taken him,” she -continued. “Noel was tied to the table and I couldn’t have kept them -off much longer—and she loaded the dueling pistols in the dark and -brought them to me—just in the nick of time.” - -“She saved his life, sure enough,” said Jim McAllister. - -“Flora done mighty good too,” spoke up old Noel Sabattis. “She fit -’em off two-t’ree time an’ bung Hood on de eye.” - -Mrs. O’Dell laughed and blushed. - -“I did my best—but you and the old pistols saved him, dear,” she -whispered in Marion’s ear. “And by to-morrow, perhaps, or next day, -he will be well enough to thank you.” - -The child looked intently into the woman’s eyes and the lights in -her own eyes changed gradually. Her thin shoulders trembled. - -“Who—is—he?” she whispered in a shaken thread of voice. - -“Your very own dad,” replied Mrs. O’Dell, kissing her. - -Jim McAllister made coffee. The doctor joined the men in the -kitchen, for his patient was sleeping. Ben told of his and Mr. -Brown’s successful search for the man who had shot Louis Balenger on -French River. He admitted that the actual capture of Balenger’s old -enemy had been made by the police of Quebec—but he and Dave had been -very busy. While he talked he toyed with the pistols which Marion -had left on the table. He removed the caps. He looked into one -barrel and saw that it was loaded to within a fraction of an inch of -the muzzle. He produced a tool box in the shape of a knife from his -pocket and opened a blade that looked like a small ice pick. With -this he picked a few paper wads out of the barrel. With the last wad -came a stream of black powder. - -“Hullo!” he exclaimed, forgetting his adventures in Quebec. - -He thumped the muzzle of the pistol on the table until another wad -came out, followed by two bullets. The others, watching intently, -exchanged glances in silence. Ben withdrew the charge from the other -pistol. - -“She put the bullets in first!—in both of them!” he cried. - -“But it worked,” said Uncle Jim. “It turned the trick. She saved her -pa’s life—so I guess _that’s_ all right!” - - THE END - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED PIROGUE *** - -***** This file should be named 62768-0.txt or 62768-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/7/6/62768/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - |