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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2691-0.txt b/2691-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b9ac943 --- /dev/null +++ b/2691-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6689 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp, by Annie Roe Carr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp + or, The Old Lumberman's Secret + +Author: Annie Roe Carr + +Posting Date: December 27, 2008 [EBook #2691] +Release Date: July, 2001 +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP *** + + + + +Produced by Justin Philips + + + + + +NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP + +or, The Old Lumberman's Secret + + +By Annie Roe Carr + + + + +Chapter I. THE YELLOW POSTER + +“Oh, look there, Nan!” cried Bess Harley suddenly, as they turned +into High Street from the avenue on which Tillbury's high school was +situated. + +“Look where?” queried Nan Sherwood promptly. “Up in the air, down on the +ground or all around?” and she carried out her speech in action, +finally spinning about on one foot in a manner to shock the more staid +Elizabeth. + +“Oh, Nan!” + +“Oh, Bess!” mocked her friend. + +She was a rosy-cheeked, brown-eyed girl, with fly-away hair, a blue +tam-o'-shanter set jauntily upon it, and a strong, plump body that she +had great difficulty in keeping still enough in school to satisfy her +teachers. + +“Do behave, Nan,” begged Bess. “We're on the public street.” + +“How awful!” proclaimed Nan Sherwood, making big eyes at her chum. “Why +folks know we're only high-school girls, so, of course, we're crazy! +Otherwise we wouldn't BE high-school girls.” + +“Nonsense!” cried Bess, interrupting. “Do be reasonable, Nan. And look +yonder! What do you suppose that crowd is at the big gate of the Atwater +Mills?” + +Nan Sherwood's merry face instantly clouded. She was not at all a +thoughtless girl, although she was of a sanguine, cheerful temperament. + +The startled change in her face amazed Bess. + +“Oh dear!” the latter cried. “What is it? Surely, there's nobody hurt in +the mills? Your father-----” + +“I'm afraid, Bess dear, that it means there are a great many hurt in the +mills.” + +“Oh, Nan! How horridly you talk,” cried Bess. “That is impossible.” + +“Not hurt in the machinery, not mangled by the looms,” Nan went on to +say, gravely. “But dreadfully hurt nevertheless, Bess. Father has been +expecting it, I believe. Let's go and read the poster.” + +“Why it is a poster, isn't it?” cried Bess. “What does it say?” + +The two school girls, both neatly dressed and carrying their bags of +text books, pushed into the group before the yellow quarter-sheet poster +pasted on the fence. + +The appearance of Nan and Bess was distinctly to their advantage when +compared with that of the women and girls who made up the most of the +crowd interested in the black print upon the poster. + +The majority of these whispering, staring people were foreigners. All +bore marks of hard work and poverty. The hands of even the girls in the +group were red and cracked. It was sharp winter weather, but none wore +gloves. + +If they wore a head-covering at all, it was a shawl gathered at the +throat by the clutch of frost-bitten fingers. There was snow on the +ground; but few wore overshoes. + +They crowded away from the two well-dressed high-school girls, looking +at them askance. Bess Harley scarcely noticed the mill-hands' wives and +daughters. She came of a family who considered these poor people little +better than cattle. Nan Sherwood was so much interested in the poster +that she saw nothing else. It read: + +NOTICE: Two weeks from date all departments of these mills will be +closed until further notice. Final payment of wages due will be made +on January 15th. Over-supply of our market and the prohibitive price +of cotton make this action a necessity. ATWATER MILLS COMPANY. December +28th. + +“Why, dear me!” murmured Bess. “I thought it might really be something +terrible. Come on, Nan. It's only a notice of a vacation. I guess most +of them will be glad to rest awhile.” + +“And who is going to pay for their bread and butter while the poor +creatures are resting?” asked Nan seriously, as the two girls moved away +from the group before the yellow poster. + +“Dear me, Nan!” her chum cried. “You do always think of the most +dreadful things. It troubles me to know anything about poverty and +poor people. I can't help them, and I don't want to know anything about +them.” + +“If I didn't know that you are better than your talk, Bess,” said Nan, +still gravely, “I'd think you a most callous person. You just don't +understand. These poor people have been fearing this shut-down for +months. And all the time they have been expecting it they have been +helpless to avert it and unable to prepare for it.” + +“They might have saved some of their wages, I suppose,” said Bess. “I +heard father say the other night how much money the mills paid out in a +year to the hands, some perfectly en_or_mous sum.” + +“But just think how many people that has to be divided among,” urged +Nan. “Lots of the men earn only eight or nine dollars a week, and have +families to support.” + +“Well, of course, they don't have to be supported as we are,” objected +the easy-minded Bess. “Anyway my father says frugality should be taught +to the poor just the same as reading and writing. They ought to learn +how to save.” + +“When you earn only just enough to supply your needs, and no more, how +can you divide your income so as to hoard up any part of it?” + +“Dear me! Don't ask questions in political economy out of school, Nan!” + cried Bess, forgetting that she had started the discussion herself. “I +just HATE that study, and wish we didn't have to take it! I can't answer +that question, anyway.” + +“I'll answer it then,” declared Nan. “If you are a mill-hand your +stomach won't let you save money. There probably won't be a dozen +families affected by this shut-down who have more than ten dollars +saved.” + +“Goodness! You don't mean that that's true? Why, dad gives me that much +to spend on myself each month,” Bess cried. “The poor things! Even +if they are frowsy and low, I am sorry for them. But, of course, the +shut-down doesn't trouble you, Nan. Not personally, I mean. Your father +has had a good position for so many years-----” + +“I'm not at all sure that it won't trouble us,” Nan interposed gravely. +“But of course we are not in danger of starvation.” + +She felt some delicacy about entirely confiding in Bess on the subject. +Nan had heard the pros and cons of the expected closing of the mills +discussed at home almost every day for weeks past; but family secrets +should never be mentioned outside the family circle, as Nan very well +knew. + +“Well,” signed Bess, whose whole universe revolved around a central +sun called Self, as is the case with many girls brought up by indulgent +parents. “I hope, dear, that this trouble won't keep you from entering +Lakeview with me next fall.” + +Nan laughed. “There never was a chance of my going with you, Bess, and +I've told you so often enough-----” + +“Now, don't you say that, Nan Sherwood!” cried her chum. “I've just made +up my mind that you shall go, and that's all there is to it! You've just +got to go!” + +“You mean to kidnap me and bear me off to that ogre's castle, whether or +not?” + +“It's the very nicest school that ever was,” cried Bess. “And such a +romantic place.” + +“Romantic?” repeated Nan curiously. + +“Yes, indeed! A great big stone castle overlooking Lake Michigan, a +regular fortress, they say. It was built years ago by Colonel Gilpatrick +French, when he came over from Europe with some adventurous Irishmen +who thought all they had to do was to sail over to Canada and the whole +country would be theirs for the taking.” + +“Goodness me! I've read something about that,” said Nan, interested. + +“Well, Lakeview Hall, as the school is called, was built by that rich +Colonel French. And they say there are dungeons under it.” + +“Where they keep their jams and preserves, now, I suppose?” laughed Nan. + +“And secret passages down to the shore of the lake. And the great hall +where the brave Irishmen used to drill is now the assembly hall of the +school.” + +“Sounds awfully interesting,” admitted Nan. + +“And Dr. Beulah Prescott, who governs the hall, the preceptress, +you know, is really a very lovely lady, my mother says,” went on the +enthusiastic Bess. “MY mother went to school to her at Ferncliffe.” + +“Oh, Bess,” Nan said warmly, “It must be a perfectly lovely place! But I +know I can never go there.” + +“Don't you say that! Don't you say that!” cried the other girl. “I won't +listen to you! You've just got to go!” + +“I'm afraid you'll have to kidnap me, then,” repeated Nan, with a +rueful smile. “I'm very sure that my father won't be able to afford it, +especially now that the mills will close.” + +“Oh, Nan! I think you're too mean,” wailed her friend. “It's my pet +project. You know, I've always said we should go to preparatory school +together, and then to college.” + +Nan's eyes sparkled; but she shook her head. + +“We sat together in primary school, and we've always been in the same +grade through grammar and into high,” went on Bess, who was really very +faithful in her friendships. “It would just break my heart, Nan, if we +were to be separated now.” + +Nan put her arm about her. They had reached the corner by Bess's big +house where they usually separated after school. + +“Don't you cry, honey!” Nan begged her chum. “You'll find lots of nice +girls at that Lakeview school, I am sure. I'd dearly love to go with +you, but you might as well understand right now, dear, that my folks are +poor.” + +“Poor!” gasped Bess. + +“Too poor to send me to Lakeview,” Nan went on steadily. “And with the +mills closing as they are, we shall be poorer still. I may have to get a +certificate as Bertha Pike did, and go to work. So you mustn't think any +more about my going to that beautiful school with you.” + +“Stop! I won't listen to you another moment, Nan Sherwood!” cried Bess, +and sticking her fingers in her ears, she ran angrily away and up the +walk to the front door. + +Nan walked briskly away toward Amity Street. She did not turn back to +wave her hand as usual at the top of the hill. + + + +Chapter II. THE COTTAGE ON AMITY STREET + +The little shingled cottage stood back from the street, in a deeper yard +than most of its neighbors. It was built the year Nan was born, so the +roses, the honeysuckle, and the clematis had become of stalwart growth +and quite shaded the front and side porches. + +The front steps had begun to sag a little; but Mr. Sherwood had blocked +them up. The front fence had got out of alignment, and the same able +mechanic had righted it and set the necessary new posts. + +The trim of the little cottage on Amity Street had been painted twice +within Nan's remembrance; each time her father had done the work in his +spare time. + +Now, with snow on the ground and frozen turf peeping out from under +the half-melted and yellowed drifts, the Sherwood cottage was not so +attractive as in summer. Yet it was a cozy looking house with the early +lamplight shining through the kitchen window and across the porch as Nan +approached, swinging her schoolbooks. + +Papa Sherwood called it, with that funny little quirk in the corner +of his mouth, “a dwelling in amity, more precious than jewels or fine +gold.” + +And it was just that. Nan had had experience enough in the houses of her +school friends to know that none of them were homes like her own. + +All was amity, all was harmony, in the little shingled cottage on this +short by-street of Tillbury. + +It was no grave and solemn place where the natural outburst of childish +spirits was frowned upon, or one had to sit “stiff and starched” upon +stools of penitence. + +No, indeed! Nan had romped and played in and about the cottage all her +life. She had been, in fact, of rather a boisterous temperament until +lately. + +Her mother's influence was always quieting, and not only with her little +daughter. Mrs. Sherwood's voice was low, and with a dear drawl in it, so +Nan declared. + +She had come from the South to Northern Illinois, from Tennessee, to +be exact, where Mr. Sherwood had met and married her. She had grace and +gentleness without the languor that often accompanies those qualities. + +Her influence upon both her daughter and her husband was marked. They +deferred to her, made much of her, shielded her in every way possible +from all that was rude or unpleasant. + +Yet Mrs. Sherwood was a perfectly capable and practical housekeeper, and +when her health would allow it she did all the work of the little family +herself. Just now she was having what she smilingly called “one of her +lazy spells,” and old Mrs. Joyce came in to do the washing and cleaning +each week. + +It was one of Mrs. Sherwood's many virtues that she bore with a smile +recurrent bodily ills that had made her a semi-invalid since Nan was a +very little girl. But in seeking medical aid for these ills, much of the +earnings of the head of the household had been spent. + +The teakettle was singing when Nan entered the “dwelling in amity”, and +her mother's low rocker was drawn close to the side-table on which the +lamp stood beside the basket of mending. + +Although Mrs. Sherwood could not at present do her own laundry-work, she +insisted upon darning and patching and mending as only she could darn +and patch and mend. + +Mr. Sherwood insisted that a sock always felt more comfortable on his +foot after “Momsey” had darned it than when it was new. And surely she +was a very excellent needlewoman. + +This evening, however, her work had fallen into her lap with an idle +needle sticking in it. She had been resting her head upon her hand and +her elbow on the table when Nan came in. But she spoke in her usual +bright way to the girl as the latter first of all kissed her and then +put away her books and outer clothing. + +“What is the good word from out of doors, honey?” she asked. + +Nan's face was rather serious and she could not coax her usual +smile into being. Her last words with Bess Harley had savored of a +misunderstanding, and Nan was not of a quarrelsome disposition. + +“I'm afraid there isn't any real good word to be brought from outside +tonight, Momsey,” she confessed, coming back to stand by her mother's +chair. + +“Can that be possible, Daughter!” said Mrs. Sherwood, with her low, +caressing laugh. “Has the whole world gone wrong?” + +“Well, I missed in two recitations and have extras to make up, in the +first place,” rejoined Nan ruefully. + +“And what else?” + +“Well, Bess and I didn't have exactly a falling out; but I couldn't help +offending her in one thing. That's the second trouble.” + +“And is there a 'thirdly,' my dear?” queried little Mrs. Sherwood +tranquilly. + +“Oh, dear, yes! The worst of all!” cried Nan. “The yellow poster is up +at the mills.” + +“The yellow poster?” repeated her mother doubtfully, not at first +understanding the significance of her daughter's statement. + +“Yes. You know. When there's anything bad to announce to the hands +the Atwater Company uses yellow posters, like a small-pox, or typhoid +warning. The horrid thing! The mills shut down in two weeks, Momsey, and +no knowing when they will open again.” + +“Oh, my dear!” was the little woman's involuntary tribute to the +seriousness of the announcement. + +In a moment she was again her usual bright self. She drew Nan closer +to her and her own brown eyes, the full counterpart of her daughter's, +winkled merrily. + +“I tell you what let's do, Nan,” she said. + +“What shall we do, Momsey?” repeated the girl, rather lugubriously. + +“Why, let's not let Papa Sherwood know about it, it will make him feel +so bad.” + +Nan began to giggle at that. She knew what her mother meant. Of course, +Mr. Sherwood, being at the head of one of the mill departments, would +know all about the announcement of the shut-down; but they would keep +up the fiction that they did not know it by being particularly cheerful +when he came home from work. + +So Nan giggled and swallowed back her sobs. Surely, if Momsey could +present a cheerful face to this family calamity, she could! + +The girl ran her slim fingers into the thick mane of her mother's coiled +hair, glossy brown hair through which only a few threads of white were +speckled. + +“Your head feels hot, Momsey,” she said anxiously. “Does it ache?” + +“A wee bit, honey,” confessed Mrs. Sherwood. + +“Let me take the pins out and rub your poor head, dear,” said Nan. “You +know, I'm a famous 'massagist.' Come do, dear.” + +“If you like, honey.” + +Thus it was that, a little later, when Mr. Sherwood came home with feet +that dragged more than usual on this evening, he opened the door upon a +very beautiful picture indeed. + +His wife's hair was “a glory of womanhood,” for it made a tent all about +her, falling quite to the floor as she sat in her low chair. Out of this +canopy she looked up at the brawny, serious man, roguishly. + +“Am I not a lazy, luxurious person, Papa Sherwood?” she demanded. +“Nan is becoming a practical maid, and I presume I put upon the child +dreadfully, she is good-natured, like you, Robert.” + +“Aye, I know our Nan gets all her good qualities from me, Jessie,” said +her husband. “If she favored you she would, of course, be a very hateful +child.” + +He kissed his wife tenderly. As Nan said, he always “cleaned up” at the +mills and “came home kissable.” + +“I ought to be just next door to an angel, if I absorbed the virtues of +both my parents,” declared Nan briskly, beginning to braid the wonderful +hair which she had already brushed. “I often think of that.” + +Her father poked her tentatively under the shoulder blades with a blunt +forefinger, making her squirm. + +“I don't feel the wings sprouting yet, Nancy,” he said, in his dry way. + +“I hope not, yet!” exclaimed the girl. “I'd have to have a new winter +coat if you did, and I know we can't afford that just now.” + +“You never said a truer word, Nan,” replied Mr. Sherwood, his voice +dropping to a less cheerful level, as he went away to change his coat +and light the hanging lamp in the dining room where the supper table was +already set. + +Mother and daughter looked at each other rather ruefully. + +“Oh, dear me!” whispered Nan. “I never do open my mouth but I put my +foot in it!” + +“Goodness!” returned her mother, much amused. “That is an acrobatic feat +that I never believed you capable of, honey.” + +“We-ell! I reminded Papa Sherwood of our hard luck instead of being +bright and cheerful like you.” + +“We will give him a nice supper, honey, and make him forget his +troubles. Time enough to call to order the ways and means committee +afterward.” Her husband came back into the kitchen as Nan finished +arranging the hair. “Come, Papa Sherwood!” cried the little lady. “Hot +biscuit; the last of the honey; sweet pickles; sliced cold ham; and a +beautiful big plum cake that our Nan made this morning before school +time, her own self. You MUST smile at all those dainties.” + +And the husband and father smiled. They all made an effort to help each +other. But they knew that with the loss of his work would doubtless come +the loss of the home. During the years that had elapsed, Mr. Sherwood +had paid in part for the cottage; but now the property was deteriorating +instead of advancing in value. He could not increase the mortgage upon +it. Prompt payment of interest half-yearly was demanded. And how could +he meet these payments, not counting living expenses, when his income +was entirely cut off? + +Mr. Sherwood was forty-five years old, an age at which it is difficult +for a man to take up a new trade, or to obtain new employment at his old +one. + + + +Chapter III. “FISHING” + +Nan told of Bess Harley's desire to have her chum accompany her to +Lakeview Hall the following autumn, as a good joke. + +“I hope I'll be in some good situation by that time,” she said to her +mother, confidentially, “helping, at least, to support myself instead of +being a burden upon father and you.” + +“It's very unselfish of you to propose that, honey,” replied her mother. +“But, perhaps, such a sacrifice as the curtailment of your education +will not be required of you.” + +“But, my DEAR!” gasped Nan. “I couldn't go to Lakeview Hall. It would +cost, why! a pile!” + +“I don't know how much a pile is, translated into coin of the realm, +honey,” responded Mrs. Sherwood with her low, sweet laugh. “But the only +thing we can give our dear daughter, your father and I, is an education. +That you MUST have to enable you to support yourself properly when your +father can do no more for you.” + +“But I s'pose I've already had as much education as most girls in +Tillbury get. So many of them go into the mills and factories at my age. +If they can get along, I suppose I can.” + +“Hush!” begged her mother quickly. “Don't speak of such a thing. I +couldn't bear to have you obliged to undertake your own support in any +such way. + +“Both your father and I, honey, had the benefit of more than the +ordinary common-school education. I went three years to the Tennessee +Training College; I was prepared to teach when your father and I met +and married. He obtained an excellent training for his business in a +technical college. We hoped to give our children, if we were blessed +with them, an even better start in life than we had. + +“Had your little brother lived, honey,” added Mrs. Sherwood tenderly, +“we should have tried to put him through college, and you, as well. It +would have been something worthwhile for your father to work for. But I +am afraid all these years that his money has been wasted in attempts to +benefit my health.” + +“Oh, Momsey! Don't say it, that way,” urged Nan. “What would we ever +do without you? But I sometimes think how nice it would be had I been a +boy, my own brother, for instance. A boy can be so much more help than a +girl.” + +“For shame!” cried her mother, laughing. “Do you dare admit a boy is +smarter than a girl, Nan?” + +“Not smarter. Only better able to do any kind of work, I guess. They +wouldn't let me work in the file shop, or drive a grocery wagon.” + +“Goodness! Listen to the child!” gasped Mrs. Sherwood. “I should hope +not! Why, honey, is your mind running continually on such dreadful +things? I am afraid your father and I allow you to hear us talk too +frequently about family matters. You must not assume the family's +burdens at your age.” + +There was that trend to Nan Sherwood's character, however. With all +her blithesomeness and high spirits she was inclined to be serious in +thought. + +This conversation occurred several days after the evening when, on their +way home from school, Nan and her school chum, Bess Harley, had read the +yellow poster at the gate of the Atwater Mills. + +The district surrounding the mills, in which most of the hands lived, +had put on an aspect of mourning. Some of the workmen and their families +had already packed up and gone. Most of the houses occupied by the hands +were owned by the Atwater Company, and if the poor people remained till +January 15th, the wages due them then would be eaten up by the rent of +the tenements. + +So they were wise to leave when they could. Many who remained would be a +burden upon the taxpayers of Tillbury before the winter was over. + +Nan and her folks were not in such a sad situation as the laborers, of +course. Mr. Sherwood had a small sum in bank. He had, too, a certain +standing in the community and a line of credit at the stores that he +might have used. + +Debt, however, save that upon their house, he had fought to keep out of +all his married life. That his equity in the Amity Street cottage was so +small was not his fault; but he owed not any man. + +“Now we must go fishing,” Mrs. Sherwood said, in her sprightly way, when +the little family really discussed the unfortunate situation after the +announcement of the shut-down of the mills was made public. + +“Goodness, Momsey! What a reckless creature you are,” laughed Mr. +Sherwood. “Waste our precious time in such employment, and in the dead +of winter, too?” + +“Now, Papa Sherwood, I don't mean that kind of fishing at all!” cried +the little woman gaily. “We are going to fish for employment for you, +perhaps for a new home.” + +“Oh!” gasped Nan. The thought of deserting the little cottage on Amity +Street was a dreadful shock. + +“We must face that possibility,” said her mother firmly. “It may be. +Tillbury will see very hard times now that the mills are closed. Other +mills and shops will follow suit.” + +“Quite true, Momsey,” agreed the husband and father. + +“I am a very logical person, am I not?” said the smiling little lady. + +“But the fishing?” cried Nan curiously. + +“Ah, yes. I am coming to that,” said her mother. “The fishing, to be +sure! Why, we are going to write letters to just everybody we know, and +some we only know by hearsay, and find out if there isn't a niche for +Papa Sherwood somewhere outside Tillbury.” + +“So we can!” cried Nan, clapping her hands. + +“I am afraid there is general depression in my line of business +everywhere,” suggested Mr. Sherwood. “For some years the manufacturers +have been forcing cotton goods upon a false market. And the recent +attempt to help the cotton growers by boosting the price of raw cotton +will come near to ruining the mills and mill workers. It is always +so. In an attempt to benefit one class of the people another class is +injured.” + +“Now, never mind politics, sir!” cried his little wife. “We poor, weak +women aren't supposed to understand such things. Only when Nan and I get +the vote, and all the other millions of women and girls, we will have no +class legislation. 'The greatest good for the greatest number' will be +our motto.” + +Mr. Sherwood only smiled. He might have pointed out that in that very +statement was the root of all class legislation. He knew his wife's +particular ideas were good, however, her general political panacea was +rather doubtful. He listened thoughtfully as she went on: + +“Yes, we must fish for a new position for papa. We may have to go away +from here. Perhaps rent the house. You know, we have had good offers for +it.” + +“True,” admitted Mr. Sherwood. + +“Oh, dear!” sighed Nan, but below her breath so that Momsey and Papa +Sherwood did not hear the sigh. + +“I am going to write to Cousin Adair MacKenzie, in Memphis. He is quite +prominent in business there,” pursued Mrs. Sherwood. “We might find a +footing in Memphis.” + +Mr. Sherwood looked grave, but said nothing. He knew that the enervating +climate of the Southern river city would never do for his wife. Change +of climate might benefit her greatly; the doctors had all said so of +late; but not that change. + +“Then,” continued Nan's mother, “there is your brother, Henry, up in +Michigan.” + +“Oh! I remember Uncle Henry,” cried Nan. “Such a big, big man!” + +“With a heart quite in keeping with the size of his body, honey,” her +mother quickly added. “And your Aunt Kate is a very nice woman. Your +uncle has lumber interests. He might find something for your father +there.” + +“I'll write to Hen, Jessie,” Mr. Sherwood said decisively. “But a lumber +camp is no place for you. Let's see, his mail address is Hobart Forks, +isn't it? Right in the heart of the woods. If you weren't eaten up by +black gnats, you would be by ennui,” and he chuckled. + +“Goodness!” cried Mrs. Sherwood, making big eyes at him. “Are those a +new kind of mosquito? Ennui, indeed! Am I a baby? Is Nan another?” + +“But think of Nan's education, my dear,” suggested Mr. Sherwood. + +“I ought to work and help the family instead of going to school any +longer,” Nan declared. + +“Not yet, Daughter, not yet,” her father said quickly. “However, I will +write to Hen. He may be able to suggest something.” + +“It might be fun living in the woods,” Nan said. “I'm not afraid of +gnats, or mosquitoes, or, or on-wees!” + +She chanced to overhear her father and Dr. Christian talking the next +day on the porch, and heard the wise old physician say: + +“I'm not sure I could countenance that, Robert. What Jessie needs is an +invigorating, bracing atmosphere. A sea voyage would do her the greatest +possible good.” + +“Perhaps a trip to Buffalo, down the lakes?” + +“No, no! That's merely an old woman's home-made plaster on the wound. +Something more drastic. Salt air. A long, slow voyage, overseas. It +often wracks the system, but it brings the patient to better and more +stable health. Jessie may yet be a strong, well woman if we take the +right course with her.” + +Nevertheless, Mr. Sherwood wrote to his brother. He had to do so, it +seemed. There was no other course open to him. + +And while he fished in that direction, Momsey threw out her line toward +Memphis and Adair MacKenzie. Mr. Sherwood pulled in his line first, +without much of a nibble, it must be confessed. + +“Dear Bob,” the elder Sherwood wrote: “Things are flatter than a +stepped-on pancake with me. I've got a bunch of trouble with old Ged +Raffer and may have to go into court with him. Am not cutting a stick +of timber. But you and Jessie and the little nipper,” (“Consider!” + interjected Nan, “calling me 'a little nipper'! What does he consider a +big 'nipper'?”) “come up to Pine Camp. Kate and I will be mighty glad to +have you here. Tom and Rafe are working for a luckier lumberman than I, +and there's plenty of room here for all hands, and a hearty welcome for +you and yours as long as there's a shot in the locker.” + +“That's just like Hen,” Nan's father said. “He'd divide his last crust +with me. But I don't want to go where work is scarce. I must go where it +is plentiful, where a man of even my age will be welcome.” + +“Your age, Papa Sherwood! How you talk,” drawled Nan's mother in her +pretty way. “You are as young as the best of 'em yet.” + +“Employers don't look at me through your pretty eyes, Momsey,” he +returned, laughing. + +“Well,” said his wife, still cheerfully, “my fishing seems to be +resultless yet. Perhaps the bait's gone off the hook. Had I better haul +in the line and bait again? I was always doing that when I went fishing +with Adair and his brothers, years ago, when I was a little girl.” + +Her husband shook his head. “Have patience, Jessie,” he said. + +He had few expectations from the Memphis letter; yet there was a most +surprising result from it on the way, something which by no possibility +could the little family in the Amity Street cottage have suspected. + + + +Chapter IV. SWEEPING CLEAN + +“My goodness me!” ejaculated Bess Harley. “Talk about the 'leaden wings +of Time.' Why! Time sweeps by us on electrically-driven, ball-bearing +pinions. Here's another week gone, Nan, and tomorrow's Saturday.” + +“Yes,” Nan agreed. “Time flies all too quickly, for me, anyway. The +mills have been closed a week now.” + +“Oh, dear! That's all I hear,” complained Bess. “Those tiresome old +mills. Our Maggie's sister was crying in the kitchen last night because +her Mike couldn't get a job now the mills were closed, and was drinking +up all the money they had saved. That's what the mill-hands do; their +money goes to the saloon-keepers!” + +“The proportion of their income spent by the laboring class for +alcoholic beverages is smaller by considerable than that spent by +the well-to-do for similar poison!” quoted Nan decisively. “Mike is +desperate, I suppose, poor fellow!” + +“My goodness me!” cried Bess again. “You are most exasperating, Nan +Sherwood. Mike's case has nothing to do with political Economy, and I do +wish you'd drop that study out of school----” + +“I have!” gasped Nan, for just then her books slipped from her strap; +“and history, rhetoric, and philosophical readings along with it,” and +she proceeded cheerfully to pick up the several books mentioned. + +“You can't mean,” Bess said, still severely, “that you won't go to +Lakeview with me, Nan?” + +“I wish you wouldn't keep saying that, Bess,” Nan Sherwood cried. “Is it +my fault? Don't you suppose I'd love to, if I could? We have no money. +Father is out of work. There is no prospect of other work for him in +Tillbury, he says, and,” Nan continued desperately, “how do you suppose +I can go to a fancy boarding school under these circumstances?” + +“Why-----” + +For once Elizabeth was momentarily silenced. Suddenly her face +brightened. “I tell you!” she exclaimed. “I'll speak to my father about +it. He can fix it so that you will be able to go to the Hall with me, I +know.” + +“I'd like to see myself an object of charity!” Nan cried, with heat. +“I, guess, not! What I can't earn, or my father can't give me, I'll go +without, Bess. That's all there is to that!” + +Bess stared at her with quivering lips. “You can't be so mean, Nan,” she +faltered. + +“I'm not mean!” denied the other. + +“I'd like to know what you call it? Why, father'd never miss your +tuition money in the world. And I know he'd pay your way if I asked him +and told him how bad I felt about your not going.” + +“You're a dear, Bess!” declared Nan, impulsively hugging her friend +again. “But you mustn't ask him, honey. It wouldn't be right, and I +couldn't accept. + +“Don't you understand, honey, that I have some pride in the matter? +So have Papa Sherwood and Momsey. What they can't do for me their own +selves I wouldn't want anybody to do.” + +“Why, that sounds awfully silly to me, Nan!” said Bess. “Why not take +all you can get in this world? I'm sure I should.” + +“You don't know what you are saying,” Nan returned seriously. “And, +then, you are not poor, so you can afford to say it, and even do it.” + +“Poor! I'm getting to hate that word,” cried Bess stormily. “It never +bothered me before, much. We're not poor and none of our friends were +poor. Not until those old mills closed. And now it seems all I hear is +about folks being POOR. I hate it!” + +“I guess,” said Nan ruefully, “you don't hate it half as much as those +of us who have to suffer it.” + +“I'm just going to find some way of getting you to Lakeview Hall, my +dear,” Bess rejoined gloomily. “Why! I won't want to go myself if you +don't go, Nan.” + +Her friend thought she would better not tell Bess just then that the +prospect was that she, with her father and mother, would have to leave +Tillbury long before the autumn. Mr. Sherwood was trying to obtain +a situation in Chicago, in a machine shop. He had no hope of getting +another foreman's position. + +Nothing had been heard from Mr. Adair MacKenzie, of Memphis. Mrs. +Sherwood wanted to write again; but her husband begged her not to. He +had a proper pride. It looked to him as though his wife's cousin did not +care to be troubled by the necessities of his relations. + +“We'll get along!” was Mr. Sherwood's repeated and cheerful statement. +“Never say die! Hope is our anchor! Fate shall not balk us! And all the +other copy-book maxims.” + +But it was Mrs. Sherwood and Nan who managed to save and scrimp and +be frugal in many infinitesimal ways, thus making their savings last +marvelously. + +Nan gave up her entire Saturdays to household tasks. She insisted on +that, and urged the curtailment of the weekly expense by having Mrs. +Joyce come in to help but one day. + +“I can iron, Momsey, and if I can't do it very well at first, I can +learn,” declared the plucky girl. “And, of course, I can sweep. That's +good for me. Our physical instructor says so. Instead of going to the +gym on Saturday, I'll put in calisthenics and acrobatic stunts with a +broom and duster.” + +She was thorough, too. She could not have been her father's daughter +without having that virtue. There was no “lick and a promise” in Nan +Sherwood's housekeeping. She did not sweep the dust under the bureau, +or behind the door, or forget to wipe the rounds of the chairs and the +baseboard all around the rooms. + +Papa Sherwood, coughing in the lower hall as the dust descended from +above, declared she went through the cottage like a whirlwind. It was +not as bad as that, but her vigorous young arms wielded the broom with +considerable skill. + +One Saturday, with every other room swept but the front hall, she closed +the doors into that, and set wide open the outer door. There was more +snow on the ground now; but the porch was cleaned and the path to the +front gate neatly dug and swept. The tinkle of sleigh bells and the +laughter of a crowd of her school friends swept by the corner of Amity +Street. Nan ran out upon the porch and waved her duster at them. + +There she stood, smiling out upon her little world for a minute. She +might not see Amity Street, and the old neighbors, many weeks longer. A +half-promise of work from the Chicago machine shop boss had reached Mr. +Sherwood that morning by post. It seemed the only opening, and it +meant that they would have to give up the “dwelling in amity” and go to +crowded Chicago to live. For Momsey was determined that Papa Sherwood +should not go without her. + +Nan came back into the hall and began to wield the broom again. She +could not leave the door open too long, for it was cold outside and the +winter chill would get into the house. They had to keep all the rooms at +an even temperature on account of Momsey's health. + +But she swept vigorously, moving each piece of furniture, and throwing +the rugs out upon the porch for a special sweeping there. The rough mat +at the door was a heavy one. As Nan stooped to pick it up and toss it +after the other small rugs, she saw the corner of a yellow envelope +sticking from under the edge of the hall carpet. + +“Wonder what that is?” murmured Nan. “Somebody has thrust a circular, +or advertisement, under our door, and it's gone under the carpet. Yes! +There's a tack out there.” + +She seized the corner of the envelope with thumb and finger. She drew it +out. Its length surprised her. It was a long, official looking envelope, +not bulky but most important looking. In the upper left-hand corner was +printed: + +ADAIR MACKENZIE & CO. STOCKS AND BONDS MEMPHIS + +It was properly stamped and addressed to her mother. By the postmark on +it Nan knew it must have been tucked under the door by the postman more +than a week before. Somehow he had failed to ring their bell when he +left the letter. The missing tack in the edge of the hall carpet had +allowed the document to slide out of sight, and it might have been +hidden for weeks longer had chance not shown the small corner of +straw-colored paper to Nan. + +She felt breathless. Her knees trembled. Somehow, Nan just KNEW that the +letter from her mother's cousin must be of enormous importance. She +set her broom in the corner and closed the door. It was fated that she +should do no more sweeping that day. + + + +Chapter V. GREAT EXPECTATIONS + +Mr. Sherwood, in overalls and an old cap, had been sifting cinders out +behind the shed. They had to be careful of fuel as well as of most other +things. Momsey would not open the long envelope until he had been called +and had come in. Nan still wore the bright colored bandana wound about +her head, turban-wise, for a dust cap. Papa Sherwood beat the ashes from +his hands as he stood before the glowing kitchen range. + +“What is it?” he asked calmly. “A notice of a new tax assessment? Or a +cure-all advertisement of Somebody's Pills?” + +“It's from Cousin Adair,” said Momsey, a little breathlessly. “And it's +been lying at our door all the time.” + +“All what time?” asked Mr. Sherwood curiously. + +“All the time we have been so disappointed in our inquiries elsewhere,” + said Momsey soberly. + +“Oh!” responded her husband doubtfully, and said no more. + +“It makes my knees shake,” confessed Nan. “Do open it, Momsey!” + +“I, I feel that it is important, too,” the little lady said. + +“Well, my dear,” her husband finally advised, having waited in patience, +“unless it is opened we shall never know whether your feeling is +prophetic or not. 'By the itching of my thumb,' and so forth!” + +Without making any rejoinder to this, and perhaps without hearing his +gentle raillery, Mrs. Sherwood reached up to the coils of her thick hair +to secure woman's never-failing implement, a hairpin. + +There were two enclosures. Both she shook into her lap. The sealed, +foreign-looking letter she picked up first. It was addressed in a +clerkly hand to, + +“MISTRESS JESSIE ADAIR BLAKE, + +“KINDNESS OF MESSRS. ADAIR MACKENZIE & CO. + +“MEMPHIS, TENN., U.S.A.” + +“From England. No! From Scotland,” murmured Nan, looking over her +mother's shoulder in her eagerness. She read the neatly printed card in +the corner of the foreign envelope: + +KELLAM & BLAKE HADBORNE CHAMBERS EDINBURGH + +Mrs. Sherwood was whispering her maiden name over to herself. She looked +up suddenly at her husband with roguish eyes. + +“I'd almost forgotten there ever was such a girl as Jessie Adair Blake,” + she said. + +“Oh, Momsey!” squealed Nan, with clasped hands and immense impatience. +“Don't, DON'T be so slow! Open it!” + +“No-o,” her mother said, with pursed lips. “No, honey. The other comes +first, I reckon.” + +It was a letter typewritten upon her cousin's letter-head; but it +was not dictated by Mr. Adair MacKenzie. Instead, it was from Mr. +MacKenzie's secretary, who stated that her employer had gone to Mexico +on business that might detain him for several weeks. + +“A letter addressed by you to Mr. MacKenzie arrived after his departure +and is being held for him with other personal communications until +his return; but being assured that you are the Jessie Adair Blake, now +Sherwood--to whom the enclosed letter from Scotland is addressed, I take +the liberty of forwarding the same. The Scotch letter reached us after +Mr. MacKenzie's departure, likewise. Will you please acknowledge the +receipt of the enclosure and oblige?” + +This much of the contents of the secretary's letter was of particular +interest to the Sherwoods. Momsey's voice shook a little as she finished +reading it. Plainly she was disappointed. + +“Cousin Adair, I am sure, would have suggested something helpful had +he been at home,” she said sadly. “It, it is a great disappointment, +Robert.” + +“Well, well!” replied Mr. Sherwood, perhaps not without some secret +relief. “It will all come out right. At least, your cousin hasn't +refused his assistance. We shall be established somewhere before he +returns from his Mexican trip.” + +“I, I did depend so much upon Adair's good will and advice,” signed +Momsey. + +“But, dear me suz!” gasped Nan impatiently. “What are you folks +bothering over that for? It isn't Cousin Adair that I want to know +about. It's this letter, Momsey,” and she seized the thin yet important +envelope from Scotland and shook it before her mother's eyes. + +“Better look into it, Momsey,” advised Mr. Sherwood easily, preparing to +return to the cinder sifting. “Maybe it's from some of your relatives in +the Old Country. I see 'Blake' printed in the corner. Didn't your father +have an uncle or somebody, who was steward on the estate of a Scotch +Laird of some renown?” + +“Heck, mon!” cried Momsey, with her usual gaiety, and throwing off the +cloud of gloom that had momentarily subdued her spirit. “Ye air a wise +cheil. Ma faither talked muckle o' Uncle Hughie Blake, remimberin' him +fra' a wee laddie when his ain faither took him tae Scotland, and tae +Castle Emberon, on a veesit.” + +Nan and Papa Sherwood laughed at her when she assumed the Scotch burr of +her forebears. With precision she cut the flap of this smaller envelope. +She felt no excitement now. She had regained control of herself after +the keen disappointment arising from the first letter. + +She calmly opened the crackly sheet of legal looking paper in her lap. +It was not a long letter, and it was written in a stiff, legal hand, +instead of being typewritten, each character as precise as the legal +mind that dictated it: + +“Mistress Jessie Adair Blake, (Known to be a married woman, but wedded +name unknown to writer.) + +“Dear Madam: It is my duty to inform you that your father (the late +Randolph Hugh Blake) was made sole beneficiary of his late uncle, Mr. +Hugh Blake, the Laird of Emberon's steward, by a certain testament, or +will, made many years ago. Mr. Hugh Blake has recently died a bachelor, +and before his demise he added a codicil to the above testament, or +will, naming you, his great niece, his sole heir and beneficiary. + +“There are other relatives who may make some attempt to oppose your +claim; but none of near blood. Your title to the said estate is clear; +but it is quite necessary that you should appear before our Courts with +proofs of identity, and so forth. On receipt from you of acknowledgment +of this letter, with copies of identification papers (your grandfather's +naturalization papers, your father's discharge from army, your own birth +certificate and marriage lines, and so forth) I will give myself +the pleasure of forwarding any further particulars you may wish, and +likewise place at your command my own services in obtaining possession +for you of your great uncle's estate. + +“The said estate of Mr. Hugh Blake, deceased, amounts, in real and +personal property, including moneys in the bank, to about the sum, +roughly estimated, of 10,000 pounds. + +“Respectfully, your servant, + +“Andrew Blake, Solicitor and Att'y.” + + +Nan had leaned over her mother's shoulder, big-eyed, scarce believing +the plainly written words she read. It was preposterous, ridiculous, +fanciful, a dream from which she must awake in a moment to the full +realization of their dreadful need of just such a godsend as this. + +It was her father's voice that roused the girl. He had not seen the +letter and Momsey had read it silently to herself. + +“Look out, Nancy! What is the matter with your mother?” + +With a cry the girl caught the frail little lady in her arms as the +letter slipped unheeded from her lap to the floor. Mrs. Sherwood's eyes +were closed. She had fainted. + + + +Chapter VI. A SPRAT FOR A HERRING + +“I don't need the doctor this time, honey; joy never killed yet.” + +So said Mrs. Sherwood, opening her eyes to see the scared face of Nan +close above her. Then she saw her husband at her feet, quietly chafing +her hands in his own hard, warm palms. She pulled hers gently from his +clasp and rested them upon his head. Mr. Sherwood's hair was iron-gray, +thick, and inclined to curl. She ran her little fingers into it and +clung tightly. + +“Let, let me get my breath!” she gasped. Then, after a moment she smiled +brilliantly into the wind-bitten face of the kneeling man. “It's all +over, Robert,” she said. + +“My dear!” he cried thickly; while Nan could not wholly stifle the cry +of fear that rose to her lips. + +“It's all over,” repeated the little woman. “All the worry, all the +poverty, all the uncertainty, all the hard times.” + +Mr. Sherwood looked startled indeed. He had no idea what the letter +from Scotland contained, and he feared that his wife, who had already +suffered so much, was for the moment quite out of her head. + +“My poor Jessie,” he began, but her low, sweet laugh stopped him. + +“Not poor! Never poor again, Robert!” she cried. “God is very good to +us. At the very darkest hour He has shown us the dawn. Robert, we are +rich!” + +“Great goodness, Jessie! What do you mean? Exclaimed Mr. Sherwood, +stumbling to his feet at last. + +“It's true! It's true, Papa Sherwood!” Nan cried, clapping her hands. +“Don't you call ten thousand dollars riches?” + +“Ten, thousand, dollars?” murmured her father. He put his hand to +his head and looked confusedly about for a seat, into which he weakly +dropped. Nan had picked up the letter and now she dramatically thrust it +into his hand. + +“Read that, Papa Sherwood!” she said commandingly. + +He read the communication from the Scotch attorney, first with immense +surprise, then with profound doubt. Who but a young imaginative girl, +like Nan, or a woman with unbounded faith in the miracles of God, like +her mother, could accept such a perfectly wonderful thing as being real? + +“A hoax,” thought the man who had worked so hard all his life without +the least expectation of ever seeing a penny that he did not earn +himself. “Can it be that any of those heedless relatives of my wife's in +Memphis have attempted a practical joke at this time?” + +He motioned for Nan to bring him the envelope, too. This he examined +closely, and then read the communication again. It looked all regular. +The stationery, the postmark, the date upon it, all seemed perfectly in +accord. + +Mrs. Sherwood's gay little laugh shattered the train of her husband's +thought. “I know what the matter is with you, Papa Sherwood,” she said. +“You think it must be a practical joke.” + +“Oh!” gasped Nan, feeling a positive pain at her heart. This awful +possibility had never entered her mind before. + +“But it isn't,” went on her mother blithely. “It is real. Mr. Hugh +Blake, of Emberon, must have been very old; and he was probably as +saving and canny as any Scotchman who ever wore kilts. It is not +surprising that he should have left an estate of considerable size-----” + +“Ten thousand dollars!” breathed Nan again. She loved to repeat it. +There was white magic in the very sound of such a sum of money. But her +father threw a conversational bomb into their midst the next instant. + +“Ten thousand dollars, you goosey!” he said vigorously. “That's the main +doubt in the whole business. It isn't ten thousand dollars. It's fifty +thousand dollars! A pound, either English or Scotch, is almost five of +our dollars. Ten thousand dollars would certainly be a fortune for us; +fifty thousand is beyond the dreams of avarice.” + +“Oh, dear me!” said Nan weakly. + +But Mrs. Sherwood merely laughed again. “The more the better,” she said. +“Why shouldn't we be able to put fifty thousand dollars to good use?” + +“Oh, we can, Momsey,” said Nan eagerly. “But, will we be let?” + +Mr. Sherwood laughed grimly at that; but his wife continued confidently: + +“I am sure nobody needs it more than we do.” + +“Why!” her daughter said, just as excitedly, “we'll be as rich as Bess +Harley's folks. Oh, Momsey! Oh, Papa Sherwood! Can I go to Lakewood +Hall?” + +The earnestness of her cry showed the depths to which that desire had +plumbed during these last weeks of privation and uncertainty. It was +Nan's first practical thought in relation to the possibility of their +changed circumstances. + +The father and mother looked at each other with shocked understanding. +The surprise attending the letter had caused both parents to forget, +for the moment, the effect of this wonderful promise of fortune, whether +true or false, on imaginative, high-spirited Nan. + +“Let us be happy at first, Nan, just in the knowledge that some money is +coming to us,” Mrs. Sherwood said more quietly. “Never mind how much, or +how little. Time will tell all that.” + +“Now you talk like father,” cried Nan, pouting. + +“And let father talk a little, too,” Mr. Sherwood said, smiling, “and +to you both.” His right forefinger struck the letter emphatically in his +other hand. “This is a very wonderful, a blessed, thing, if true. But it +has to be proven. We must build our hopes on no false foundation.” + +“Oh, Papa Sherwood! How can we, when the man says there-----” + +“Hush!” whispered Momsey, squeezing her excited little daughter's hand. + +“In the first place,” continued Mr. Sherwood quietly and gravely, “there +may be some mistake in the identification of your mother, child, as the +niece mentioned in this old man's will.” + +“Oh!” Nan could not help that gasp. + +“Again, there may be stronger opposition to her claim than this lawyer +at present sees. Fifty thousand dollars is a whole lot of money, and +other people by the name of Blake will be tempted by it.” + +“How mean of them!” whispered Nan. + +“And, above all,” pursued Mr. Sherwood, “this may be merely a scheme by +unprincipled people to filch small sums of money from gullible people. +The 'foreign legacy swindle' is worked in many different ways. There +may be calls for money, by this man who names himself Andrew Blake, for +preliminary work on the case. We haven't much; but if he is baiting for +hundreds of Blakes in America he may secure, in the aggregate, a very +tidy sum indeed.” + +“Oh, Father!” cried Nan. “That's perfectly horrid!” + +“But perfectly possible. Let us not swallow this bait, hook, line and +sinker. You see, he sends no copy of the will in question, or +that codicil relating to your mother's legacy; nor does he offer +identification or surety as to his own standing. Don't let the +possibilities of this wonderful thing carry you off your feet, my dear.” + +Nan's lip was quivering and she could scarcely crowd back the tears. To +have one's hopes rise so high only to be dashed-----. + +“Don't completely crush us, Papa Sherwood, with your perfectly +unanswerable logic,” said his wife lightly. “We'll remember all these +strictures, and more. We can at least put the matter to the test.” + +“Quite so,” agreed her husband. “We will prepare the papers requested +by this Scotch attorney. I will even inquire of a good lawyer here +something regarding the Scotch laws in such a matter as this, if it will +be necessary to make a personal appearance before the local courts +over there. And perhaps we can find out the true standing of Mr. Andrew +Blake, of Kellam & Blake, Edinburgh. It will cost us a little money, and +we can ill spare it now; but to satisfy ourselves-----” + +“We will throw a sprat to catch a herring,” quoted Momsey cheerfully. + +“Quite so,” repeated Mr. Sherwood. + +“But, dear, DEAR!” moaned Nan. “Is that all it is going to amount to? +Don't you really believe it's all true, Papa Sherwood?” + +“I can't say that I do, my dear,” returned her father gravely. “Such +romantic things as this do not often happen outside of story books.” + +“Then, I declare!” cried Nan desperately, “I wish we lived in a story +book!” + +“Your father will make inquiries at once, honey,” said Momsey easily, +seemingly very little disturbed herself by her husband's doubts and +fears. To her mind this wonderful turn of fortune's wheel was in direct +answer to prayer. Nothing could shake her faith in the final result +of her husband's inquiries. Yet, she was proud of his caution and good +sense. + +“I do think it is dreadful,” murmured Nan, “to believe one's self rich +for only a minute!” + +“Have patience, honey,” said her mother. + +“Meanwhile,” added Mr. Sherwood, rising, “I will go back to sifting +cinders.” + +But Nan did no more sweeping that day. + + + +Chapter VII. A VISTA OF NEW FORTUNES + +Nan said nothing to Bess Harley, her particular chum and confidant, +about the wonderful letter that had come from Scotland. Although Momsey +and Nan talked the legacy over intimately that Saturday afternoon, and +planned what they would really do with some of the money “when their +ship came in,” the young girl knew that the matter was not to be +discussed outside of the family circle. + +Not even the hope Nan now cherished of accompanying her chum to Lakeview +Hall when the next school year opened was divulged when the two girls +were together on Sunday, or on the days that immediately followed. + +Nan Sherwood went about her household and school tasks in a sort of +waking dream. Imagination was continually weaving pictures in her mind +of what might happen if the vista of new fortunes that had opened before +the little family in the Amity Street cottage really came true. + +Papa Sherwood's first reports on the matter of the Scotch legacy were +not inspiring. + +“Mr. Bludsoe says we'd better go slow,” he said seriously. Mr. Bludsoe +was a lawyer of high repute in Tillbury. “This letter may be written by +an attorney in Edinburgh; but there are rascally lawyers there as well +as elsewhere. Bludsoe had correspondents in London. They may be able to +inform him regarding the firm of solicitors, Kellam & Blake, if the firm +really is entered at the Scotch bar.” + +“Oh! But won't that mean delay?” murmured Nan. + +“Meanwhile,” said her father, smiling at her impatience, “we will +prepare the papers identifying your dear mother so that, if this +wonderful new fortune should be a reality, we can put in a proper claim +for it. Just the same,” he added to his wife, when Nan had left the +room, “I have written to that machine shop boss in Chicago that I am +ready to come to work any day he may send for me.” + +“Oh, Robert!” gasped the little lady. “Won't you believe?” + +“Like the darkey who was asked if he believed the world was round, and +said, 'Ah believes it, but Ah ain't dead sho' of it.' I presume this +great fortune is possible, Jessie, but I haven't perfect and abiding +faith in its existence, FOR us,” said her husband. + +But Momsey had just that quality of faith. She went singing about her +household tasks and her usual smile beamed quite beatific. So said Dr. +Christian, who stepped in to see her, as was his custom every few days. + +“What's this? What's this?” the old medical practitioner demanded of Mr. +Sherwood, on the porch, where he usually made his report, and to which +Nan often stole to listen openly to them discuss her mother's case. +“I find her in a state of happy excitement, and that is quite right, +Robert, quite right, if the hopes that are the wellspring of it are +not quenched. What does it mean? Have you arranged the sea voyage I +advised?” + +Papa Sherwood's face changed suddenly. He looked oddly, Nan thought, +at the doctor. “I don't know but that is it, Doc,” he said. “That sea +voyage may be in the offing.” + +“Best thing that could happen to her, best thing that could happen to +her!” declared the old physician with emphasis, as he stumped away. + +Nan wondered what that could mean. A sea voyage for Momsey? Of course, +for all of them. She could not imagine Momsey going anywhere without her +and Papa Sherwood. + +She knew she was not to say anything about what she heard pass between +her father and the doctor on the porch. Indeed, Nan was no bearer +of tales in any event. But she was very curious. The steam from the +cauldron of Mystery seldom arose in the little “dwelling in amity” + save about Christmas time or just previous to Nan's birthday. But Papa +Sherwood certainly was enigmatical and Momsey was mysteriously happy, as +Dr. Christian had said. + +“And we'll put steam heat in the little house. You know, Robert, we've +always wanted to,” Nan's mother suddenly said one evening as they all +sat around the reading lamp, and quite apropos of nothing at all. Then +she laughed, flushing prettily. “There! You see what my mind runs on. I +really can't help it.” + +It was only a day or two later that the second letter came from Memphis. +Mr. Adair MacKenzie had returned from Mexico and evidently one of +the first duties he performed was to write his Cousin Jessie his +congratulations. + +“A letter on quite another matter,” this epistle read, “from our distant +kinsman, Andrew Blake, of Kellam & Blake, apprised me that the ancient +Hugh Blake, steward to the Lairds of Emberon for so many years, was dead +and that his property was willed to your father, whose appearance as a +lad at Emberon pleased the old man greatly. + +“You are to be congratulated. The estate is considerable, I understand. +Your husband's troubles which are mentioned in your letter that I +found awaiting my return will now be over. For, although Andrew Blake +intimates that there may be considerable opposition in the courts there, +over the money going to an American heir, you will be able in the end to +establish your rights. + +“Believe me, my dear Jessie, I know of nobody in our family to whom I +would rather see fortune come than to yourself and your dear ones. If +I can be of any assistance, financially, or otherwise, in helping you +obtain your rights in this event, believe me, I stand ready to give such +aid. Do not hesitate to call upon me. My regards to your husband and +little girl whom I have never seen; Alice and John join me in expressing +our good wishes for your happy future. I remain, with the old love I +always had for you, Your cousin, Adair MacKenzie.” + +“Now, Robert, what have you to say?” cried Momsey triumphantly, while +Nan danced a fandango about the room. + +“This much,” replied her husband, smiling. “Our minds are relieved on +one point, at least. Kellam & Blake are respectable attorneys. We will +send our communication to Mr. Blake at once, without waiting for Mr. +Bludsoe's enquiries to bear fruit. Your Cousin Adair knows the Scotch +firm, and of course vouches for their trustworthiness.” + +“Dear me, Papa Sherwood, you are so practical!” sighed Nan. She meant +“vexing;” they were interchangeable terms to her mind at this exciting +point. “Can't you work up any enthusiasm over Momsey's wonderful +fortune?” + +“Its existence is established, it would seem, beyond peradventure,” said +Mr. Sherwood drily. “But our attempt to obtain the fortune is not yet +begun.” + +“Why, ee!” squealed Nan. “You don't really suppose anybody will try to +keep Momsey from getting it?” + +“Exactly that,” said her father. “The Blakes are a widely scattered +clan. There are probably a number of people as close in blood-tie to the +old man who has just died as your mother, my dear. These people may all +bob up, one after another, to dispute Momsey's claim.” + +“But, dear me!” gasped Nan. “The money was willed to Momsey.” + +“Nevertheless, these other relatives, if there be such--can keep Momsey +out of the enjoyment of her rights for a long time. Court processes are +slow, and especially so, I should judge, among the canny and careful +Scotch. I think we would better leave it to the lawyers to settle. We +cannot hasten the courts by worrying over the fortune. + +“I think,” pursued Papa Sherwood judiciously, “that instead of spending +our time discussing and dreaming of the fortune in Scotland, we would +better go right on with our tasks here as though there were really no +fortune at all.” + +“Oh, my!” whispered Nan, her eyes clouding. “That's because of my last +fortnightly report. I know I fell behind in history and rhetoric.” + +“Don't be too hard on us, Papa Sherwood,” said Momsey brightly. +“Anticipation is more than half of every pleasure. I lie awake every +night and spend this great fortune of ours to the very last penny.” + +“Of course,” the little lady added, with more gravity, “I wouldn't +really spend fifty thousand dollars so recklessly as I do in my mind. +But I can found schools, and hospitals, and educate Nan, and give you, +Papa Sherwood, a great big business, and buy two automobiles, and-----” + +“Enough! Enough!” cried Mr. Sherwood, in mock seriousness. “You are a +born spendthrift, Momsey. That you have had no chance to really be one +thus far will only make your case more serious when you have this legacy +in your possession. Two automobiles, no less!” + +“But I want you both, my dears, to bear one very important fact in mind. +Roughly estimated the fortune is ten thousand pounds. To be exact, it +may be a good deal less at the start. Then, after the lawyers and the +courts get through with the will and all, the remainder that dribbles +into your pocket, Momsey, may be a very small part of ten thousand +pounds.” + +“Oh, how horrid, Papa Sherwood!” cried Nan. “We won't listen to him, +will we, Momsey?” + +“Oh, yes we will,” her mother said quietly, but smiling. “But we will +still believe that the world is good and that God has given us great +good fortune. Papa talks very sensibly; but I know that there is nothing +to fear. We are going to be very well off for the rest of our lives, and +I cannot be thankful enough for it.” + +At that Mr. Sherwood literally threw up his hands. “Nevertheless,” + he said, “I expect to go to Chicago next Monday, to begin work in the +machine shop. The boss writes me that I can come at that time.” + +“I will get your clothes ready for you, Robert,” said Momsey calmly. +“Perhaps you will feel better in your mind if you keep busy during this +time of waiting.” + + + +Chapter VIII. TWO IMPORTANT HAPPENINGS + +It happened, however, that Mr. Sherwood did not go to Chicago to work in +the machine shop. Something happened before the week was out, that quite +put his intention aside. + +Indeed, Nan declared that two important happenings just then changed the +current of affairs at the little cottage on Amity Street and that she +had a principal part in the action of the first of these unexpected +happenings. + +It was lovely skating on Norway Pond, and both Nan and her chum, Bess +Harley, were devoted to the sport. Nan had been unable to be on the ice +Saturdays, because of her home tasks; but when her lessons were learned, +she was allowed to go after supper. + +It happened to be just at the dark of the moon this week; that kept many +off the ice, although the weather was settled and the ice was perfectly +safe. Sometimes the boys built a bonfire on Woody Point, with refuse +from the planing mill, and that lit up a good bit of the ice. + +But once out on the pond, away from the shadows cast by the high banks, +the girls could see well enough. They were both good skaters, and with +arms crossed and hands clasped, they swung up the middle of the pond in +fine style. + +“I just love to skate with you, Nan,” sighed Bess ecstatically. “You +move just like my other self. We're Siamese twins. We strike out +together perfectly. Oh, my dear! I don't see whatever I am to do if you +refuse to go to Lakeview with me.” + +Nan could scarcely keep from telling Bess of the wonderful new fortune +that seemed about to come to her; but she was faithful to her home +training, and only said: + +“Don't fret about it, honey. Maybe something will turn up to let me go.” + +“If you'd let my father pay your way-----?” insinuated Bess. + +“Don't talk of that. It's impossible,” said Nan decisively. “It's a long +time yet to fall. Maybe conditions will be different at home. A dozen +things may happen before school opens in September.” + +“Yes! But they may not be the right things,” sighed Bess. + +She could not be too melancholy on such a night as this, however. It was +perfectly quiet, and the arch of the sky was like black velvet pricked +out with gold and silver stars. Their soft radiance shed some light upon +the pond, enough, at least, to show the girl chums the way before them +as they skimmed on toward Powerton Landing. + +They had left a noisy crowd of boys behind them, near the stamp Factory, +mostly mill boys, and the like. Bess had been taught at home to shrink +from association with the mill people and that is why she had urged Nan +to take this long skate up the pond. Around the Tillbury end of it they +were always falling in with little groups of mill boys and girls whom +Bess did not care to meet. + +There was another reason this evening for keeping away from the stamp +factory, too. The manager of that big shop had hired a gang of ice +cutters a few days before, and had filled his own private icehouse. The +men had cut out a roughly outlined square of the thick ice, sawed it +into cakes, and poled it to shore and so to the sleds and the manager's +icehouse. + +It was not a large opening in the ice; but even if the frost continued, +it would be several days before the new ice would form thickly enough to +bear again over that spot. + +Elsewhere, however, the ice was strong, for all the cutting for the +big icehouses had been done long before near the Landing. The lights of +Powerton Landing were twinkling ahead of them as the two friends swept +on up the long lake. The wind was in their faces, such wind as there +was, and the air was keen and nippy. + +The action of skating, however, kept Nan and Bess warm. Bess in her furs +and Nan in her warm tam-o'-shanter and the muffler Momsey had knitted +with her own hands, did not mind the cold. + +The evening train shrieked out of the gap and across the long trestle +just beyond the landing, where it halted for a few seconds for +passengers to embark or to leave the cars. This train was from Chicago, +and on Monday Papa Sherwood expected to go to that big city to work. + +The thought gave Nan a feeling of depression. The little family in the +Amity street cottage had never been separated for more than a day +since she could remember. It was going to be hard on Momsey, with Papa +Sherwood away and Nan in school all day. How were they going to get +along without Papa Sherwood coming home to supper, and doing the hard +chores? + +Bess awoke her chum from these dreams. “Dear me, Nan! Have you lost your +tongue all of a sudden? Do say something, or do something.” + +“Let's race the train down the pond to Tillbury,” proposed Nan +instantly. + +The lights of the long coaches were just moving out of the station at +the Landing. The two girls came about in a graceful curve and struck +out for home at a pace that even the train could not equal. The rails +followed the shore of the pond on the narrow strip of lowland at the +foot of the bluffs. They could see the lights shining through the car +windows all the way. + +The fireman threw open the door of his firebox to feed the furnace and +a great glare of light, and a shower of sparks, spouted from the +smokestack. The rumble of the wheels from across the ice seemed louder +than usual. + +“Come on, Bess!” gasped Nan, quite excited. “We can do better than this! +Why, that old train will beat us!” + +For they were falling behind. The train hooted its defiance as it swept +down toward Woody Point. The girls shot in toward the shore, where the +shadow of the high bluff lay heavily upon the ice. + +They heard the boys' voices somewhere below them, but Bess and Nan could +not see them yet. They knew that the boys had divided into sides and +were playing old-fashioned hockey, “shinny-on-your-own-side” as it was +locally called. Above the rumbling of the train they heard the crack of +the shinny-stick against the wooden block, and the “z-z-z-zip!” of the +missile as it scaled over the ice. + +“Those boys will get into the ice-hole if they don't look out,” Nan had +just said to her chum, when suddenly a wild yell arose from the hockey +players. + +The train was slowing down at the signal tower, and finally stopped +there. A freight had got in on the main track which had to be cleared +before the passenger train could go into Tillbury station. The coaches +stood right along the edge of the frozen pond. + +But it was nothing in connection with the evening train that caused such +a commotion among the skaters near the stamp factory. There was a crash +of breaking ice and a scrambling of skaters away from the spot. The +boys' yells communicated panic to other people ashore. + +“He's in! He's in!” Nan and Bess heard the boys yelling. Then a man's +voice took up the cry: “He'll be drowned! Help! Help!” + +“That's old Peter Newkirk,” gasped Nan, squeezing Bess' gloved hands +tightly. “He's night watchman at the stamp works, and he has only one +arm. He can't help that boy.” + +The youngsters who had been playing hockey so recklessly near the thin +ice, were not as old as Nan and Bess, and the accident had thrown them +into utter confusion. Some skated for the shore, screaming for ropes +and fence-rails; others only tried to get away from the danger spot +themselves. None did the first thing to help their comrade who had +broken through the ice. + +“Where are you going, Nan?” gasped Bess, pulling back. “You'll have us +both in the water, too.” + +“We can save him! Quick!” returned her chum eagerly. + +She let go of Bess and unwound the long muffler from about her own neck. +“If we could only see him!” the girl said, over and over. + +And then a brilliant idea struck Nan Sherwood, and she turned to shout +to old Peter Newkirk on the shore. “Peter! Peter! Turn on the electric +light sign! Turn it on so we can see where he's gone in!” + +The watchman had all his wits about him. There was a huge electric sign +on the stamp works roof, advertising the company's output. The glare of +it could be seen for miles, and it lit up brilliantly the surroundings +of the mill. + +Peter Newkirk bounded away to the main door of the works. The switch +that controlled the huge sign was just inside that door. Before Nan +and Bess had reached the edge of the broken ice, the electricity was +suddenly shot into the sign and the whole neighborhood was alight. + +“I see him! There he is!” gasped Nan to her chum. “Hold me tight by the +skirt, Bess! We'll get him!” + +She flung herself to her knees and stopped sliding just at the edge of +the old, thick ice. With a sweep of her strong young arm she shot the +end of the long muffler right into the clutching hands of the drowning +boy. + +Involuntarily he seized it. He had been down once, and submersion in +the ice water had nearly deprived him of both consciousness and power +to help save himself. But Nan drew him quickly through the shattered +ice-cakes to the edge of the firm crystal where she knelt. + +“We have him! We have him!” she cried, in triumph. “Give me your hand, +boy! I won't let you go down again.” + +But to lift him entirely out of the water would have been too much for +her strength. However, several men came running now from the stalled +passenger train. The lighting of the electric sign had revealed to them +what was going on upon the pond. + +The man who lifted the half-drowned boy out of the water was not one of +the train crew, but a passenger. He was a huge man in a bearskin coat +and felt boots. He was wrapped up so heavily, and his fur cap was pulled +down so far over his ears and face, that Nan could not see what he +really looked like. In a great, gruff voice he said: + +“Well, now! Give me a girl like you ev'ry time! I never saw the beat of +it. Here, mister!” as he put the rescued boy into the arms of a man who +had just run from a nearby house. “Get him between blankets and he'll be +all right. But he's got this smart little girl to thank that he's alive +at all.” + +He swung around to look at Nan again. Bess was crying frankly, with her +gloved hands before her face. “Oh, Nan! Nan!” she sobbed. “I didn't do a +thing, not a thing. I didn't even hang to the tail of your skirt as you +told me. I, I'm an awful coward.” + +The big man patted Nan's shoulder lightly. “There's a little girl that +I'm going to see here in Tillbury,” he said gruffly. “I hope she turns +out to be half as smart as you are, sissy.” Then he tramped back to the +train that was just then starting. + +Nan began to laugh. “Did you hear that funny man?” she asked Bess. “Do +stop your crying, Bess! You have no reason to cry. You are not hurt.” + +“But, but you might have been, been drowned, too,” sobbed her chum. “I +didn't help you a mite.” + +“Bother!” exclaimed Nan Sherwood. “Don't let's talk about it. We'll go +home. I guess we've both had enough skating for tonight.” + +Bess wiped away her tears and clung to Nan's hand all the way to their +usual corner for separating. Nan ran home from there quickly and burst +into the kitchen to find Momsey and Papa Sherwood in the midst of a very +serious conference. + +“What is the matter?” cried Nan, startled by the gravity of her father +and the exaltation upon her mother's face. “What's happened?” + +“A very great thing, Nan, honey,” said Momsey, drawing her daughter to +her side. “Tell her, Papa Sherwood.” + +He sighed deeply and put away the letter they had been reading. “It's +from Mr. Blake, of Edinburgh,” he said. “I can no longer doubt the +existence of the fortune, my dears. But I fear we shall have to strive +for it in the Scotch courts.” + +“Oh!” cried Nan, under her breath. + +“Mr. Blake tells us here that it is absolutely necessary for us to come +to Scotland, and for your mother to appear in person before the court +there. The sum of money and other property willed to Momsey by her great +uncle is so large that the greatest care will be exercised by the Scotch +judges to see that it goes to the right person.” + +“As your mother once said, we must throw a sprat to catch a herring. In +this case we shall be throwing a sprat to catch a whale! For the amount +of money we may have to spend to secure the fifty thousand dollars left +by Mr. Hugh Blake, of Emberon, is small, in comparison to the fortune +itself. + +“We must go to Scotland,” finished Mr. Sherwood firmly. “And we must +start as soon as possible.” + + + +Chapter IX. ON THE WAY TO THE WILDERNESS + +It seemed to Nan Sherwood that night as though she never could get to +sleep. Her mind and imagination worked furiously. + +Momsey and Papa Sherwood had sent her to bed early. There had been no +time to tell them about the accident on the ice and her part in it. +Her parents had much to discuss, much to decide upon. The Scotch lawyer +urged their presence before the court having jurisdiction in the matter +of the late Mr. Hugh Blake's will, and that as soon as they could cross +the ocean. + +Transportation from the little Illinois town, across the intervening +states to the seaport, and thence, over the winter ocean to Glasgow, and +so on by rail to Edinburgh, was a journey the contemplation of which, to +such a quiet family as the Sherwoods, was nothing less than appalling. + +And there were many things to take into consideration that Nan did not +wholly understand. Mrs. Sherwood would require her husband's undivided +attention while she made the long and arduous journey. The sea voyage +was right in line with the physician's opinion of what was needed to +restore her health; but it was a venture at best. + +Had the family possessed plenty of money it is doubtful if Mr. Sherwood +would have risked more than a coasting voyage. Conditions rising out of +the legacy from the great uncle in Scotland spelled necessity in this +case. Of the little sum left in bank, most of it would be required to +pay the fares of Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood to Edinburgh, and their modest +living there for a few weeks. There was not enough money in hand to pay +a third passage and the expenses of a third person in Scotland, until +the court business should be settled. + +Mr. Sherwood had already taken Mr. Bludsoe, the lawyer, into his +confidence. He could make arrangements through him to mortgage the +cottage if it became absolutely necessary. He shrank from accepting +financial help from Mrs. Sherwood's relatives in Memphis. + +Besides, decision must be made immediately. Plans must be made almost +overnight. They must start within forty-eight hours to catch a certain +steamer bound for the Scotch port of Glasgow, as Mr. Sherwood had +already found out. And all their questions resolved finally into this +very important one: + +“WHAT SHALL WE DO ABOUT NAN?” + +Nan, in her little white bed, had no idea that she was the greatest +difficulty her parents found in this present event. It never entered her +busy mind that Papa Sherwood and Momsey would dream of going to Scotland +without her. + +“What shall we do with Nan?” Momsey said over and over again. She +realized as well as did Mr. Sherwood that to take the child was an +utter impossibility. Their financial circumstances, as well as other +considerations would not allow it. + +Yet, what should they do with her, with whom to trust her during their +uncertain absence on the other side? No answer that came to their minds +seemed the right one. They rose that wintry morning without having this +most important of all questions decided. + +This was Sunday and Mrs. Joyce always came over for breakfast; for she +lived alone and never had any too much to eat, Nan was sure. As for the +old woman's eating with the family, that was a fiction she kept up +for appearance's sake, perhaps, or to salve her own claims to former +gentility. She always set a place for herself at the family table in the +dining room and then was too busy to eat with them, taking her own meal +in the kitchen. + +Therefore it was she only who heard the commanding rap at the kitchen +door in the midst of the leisurely meal, and answered it. + +Just then Nan had dropped her knife and fork and was staring from +Momsey's pitying face to Papa Sherwood's grave one, as she cried, in a +whisper: + +“Not me? Oh, my dears! You're never going without me, all that long +journey? What, whatever shall I do without you both?” + +“Don't, honey! Don't say it that way!” begged Momsey, putting her +handkerchief to her eyes. + +“If it was not quite impossible, do you think for a moment, daughter, +that we would contemplate leaving you at home?” queried Mr. Sherwood, +his own voice trembling. + +“It, it seems impossible!” gasped Nan, “just as though it couldn't be. +I won't know what to do without you, my dears. And what will you do +without me?” + +That seemed to be unanswerable, and it quite broke Momsey down. She +sobbed openly into her handkerchief. + +“Who's going to be her little maid?” demanded Nan, of her father. “Who's +going to 'do' her beautiful hair? Who's going to wait on her when she +has her dreadful headaches? And who's going to play 'massagist' like me? +I want to know who can do all those things for Momsey if you take her +away from me, Papa Sherwood?” and she ended quite stormily. + +“My dear child!” Mr. Sherwood said urgently. “I want you to listen to +me. Our situation is such that we cannot possibly take you with us. +That is final. It is useless for us to discuss the point, for there is +nothing to be gained by discussing it from now till Doomsday.” + +Nan gulped down a sob and looked at him with dry eyes. Papa Sherwood had +never seemed so stern before, and yet his own eyes were moist. She began +to see that this decision was very hard upon her parents, too. + +“Now do you understand,” he asked gently, “that we cannot take our +little daughter with us, but that we are much worried by the fact, and +we do not know what to do with her while we are gone?” + +“You, you might as well put me in an orphan asylum,” choked Nan. “I'll +be an orphan till you get back.” + +“Oh, honey!” cried her mother. + +“There now!” said Nan, jumping up quickly and going around the table to +her mother's side. “You poor dear! I won't say anything more to hurt and +trouble you. I'm a selfish thing, that's what I am.” + +Momsey wound her arms about her. Papa Sherwood still looked grave. “We +get no nearer to the proper solution of the difficulty,” he said. “Of +course, Nancy, the orphan asylum is out of the question.” + +“I'll stay here, of course,” Nan said, with some difficulty keeping her +voice from quavering. + +“Not alone in the house, honey,” Momsey said quickly. + +“With Mrs. Joyce?” suggested Nan tentatively. + +“No,” Mr. Sherwood said. “She is not the person to be trusted with you.” + +“There's Mrs. Grimes' boarding house around the corner?” suggested Nan. + +Momsey shuddered. “Never! Never! My little girl in a boarding house. Oh, +Papa Sherwood! We must find somebody to care for her while we are away, +who loves Nan.” + +And it was just here that a surprisingly gruff voice took up the matter +and decided it in a moment. + +“That's me,” said the voice, with conviction. “She's just the sort of +little girl I cotton to, sister Jessie. And Kate'll be fairly crazy +about her. If you're going anywhere for a long spell, just let me take +her up to Pine Camp. We have no little girls up there, never had any. +But I bet we know how to treat 'em.” + +“Hen!” shouted Mr. Sherwood, stumbling up from the table, and putting +out both hands to the big man whom Mrs. Joyce had ushered in from the +kitchen so unexpectedly. + +“Henry Sherwood!” gasped Momsey, half rising herself in her surprise and +delight. + +“Why!” cried Nan, “it's the bear-man!” for Mr. Henry Sherwood wore the +great fur coat and cap that he had worn the evening before when he had +come to Nan's aid in rescuing the boy from Norway Pond. + +Afterward Nan confessed, naively, that she ought to have known he was +her Uncle Henry. Nobody, she was quite sure, could be so big and brawny +as the lumberman from Michigan. + +“She's the girl for me,” proclaimed Uncle Henry admiringly. “Smart as a +whip and as bold as a catamount. Hasn't she told you what she did last +night? Sho! Of course not. She don't go 'round blowing about her deeds +of valor, I bet!” and the big man went off into a gale of laughter that +seemed to shake the little cottage. + +Papa Sherwood and Momsey had to learn all the particulars then, and both +glowed with pride over their little daughter's action. Gradually, after +numerous personal questions were asked and answered on both sides, the +conversation came around to the difficulty the little family was in, and +the cause of it. + +Henry Sherwood listened to the story of the Scotch legacy with wide-open +eyes, marveling greatly. The possibility of his brother's wife becoming +wealthy amazed and delighted his simple mind. The fact that they had to +take the long journey to Scotland to obtain the money troubled him but +little. Although he had never traveled far himself, save to Chicago from +the Michigan woods, Mr. Henry Sherwood had lived in the open so much +that distances did not appall him. + +“Sure you'll go,” he proclaimed, reaching down into a very deep pocket +and dragging to light a long leather pouch, with a draw-string of +home-cured deer skin. “And if you are short, Bob, we'll go down into +this poke and see what there is left. + +“I came down to Chicago to see about a piece of timber that's owned by +some sharps on Jackson Street. I didn't know but I might get to cut that +timber. I've run it careless-like, and I know pretty near what there is +in it. So I said to Kate: + +“'I'll see Bob and his wife, and the little nipper-----” + +“Goodness!” ejaculated Nan, under her breath. + +Uncle Henry's eyes twinkled and the many wrinkles about them screwed +up into hard knots. “Beg pardon!” he exclaimed, for his ears were very +sharp. “This young lady, I should have said. Anyhow, I told Kate I'd see +you all and find out what you were doing. + +“Depending on mills and such for employment isn't any very safe way to +live, I think. Out in the woods you are as free as air, and there aren't +so many bosses, and you don't have to think much about 'the market' and +'supply and demand,' and all that.” + +“Just the same,” said Mr. Robert Sherwood, his own eyes twinkling, “you +are in some trouble right now, I believe, Hen?” + +“Sho! You've got me there,” boomed his brother with a great laugh. +“But there aren't many reptiles like old Ged Raffer. And we can thank +a merciful Creator for that. I expect there are just a few miserly old +hunks like Ged as horrible examples to the rest of us.” + +“What is the nature of your trouble with this old fellow?” asked Mr. +Robert Sherwood. + +“We've got hold on adjoining options. I had my lines run by one of the +best surveyors in the Peninsula of Michigan. But he up and died. Ged +claims I ran over on his tract about a mile. He got to court first, got +an injunction, and tied me all up in a hard legal knot until the state +surveyors can go over both pieces of timber. The land knows when that'll +be! Those state surveyors take a week of frog Sundays to do a job. + +“I can't cut a stick on my whole piece 'cause Ged claims he'll have a +right to replevin an equal number of sticks cut, if the surveyors back +up his contention. Nasty mess. The original line was run years and years +ago, and they're not many alive today in the Big woods that know the +rights of it. + +“I expect,” added Uncle Henry, shaking his bushy head, “that old Toby +Vanderwiller knows the rights of that line business; but he won't tell. +Gedney Raffer's got a strangle hold on Toby and his little swamp farm, +and Toby doesn't dare say his soul's his own. + +“Well!” continued the lumberman, with another of his big laughs. “This +has nothing to do with your stew, Bob. I didn't want to come to the +house last night and surprise you; so I stayed at the hotel. And all the +time I was thinking of this little nip, Beg pardon! This young lady, and +how smart and plucky she was. + +“And lo and behold,” pursued Uncle Henry, “she turns out to be my own +niece. I'm going to take her back with me to Pine Camp. Kate's got to +see and know her. The boys will be tickled out of their boots to have a +girl like her around. That's our one lack at Pine Camp. There never was +a girl in the family. + +“Seems that this was just foreordained. You and Jessie have got to go +'way off, over the water; can't leave this plucky girl alone. Her old +uncle and aunt are the proper folks to take care of her. What do you say +yourself, young lady?” + +Nan had liked the big man from the very beginning. She was a sensible +child, too. She saw that she must settle this matter herself, for it was +too hard a question for either Momsey or Papa Sherwood to decide. +She gained control of herself now; but nobody will ever know how much +courage it took for her to say, promptly: + +“Of course I will go home with you, Uncle Henry. It will be fun, I +think, to go into the woods in the winter. And, and I can come right +back as soon as Momsey and Papa Sherwood return from Scotland.” + +So it was settled, just like that. The rush in which both parties got +under way on Monday made Nan's head whirl. Momsey was to buy a few +necessary things in New York before she boarded the steamer. Nan had a +plentiful supply of warm winter clothing, and she took a trunkful. + +Mrs. Joyce was left to take a peep at the little, locked cottage on +Amity Street, now and then. Nan could say “Goodbye” only very hastily +to Bess Harley and her other school friends. Her school had to be broken +off at a bad time in the year, but there was the prospect of a change in +Nan's method of education the next fall. + +Momsey and Papa Sherwood took the train east an hour before Nan and +Uncle Henry boarded that for Chicago. All went with a rush and clatter, +and Nan found herself at last rumbling out of Tillbury, on her way to +the northern wilderness, while a thin drive of fine snowflakes tapped on +the car windows. + + + +Chapter X. GEDNEY RAFFER + +It was fortunate for Nan Sherwood that on the day of parting with her +parents she had so much to do, and that there was so much to see, and so +many new things of which to think. + +She had never traveled to Chicago before, nor far from Tillbury at all. +Even the chair car was new to the girl's experience and she found it +vastly entertaining to sit at a broad window with her uncle in the +opposite chair, gazing out upon the snowy landscape as the train hurried +over the prairie. + +She had a certain feeling that her Uncle Henry was an anomaly in the +chair car. His huge bearskin coat and the rough clothing under it; his +felt boots, with rubber soles and feet; the fact that he wore no linen +and only a string tie under the collar of his flannel shirt; his great +bronzed hands and blunted fingers with their broken nails, all these +things set him apart from the other men who rode in the car. + +Papa Sherwood paid much attention to the niceties of dress, despite the +fact that his work at the Atwater Mills had called for overalls and, +frequently, oily hands. Uncle Henry evidently knew little about stiff +collars and laundered cuffs, or cravats, smart boots, bosomed shirts, or +other dainty wear for men. He was quite innocent of giving any offence +to the eye, however. Lying back in the comfortable chair with his coat +off and his great lumberman's boots crossed, he laughed at anything Nan +said that chanced to be the least bit amusing, until the gas-globes rang +again. + +It seemed to Nan as though there never was such a huge man before. She +doubted if Goliath could have looked so big to young David, when the +shepherd boy went out with his sling to meet the giant. Uncle Henry +was six feet, four inches in height and broad in proportion. The chair +creaked under his weight when he moved. Other people in the car gazed on +the quite unconscious giant as wonderingly as did Nan herself. + +“Uncle Henry,” she asked him once, “are all the men in the Big Woods as +tall as you are?” + +“Goodness me! No, child,” he chuckled. “But the woods don't breed many +runts, that's a fact. There's some bigger than I. Long Sam Dorgan is +near seven feet he isn't quite sure, for he's so ticklish that you can't +ever measure him,” and Uncle Henry's chuckle burst into a full-fledged +laugh. “He's just as graceful as a length of shingle lathing, too. And +freckles and liver spots on his hands and face, well, he certain sure is +a handsome creature. + +“He went to town once and stayed over night. Wasn't any bed long enough +at the hotel, and Sam had got considerably under the weather, anyhow, +from fooling with hard cider. So he wasn't particular about where he +bedded down, and they put him to sleep in the horse trough.” + +“The horse trough!” gasped Nan. + +“Yes. It was pretty dry when Sam went to bed; but right early in the +morning a sleepy hostler stumbled out to the trough and began to pump +water into it for the cattle. Maybe Long Sam needed a bath, but not just +that way. He rose up with a yell like a Choctaw Indian. Said he was +just dreaming of going through the Sault Ste. Marie in a barrel, and he +reckoned the barrel burst open.” + +Nan was much amused by this story, as she was by others that the old +lumberman related. He was full of dry sayings and his speech had many +queer twists to it. His bluff, honest way delighted the girl, although +he was so different from Papa Sherwood. As Momsey had said, Uncle +Henry's body had to be big to contain his heart. One can excuse much +that is rough in a character so lovable as that of Uncle Henry's. + +The snow increased as the train sped on and the darkness gradually +thickened. Uncle Henry took his niece into the dining car where they +had supper, with a black man with shiny eyes and very white teeth, who +seemed always on the broad grin, to wait upon them. Nan made a mental +note to write Bess Harley all about the meal and the service, for Bess +was always interested in anything that seemed “aristocratic,” and to the +unsophisticated girl from Tillbury the style of the dining car seemed +really luxurious. + +When the train rolled into the Chicago station it was not yet late; +but it seemed to Nan as though they had ridden miles and miles, through +lighted streets hedged on either side with brick houses. The snow was +still falling, but it looked sooty and gray here in the city. Nan began +to feel some depression, and to remember more keenly that Momsey and +Papa Sherwood were flying easterly just as fast as an express train +could take them. + +It was cold, too. A keen, penetrating wind seemed to search through +the streets. Uncle Henry said it came from the lake. He beckoned to a +taxicab driver, and Nan's trunk was found and strapped upon the roof. +Then off they went to the hotel where Uncle Henry always stopped when he +came to Chicago, and where his own bag was checked. + +Looking through the cab windows, the girl began to take an immediate +interest in life again. So many people, despite the storm! So many +vehicles tangled up at the corners and waiting for the big policemen +to let them by in front of the clanging cars! Bustle, hurry, noise, +confusion! + +“Some different from your Tillbury,” drawled Uncle Henry. “And just as +different from Pine Camp as chalk is from cheese.” + +“But so interesting!” breathed Nan, with a sigh. “Doesn't it ever get to +be bedtime for children in the city?” + +“Not for those kids,” grumbled Uncle Henry. “Poor creatures. They sell +papers, or flowers, or matches, or what-not, all evening long. And +stores keep open, and hotel bars, and drug shops, besides theatres and +the like. There's a big motion picture place! I went there once. It +beats any show that ever came to Hobart Forks, now I tell you.” + +“Oh, we have motion picture shows at Tillbury. We have had them in the +school hall, too,” said Nan complacently. “But, of course, I'd like +to see all the people and the lights, and so forth. It looks very +interesting in the city. But the snow is dirty, Uncle Henry.” + +“Yes. And most everything else is dirty when you get into these brick +and mortar tunnels. That's what I call the streets. The air even isn't +clean,” went on the lumberman. “Give me the woods, with a fresh wind +blowing, and the world looks good to me,” then his voice and face fell, +as he added, “excepting that snake-in-the-grass, Ged Raffer.” + +“That man must make you a lot of trouble, Uncle Henry,” said Nan +sympathetically. + +“He does,” growled the lumberman. “He's a miserable, fox-faced +scoundrel, and I've no more use for him than I have for an egg-sucking +dog. That's the way I feel about it.” + +They reached the hotel just then, and Uncle Henry's flare of passion was +quenched. The hostelry he patronized was not a new hotel; but it was +a very good one, and Nan's heart beat high as she followed the porter +inside, with Uncle Henry directing the taxicab driver and a second +porter how to dispose of the trunk for the night. + +Nan had her bag in which were her night clothes, toilet articles, and +other necessities. The porter carried this for her and seated her on +a comfortable lounge at one side while Uncle Henry arranged about the +rooms. + +To do honor to his pretty niece the lumberman engaged much better +quarters than he would have chosen for himself. When they went up to the +rooms Nan found a pretty little bath opening out of hers, and the maid +came and asked her if she could be of any help. The girl began to feel +quite “grown up.” It was all very wonderful, and she loved Uncle Henry +for making things so pleasant for her. + +She had to run to his door and tell him this before she undressed. He +had pulled off his boots and was tramping up and down the carpeted floor +in his thick woolen socks, humming to himself. + +“Taking a constitutional, Nan,” he declared. “Haven't had any exercise +for this big body of mine all day. Sitting in that car has made me as +cramped as a bear just crawling out of his den in the spring.” + +He did not tell her that had he been alone he would have gone out and +tramped the snowy streets for half the night. But he would not leave +her alone in the hotel. “No, sir,” said Uncle Henry. “Robert would +never forgive me if anything happened to his honey-bird. And fire, or +something, might break out here while I was gone.” + +He said nothing like this to Nan, however, but kissed her good night and +told her she should always bid him good night in just that way as long +as she was at Pine Camp. + +“For Kate and I have never had a little girl,” said the big lumberman, +“and boys get over the kissing stage mighty early, I find. Kate and I +always did hanker for a girl.” + +“If you owned a really, truly daughter of your own, Uncle Henry, I +believe you'd spoil her to death!” cried Nan, the next morning, when she +came out of the fur shop to which he had taken her. + +He had insisted that she was not dressed warmly enough for the woods. “We +see forty and forty-five below up there, sometimes,” he said. “You think +this raw wind is cold; it is nothing to a black frost in the Big Woods. +Trees burst as if there were dynamite in 'em. You've never seen the +like. + +“Of course the back of winter's about broken now. But we may have some +cold snaps yet. Anyhow, you look warmer than you did.” + +And that was true, for Nan was dressed like a little Esquimau. Her coat +had a pointed hood to it; she wore high fur boots, the fur outside. Her +mittens of seal were buttoned to the sleeves of her coat, and she could +thrust her hands, with ordinary gloves on them, right into these warm +receptacles. + +Nan thought they were wonderfully served at the hotel where they +stopped, and she liked the maid on her corridor very much, and the boy +who brought the icewater, too. There really was so much to tell Bess +that she began to keep a diary in a little blank-book she bought for +that purpose. + +Then the most wonderful thing of all was the message from Papa Sherwood +which arrived just before she and Uncle Henry left the hotel for the +train. It was a “night letter” sent from Buffalo and told her that +Momsey was all right and that they both sent love and would telegraph +once more before their steamship left the dock at New York. + +Nan and Uncle Henry drove through the snowy streets to another station +and took the evening train north. They traveled at first by the +Milwaukee Division of the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad; and now +another new experience came Nan's way. Uncle Henry had secured a section +in the sleeping car and each had a berth. + +It was just like being put to sleep on a shelf, Nan declared, when the +porter made up the beds at nine o'clock. She climbed into the upper +berth a little later, sure that she would not sleep, and intending to +look out of the narrow window to watch the snowy landscape fly by all +night. + +And much to her surprise (only the surprise came in the morning) she +fell fast asleep almost immediately, lulled by the rocking of the huge +car on its springs, and did not arouse until seven o'clock and the car +stood on the siding in the big Wisconsin city. + +They hurried to get a northern bound train and were soon off on what +Uncle Henry called the “longest lap” of their journey. The train swept +them up the line of Lake Michigan, sometimes within sight of the shore, +often along the edge of estuaries, particularly following the contour +of Green By, and then into the Wilderness of upper Wisconsin and the +Michigan Peninsula. + +On the Peninsula Division of the C. & N. W. they did not travel as fast +as they had been running, and before Hobart Forks was announced on the +last local train they traveled in, Nan Sherwood certainly was tired +of riding by rail. The station was in Marquette County, near the +Schoolcraft line. Pine Camp was twenty miles deeper in the Wilderness. +It seemed to Nan that she had been traveling through forests, or the +barren stumpage where forests had been, for weeks. + +“Here's where we get off, little girl,” Uncle Henry said, as he seized +his big bag and her little one and made for the door of the car. Nan +ran after him in her fur clothing. She had found before this that he was +right about the cold. It was an entirely different atmosphere up here in +the Big Woods from Tillbury, or even Chicago. + +The train creaked to a stop. They leaped down upon the snowy platform. +Only a plain station, big freight house, and a company of roughly +dressed men to meet them. Behind the station a number of sleighs and +sledges stood, their impatient horses shaking the innumerable bells they +wore. + +Nan, stumbling off the car step behind her uncle, came near to colliding +with a small man in patched coat and cowhide boots, and with a rope tied +about his waist as some teamsters affect. He mumbled something in anger +and Nan turned to look at him. + +He wore sparse, sandy whiskers, now fast turning gray. The outthrust of +the lower part of his face was as sharp as that of a fox, and he really +looked like a fox. She was sure of his identity before uncle Henry +wheeled and, seeing the man, said: + +“What's that you are saying, Ged Raffer? This is my niece, and if you +lay your tongue to her name, I'll give you something to go to law about +in a hurry. Come, Nan. Don't let that man touch so much as your coat +sleeve. He's like pitch. You can't be near him without some of his +meanness sticking to you.” + + + +Chapter XI. PINE CAMP AT LAST + +It was the first shade upon Uncle Henry's character that displeased +Nan. He was evidently a passionate man, prone to give way to elemental +feelings, literally, “a man of wrath.” + +Gedney Raffer, weazened, snakelike, sly, and treacherous, had doubtless +wronged Uncle Henry deeply. But this fact could not excuse the huge +lumberman's language on the platform of the Hobart Forks station. + +Nan wanted to stop her ears with her fingers and run from the spot. +The tough fellows standing around enjoyed the war of words hugely. Mr. +Sherwood was too big to strike Gedney Raffer, and of course the latter +dared not use his puny fists on the giant. + +The blunt club of the lumberman's speech was scarcely a match for the +sharp rapier of Raffer's tongue. As the crowd laughed it was evident +that the fox-faced man was getting the verbal best of the controversy. + +Nan's ears burned and tears stood in her eyes. Uncle Henry descended to +personal threats and the smaller man called out: + +“You jest put your hand on me, you big, overgrown sawney! That's all I'm +a-waitin' for. You 'tack me and I'll have you in the caboose, sure's my +name's Gedney Raffer. Try it!” + +The quarrel was most distressing. Nan pulled at her uncle's coat sleeve. +The rough men eyed her curiously. She had never felt so ashamed in her +life. + +“Do come, Uncle Henry,” she whispered. “I'm cold.” + +That statement started the fuming giant at once. Nan's sensitiveness +to a rude quarrel did not impress the man; but her sensitiveness to the +weather shocked him immediately. + +“My goodness, girl! We'll go right up to the hotel,” he said, kindly. +“Any of you fellows seen Rafe or Tom in town this morning with the sled +and roans?” + +“Hey, Hen!” cried the station master, waving a yellow paper. “Here's a +telegraph despatch for you.” + +It was really for Nan, and from Papa Sherwood filed just before the +Afton Castle sailed from New York: + +“Momsey and papa send love and kisses. Be cheerful and good. Write +often. We think of you always. Kind wishes for Henry, Kate and boys. +We look forward to fair voyage and safe landing. Will cable from other +side. Expect happy meeting in spring. R. and J. Sherwood.” + +“They got a good start,” commented Uncle Henry, putting all thought of +his quarrel with Ged Raffer behind him at once. “We'll hope they have a +safe voyage. Now! Where are those boys of mine?” + +The town of Hobart Forks was by no means a lumber town. Millions of feet +of timber was boomed on the river within the limits of the town every +season, and there were great mills along the banks of the stream, too. +But there were other industries, as well as churches, amusement places +and many pleasant dwellings. It was no settlement of “slab shanties” + with a few saloons and a general store. Nan had yet to see this latter +kind of settlement. + +But what she saw about the central market place of Hobart Forks opened +her eyes considerably to an appreciation of the rough country she had +come to, and the rough people to be met therein. + +The storekeepers she saw through the frosted windows were dressed like +storekeepers in Tillbury; and there were well dressed women on the +streets, a few, at least. + +But most of the men striding through the snow were as roughly dressed as +her uncle, and not many were as good looking as Mr. Sherwood. Some who +came out of the swinging doors of saloons staggered, and were very noisy +in their speech and rude in their actions. Of course nobody spoke to +Nan, or troubled her; Henry Sherwood was undoubtedly a man of standing +in the settlement and highly respected. + +Not far from the market place they came upon a sprawling old tavern, +with a fenced yard at one side. As they approached, a sled drawn by a +wild looking pair of rough, red-roan ponies, dashed out of the yard and +stopped at the broad front portico of the hotel. + +“Hey, Tom! What's the matter with you?” called Uncle Henry. “Here we +are!” + +The driver turned a broad, good-humored face to look over his burly +shoulder. Nan saw that Tom Sherwood strongly resembled his father. + +“That you, Dad?” he drawled. “I'd about given you up. I didn't want to +drive down to the depot with these crazy creatures. And if I'd left 'em +standing they'd have kicked Phil's shed to pieces, I do believe. The +train's been in half an hour and more.” + +“I know,” said his father. “I had a mess of words with Ged Raffer. That +delayed me.” + +“You ought to give him the back of your hand, and say no more about it,” + declared Tom, in a tone that showed he warmed in his bosom the family +grudge against the fox-faced man. + +“Here's your Cousin Nan, Tom,” said his father, without making rejoinder +to the young man's observation. “She must go into Phil's and get warm +and have a cup of hot coffee. I'll take some in a new-fangled bottle I +bought down in Chicago, so we can all have a hot drink on the way home.” + +“'Twon't keep warm twenty miles,” said Tom. + +“Yes 'twill. It'll keep HOT for twenty miles and more. They call it a +thermos bottle. It'll keep coffee hot, or cold, for a day, just as you +please.” + +“Jehosaphat, Dad! What kind of a swindle's that? How does the bottle +know whether you want your drink hot or cold? Huh! Those city folks +couldn't make me believe any such thing,” objected the son. + +Nan had to giggle at that, and Uncle Henry demanded: “Did you ever see +such a gump? Go on down to the station and tell Abe to fling that trunk +and the bags into the back of the sled. We'll have our coffee, and get +the thermos bottle filled, too, by the time you come back.” + +Nan liked tom Sherwood. He was about nineteen and almost as big as +his father. He was gentle with her, and showed himself to be an expert +driver of the roan colts. Otherwise Nan might have been much afraid +during the first mile of the journey to Pine Camp, for certainly she had +never seen horses behave so before. + +“Haven't been out of the stable for a week,” explained Tom cooly as the +roans plunged and danced, and “cut up didos” generally, as Uncle Henry +remarked. + +“We had a big fall of snow,” Tom went on to say. “Bunged us all up in +the woods; so Rafe and I came in. Marm's all right. So's everybody else +around the Camp, except Old Man Llewellen. He's down with rheumatism, or +tic-douloureux, or something. He's always complaining.” + +“I know,” said Uncle Henry, and then went on to relate for his son's +benefit the wonderful thing that had happened to his brother and his +brother's wife, and why Nan had come up into Michigan without her +parents. + +“We'll be mighty proud to have her,” said Tom simply. He was only a +great boy, after all, and he blushed every time he caught Nan looking at +him. The girl began to feel very much grown up. + +They were glad of the hot coffee, and Tom was shown how and why the +mysterious bottle kept the drink hot. They only made that single halt +(and only for a few minutes for the horses to drink) before reaching +Pine Camp. They traveled through the snow-covered woods most of the way. +There were few farms and no settlements at all until they reached Pine +Camp. + +The road was not well beaten and they could not have got through some of +the drifts with less spirited ponies than the roans. When they crossed +the long bridge over the river and swept into the village street, Nan +was amazed. + +Likewise, her heart sank a little. There was not a building in the place +more than a story and a half in height. Most of them were slab cottages. +Few yards were fenced. There were two stores, facing each other on the +single street of the town, with false-fronts running up as tall as the +second story would have been had there been a second story. + +The roans dashed through the better beaten path of the street, with +everybody along the way hailing Henry Sherwood vociferously. The giant +waved his hand and shouted in reply. Nan cowered between him and Tom, +on the seat, shielding her face from the flying snow from the ponies' +hoofs, though the tears in her eyes were not brought there only by the +sting of the pelting she received. + + + +Chapter XII. “HOME WAS NEVER LIKE THIS” + +The roan ponies dashed through the slab settlement, past the blacksmith +and wheelwright shop and the ugly red building Tom told Nan was the +school, and reached a large, sprawling, unpainted dwelling on the +outskirts of the village. + +There were barns back of the Sherwood house; there was no fence between +the yard and the road, the windows of the house stared out upon the +passerby, blindless, and many of them without shades. There was such a +painful newness about the building that it seemed to Nan the carpenters +must have just packed their tools and gone, while the painters had not +yet arrived. + +“Well! Here we are,” announced Mr. Henry Sherwood, as Tom held in the +still eager ponies. He stepped out and offered Nan his hand. “Home +again, little girl. I reckon Kate will be mighty glad to see you, that +she will.” + +Nan leaped out and began to stamp her feet on the hard snow, while Uncle +Henry lifted out the trunk and bags. Just as the ponies sprang away +again, a door in the ugly house opened and a tall, angular woman looked +forth. + +“Bring her in, Hen!” she cried, in a high-pitched voice. “I want to see +her.” + +Nan went rather timidly up the path. Her aunt was almost as tall as her +husband. She was very bony and was flat-chested and unlovely in every +way. That is, so it seemed, when the homesick girl raised her eyes to +Aunt Kate's face. + +That face was as brown as sole-leather, and the texture of the skin +seemed leathery as well. There was a hawklike nose dominating the +unfeminine face. The shallows below the cheekbones were deep, as +though she had suffered the loss of her back molars. The eyebrows were +straggly; the eyes themselves of a pale, watery blue; the mouth a thin +line when her colorless lips were closed; and her chin was as square and +determined as Uncle Henry's own. + +As Nan approached she saw something else about this unlovely woman. On +her neck was a great, livid scar, of a hand's breadth, and which looked +like a scald, or burn. No attempt was made to conceal this unsightly +blemish. + +Indeed, there was nothing about Aunt Kate Sherwood suggesting a +softening of her hard lines. Her plain, ugly print dress was cut low at +the throat, and had no collar or ruff to hide the scar. Nan's gaze was +fastened on that blemish before she was half way to the door, and she +could see nothing else at first. + +The girl fought down a physical shudder when Aunt Kate's clawlike hands +seized her by both shoulders, and she stooped to kiss the visitor. + +“Welcome, dear Nannie,” her sharp voice said, and Nan thought that, with +ease, one might have heard her in the middle of the village. + +But when Aunt Kate's lips touched the girl's forehead they were +Warm, and soft as velvet. Her breath was sweet. There was a wholesome +cleanliness about her person that pleased Nan. The ugly dress was +spotless and beautifully laundered. She had a glimpse of the unplastered +kitchen and saw a row of copper pots on the shelf over the dresser that +were scoured to dazzling brightness. The boards of the floor were +white as milk. The big, patent range glistened with polish, and its +nickel-work was rubbed till it reflected like a mirror. + +“Welcome, my dear!” said Aunt Kate again. “I hope you will be happy +while you stay with us.” + +Happy! With Momsey and Papa Sherwood on the ocean, and the “little +dwelling in amity” closed and deserted? Nan feared she would break down +and cry. + +Her Aunt Kate left her to herself a minute just then that she might +overcome this weakness. Uncle Henry came up the path with the bags, +smiling broadly. + +“Well, old woman!” he said heartily. + +“Well, old man!” she returned. + +And then suddenly, Nan Sherwood had a new vision. She was used to +seeing her pretty mother and her handsome father display their mutual +affection; it had not seemed possible that rough, burly Uncle Henry and +ugly Aunt Kate could feel the same degree of affection for each other. + +Uncle Henry dropped the bags. Aunt Kate seemed to be drawn toward him +when he put out his hands. Nan saw their lips meet, and then the giant +gently, almost reverently, kissed the horrid scar on Aunt Kate's neck. + +“Here's Nan!” cried the big lumberman jovially. “The pluckiest and +smartest little girl in seven states! Take her in out of the cold, Kate. +She's not used to our kind of weather, and I have been watching for the +frost flowers to bloom on her pretty face all the way from the forks.” + +The woman drew Nan into the warm kitchen. Uncle Henry followed in a +minute with the trunk. + +“Where'll I put this box, Kate?” he asked. “I reckon you've fixed up +some cozy place for her?” + +“The east room, Hen,” Aunt Kate replied. “The sun lies in there +mornings. I took the new spring rocker out of the parlor, and with the +white enameled bedstead you bought in Chicago, and the maple bureau +we got of that furniture pedlar, and the best drugget to lay over the +carpet I reckon Nannie has a pretty bedroom.” + +Meanwhile Nan stared openly around the strange kitchen. The joists and +rafters were uncovered by laths or plaster. Muslin, that had once been +white, was tacked to the beams overhead for a ceiling. The smoke from +the cookstove had stained it to a deep brown color above the stove and +to a lighter, meerschaum shade in the corners. + +The furniture was of the rudest plainest kind much of it evidently +home-made. Uncle Henry was not unhandy with tools. She learned, later, +that he and the boys had practically built the house by themselves. They +were finishing it inside, as they had time. In some of the rooms the +inside window and door frames were not yet in place. + +There was an appetizing smell from the pots upon the stove, and the +long table was set for dinner. They would not let Nan change from her +traveling dress before sitting down to the table. Tom and Rafe came in +and all three men washed at the long, wooden sink. + +Rafe was of slighter build than his brother, and a year or more younger. +He was not so shy as Tom, either; and his eyes sparkled with mischief. +Nan found that she could not act “grown up” with her Cousin Rafe. + +The principal dish for dinner was venison stew, served with vegetables +and salt-rising bread. There was cake, too, very heavy and indigestible, +and speckled with huckleberries that had been dried the fall previous. +Aunt Kate was no fancy cook; but appetite is the best sauce, after all, +and Nan had her share of that condiment. + +During the meal there was not much conversation save about the wonderful +fortune that had fallen to Nan's mother and the voyage she and her +husband were taking to Scotland to secure it. Nan learned, too, that +Uncle Henry had telegraphed from Tillbury of Nan's coming to Pine Camp, +and consequently Aunt Kate was able to prepare for her. + +And that the good woman had done her best to make a nest for her little +niece in the ugly house, Nan was assured. After dinner she insisted upon +the girl's going to the east room to change her dress and lie down. The +comparison between this great chamber and Nan's pretty room at home was +appalling. + +The room had been plastered, but the plaster was of a gray color and +unfinished. The woodwork was painted a dusty, brick red with mineral +paint. The odd and ugly pieces of furniture horrified Nan. The drugget +on the floor only served to hide a part of the still more atrociously +patterned carpet. The rocking chair complained if one touched it. The +top of the huge maple dresser was as bald as one's palm. + +Nan sat down on the unopened trunk when her aunt had left her. She +dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. Home certainly was never like +this! She did not see how she was ever going to be able to stand it. + + + +Chapter XIII. MARGARET LLEWELLEN + +“If Momsey or Papa Sherwood knew about this they'd be awfully sorry for +me,” thought Nan, still sitting on the trunk. “Such a looking place! +Nothing to see but snow and trees,” for the village of Pine Camp was +quite surrounded by the forest and all the visitor could see from the +windows of her first-floor bedroom were stumps and trees, with deep snow +everywhere. + +There was a glowing wood stove in the room and a big, chintz-covered +box beside it, full of “chunks.” It was warm in the room, the atmosphere +being permeated with the sweet tang of wood smoke. + +Nan dried her eyes. There really was not any use in crying. Momsey and +Papa Sherwood could not know how bad she felt, and she really was not +selfish enough to wish them to know. + +“Now, Nanny Sherwood!” she scolded herself, “there's not a particle of +use of your sniveling. It won't 'get you anywhere,' as Mrs. Joyce says. +You'll only make your eyes red, and the folks will see that you're not +happy here, and they will be hurt. + +“Mustn't make other folks feel bad just because I feel bad myself,” Nan +decided. “Come on! Pluck up your courage! + +“I know what I'll do,” she added, literally shaking herself as she +jumped off the trunk. “I'll unpack. I'll cover up everything ugly that I +can with something pretty from Tillbury.” + +Hurried as she had been her departure from the cottage on Amity Street, +Nan had packed in her trunk many of those little possessions, dear to +her childish heart, that had graced her bedroom. These appeared from the +trunk even before she hung away her clothes in the unplastered closet +where the cold wind searched through the cracks from out-of-doors. Into +that closet, away back in the corner, went a long pasteboard box, tied +carefully with strong cord. Nan patted it gently with her hand before +she left the box, whispering: + +“You dear! I wouldn't have left you behind for anything! I won't +let them know you are here; but sometimes, when I'm sure nobody will +interrupt, you shall come out.” + +She spread a fringed towel over the barren top of the dresser. It +would not cover it all, of course; but it made an island in a sea of +emptiness. + +And on the island she quickly set forth the plain little toilet-set her +mother had given her on her last birthday, the manicure set that was a +present from Papa Sherwood, and the several other knickknacks that +would help to make the big dresser look as though “there was somebody at +home,” as she whispered to herself. + +She draped a scarf here, hung up a pretty silk bag there, placed +Momsey's and Papa Sherwood's portraits in their little silver filigree +easels on the mantelpiece, flanking the clock that would not run and +which was held by the ugly china shepherdess with only one foot and +a broken crook, the latter ornament evidently having been at one time +prized by the babies of her aunt's family, for the ring at the top was +dented by little teeth. + +Nothing, however, could take the curse of ugliness off the staring +gray walls of the room, or from the horrible turkey-red and white +canton-flannel quilt that bedecked the bed. Nan longed to spill the +contents of her ink bottle over that hideous coverlet, but did not dare. + +The effort to make the big east room look less like a barn made Nan feel +better in her mind. It was still dreary, it must be confessed. There +were a dozen things she wished she could do to improve it. There +were nothing but paper shades at the windows. Even a simple scrim +curtain----- + +And, in thinking of this, Nan raised her eyes to one window to see a +face pressed close against the glass, and two rolling, crablike eyes +glaring in at her. + +“Mercy!” ejaculated Nan Sherwood. “What is the matter with that child's +eyes? They'll drop out of her head!” + +She ran to the window, evidently startling the peeper quite as much as +she had been startled herself. The girl, who was about Nan's own age, +fell back from the pane, stumbled in the big, men's boots she wore, and +ungracefully sprawled in the snow upon her back. She could not get away +before Nan had the window open. + +The sash was held up by a notched stick. Nan put her head and shoulders +out into the frosty air and stared down at the prostrate girl, who +stared up at her in return. + +“What do you want?” Nan asked. + +“Nothin',” replied the stranger. + +“What were you peeping in for?” + +“To see you,” was the more frank reply. + +“What for?” asked Nan. + +“Ain't you the new gal?” + +“I've newly come here, yes,” admitted Nan. + +“Well!” + +“But I'm not such a sight, am I?” laughed the girl from Tillbury. “But +you are, lying there in the snow. You'll get your death of cold. Get up.” + +The other did so. Beside the men's boots, which were patched and old, +she wore a woollen skirt, a blouse, and a shawl over her head and +shoulders. She shook the snow from her garments much as a dog frees +himself from water after coming out of a pond. + +“It's too cold to talk with this window open. You're a neighbor, aren't +you?” + +The girl nodded. + +“Then come in,” urged Nan. “I'm sure my aunt will let you.” + +The girl shook her head in a decided negative to this proposal. “Don't +want Marm Sherwood to see me,” she said. + +“Why not?” + +“She told me not to come over after you come 'ithout I put on my new +dress and washed my hands and face.” + +“Well!” exclaimed Nan, looking at her more closely. “You seem to have a +clean face, at least.” + +“Yes. But that dress she 'gin me, my brother Bob took and put on Old +Beagle for to dress him up funny. And Beagle heard a noise he thought +was a fox barking and he started for the tamarack swamp, lickety-split. +I expect there ain't enough of that gingham left to tie around a sore +thumb.” + +Nan listened to this in both amusement and surprise. The girl was a new +specimen to her. + +“Come in, anyway,” she urged. “I can't keep the window open.” + +“I'll climb in, then,” declared the other suddenly, and, suiting the +action to the word, she swarmed over the sill; but she left one huge +boot in the snow, and Nan, laughing delightedly, ran for the poker to +fish for it, and drew it in and shut down the window. + +The strange girl was warming her hands at the fire. Nan pushed a chair +toward her and took one herself, but not the complaining spring rocking +chair. + +“Now tell me all about yourself,” the girl demanded. + +“I'm Nan Sherwood, and I've come here to Pine Camp to stay while my +father and mother have gone to Scotland.” + +“I've heard about Scotland,” declared the girl with the very prominent +eyes. + +“Have you?” + +“Yes. Gran'ther Llewellen sings that song. You know: + +“'Scotland's burning! Scotland's burning! Where, where? Where, where? +Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! Pour on water! Pour on water! Fire's out! Fire's +out!'” + +Nan laughed. “I've heard that, too,” she said. “But it was another +Scotland.” Then: “So your name is Llewellen?” + +“Marg'ret Llewellen.” + +“I've heard your grandfather is sick,” said Nan, remembering Tom's +report of the health of the community when he had met her and her uncle +at Hobart Forks. + +“Yes. He's got the tic-del-rew,” declared Margaret, rather unfeelingly. +“Aunt Matildy says he's allus creakin' round like a rusty gate-hinge.” + +“Why! That doesn't sound very nice,” objected Nan. “Don't you love your +grandfather?” + +“Not much,” said this perfectly frank young savage. “He's so awfully +wizzled.” + +“'Wizzled'?” repeated Nan, puzzled. + +“Yes. His face is all wizzled up like a dried apple.” + +“But you love your aunt Matilda?” gasped Nan. + +“Well, she's wizzled some,” confessed Margaret. Then she said: “I +don't like faces like hern and Marm Sherwood's. I like your face. It's +smooth.” + +Nan had noticed that this half-wild girl was of beautifully fair +complexion herself, and aside from her pop eyes was quite petty. But she +was a queer little thing. + +“You've been to Chicago, ain't you?” asked Margaret suddenly. + +“We came through Chicago on our way up here from my home. We stayed one +night there,” Nan replied. + +“It's bigger'n Pine Camp, ain't it?” + +“My goodness, yes!” + +“Bigger'n the Forks?” queried Margaret doubtfully. + +“Why, it is much, much bigger,” said Nan, hopeless of making one +so densely ignorant understand anything of the proportions of the +metropolis of the lakes. + +“That's what I told Bob,” Margaret said. “He don't believe it. Bob's my +brother, but there never was such a dunce since Adam.” + +Nan had to laugh. The strange girl amused her. But Margaret said +something, too, that deeply interested the visitor at Pine Camp before +she ended her call, making her exit as she had her entrance, by the +window. + +“I reckon you never seen this house of your uncle's before, did you?” + queried Margaret at one point in the conversation. + +“Oh, no. I never visited them before.” + +“Didn't you uster visit 'em when they lived at Pale Lick?” + +“No. I don't remember that they ever lived anywhere else beside here.” + +“Yes, they did. I heard Gran'ther tell about it. But mebbe 'twas before +you an' me was born. It was Pale Lick, I'm sure. That's where they lost +their two other boys.” + +“What two other boys?” asked Nan, amazed. + +“Didn't you ever hear tell you had two other cousins?” + +“No,” said Nan. + +“Well, you did,” said Margaret importantly. “And when Pale Lick burned +up, them boys was burned up, too.” + +“Oh!” gasped Nan, horrified. + +“Lots of folks was burned. Injun Pete come near being burned up. He +ain't been right, I reckon, since. And I reckon that's where Marm +Sherwood got that scar on the side of her neck.” + +Nan wondered. + + + +Chapter XIV. AT THE LUMBER CAMP + +Nan said nothing just then about her queer little visitor. Aunt Kate +asked her when she came out of the east room and crossed the chill +desert of the parlor to the general sitting room: + +“Did you have a nice sleep, Nannie?” + +“Goodness, Auntie!” laughed Nan. “I got over taking a nap in the daytime +a good while ago, I guess. But you come and see what I have done. I +haven't been idle.” + +Aunt Kate went and peeped into the east chamber. “Good mercy, child! It +doesn't look like the same room, with all the pretty didos,” she said. +“And that's your pretty mamma in the picture on the mantel? My! Your +papa looks peaked, doesn't he? Maybe that sea voyage they are taking +will do 'em both good.” + +Nan had to admit that beside her uncle and cousins her father did look +“peaked.” Robust health and brawn seemed to be the two essentials in the +opinion of the people of Pine Camp. Nan was plump and rosy herself and +so escaped criticism. + +Her uncle and aunt, and the two big boys as well, were as kind to her +as they knew how to be. Nan could not escape some of the depression +of homesickness during the first day or two of her visit to the woods +settlement; but the family did everything possible to help her occupy +her mind. + +The long evenings were rather amusing, although the family knew little +about any game save checkers, “fox and geese,” and “hickory, dickory, +dock.” Nan played draughts with her uncle and fox and geese and the +other kindergarten game with her big cousins. To see Tom, with his +eyes screwed up tight and the pencil poised in his blunt, frost-cracked +fingers over the slate, while he recited in a base sing-song: + + “Hick'ry, dick'ry, dock + The mouse ran up the clock, + The clock struck one, + An' down he come + Hick'ry, dick'ry, dock,” + +was side-splitting. Nan laughed till she cried. Poor, simple Tom did +know just what amused his little cousin so. + +Rafe was by no means so slow, or so simple. Nan caught him cheating +more than once at fox and geese. Rafe was a little sly, and he was +continually making fun of his slow brother, and baiting him. Uncle Henry +warned him: + +“Now, Rafe, you're too big for your Marm or me to shingle your pants; +but Tom's likely to lick you some day for your cutting up and I sha'n't +blame him. Just because he's slow to wrath, don't you get it in your +head that he's afraid, or that he can't settle your hash in five +minutes.” + +Nan was greatly disturbed to hear so many references to fistic +encounters and fighting of all sorts. These men of the woods seemed to +be possessed of wild and unruly passions. What she heard the boys say +caused her to believe that most of the spare time of the men in the +lumber camps was spent in personal encounters. + +“No, no, deary. They aren't so bad as they sound,” Aunt Kate told her, +comfortably. “Lots of nice men work in the camps all their lives and +never fight. Look at your Uncle Henry.” + +But Nan remembered the “mess of words” (as he called it) that Uncle +Henry had had with Gedney Raffer on the railroad station platform at the +Forks, and she was afraid that even her aunt did not look with the same +horror on a quarrel that Nan herself did. + +The girl from Tillbury had a chance to see just what a lumber camp was +like, and what the crew were like, on the fourth day after her arrival +at her Uncle Henry's house. The weather was then pronounced settled, and +word came for the two young men, Tom and Rafe, to report at Blackton's +camp the next morning, prepared to go to work. Tom drove a team which +was then at the lumber camp, being cared for by the cook and foreman; +Rafe was a chopper, for he had that sleight with an ax which, more than +mere muscle, makes the mighty woodsman. + +“Their dad'll drive 'em over to Blackton's early, and you can go, too,” + said Aunt Kate. “That is, if you don't mind getting up right promptly in +the morning?” + +“Oh, I don't mind that,” Nan declared. “I'm used to getting up early.” + +But she thought differently when Uncle Henry's heavy hand rapped on the +door of the east chamber so early the next morning that it seemed to Nan +Sherwood that she had only been in bed long enough to close her eyes. + +“Goodness, Uncle!” she muttered, when she found out what it meant. “What +time is it?” + +“Three o'clock. Time enough for you to dress and eat a snack before we +start,” replied her uncle. + +“Well!” said Nan to herself. “I thought the house was afire.” + +Uncle Henry heard her through the door and whispered, shrilly: “Sh! +Don't let your aunt hear you say anything like that, child.” + +“Like what?” queried Nan, in wonder. + +“About fire. Remember!” added Uncle Henry, rather sternly, Nan thought, +as he went back to the kitchen. + +Then Nan remembered what the strange little girl, Margaret Llewellen, +had said about the fire at Pale Lick that had burned her uncle's former +home. Nan had not felt like asking her uncle or aunt, or the boys, +either, about it. The latter had probably been too young to remember +much about the tragedy. + +Although Nan had seen Margaret on several fleeting occasions since her +first interview with the woods girl, there had been no opportunity of +talking privately with her. And Margaret would only come to the window. +She was afraid to tell “Marm Sherwood” how she had lost the new dress +that had been given to her. + +It was now as black outside Nan's window as it could be. She lit her oil +lamp and dressed swiftly, running at last through the cold parlor and +sitting room into the kitchen, where the fire in the range was burning +briskly and the coffee pot was on. Tom and Rafe were there comfortably +getting into thick woolen socks and big lumbermen's boots. + +There was a heaping pan of Aunt Kate's doughnuts on the table, flanked +with the thick china coffee cups and deep saucers. Her uncle and the +boys always poured their coffee into the saucers and blew on it to take +the first heat off, then gulped it in great draughts. + +Nan followed suit this morning, as far as cooling the coffee in the +saucer went. There was haste. Uncle Henry had been up some time, and now +he came stamping into the house, saying that the ponies were hitched +in and were standing in readiness upon the barn floor, attached to the +pung. + +“We've twenty-five miles to ride, you see, Nannie,” he said. “The boys +have to be at Blackton's so's to get to work at seven.” + +They filled the thermos bottle that had so puzzled Tom, and then sallied +forth. The ponies were just as eager as they had been the day Nan had +come over from the Forks. She was really half afraid of them. + +It was so dark that she could scarcely see the half-cleared road before +them as the ponies dashed away from Pine Camp. The sky was completely +overcast, but Uncle Henry declared it would break at sunrise. + +Where the track had been well packed by former sleighs, the ponies' +hoofs rang as though on iron. The bits of snow that were flung off by +their hoofs were like pieces of ice. The bells on the harness jingled a +very pretty tune, Nan thought. She did not mind the biting cold, indeed, +only her face was exposed. Uncle Henry had suggested a veil; but she +wanted to see what she could. + +For the first few miles it remained very dark, however. Had it not been +for the snow they could not have seen objects beside the road at all. +There was a lantern in the back of the pung and that flung a stream of +yellow light behind them; but Uncle Henry would not have the radiance of +it shot forward. + +“A light just blinds you,” he said. “I'd rather trust to the roans' +sense.” + +The ponies galloped for a long way, it seemed to Nan; then they came +to a hill so steep that they were glad to drop to a walk. Their bodies +steamed in a great cloud as they tugged the sleigh up the slope. Dark +woods shut the road in on either hand. Nan's eyes had got used to the +faint light so that she could see this at least. + +Suddenly she heard a mournful, long-drawn howl, seemingly at a great +distance. + +“Must be a farm somewhere near,” she said to Rafe, who sat beside her on +the back seat. + +“Nope. No farms around here, Nan,” he returned. + +“But I hear a dog howl,” she told him. + +Rafe listened, too. Then he turned to her with a grin on his sharp face +that she did not see. “Oh, no, you don't,” he chuckled. “That's no dog.” + +Again the howl was repeated, and it sounded much nearer. Nan realized, +too, that it was a more savage sound than she had ever heard emitted by +a dog. + +“What is it?” she asked, speaking in a low voice to Rafe. + +“Wolves!” responded her cousin maliciously. “But you mustn't mind a +little thing like that. You don't have wolves down round where you live, +I s'pose?” + +Nan knew that he was attempting to plague her, so she said: “Not for +pets, at least, Rafe. These sound awfully savage.” + +“They are,” returned her cousin calmly. + +The wolf cry came nearer and nearer. The ponies had started on a trot +again at the top of the hill, and her uncle and Tom did not seem to +notice the ugly cry. Nan looked back, and was sure that some great +animal scrambled out of the woods and gave chase to them. + +“Isn't there some danger?” she asked Rafe again. + +“Not for us,” he said. “Of course, if the whole pack gathers and catches +us, then we have to do something.” + +“What do you do?” demanded Nan quickly. + +“Why, the last time we were chased by wolves, we happened to have a ham +and a side of bacon along. So we chucked out first the one, and then the +other, and so pacified the brutes till we got near town.” + +“Oh!” cried Nan, half believing, half in doubt. + +She looked back again. There, into the flickering light of the lantern, +a gaunt, huge creature leaped. Nan could see his head and shoulders +now and then as he plunged on after the sleigh, and a wickeder looking +beast, she hoped never to see. + +“Oh!” she gasped again, and grabbed at Rafe's arm. + +“Don't you be afraid,” drawled that young rascal. “I reckon he hasn't +many of his jolly companions with him. If he had, of course, we'd have +to throw you out to pacify him. That's the rule--youngest and prettiest +goes first-----” + +“Like the ham, I s'pose?” sniffed Nan, in some anger, and just then Tom +reached over the back of the front seat and seized his brother by the +shoulder with a grip that made Rafe shriek with pain. + +Nan was almost as startled as was Rafe. In the half-darkness Tom's dull +face blazed with anger, and he held his writhing brother as though he +were a child. + +“You ornery scamp!” he said, almost under his breath. “You try to scare +that little girl, and I'll break you in two!” + +Nan was horrified. She begged Tom to let his brother alone. “I was only +fooling her,” snarled Rafe, rubbing his injured shoulder, for Tom had +the grip of a pipe wrench. + +Uncle Henry never turned around at all; but he said: “If I had a gun +I'd be tempted to shoot that old wolf hound of Toby Vanderwiller's. He's +always running after sleds and yelling his head off.” + +Nan was glad the creature following them was not really a wolf; but she +knew she should be just as much afraid of him if she met him alone, as +though he really were a wolf. However, mostly, she was troubled by the +passionate nature of her two cousins. She had never seen Tom show any +anger before; but it was evident that he had plenty of spirit if it were +called up. And she was, secretly, proud that the slow-witted young giant +should have displayed his interest in her welfare so plainly. Rafe sat +and nursed his shoulder in silence for several miles. + +The cold was intense. As the sky lightened along the eastern horizon it +seemed to Nan as though the frost increased each moment. The bricks at +their feet were getting cool; and they had already had recourse to the +thermos bottle, which was now empty of the gratefully hot drink it had +contained. + +As the light gradually increased Nan saw Rafe watching her with sudden +attention. After his recent trick she was a little afraid of Rafe. Still +it did not seem possible that the reckless fellow would attempt any +second piece of fooling so soon after his brother's threat. + +But suddenly Rafe yelled to his father to pull down the roans, and as +the ponies stopped, he reached from the sled into a drift and secured a +big handful of snow. Seizing Nan quickly around the shoulders he began +to rub her cheek vigorously with the snow. Nan gasped and almost lost +her breath; but she realized immediately what Rafe was about. + +The frost had nipped her cheek, and her cousin had seen the white spot +appear. “The rubbing stung awfully, and the girl could not keep back the +tears; but she managed to repress the sobs. + +“There!” exclaimed Rafe. “You are a plucky girl. I'm sorry I got some of +that snow down your neck, Nan. Couldn't help it. But it's the only thing +to do when the thermometer is thirty-two degrees below zero. Why! A +fellow went outside with his ears uncovered at Droomacher's camp one +day last winter and after awhile he began to rub his ears and one of 'em +dropped off just like a cake of ice.” + +“Stop your lying, boy!” commanded his father. “It isn't as bad as that, +Nan. But you want to watch out for frost bite here in the woods, just +the same as we had to watch out for the automobiles in crossing those +main streets in Chicago.” + +With a red sun rising over the low ridge of wooded ground to the east, +the camp in the hollow was revealed, the smoke rising in a pillar of +blue from the sheet-iron chimney of the cookhouse; smoke rising, too, +from a dozen big horses being curried before the stables. + +Most of the men had arrived the night before. They were tumbling out +of the long, low bunkhouse now and making good use of the bright tin +washbasins on the long bench on the covered porch. Ice had been broken +to get the water that was poured into the basins, but the men laved +their faces and their hairy arms and chests in it as though it were +summer weather. + +They quickly ran in for their outer shirts and coats, however, and then +trooped in to the end of the cook shed where the meals were served. Tom +turned away to look over his horses and see that they were all ready for +the day's work. Rafe put up the roan ponies in a couple of empty stalls +and gave them a feed of oats. + +Uncle Henry took Nan by the hand, and, really she felt as though she +needed some support, she was so stiff from the cold, and led her into +the warm room where the men were gathering for the hearty meal the cook +and his helper had prepared. + +The men were boisterous in their greeting of Uncle Henry, until they saw +Nan. Than, some bashfully, some because of natural refinement, lowered +their voices and were more careful how they spoke before the girl. + +But she heard something that troubled her greatly. An old, grizzled man +in a corner of the fireplace where the brisk flames leaped high among +the logs, and who seemed to have already eaten his breakfast and was +busily stoning an axe blade, looked up as Nan and her uncle approached, +saying: + +“Seen Ged Raffer lately, Hen?” + +“I saw him at the Forks the other day, Toby,” Mr. Sherwood replied. + +“Yaas. I heard about that,” said the old man drawlingly. “But since +then?” + +“No.” + +“Wal, he was tellin' me that he'd got you on the hip this time, Hen. If +you as much as put your hoof over on that track he's fighting you about, +he'll plop you in jail, that's what he'll do! He's got a warrant all +made out by Jedge Perkins. I seen it.” + +Uncle Henry walked closer to the old man and looked down at him from +his great height. “Tobe,” he said, “you know the rights of that business +well enough. You know whether I'm right in the contention, or whether +Ged's right. You know where the old line runs. Why don't you tell?” + +“Oh, mercy me!” croaked the old man, and in much haste. “I ain't goin' +to git into no land squabble, no, sir! You kin count me out right now!” + And he picked up his axe, restored the whetstone to its sheath on the +wall, and at once went out of the shack. + + + +Chapter XV. A CAT AND HER KITTENS + +That was a breakfast long to be remembered by Nan Sherwood, not +particularly because of its quality, but for the quantity served. She +had never seen men like these lumbermen eat before, save for the few +days she had been at Uncle Henry's house. + +Great platters of baked beans were placed on the table, flanked by the +lumps of pork that had seasoned them. Fried pork, too, was a “main-stay” + on the bill-of-fare. The deal table was graced by no cloth or napery of +any kind. There were heaps of potatoes and onions fried together, and +golden cornbread with bowls of white gravy to ladle over it. + +After riding twenty-five miles through such a frosty air, Nan would have +had to possess a delicate appetite indeed not to enjoy these viands. She +felt bashful because of the presence of so many rough men; but they left +her alone for the most part, and she could listen and watch. + +“Old Toby Vanderwiller tell you what Ged's been blowin' about, Henry?” + asked one of the men at the table, busy ladling beans into his mouth +with a knife, a feat that Nan thought must be rather precarious, to say +the least. + +“Says he's going to jail me if I go on to the Perkins Tract,” growled +Uncle Henry, with whom the matter was doubtless a sore subject. + +“Yaas. But he says more'n that,” said this tale bearer. + +“Oh, Ged says a whole lot besides his prayers,” responded Uncle Henry, +good-naturedly. Perhaps he saw they were trying to bait him. + +“Wal, 'tain't nothin' prayerful he's sayin',” drawled the first speaker, +after a gulp of coffee from his thick china cup. “Some of the boys at +Beckett's, you know, they're a tough crowd, was riggin' him about what +you said to him down to the Forks, and Ged spit out that he'd give a +lump of money to see you on your back.” + +“Huh!” grunted Uncle Henry. + +“And some of 'em took him up, got the old man right down to cases.” + +“That so?” asked Mr. Sherwood curiously. “What's Ged going to do? +Challenge me to a game of cat's cradle? Or does he want to settle the +business at draughts, three best out o' five?” + +“Now you know dern well, Hen,” said the other, as some of the listeners +laughed loudly at Mr. Sherwood's sally, “that old Ged Raffer will never +lock horns with you 'ceptin' it's in court, where he'll have the full +pertection of the law, and a grain the best of it into the bargain.” + +“Well, I s'pose that's so,” admitted Nan's uncle, rather gloomily, she +thought. + +“So, if Beckett's crowd are int'rested in bumping you a whole lot, you +may be sure Ged's promised 'em real money for it.” + +“Pshaw!” exclaimed Uncle Henry. “You're fooling now. He hasn't hired any +half-baked chip-eaters and Canucks to try and beat me up?” + +“I ain't foolin'.” + +“Pshaw!” + +“You kin 'pshaw' till the cows come home,” cried the other heatedly. “I +got it straight.” + +“Who from?” + +“Sim Barkis, him what's cookin' for Beckett's crew.” + +“Good man, Sim. Never caught him in a lie yet. You are beginning to +sound reasonable, Josh,” and Mr. Sherwood put down his knife and fork +and looked shrewdly at his informant. “Now tell me,” he said, “how much +is Sim going to get for helping to pay Ged Raffer's debts?” + +“Har!” ejaculated the other man. “You know Sim ain't that kind.” + +“All right, then. How much does he say the gang's going to split between +'em after they've done me up brown according to contract?” scoffed Uncle +Henry, and Nan realized that her giant relative had not the least fear +of not being able to meet any number of enemies in the open. + +“Sim come away before they got that far. Of course Ged didn't say right +out in open meetin' that he'd give so many dollars for your scalp. But +he got 'em all int'rested, and it wouldn't surprise him, so Sim said, if +on the quiet some of those plug-uglies had agreed to do the job.” + +Nan shuddered, and had long since stopped eating. But nobody paid any +attention to her at the moment. + +Uncle Henry drawled: “They're going to do the hardest day's job for the +smallest pay that they ever did on this Michigan Peninsula. I'm much +obliged to you, Josh, for telling me. I never go after trouble, as you +fellows all know; but I sha'n't try to dodge it, either.” + +He picked up his knife and fork and went quietly on with his breakfast. +But Nan could not eat any more at all. + +It seemed to the gently nurtured girl from Tillbury as though she had +fallen in with people from another globe. Even the mill-hands, whom Bess +Harley so scorned, were not like these great, rough fellows whose minds +seemed continually to be fixed upon battle. At least, she had never seen +or heard such talk as had just now come to her ears. + +The men began, one by one, to push back the benches and go out. There +was a great bustle of getting under way as the teams started for the +woods, and the choppers, too, went away. Tom hurried to start his big +pair of dapple grays, and Nan was glad to bundle up again and run out to +watch the exodus. + +They were a mighty crew. As Uncle Henry had said, the Big Woods did not +breed runts. + +Remembering the stunted, quick-moving, chattering French Canadians, and +the scattering of American-born employees among them, who worked in the +Tillbury mills, Nan was the more amazed by the average size of +these workmen. The woodsmen were a race of giants beside the +narrow-shouldered, flat-chested pygmies who toiled in the mills. + +Tom strode by with his timber sled. Rafe leaped on to ride and Tom +playfully snapped his whiplash at him. Nan was glad to see that the +two brothers smiled again at each other. Their recent tiff seemed to be +forgotten. + +Some of the choppers had already gone on ahead to the part of the tract +where the marked trees were being felled. Now the pluck, pluck, pluck of +the axe blows laid against the forest monarchs, reached the girl's ears. +She thought the flat stuttering sound of the axes said “pluck” very +plainly, and that that was just the word they should say. + +“For it does take lots of pluck to do work of this kind,” Nan +confided to her uncle, who walked up and down on the porch smoking an +after-breakfast pipe. + +“Yes. No softies allowed on the job,” said he, cheerfully. “Some of the +boys may be rough and hard nuts to crack; but it is necessary to have +just such boys or we couldn't get out the timber.” + +“But they want to fight so much!” gasped Nan. + +“Sho!” said her uncle, slowly. “It's mostly talk. They feel the itch +for hard work and hard play, that's all. You take lively, full-muscled +animals, and they are always bucking and quarreling--trying to see which +one is the best. Take two young, fat steers they'll lock horns at the +drop of a hat. It's animal spirits, Nan. They feel that they've got +to let off steam. Where muscle and pluck count for what they do in the +lumber camps, there's bound to be more or less ructions.” + +Perhaps this might be; but Nan was dreadfully sorry, nevertheless, that +Uncle Henry had this trouble with Mr. Gedney Raffer. The girl feared +that there had been something besides “letting off steam” in the +challenge her uncle had thrown down to his enemy, or to the men that +enemy could hire to attack him. + +The timber sledges soon began to drift back, for some of the logs had +been cut before the big storm, and had only to be broken out of the +drifts and rolled upon the sleds with the aid of the men's canthooks. It +was a mystery at first to Nan how they could get three huge logs, some +of them three feet in diameter at the butt, on to the sled; two at the +bottom and one rolled upon them, all being fastened securely with the +timber-chain and hook. + +How the horses strained in their collars to start the mighty load! But +once started, the runners slipped along easily enough, even through the +deep snow, packing the compressible stuff in one passage as hard as ice. +Nan followed in this narrow track to the very bank of the river where +the logs were heaped in long windrows, ready to be launched into the +stream when the waters should rise at the time of the spring freshet. + +Tom managed his team alone, and unloaded alone, too. It was marvelous +(so Nan thought) that her cousin could start the top log with the great +canthook, and guide it as it rolled off the sled so that it should lie +true with timbers that had been piled before. The strain of his work +made him perspire as though it were midsummer. He thrust the calks on +his bootsoles into the log and the shreds of bark and small chips flew +as he stamped to get a secure footing for his work. Then he heaved +like a giant, his shoulders humping under the blue jersey he wore, and +finally the log turned. Once started, it was soon rolled into place. + +Nan ran into the cook shed often to get warm. Her uncle was busy with +the boss of the camp, so she had nobody but the cook and his helper to +speak to for a time. Therefore it was loneliness that made her start +over the half-beaten trail for the spot where the men were at work, +without saying a word to anybody. + +None of the teams had come by for some time; but she could hear faintly +the sound of the axes and the calling of the workmen to each other and +their sharp commands to the horses. + +She went away from the camp a few hundred yards and then found that the +trail forked. One path went down a little hill, and as that seemed easy +to descend, Nan followed it into a little hollow. It seemed only one +sled had come this way and none of the men were here. The voices and +axes sounded from higher up the ridge. + +Suddenly she heard something entirely different from the noise of the +woodsmen. It was the snarling voice of a huge cat and almost instantly +Nan sighted the creature which stood upon a snow-covered rock beside the +path. It had tasseled ears, a wide, wicked “smile,” bristling whiskers, +and fangs that really made Nan tremble, although she was some yards from +the bobcat. + +As she believed, from what her cousins had told her, bobcats are not +usually dangerous. They never seek trouble with man, save under certain +conditions; and that is when a mother cat has kittens to defend. + +This was a big female cat, and, although the season was early, she had +littered and her kittens, three of them, were bedded in a heap of leaves +blown by the wind into a hollow tree trunk. + +The timberman driving through the hollow had not seen the bobcat and her +three blind babies; but he had roused the mother cat and she was now all +ready to spring at intruders. + +That Nan was not the person guilty of disturbing her repose made no +difference to the big cat. She saw the girl standing, affrighted and +trembling, in the path and with a ferocious yowl and leap she crossed +the intervening space and landed in the snow within almost arm's reach +of the fear-paralyzed girl. + + + +Chapter XVI. “INJUN PETE” + +Nan Sherwood could not cry out, though she tried. She opened her lips +only to find her throat so constricted by fear that she could not utter +a sound. Perhaps her sudden and utter paralysis was of benefit at +the moment, after all; for she could not possibly have escaped the +infuriated lynx by running. + +The creature's own movements were hampered by the deep drift in which +she had landed. The soft snow impeded the cat and, snarling still, she +whirled around and around like a pinwheel to beat a firmer foundation +from which to make her final spring at her victim. + +Nan, crouching, put her mittened hands before her face. She saw no +chance for escape and could not bear to see the vicious beast leap at +her again. “Momsey! Papa Sherwood!” she thought, rather than breathed +aloud. + +Then, down the hill toward her, plunged a swift body. She rather felt +the new presence than saw it. The cat yowled again, and spit. There was +the impact of a clubbed gun upon the creature's head. + +“Sacre bleu! Take zat! And zat!” cried a sharp voice, between the blows +that fell so swiftly. The animal's cries changed instantly from rage to +pain. Nan opened her eyes in time to see the maddened cat flee swiftly. +She bounded to the big tree and scrambled up the trunk and out upon the +first limb. There she crouched, over the place where her kittens were +hidden, yowling and licking her wounds. There was blood upon her head +and she licked again and again a broken forefoot between her yowls of +rage and pain. + +But Nan was more interested just then in the person who had flown to +her rescue so opportunely. He was not one of the men from the camp, or +anybody whom she had ever seen before. + +He was not a big man, but was evidently very strong and active. His +dress was of the most nondescript character, consisting mainly of a +tattered fur cap, with a woolen muffler tied over his ears; a patched +and parti-colored coat belted at the waist with a frayed rope. His legs +disappeared into the wide tops of a pair of boots evidently too big for +him, with the feet bundled in bagging so that he could walk on top of +the snow, this in lieu of regular snowshoes. + +His back was toward Nan and he did not turn to face her as he said: + +“Be not afeared, leetle Man'zelle. Le bad chat is gone. We shall now do +famous-lee, eh? No be afeared more.” + +“No, no, sir,” gasped Nan, trying to be brave. “Won't, won't it come +back?” + +“Nev-air!” cried the man, with a flourish of the gun which was a +rusty-barreled old weapon, perhaps more dangerous at the butt end than +at its muzzle. “Ze chat only fear for her babies. She have zem in dat +tree. We will go past leeving zem streectly alone, eh?” + +“No!” cried Nan hastily. “I'm going back to the camp. I didn't know +there were such dangerous things as that in these woods.” + +“Ah! You are de strange leetle Mam'zelle den?” responded the man. “You +do not know ze Beeg Woods?” + +“I guess I don't know anything about this wilderness,” confessed Nan. +“My uncle brought me to the camp up yonder this morning, and I hope +he'll go right home again. It's awful!” + +“Eet seem terrifying to ze leetle Mam'zelle because she is unused--eh? +Me! I be terrified at ze beeg city where she come from, p'r'aps. Zey +tell Pete 'bout waggings run wizout horses, like stea'mill. Ugh! No +wanter see dem. Debbil in 'em,” and he laughed, not unpleasantly, making +a small joke of the suggestion. + +Indeed his voice, now that the sharpness of excitement had gone out of +it, was a very pleasant voice. The broken words he used assured Nan that +his mother tongue must be French. He was probably one of the “Canucks” + she had heard her cousins speak of. French Canadians were not at all +strange to Nan Sherwood, for in Tillbury many of the mill hands were of +that race. + +But she thought it odd that this man kept his face studiously turned +from her. Was he watching the bobcat all the time? Was the danger much +more serious than he would own? + +“Why don't you look at me?” cried the girl, at length. “I'm awfully much +obliged to you for coming to help me as you did. And my uncle will want +to thank you I am sure. Won't you tell me your name?” + +The man was silent for a moment. Then, when he spoke, his voice was +lower and there was an indescribably sad note in it. + +“Call me 'Injun Pete', zat me. Everybody in de beeg Woods know Injun +Pete. No odder name now. Once ze good Brodders at Aramac goin' make +scholar of Pete, make heem priest, too, p'r'aps. He go teach among +he's mudder's people. Mudder Micmac, fadder wild Frinchman come to dees +lakeshore. But nev-air can Pete be Teacher, be priest. Non, non! Jes' +Injun Pete.” + +Nan suddenly remembered what little Margaret Llewellen had said about +the fire at Pale Lick, and “Injun Pete.” The fact that this man kept +his face turned from her all this time aroused her suspicion. She was +deeply, deeply grateful to him for what he had just done for her, and, +naturally, she enlarged in her mind the peril in which she had been +placed. + +Margaret had suggested this unfortunate half-breed was “not right in his +head” because of the fire which had disfigured him. But he spoke very +sensibly now, it seemed to Nan; very pitifully, too, about his blasted +hopes of a clerical career. She said, quietly: + +“I expect you know my uncle and his family, Pete. He is Mr. Sherwood of +Pine Camp.” + +“Ah! Mis-tair Hen Sherwood! I know heem well,” admitted the man. “He +nice-a man ver' kind to Injun Pete.” + +“I'd like to have you look at me, please,” said Nan, still softly. “You +see, I want to know you again if we meet. I am very grateful.” + +Pete waved her thanks aside with a royal gesture. “Me! I be glad to be +of use, oh, oui! Leetle Man'zelle mus' not make mooch of nottin', eh?” + +He laughed again, but he did not turn to look at her. Nan reached out a +tentative hand and touched his sleeve. “Please, Mr. Pete,” she said. “I, +I want to see you. I, I have heard something about your having been hurt +in a fire. I am sure you must think yourself a more hateful sight than +you really are.” + +A sob seemed to rise in the man's throat, and his shoulders shook. He +turned slowly and looked at her for a moment over his shoulder. Then he +went swiftly away across the snow (for the bobcat had disappeared into +her lair) and Nan stumbled back up the trail toward the camp, the tears +blinding her own eyes. + +The disfigured face of the half-breed HAD been a shock to her. She could +never speak of it afterward. Indeed, she could not tell Uncle Henry +about her meeting with the lynx, and her rescue--she shrank so from +recalling Injun Pete's disfigured face. + + + +Chapter XVII. SPRING IN THE BIG WOODS + +That visit to the lumber camp was memorable for Nan Sherwood in more +ways than one. Her adventure with the lynx she kept secret from her +relatives, because of the reason given in the previous chapter. But +there was another incident that marked the occasion to the girl's mind, +and that was the threat of Gedney Raffer, reported to her Uncle Henry. + +Nan thought that such a bad man as Raffer appeared to be would +undoubtedly carry out his threat. He had offered money to have Mr. +Sherwood beaten up, and the ruffians he had bribed would doubtless be +only too eager to earn the reward. + +To tell the truth, for weeks thereafter, Nan never saw a rough-looking +man approach the house on the outskirts of Pine Camp, without fearing +that here was coming a ruffian bent on her uncle's injury. + +That Uncle Henry seemed quite to have forgotten the threat only made Nan +more keenly alive to his danger. She dared not discuss the matter +with Aunt Kate, for Nan feared to worry that good woman unnecessarily. +Besides, having been used to hiding from her own mother all unpleasant +things, the girl naturally displayed the same thoughtfulness for Aunt +Kate. + +For, despite Mrs. Henry Sherwood's bruskness and masculine appearance, +Nan learned that there were certain matters over which her aunt showed +extreme nervousness. + +For instance, she was very careful of the lamps used in the house--she +insisted upon cleaning and caring for them herself; she would not allow +a candle to be used, because it might be overturned; and she saw to it +herself that every fire, even the one in Nan's bedroom, was properly +banked before the family retired at night. + +Nan had always in mind what Uncle Henry said about mentioning fire +to Aunt Kate; so the curious young girl kept her lips closed upon the +subject. But she certainly was desirous of knowing about that fire, so +long ago, at Pale Lick, how it came about; if Aunt Kate had really got +her great scar there; and if it was really true that two members of her +uncle's family had met their death in the conflagration. + +She tried not to think at all of Injun Pete. That was too terrible! + +With all her heart, Nan wished she might do something that would really +help Uncle Henry solve his problem regarding the timber rights on the +Perkins Tract. The very judge who had granted the injunction forbidding +Mr. Sherwood to cut timber on the tract was related to the present +owners of the piece of timberland; and the tract had been the basis of a +feud in the Perkins family for two generations. + +Many people were more or less interested in the case and they came to +the Sherwood home and talked excitedly about it in the big kitchen. Some +advised an utter disregard of the law. Others were evidently minded +to increase the trouble between Raffer and Uncle Henry by malicious +tale-bearing. + +Often Nan thought of what Uncle Henry had said to old Toby Vanderwiller. +She learned that Toby was one of the oldest settlers in this part of the +Michigan Peninsula, and in his youth had been a timber runner, that is, +a man who by following the surveyors' lines on a piece of timber, and +weaving back and forth across it, can judge its market value so nearly +right that his employer, the prospective timber merchant, is able to bid +intelligently for the so-called “stumpage” on the tract. + +Toby was still a vigorous man save when that bane of the woodsman, +rheumatism, laid him by the heels. He had a bit of a farm in the +tamarack swamp. Once, being laid up by his arch enemy, with his joints +stiffened and muscles throbbing with pain, Toby had seen the gaunt +wolf of starvation, more terrible than any timber wolf, waiting at his +doorstone. His old wife and a crippled grandson were dependent on Toby, +too. + +Thus in desperate straits Toby Vanderwiller had accepted help from +Gedney Raffer. It was a pitifully small sum Raffer would advance upon +the little farm; but it was sufficient to put Toby in the usurer's +power. This was the story Nan learned regarding Toby. And Uncle Henry +believed that Toby, with his old-time knowledge of land-boundaries, +could tell, if he would, which was right in the present contention +between Mr. Sherwood and Gedney Raffer. + +These, and many other subjects of thought, kept the mind of Nan Sherwood +occupied during the first few weeks of her sojourn at Pine Camp. She +had, too, to keep up her diary that she had begun for Bess Harley's +particular benefit. Every week she sent off to Tillbury a bulky section +of this report of her life in the Big woods. It was quite wonderful how +much there proved to be to write about. Bess wrote back, enviously, that +never did anything interesting, by any possibility, happen, now that +Nan was away from Tillbury. The town was “as dull as ditch water.” She, +Bess, lived only in hopes of meeting her chum at Lakeview Hall the next +September. + +This hope Nan shared. But it all lay with the result of Momsey's and +Papa Sherwood's visit to Scotland and Emberon Castle. And, Nan thought, +it seemed as though her parents never would even reach that far distant +goal. + +They had taken a slow ship for Momsey's benefit and the expected +re-telegraphed cablegram was looked for at the Forks for a week before +it possibly could come. + +It was a gala day marked on Nan's calendar when Uncle Henry, coming home +from the railroad station behind the roan ponies, called to her to +come out and get the message. Momsey and Papa Sherwood had sent it from +Glasgow, and were on their way to Edinburgh before Nan received the +word. Momsey had been very ill a part of the way across the ocean, but +went ashore in improved health. + +Nan was indeed happy at this juncture. Her parents were safely over +their voyage on the wintry ocean, so a part of her worry of mind was +lifted. + +Meanwhile spring was stealing upon Pine Camp without Nan's being really +aware of the fact. Uncle Henry had said, back in Chicago, that “the back +of winter was broken”; but the extreme cold weather and the deep snow +she had found in the Big Woods made Nan forget that March was passing +and timid April was treading on his heels. + +A rain lasting two days and a night washed the roads of snow and turned +the fast disappearing drifts to a dirty yellow hue. In sheltered fence +corners and nooks in the wood, the grass lifted new, green blades, and +queer little Margaret Llewellen showed Nan where the first anemones and +violets hid under last year's drifted leaves. + +The river ice went out with a rush after it had rained a few hours; +after that the “drives” of logs were soon started. Nan went down to the +long, high bridge which spanned the river and watched the flood carry +the logs through. + +At first they came scatteringly, riding the foaming waves end-on, and +sometimes colliding with the stone piers of the bridge with sufficient +force to split the unhewn timbers from end to end, some being laid open +as neatly as though done with axe and wedge. + +When the main body of the drive arrived, however, the logs were like +herded cattle, milling in the eddies, stampeded by a cross-current, +bunching under the bridge arches like frightened steers in a chute. And +the drivers herded the logs with all the skill of cowboys on the range. + +Each drive was attended by its own crew, who guarded the logs on either +bank, launching those that shoaled on the numerous sandbars or in the +shallows, keeping them from piling up in coves and in the mouths of +estuaries, or creeks, some going ahead at the bends to fend off and +break up any formation of the drifting timbers that promised to become a +jam. + +Behind the drive floated the square bowed and square sterned chuck-boat, +which carried cook and provisions for the men. A “boom”, logs chained +together, end to end, was thrown out from one shore of the wide stream +at night, and anchored at its outer end. Behind this the logs were +gathered in an orderly, compact mass and the men could generally get +their sleep, save for the watchman; unless there came a sudden rise of +water in the night. + +It was a sight long to be remembered, Nan thought, when the boom was +broken in the morning. Sometimes an increasing current piled the logs up +a good bit. It was a fear-compelling view the girl had of the river +on one day when she went with Uncle Henry to see the first drive from +Blackton's camp. Tom was coming home with his team and was not engaged +in the drive. But reckless Rafe was considered, for his age, a very +smart hand on a log drive. + +The river had risen two feet at the Pine Camp bridge overnight. It was a +boiling brown flood, covered with drifting foam and debris. The roar +of the freshet awoke Nan in her bed before daybreak. So she was +not surprised to see the river in such a turmoil when, after a hasty +breakfast, she and Uncle Henry walked beside the flood. + +“They started their drive last night,” Uncle Henry said, “and boomed her +just below the campsite. We'll go up to Dead Man's Bend and watch her +come down. There is no other drive betwixt us and Blackton's.” + +“Why is it called by such a horrid name, Uncle?” asked Nan. + +“What, honey?” he responded. + +“That bend in the river.” + +“Why, I don't know rightly, honey-bird. She's just called that. Many a +man's lost his life there since I came into this part of the country, +that's a fact. It's a dangerous place,” and Nan knew by the look on her +uncle's face that he was worried. + + + +Chapter XVIII. AT DEAD MAN'S BEND + +Nan and her uncle came out on the bluff that overlooked the sharp bend +which hid the upper reaches of the river from Pine Camp. Across the +stream, almost from bank to bank, a string of gravel flats made a +barrier that all the rivermen feared. + +Blackton was no careless manager, and he had a good foreman in Tim +Turner. The big boss had ridden down to the bend in a mud-splashed +buggy, and was even prepared to take a personal hand in the work, if +need be. The foreman was coming down the river bank on the Pine +Camp side of the stream, watching the leading logs of the drive, and +directing the foreguard. Among the latter Nan spied Rafe. + +“There he is, Uncle!” she cried. “Oh! He's jumped out on that log, see?” + +“He's all right, girl, he's all right,” said Uncle Henry comfortingly. +“Rafe's got good calks on his boots.” + +The boy sprang from log to log, the calks making the chips fly, and with +a canthook pushed off a log that had caught and swung upon a small bank. +He did it very cleverly, and was back again, across the bucking logs, in +half a minute. + +Below, the foreman himself was making for a grounded log, one of the +first of the drive. It had caught upon some snag, and was swinging +broadside out, into the stream. Let two or three more timbers catch with +it and there would be the nucleus of a jam that might result in much +trouble for everybody. + +Tim Turner leaped spaces of eight and ten feet between the logs, landing +secure and safe upon the stranded log at last. With the heavy canthook +he tried to start it. + +“That's a good man, Tim Turner,” said Mr. Sherwood, heartily. “He's +worked for me, isn't afraid of anything, Ha! But that's wrong!” he +suddenly exclaimed. + +Turner had failed to start the stranded log. Other logs were hurtling +down the foam-streaked river, aimed directly for the stranded one. They +would begin to pile up in a heap in a minute. The foreman leaped to +another log, turning as he did so to face the shore. That was when Uncle +Henry declared him wrong. + +Turner was swinging his free arm, and above the roar of the river +and the thunder of the grinding and smashing logs they could hear him +shouting for somebody to bring him an axe. One of his men leaped to +obey. Nan and Mr. Sherwood did not notice just then who this second man +was who put himself in jeopardy, for both had their gaze on the foreman +and that which menaced him. + +Shooting across on a slant was a huge log, all of three feet through at +the butt, and it was aimed for the timber on which Turner stood. He did +not see it. Smaller logs were already piling against the timber he had +left, and had he leaped back to the stranded one he would have been +comparatively safe. + +Mr. Sherwood was quick to act in such an emergency as this; but he was +too far from the spot to give practical aid in saving Turner from the +result of his own heedlessness. He made a horn of his two hands and +shouted to the foreguard at the foot of the bluff: + +“He's going into the water! Launch Fred Durgin's boat below the bend! +Get her! Quick, there!” + +Old riverman that he was, Uncle Henry was pretty sure of what was about +to happen. The huge log came tearing on, butt first, a wave of troubled +water split by its on-rush. Turner was watching the person bringing him +the axe, and never once threw a glance over his shoulder. + +Suddenly Nan cried out and seized Uncle Henry's arm. “Look! Oh, Uncle! +It's Rafe!” she gasped, pointing. + +“Aye, I know it,” said her uncle, wonderfully cool, Nan thought, and +casting a single glance at the figure flying over the bucking logs +toward the endangered foreman. “He'll do what he can.” + +Nan could not take her eyes from her cousin after that. It seemed to +be a race between Rafe and the charging log, to see which should first +reach the foreman. Rafe, reckless and harebrained as he was, flew over +the logs as sure-footed as a goat. Nan felt faint. Her cousin's peril +seemed far greater to her than that of the foreman. + +A step might plunge Rafe into the foaming stream! When a log rolled +under him she cried out under her breath and clamped her teeth down on +to her lower lip until the blood almost came. + +“He'll be killed! He'll be killed!” she kept repeating in her own mind. +But Uncle Henry stood like a rock and seemingly gave no more attention +to his son than he did to Turner, or to the men running down the bank to +seize upon and launch the heavy boat. + +Rafe was suddenly balked and had to stop. Too great a stretch of water +separated him from the next floating log. Turner beckoned him on. It was +difficult to make the foreman hear above the noise of the water and the +continual grinding of the logs, but Rafe yelled some warning and pointed +toward the timber now almost upon Turner's foothold. + +The man shot a glance behind him. The butt of the driving log rose +suddenly into the air as though it would crush him. + +Turner leaped to the far end of the log on which he stood. But too +great a distance separated him from the log on which Rafe had secured a +foothold. + +Crash! + +Nan heard, on top of the bluff, the impact of the great timber as it was +flung by the current across the smaller log. Turner shot into the air +as though he were flung from a catapult. But he was not flung in Rafe's +direction, and the boy could not help him. + +He plunged into the racing stream and disappeared. The huge timber rode +over the smaller log and buried it from sight. But its tail swung around +and the great log was headed straight down the river again. + +As its smaller end swung near, Rafe leaped for it and secured a footing +on the rolling, plunging log. How he kept his feet under him Nan could +not imagine. A bareback rider in a circus never had such work as this. +Rafe rode his wooden horse in masterly style. + +There, ahead of him in the boiling flood, an arm and head appeared. +Turner came to the surface with his senses unimpaired and he strove to +clutch the nearest log. But the stick slipped away from him. + +Rafe ran forward on the plunging timber he now rode the huge stick that +had made all the trouble, and tried to reach the man in the water. No +use! + +Of course, there was no way for Rafe to guide his log toward the +drowning man. Nor did he have anything to reach out for Turner to grasp. +The axe handle was not long enough, and the foreman's canthook had +disappeared. + +Below, the men were struggling to get the big boat out from under the +bank into the stream. Two of them stood up with their canthooks to fend +off the drifting logs; the others plied the heavy oars. + +But the boat was too far from the man in the river. He was menaced on +all sides by plunging logs. He barely escaped one to be grazed on the +shoulder by another. A third pressed him under the surface again; but +as he went down this second time, Rafe Sherwood threw away his axe and +leaped into the flood! + + + +Chapter XIX. OLD TOBY VANDERWILLER + +Nan was sure her Cousin Rafe would be drowned, as well as his foreman. +She covered her eyes for a moment, and could not look. + +Then a great cheer arose from the men in the boat and those still +remaining on the bank of the river. Her uncle, beside her, muttered: + +“Plucky boy! Plucky boy!” + +Her eyes flew open and she looked again. In the midst of the scattering +foam she saw a small log over which her cousin had flung his left arm; +his other arm was around the foreman, and Rafe was bearing his head +above water. Turner had been struck and rendered senseless by the blow. + +The small log slipped through a race between two shallows, ahead of the +greater timber. The latter indeed grounded for a moment and that gave +the victim of the accident and his rescuer a chance for life. + +They shot ahead with the log to which Rafe clung. The men in the boat +shouted encouragement, and rowed harder. In a minute the boat came +alongside the log and two of the rivermen grabbed the boy and the +unconscious foreman. They had them safely in the boat, and the boat was +at the shore again in three minutes. + +By that time the big boss himself, Mr. Blackton, was tearing out over +the logs from the other shore, axe in hand, to cut the key log of the +jam, the formation of which Turner had tried to prevent. A hundred logs +had piled up against the stoppage by this time and there promised to be +a bad time at the bend if every one did not work quickly. + +Before Nan and her uncle could reach the foot of the bluff, Turner had +regained consciousness and was sitting on a stranded log, holding his +head. Rafe, just as he had come out of the river, was out on the logs +again lending a hand at the work so necessary to the success of the +drive. + +“Oh, dear me!” cried Nan, referring to her cousin, “he ought to go home +and change his clothes. He'll get his death of cold.” + +“He'll work hard enough for the next hour to overcome the shock of the +cold water. It's lucky if he isn't in again before they get that trouble +over,” responded Uncle Henry. Then he added, proudly: “That's the kind +of boys we raise in the Big Woods, Nannie. Maybe they are rough-spoken +and aren't really parlor-broke, but you can depend on 'em to do +something when there's anything to do!” + +“Oh, Uncle!” cried the girl. “I think Rafe is just the bravest boy I +ever saw. But I should think Aunt Kate would be scared every hour he is +away from home, he is so reckless.” + +She was very proud herself of Rafe and wrote Bess a lot about him. Slow +Tom did not figure much in Nan Sherwood's letters, or in her thoughts, +about this time. Thoughts and letters were filled with handsome Rafe. + +It was while the Blackton drive was near Pine Camp that Nan became +personally acquainted with old Toby Vanderwiller. It was after dinner +that day that she met Margaret and Bob Llewellen and the three went down +to the river bank, below the bridge, to watch the last of the Blackton +drive. + +The chuck-boat had pushed off into the rough current and was bobbing +about in the wake of the logs; but all the men had not departed. + +“That's old Toby,” said Bob, a black-haired boy, full of mischief. “He +don't see us. Le's creep up and scare him.” + +“No,” said Nan, decidedly; “don't you dare!” + +“Aw, shucks! Girls ain't no fun,” the boy growled. “Mag's bad enough, +but you air wuss'n she, Nan Sherwood. What's old Toby to you? He's allus +as cross as two sticks, anyway.” + +“We won't make him any crosser,” said Nan, laughing. “What's the good?” + +Nan saw that the old man had his coat off, and had slipped down the +right sleeve of his woolen shirt to bare his shoulder and upper right +arm. He was clumsily trying to bandage the arm. + +“He's got hurt,” Nan cried to Margaret. “I wonder how?” + +“Dunno,” returned the smaller girl, carelessly. Although she was +not mischievous like her brother, Margaret seldom showed traits of +tenderness or affection. Nan was in some doubt as to whether the strange +girl liked her. Margaret often patted Nan's cheeks and admired her +smooth skin; but she never expressed any real affection. She was +positively the oddest little piece of humanity Nan had ever met. + +Once Nan asked her if she had a doll. “Doll?” snarled Margaret with +surprising energy. “A'nt Matildy give me one once't an' I throwed it as +far as I could inter the river, so I did! Nasty thing! Its face was all +painted and rough.” + +Nan could only gasp. Drown a doll-baby! Big girl as she considered +herself, she had a very tender spot in her heart for doll-babies. + +Margaret Llewellen only liked people with fair faces and smooth +complexions; she could not possibly be interested in old Toby +Vanderwiller, who seemed always to need a shave, and whose face, like +that of Margaret's grandfather, was “wizzled.” + +Nan ran down to him and asked: “Can't I help you, Mr. Vanderwiller? Did +you get badly hurt?” + +“Hullo!” grunted Toby. “Ain't you Hen Sherwood's gal?” + +“I'm his niece,” she told him. “Can I help?” + +“Well, I dunno. I got a wallop from one o' them logs when we was +breakin' that jam, and it's scraped the skin off me arm----” + +“Let me see,” cried Nan, earnestly. “Oh! Mr. Vanderwiller! That must be +painful. Haven't you anything to put on it?” + +“Nothin' but this rag,” grunted Toby, drily. “An' ye needn't call me +'Mister,' Sissy. I ain't useter bein' addressed that way.” + +Nan laughed; but she quickly washed the scraped patch on the old man's +arm with clean water and then bound her own handkerchief over the +abrasion under the rather doubtful rag that Toby himself supplied. + +“You're sure handy, Sissy,” he said, rising and allowing her to help him +into the shirt again and on with his coat. “Now I'll hafter toddle along +or Tim will give me a call-down. Much obleeged. If ye get inter the +tam'rack swamp, come dry-foot weather, stop and see me an' my old +woman.” + +“Oh! I'd love to, Mr. Vanderwiller,” Nan cried. “The swamp must be full +of just lovely flowers now.” + +The old man's face wrinkled into a smile, the first she had seen upon +it. Really! He was not a bad looking man, after all. + +“You fond of posies, sissy?” he asked. + +“Indeed I am!” she cried. + +“There's a-plenty in the swamp,” he told her. “And no end of ferns and +sich. You come see us and my old woman'll show ye. She's a master hand +at huntin' up all kind o' weeds I tell her.” + +“I'll surely come, when the weather gets warmer,” Nan called after Toby +as the old man dogtrotted down the bank of the river. But he did not +answer and was quickly out of sight. + + + +Chapter XX. NAN'S SECRET + +But Margaret Llewellen declared she would not go with her! + +“It's nasty in the Tam'rack swamp; and there's frogs and, and snakes. +Ketch me! And as fur goin' ter see Tobe and his old woman, huh! They're +both as ugly as sin.” + +“Why, Margaret!” exclaimed Nan, in horror. “How you talk!” + +“Wal, it's so. I don't like old, wizzled-up folks, I don't, now I tell +ye!” + +“That sounds awfully cruel,” said Nan, soberly. + +“Huh!” snorted Margaret, no other word would just express her manner of +showing disgust. “There ain't no reason why I should go 'round makin' +believe likin' them as I don't like. Dad useter take the hide off'n me +and Bob for lyin'; an' then he'd stand an' palaver folks that he jest +couldn't scurce abide, fur I heard him say so. That's lyin', too ain't +it?” + +“I, I don't believe it is right to criticize our parents,” returned Nan, +dodging the sharp girl's question. + +“Mebbe yourn don't need criticizin',” responded Margaret, bluntly. “My +dad ain't no angel, you kin bet.” + +And it was a fact that the Llewellen family was a peculiar one, from +“Gran'ther” down to Baby Bill, whom Margaret did not mind taking care +of when he was not “all broke out with the rash on his face.” The girl's +dislike for any countenance that was not of the smoothest, or skin of +the softest texture, seemed strange indeed. + +Margaret's mother was dead. She had five brothers and sisters of +assorted ages, up to 'Lonzo, who was sixteen and worked in the woods +like Nan's cousins. + +Aunt Matilda kept house for the motherless brood, and for Gran'ther and +Mr. Fen Llewellen. They lived in a most haphazard fashion, for, although +they were not really poor, the children never seemed to have any decent +clothing to wear; and if, by chance, they got a new garment, something +always happened to it as, for instance, the taking of Margaret's new +gingham by Bob as a dress for old Beagle. + +As the Llewellens were close neighbors of the Sherwoods, Nan saw much +of Margaret. The local school closed soon after the visitor had come +to Pine Camp, and Nan had little opportunity of getting acquainted +with other girls, save at the church service, which was held in the +schoolhouse only every other Sunday. There was no Sunday School at Pine +Camp, even for the very youngest of the children. + +Nan talked to Aunt Kate about that. Aunt Kate was the very +kindest-hearted woman that ever lived; but she had little initiative +herself about anything outside her own house. “Goodness knows, I'd like +to see the kiddies gathered together on Sunday afternoon and taught good +things,” she signed; “but lawsy, Nan! I'm not the one to do it. I'm not +good enough myself.” + +“Didn't you teach Tom and Rafe, and--and--” Nan stopped. She had almost +mentioned the two older boys of her aunt's, whom she had heard were +destroyed in the Pale Lick fire. Aunt Kate did not notice, for she went +on to say: + +“Why--yes; I taught Tom and Rafe to say their prayers, and I hope they +say 'em now, big as they are. And we often read the Bible. It's a great +comfort, the main part of it. I never did take to the 'begats,' though.” + +“But couldn't we,” suggested Nan, “interest other people and gather the +children together on Sundays? Perhaps the old gentleman who comes here +to preach every fortnight might help.” + +“Elder Posey's not here but three hours or so, any time. Just long +enough to give us the word and grab a bite at somebody's house. Poor old +man! He attends three meetings each Sunday, all different, and lives on +a farm at Wingate weekdays where he has to work and support his family. + +“He doesn't get but fifty dollars a year from each church, it's not +making him a millionaire very fast,” pursued Aunt Kate, with a soft +little laugh. “Poor old man! I wish we could pay him more; but Pine +Camp's not rich.” + +“You all seem to have enough and to spare, Auntie,” said Nan, who was an +observant girl for her age. “Nobody here is really poor.” + +“Not unless he's right down lazy,” said her aunt, vigorously. + +“Then I should think they'd build a proper church and give a minister +some more money, so that he could afford to have a Sunday School as +well.” + +“Lawsy me, Nan!” exclaimed her aunt. “The men here in Pine Camp haven't +been woke up to such things. They hate to spend that fifty dollars for +Elder Posey, they'd get a cheaper man if there were such. There's never +been much out of the common happen here at Pine Camp. It takes trouble +and destruction to wake folks up to their Christian duty in these woods. +Now, at Pale Lick they've got a church-----” + +She stopped suddenly, and her face paled, while the ugly scar on her +neck seemed to glow; but that may have been only in contrast. Aunt Kate +turned away her head, and finally arose and went into her own room and +closed the door. Nan dared not continue the subject when the good woman +came out again, and the talk of a Sunday School for Pine Camp, for the +time being, was ended. + +There were hours when the girl from Tillbury was very lonely indeed. +Writing to Bess and other girl friends in her old home town and penning +long letters on thin paper to Momsey and Papa Sherwood in Scotland, did +not fill all of these hours when Nan shut herself into that east room. + +Sometimes she pulled down the paper shades and opened the clothes closet +door, bringing out the long box she had hidden away there on the first +day she had come to Pine Camp. In that box, wrapped in soft tissue +paper, and dressed in the loveliest gown made by Momsey's own skillful +fingers, was the great doll that had been given to Nan on her tenth +birthday. + +When girls went to high school, of course they were supposed to put away +dolls, together with other childish things. But Nan Sherwood never could +neglect her doll-babies and had often spent whole rainy days playing +with them in secret in the attic of the little house on Amity Street. + +Her other dolls had been left, carefully wrapped and shielded from the +mice, at Tillbury; but Nan had been unable to leave Beautiful Beulah +behind. She packed her in the bottom of her trunk, unknown even to +Momsey in the hurry of departure. She had not told a soul here at Pine +Camp that she possessed a doll; she knew the boys would make fun of her +for sure. + +But she often sat behind the drawn shades nursing the big doll and +crooning softly to it as she swung back and forth in the spring +rocking-chair. Tom had oiled the springs for her so that it no longer +creaked. + +She did not confide even in Aunt Kate about the big doll. They were all +very kind to her; but Nan had a feeling that she ought to be grown up +here among her backwoods relatives. How could she ever face roguish Rafe +if he knew she liked to “play dolls?” + +Fearing that even Margaret would tell, Nan had never shown the woods +girl Beautiful Beulah. Once she was afraid Margaret had come to the +window to peep in when Nan had the doll out of her hiding place; but she +was not sure, and Nan hoped her secret was still inviolate. At least, +Margaret never said a word about it. + +Margaret's sisters had dolls made of corncobs, and rag babies with +painted faces like the one Margaret had thrown into the river and +drowned; but Margaret turned up her nose at them all. She never seemed +to want to “play house” as do most girls of her age. She preferred to +run wild, like a colt, with Bob in the woods and swamp. + +Margaret did not wish to go into the swamp with Nan, however, on her +first visit to Toby Vanderwiller's little farm. This was some weeks +after the log drives, and lumbering was over for the season. Uncle Henry +and the boys, rather than be idle, were working every acre they owned, +and Nan was more alone than she had ever been since coming to Pine Camp. + +She had learned the way to Toby's place, the main trail through the +swamp going right by the hummock on which the old man's farm was +situated. She knew there was a corduroy road most of the way--that is, a +road built of logs laid side by side directly over the miry ground. Save +in very wet weather this road was passable for most vehicles. + +The distance was but three miles, however, and Nan liked walking. +Besides, nobody who has not seen a tamarack swamp in late spring or +early summer, can ever imagine how beautiful it is. Nan never missed +human companionship when she was on the long walks she so often took in +the woods. + +She had learned now that, despite her adventure with the lynx in the +snow-drifted hollow, there was scarcely any animal to fear about Pine +Camp. Bears had not been seen for years; bobcats were very infrequently +met with and usually ran like scared rabbits; foxes were of course +shy, and the nearest approach to a wolf in all that section was Toby +Vanderwiller's wolfhound that had once frightened Nan so greatly. + +Hares, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, and many, many birds, peopled +the forest and swamp. In sunken places where the green water stood and +steamed in the sun, turtles and frogs were plentiful; and occasionally a +snake, as harmless as it was wicked looking, slid off a water-soaked log +at Nan's approach and slipped under the oily surface of the pool. + +On the day Nan walked to Toby's place the first time, she saw many +wonders of plant life along the way, exotics clinging to rotten logs +and stumps; fronds of delicate vines that she had never before heard +of; ferns of exquisite beauty. And flashing over them, and sucking honey +from every cuplike flower, were shimmering humming-birds and marvelously +marked butterflies. + +The birds screamed or sang or chattered over the girl's head as she +tripped along. Squirrels peeped at her, barked, and then whisked their +tails in rapid flight. Through the cool, dark depths where the forest +monarchs had been untouched by the woodsmen, great moths winged their +lazy flight. Nan knew not half of the creatures or the wonderful plants +she saw. + +There were sounds in the deeps of the swamplands that she did not +recognize, either. Some she supposed must be the voices of huge frogs; +other notes were bird-calls that she had never heard before. But +suddenly, as she approached a turn in the corduroy road, her ear was +smitten by a sound that she knew very well indeed. + +It was a man's voice, and it was not a pleasant one. It caused Nan to +halt and look about for some place to hide until the owner of the voice +went by. She feared him because of his harsh tones, though she did not, +at the moment, suspect who it was. + +Then suddenly she heard plainly a single phrase: “I'd give money, I tell +ye, to see Hen Sherwood git his!” + + + +Chapter XXI. IN THE TAMARACK SWAMP + +The harsh tone of the unseen man terrified Nan Sherwood; but the words +he spoke about her Uncle Henry inspired her to creep nearer that she +might see who it was, and hear more. The fact that she was eavesdropping +did not deter the girl. + +She believed her uncle's life to be in peril! + +The dampness between the logs of the roadway oozed up in little pools +and steamed in the hot blaze of the afternoon sun. Insects buzzed and +hummed, so innumerable that the chorus of their voices was like the +rumble of a great church-organ. + +Nan stepped from the road and pushed aside the thick underbrush to find +a dry spot to place her foot. The gnats danced before her and buzzed in +her ears. She brushed them aside and so pushed on until she could see +the road again. A lean, yellow horse, tackled to the shafts of a +broken top-buggy with bits of rope as well as worn straps, stood in the +roadway. The man on the seat, talking to another on the ground, was Mr. +Gedney Raffer, the timberman who was contending at law with Uncle Henry. + +It was he who had said: “I'd give money, I tell ye, to see Hen Sherwood +git his.” + +There had fallen a silence, but just as Nan recognized the mean looking +old man on the carriage seat, she heard the second man speak from the +other side of the buggy. + +“I tell you like I done Hen himself, Ged; I don't wanter be mixed up in +no land squabble. I ain't for neither side.” + +It was Toby. Nan knew his voice, and she remembered how he had answered +Uncle Henry at the lumber camp, the first day she had seen the old +lumberman. Nan could not doubt that the two men were discussing the +argument over the boundary of the Perkins Tract. + +Gedney Raffer snarled out an imprecation when old Toby had replied as +above. “Ef you know which side of your bread the butter's on, you'll +side with me,” he said. + +“We don't often have butter on our bread, an' I ain't goin' ter side +with nobody,” grumbled Toby Vanderwiller. + +“S-s!” hissed Raffer. “Come here!” + +Toby stepped closer to the rattletrap carriage. “You see your way to +goin' inter court an' talkin' right, and you won't lose nothin' by it, +Tobe.” + +“Huh? Only my self-respect, I s'pose,” grunted the old lumberman, and +Nan approved very much of him just then. + +“Bah!” exclaimed Raffer. + +“Bah, yourself!” Toby Vanderwiller returned with some heat. “I got some +decency left, I hope. I ain't goin' to lie for you, nor no other man, +Ged Raffer!” + +“Say! Would it be lyin' ef you witnessed on my side?” demanded the eager +Raffer. + +“That's my secret,” snapped the old lumberman. “If I don't witness for +you, be glad I don't harm you.” + +“You dare!” cried Raffer, shaking his fist at the other as he leaned +from the buggy seat. + +“You hearn me say I wouldn't go inter court one way or 'tother,” + repeated Toby, gloomily. + +“Wal,” snarled Raffer, “see't ye don't see't ye don't. 'Specially for +any man but me. Ye 'member what I told ye, Tobe. Money's tight and I +oughter call in that loan.” + +Toby was silent for half a minute. Then Nan heard him sigh. + +“Well, Ged,” he observed, “it's up to you. If you take the place it'll +be the poorhouse for that unforchunit boy of mine and mebbe for the ol' +woman, 'specially if I can't strike a job for next winter. These here +lumber bosses begin to think I'm too stiff in the j'ints.” + +“Wal, wal!” snarled Raffer. “I can't help it. How d'ye expec' I kin help +you ef you won't help me?” + +He clucked to the old horse, which awoke out of its drowse with a start, +and moved on sluggishly. Toby stood in the road and watched him depart. +Nan thought the old lumberman's to be the most sorrowful figure she had +ever seen. + +Her young heart beat hotly against the meanness and injustice of Gedney +Raffer. He had practically threatened Toby with foreclosure on his +little farm if the old lumberman would not help him in his contention +with Mr. Sherwood. On the other hand, Uncle Henry desired his help; but +Uncle Henry, Nan knew, would not try to bribe the old lumberman. Under +these distressing circumstances, which antagonist's interests was Toby +Vanderwiller likely to serve? + +This query vastly disturbed Nan Sherwood. All along she had desired much +to help Uncle Henry solve his big problem. The courts would not allow +him to cut a stick of timber on the Perkins Tract until a resurvey of +the line was made by government-appointed surveyors, and that would be, +when? + +Uncle Henry's money was tied up in the stumpage lease, or first payment +to the owners of the land. It was a big contract and he had expected to +pay his help and further royalties on the lease, from the sale of the +timber he cut on the tract. Besides, many valuable trees had been felled +before the injunction was served, and lay rotting on the ground. Every +month they lay there decreased their value. + +And now, it appeared, Gedney Raffer was doing all in his power to +influence old Toby to serve as a witness in his, Raffer's, interests. + +Had toby been willing to go into court and swear that the line of the +Perkins Tract was as Mr. Sherwood claimed, the court would have to +vacate the injunction and Uncle Henry could risk going ahead and cutting +and hauling timber from the tract. Uncle Henry believed Toby +knew exactly where the line lay, for he had been a landloper, or +timber-runner in this vicinity when the original survey was made, +forty-odd years before. + +It was plain to Nan, hiding in the bushes and watching the old man's +face, that he was dreadfully tempted. Working as hard as he might, +summer and winter alike, Toby Vanderwiller had scarcely been able to +support his wife and grandson. His occasional attacks of rheumatism so +frequently put him back. If Raffer took away the farm and the shelter +they had, what would become of them? + +Uncle Henry was so short of ready money himself that he could not assume +the mortgage if Raffer undertook to foreclose. + +“Oh, dear me! If Momsey would only write to me that she is really rich,” + thought Nan, “I'd beg her for the money. I'll tell her all about poor +Toby in my very next letter and maybe, if she gets all that money from +the courts in Scotland, she will let me give Toby enough to pay off the +mortgage.” + +She never for a moment doubted that Uncle Henry's contention about the +timber tract line was right. He must be correct, and old Toby must know +it! That is the way Nan Sherwood looked at the matter. + +But now, seeing Toby turning back along the corduroy road, and slowly +shuffling toward home, she stepped out of the hovering bushes and walked +hastily after him. She overtook him not many yards beyond the spot where +he had stood talking with Raffer. He looked startled when she spoke his +name. + +“Well! You air a sight for sore eyes, Sissy,” he said; but added, +nervously, “How in Joe Tunket did you git in the swamp? Along the road?” + +“Yes, sir,” said Nan. + +“Come right erlong this way?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Did ye meet anybody?” demanded old Toby, eyeing her sharply. + +“Mr. Raffer, driving his old buckskin horse. That's all.” + +“Didn't say nothin' to ye, did he?” asked Toby, curiously. + +“Not a word,” replied Nan, honestly. “I'm afraid of him and I hid in the +bushes till he had gone by.” + +“Huh!” sighed Toby, as though relieved. “Jest as well. Though Ged +wouldn't ha' dared touch ye, Sissy.” + +“Never mind. I'm here now,” said Nan, brightly. “And I want you to show +me your house and introduce me to Mrs. Vanderwiller.” + +“Sure. My ol' woman will be glad to see ye,” said the man, briskly. +“'Tain't more'n a mile furder on.” + +But first they came to a deserted place, a strip more than half a mile +wide, where the trees had been cut in a broad belt through the swamp. +All Nan could see was sawdust and the stumps of felled trees sticking +out of it. The sawdust, Toby said, was anywhere from two to twenty feet +deep, and there were acres of it. + +“They had their mill here, ye kin see the brick work yonder. They hauled +out the lumber by teams past my place. The stea'mill was here more'n +two years. They hauled the sawdust out of the way and dumped it in ev'ry +holler, jest as it come handy.” + +“What a lot there is of it!” murmured Nan, sniffing doubtfully at the +rather unpleasant odor of the sawdust. + +“I wish't 'twas somewhere else,” grunted Toby. + +“Why-so?” + +“Fire git in it and it'd burn till doomsday. Fire in sawdust is a mighty +bad thing. Ye see, even the road here is made of sawdust, four foot or +more deep and packed as solid as a brick walk. That's the way Pale Lick +went, sawdust afire. Ha'f the town was built on sawdust foundation an' +she smouldered for weeks before they knowed of it. Then come erlong a +big wind and started the blaze to the surface.” + +“Oh!” murmured Nan, much interested. “Didn't my Uncle Henry live there +then?” + +“I sh'd say he did,” returned Toby, emphatically. “Didn't he never tell +ye about it?” + +“No, sir. They never speak of Pale Lick.” + +“Well, I won't, nuther,” grunted old Toby. “'Taint pretty for a young +gal like you to hear about. Whush! Thar goes a loon!” + +A big bird had suddenly come into sight, evidently from some nearby +water-hole. It did not fly high and seemed very clumsy, like a duck or +goose. + +“Oh! Are they good to eat, Mr. Vanderwiller?” cried Nan. “Rafe brought +in a brace of summer ducks the other day, and they were awfully good, +the way Aunt Kate cooked them.” + +“Well!” drawled Toby, slyly, “I've hearn tell ye c'd eat a loon, ef +'twas cooked right. But I never tried it.” + +“How do you cook a loon, Mr. Vanderwiller?” asked Nan, interested in all +culinary pursuits. + +“Well, they tell me thet it's some slow process,” said the old man, +his eyes twinkling. “Ye git yer loon, pluck an' draw it, let it soak +overnight in vinegar an' water, vitriol vinegar they say is the best. +Then ye put it in the pot an' let it simmer all day.” + +“Yes?” queried the perfectly innocent Nan. + +“Then ye throw off that water,” Toby said, soberly, “and ye put on fresh +water an' let it cook all the next day.” + +“Oh!” + +“An' then ye throw in a piece of grin'stone with the loon, and set it +to bilin' again. When ye kin stick a fork in the grin'stone, the loon's +done!” + +Nan joined in Toby's loud laugh at this old joke, and pretty soon +thereafter they came to the hummock on which the Vanderwillers lived. + + + +Chapter XXII. ON THE ISLAND + +In the winter it was probably dreary enough; but now the beauty of the +swelling knoll where the little whitewashed house stood, with the tiny +fields that surrounded it, actually made Nan's heart swell and the tears +come into her eyes. + +It seemed to her as though she had never seen the grass so green as +here, and the thick wood that encircled the little farm was just a hedge +of blossoming shrubs with the tall trees shooting skyward in unbroken +ranks. A silver spring broke ground at the corner of the paddock fence. +A pool had been scooped out for the cattle to drink at; but it was not +muddied, and the stream tinkled down over the polished pebbles to the +wider, more sluggish stream that meandered away from the farm into the +depths of the swamp. + +Toby told her, before they reached the hummock, that this stream rose in +the winter and flooded all about the farm, so that the latter really was +an island. Unless the ice remained firm they sometimes could not drive +out with either wagon or sled for days at a time. + +“Then you live on an island,” cried Nan. + +“Huh! Ye might say so,” complained Toby. “And sometimes we feel like as +though we was cast away on one, too.” + +But the girl thought it must really be great fun to live on an island. + +They went up to the house along the bank of the clear stream. On the +side porch, vine-covered to the eaves, sat an old woman rocking in a low +chair and another figure in what seemed at a distance, to be a child's +wagon of wickerwork, but with no tongue and a high back to it. + +“Here's Gran'pop!” cried a shrill voice and the little wagon moved +swiftly to the edge of the steps. Nan almost screamed in fear as it +pitched downward. But the wheels did not bump over the four steps +leading to the ground, for a wide plank had been laid slantingly at that +side, and over this the wheels ran smoothly, if rapidly. + +“You have a care there, Corson!” shrilled the old lady after the +cripple. “Some day you'll break your blessed neck.” + +Nan thought he was a little boy, until they met. Then she was surprised +to see a young man's head set upon a shriveled child's body! Corson +Vanderwiller had a broad brow, a head of beautiful, brown, wavy hair, +and a fine mustache. He was probably all of twenty-five years old. + +But Nan soon learned that the poor cripple was not grown in mind, more +than in body, to that age. His voice was childish, and his speech and +manner, too. He was bashful with Nan at first; then chattered like a +six-year-old child to her when she had once gained his confidence. + +He wheeled himself about in the little express wagon very well indeed, +old Toby having rigged brakes with which he moved the wagon and steered +it. His arms and hands were quite strong, and when he wished to get back +on to the piazza, he seized a rope his grandfather had hung there, and +dragged himself, wagon and all, up the inclined plane, or gangplank, as +it might be called. + +He showed Nan all his treasures, and they included some very childish +toys, a number of them showing the mechanical skill of his grandfather's +blunt fingers. But among them, too, were treasures from the swamp and +woods that were both very wonderful and very beautiful. + +Old Toby had made Corson a neatly fitted cabinet in which were specimens +of preserved butterflies and moths, most of them of the gay and common +varieties; but some, Nan was almost sure, were rare and valuable. There +was one moth in particular, with spread wings, on the upper side of the +thorax of which was traced in white the semblance of a human skull. Nan +was almost sure that this must be the famous death's-head moth she had +read about in school; but she was not confident enough to say anything +to old Toby Vanderwiller. A few specimens of this rare insect have been +found in the swamps of America, although it was originally supposed to +be an Old World moth. + +Nan did say, however, to Toby that perhaps some of these specimens +might be bought by collectors. The pressed flowers were pretty but not +particularly valuable. In the museum at the Tillbury High School there +was a much finer collection from the Indiana swamps. + +“Sho!” said Toby, slowly; “I wouldn't wanter sell the boy's pretties. I +brung most on 'em home to him; but he mounted 'em himself.” + +Nan suspected that old Mrs. Vanderwiller had much to do with the neat +appearance of the cabinet. She was a quiet, almost a speechless, old +lady. But she was very kind and she set out her best for Nan's luncheon +before the girl from Tillbury returned home. + +“We ain't got much here on the island,” the old lady said; “but we do +love to have visitors. Don't we, Corson?” + +“Nice ones,” admitted the cripple, munching cake. + +He had heard something of what Nan suggested to Toby about the moths +and other specimens. So when the old lady was absent from the porch he +whispered: + +“Say, girl!” + +“Well?” she asked, smiling at him. + +“Is what's in that cabinet wuth as much as a dollar?” + +“Oh! I expect so,” said Nan. “More.” + +“Will you give me a dollar for 'em?” he asked, eagerly. + +“Oh, I couldn't! But perhaps I can write to somebody who would be +interested in buying some of your things, and for much more than a +dollar.” + +Corson looked disappointed. Nan asked, curiously: “Why do you want the +dollar?” + +“To git Gran'mom a silk dress,” he said promptly. “She's admired to have +one all her life, and ain't never got to git it yet.” + +“I'm sure that's nice of you,” declared Nan, warmly. “I'll try to sell +some of your collection.” + +“Well!” he jerked out. “It's got to be pretty soon, or she won't git to +wear it much. I heard her tell Gran'pop so.” + +This impressed Nan Sherwood as being very pitiful, for she was of a +sympathetic nature. And it showed that Corson Vanderwiller, even if he +was simple-minded, possessed one of the great human virtues, gratitude. + + + +Chapter XXIII. A MYSTERY + +On this, her first visit to the island in the swamp, Nan said nothing +to old Toby Vanderwiller about the line dispute between her uncle and +Gedney Raffer, which the old lumberman was supposed to be able to settle +if he would. + +Mrs. Vanderwiller insisted upon Toby's hitching up an old, broken-kneed +pony he owned, and taking her over the corduroy road to Pine Camp, where +she arrived before dark. To tell the truth, little Margaret Llewellen +was not the only person who thought it odd that Nan should want to go +to see the Vanderwillers in the heart of the tamarack swamp. Nan's uncle +and aunt and cousins considered their guest a little odd; but they made +no open comment when the girl arrived at home after her visit. + +Nan was full of the wonders she had seen, commonplace enough to her +relatives who had lived all their lives in touch with the beautiful and +queer things of Nature as displayed in the Michigan Peninsula. Perhaps +none but Tom appreciated her ecstasy over crippled Corson Vanderwiller's +collection. + +Rafe was inclined to poke good-natured fun at his young cousin for her +enthusiasm; but Tom showed an understanding that quite surprised Nan. +Despite his simplicity regarding some of the commonest things of the +great outside world, he showed that he was very observant of the things +about him. + +“Oh, Tom was always like that,” scoffed Rafe, with ready laughter at his +slow brother. “He'd rather pick up a bug any day and put it through a +cross-examination, than smash it under the sole of his boot.” + +“I don't think bugs were made to smash,” Tom said stoutly. + +“Whew! What in thunder were they made for?” demanded the mocking Rafe. + +“I don't think God Almighty made things alive just for us to make 'em +dead,” said Tom, clumsily, and blushing a deep red. + +Rafe laughed again. Rafe had read much more in a desultory fashion than +Tom. + +“Tom ought to be one of those Brahmas,” he said, chuckling. “They carry +a whisk broom to brush off any seat they may sit on before they sit +down, so's they sha'n't crush an ant, or any other crawling thing. +They're vegetarians, too, and won't take life in any form.” + +“Now, Rafe!” exclaimed his mother, who was never quite sure when her +younger son was playing the fool. “You know that Brahmas are hens. +I've got some in my flock those big white and black, lazy fowls, with +feathers on their legs.” + +Nan had to laugh at that as well as Rafe. “Brahma fowl, I guess, came +from Brahma, or maybe Brahmaputra, all right. But Rafe means Brahmans. +They're a religious people of India,” the girl from Tillbury said. + +“And maybe they've got it right,” Tom said stubbornly. “Why should we +kill unnecessarily?” + +Nan could have hugged him. At any rate, a new feeling for him was born +at that moment, and she applauded. Aunt Kate said: + +“Tom always was soft-hearted,” and her big son became silent. She +might as well have called him “soft-headed”; but Nan began better to +appreciate Tom's worth from that time on. + +Rafe remained in her eyes still the reckless, heroic figure he had +seemed when running over the logs the day of the timber drive. But +she began to confide in Tom after this evening of her return from the +tamarack swamp. + +However, this is somewhat in advance of the story. The pleasant evening +passed as usual until bedtime came for Nan. She retired to her east +chamber, for the windows of which Tom had made screens to keep out the +night-flying insects. No matter how tired she was at night there was one +thing Nan Sherwood seldom forgot. + +Possibly it was silly in a girl who was almost through her freshman year +at high school, but Nan brought out Beautiful Beulah and rocked her, and +hugged her, and crooned over her before she went to bed. She was such a +comfort! + +So Nan, on this evening, went first of all to the closet and reached +down to draw out the box in which she had kept the doll hidden ever +since coming to Pine Camp. + +It was not there! + +At first Nan Sherwood could not believe this possible. She dropped on +her knees and scrambled over the floor of her closet, reaching under the +hanging skirts and frocks, her fear rising, second by second. + +The box was not in its place. She arose and looked about her room +wildly. Of course, she had not left it anywhere else, that was out of +the question. + +She could scarcely believe that any member of the family had been in her +room, much less would disturb anything that was hers. Not even Aunt Kate +came to the east chamber often. Nan had insisted upon taking care of +the room, and she swept and dusted and cleaned like the smart little +housewife she was. Aunt Kate had been content to let her have her way in +this. + +Of course Nan never locked her door. But who would touch a thing +belonging to her? And her doll! Why, she was sure the family did not +even know she had such a possession. + +Almost wildly the girl ran out of her chamber and into the sitting +room, where the family was still gathered around the evening lamp, Rafe +cleaning his shot-gun, Tom reading slowly the local paper, published at +the Forks, Aunt Kate mending, and Uncle Henry sitting at the open window +with his pipe. + +“Oh, it's gone!” gasped Nan, as she burst into the room. + +“What's gone?” asked Aunt Kate, and Uncle Henry added: “What's happened +to you, honey-bird?” + +“My Beulah!” cried Nan, almost sobbing. “My Beulah, she's been taken!” + +“My mercy, child!” cried Aunt Kate, jumping up. “Are you crazy?” + +“Who's Beulah?” demanded Rafe, looking up from his gun and, Nan thought, +showing less surprise than the others. + +“My Beulah doll,” said Nan, too troubled now to care whether the family +laughed at her or not. “My Beautiful Beulah. Somebody's played a trick.” + +“A doll!” shouted Rafe, and burst into a chatter of laughter. + +“Mercy me, child!” repeated Aunt Kate. “I didn't know you had a doll.” + +“Got a baby rattle, too, Sissy?” chuckled Rafe. “And a ring to cut your +teeth on? My, my!” + +“Stop that, Rafe!” commanded his father, sternly, while Tom flushed and +glared angrily at his brother. + +“I didn't know you had a doll, Nannie,” said Mrs. Sherwood, rather +weakly. “Where'd you have it?” + +“In my closet,” choked Nan. “She's a great, big, beautiful thing! I know +somebody must be playing a joke on me.” + +“Nobody here, Nannie,” said Uncle Henry, with decision. “You may be sure +of that.” But he looked at Rafe sternly. That young man thought it the +better part of wisdom to say no more. + +In broken sentences the girl told her innocent secret, and why she had +kept the doll hidden. Aunt Kate, after, all, seemed to understand. + +“My poor dear!” she crooned, patting Nan's hand between her hard palms. +“We'll all look for the dolly. Surely it can't have been taken out of +the house.” + +“And who'd even take it out of her closet?” demanded Tom, almost as +stern as his father. + +“It surely didn't walk away of itself,” said Aunt Kate. + +She took a small hand lamp and went with Nan to the east chamber. They +searched diligently, but to no good end, save to assure Nan that Beulah +had utterly disappeared. + +As far as could be seen the screens at the windows of the bedroom had +not been disturbed. But who would come in from outside to steal Nan's +doll? Indeed, who would take it out of the closet, anyway? The girl +was almost sure that nobody had known she had it. It was strange, very +strange indeed. + +Big girl that she was, Nan cried herself to sleep that night over the +mystery. The loss of Beulah seemed to snap the last bond that held her +to the little cottage in Amity street, where she had spent all her happy +childhood. + + + +Chapter XXIV. THE SMOKING TREE + +Nan awoke to a new day with the feeling that the loss of her treasured +doll must have been a bad dream. But it was not. Another search of her +room and the closet assured her that it was a horrid reality. + +She might have lost many of her personal possessions without a pang; +but not Beautiful Beulah. Nan could not tell her aunt or the rest of +the family just how she felt about it. She was sure they would not +understand. + +The doll had reminded her continually of her home life. Although the +stay of her parents in Scotland was much more extended than they or Nan +had expected, the doll was a link binding the girl to her old home life +which she missed so much. + +Her uncle and aunt had tried to make her happy here at Pine Camp. As far +as they could do so they had supplied the love and care of Momsey and +Papa Sherwood. But Nan was actually ill for her old home and her old +home associations. + +On this morning, by herself in her bedroom, she cried bitterly before +she appeared before the family. + +“I have no right to make them feel miserable just because my heart, is, +breaking,” she sobbed aloud. “I won't let them see how bad I feel. But +if I don't find Beulah, I just know I shall die!” + +Could she have run to Momsey for comfort it would have helped, Oh, how +much! + +“I am a silly,” Nan told herself at last, warmly. “But I cannot help it. +Oh, dear! Where can Beulah have gone?” + +She bathed her eyes well in the cold spring water brought by Tom that +she always found in the jug outside her door in the morning, and removed +such traces of tears as she could; and nobody noticed when she went out +to breakfast that her eyelids were puffy and her nose a bit red. + +The moment Rafe caught sight of her he began to squall, supposedly like +an infant, crying: + +“Ma-ma! Ma-ma! Tum an' take Too-tums. Waw! Waw! Waw!” + +After all her hurt pride and sorrow, Nan would have called up a laugh +at this. But Tom, who was drinking at the water bucket, wheeled with the +full dipper and threw the contents into Rafe's face. That broke off the +teasing cousin's voice for a moment; but Rafe came up, sputtering and +mad. + +“Say! You big oaf!” he shouted. “What you trying to do?” + +“Trying to be funny,” said Tom, sharply. “And you set me the example.” + +“Now, boys!” begged Aunt Kate. “Don't quarrel.” + +“And, dear me, boys,” gasped Nan, “please don't squabble about me.” + +“That big lummox!” continued Rafe, still angry. “Because dad backs +him up and says he ought to lick me, he does this. I'm going to defend +myself. If he does a thing like that again, I'll fix him.” + +Tom laughed in his slow way and lumbered out. Uncle Henry did not hear +this, and Nan was worried. She thought Aunt Kate was inclined to side +with her youngest boy. Rafe would always be “the baby” to Aunt Kate. + +At any rate Nan was very sorry the quarrel had arisen over her. And she +was careful to say nothing to fan further the flame of anger between +her cousins. Nor did she say anything more about the lost doll. So the +family had no idea how heartsore and troubled the girl really was over +the mystery. + +It hurt her the more because she could talk to nobody about Beulah. +There was not a soul in whom she could confide. Had Bess Harley been +here at Pine Camp Nan felt that she could not really expect sympathy +from her chum at this time; for Bess considered herself quite grown up +and her own dolls were relegated to the younger members of her family. + +Nan could write to her chum, however, and did. She could write to +Momsey, and did that, too; not forgetting to tell her absent parents +about old Toby Vanderwiller, and his wife and his grandson, and of their +dilemma. If only Momsey's great fortune came true, Nan was sure that +Gedney Raffer would be paid off and Toby would no longer have the threat +of dispossession held over him. + +Nan Sherwood wrote, too, to Mr. Mangel, the principal of the Tillbury +High School, and told him about the collection the crippled grandson +of the old lumberman had made, mentioning those specimens which had +impressed her most. She had some hope that the strange moth might be +very valuable. + +Nan was so busy writing letters, and helping Aunt Kate preserve some +early summer fruit, that she did not go far from the house during the +next few days, and so did not see even Margaret Llewellen. The other +girl friends she had made at Pine Camp lived too far away for her to +visit them often or have them come to call on her. + +A long letter from Papa Sherwood about this time served to take Nan's +mind off the mystery, in part, at least. It was a nice letter and most +joyfully received by the girl; but to her despair it gave promise of no +very quick return of her parents from Scotland: + +“Those relatives of your mother's whom we have met here, Mr. Andrew +Blake's family, for instance, have treated us most kindly. They are, +themselves, all well-to-do, and gentlefolk as well. The disposal by +Old Hughie Blake, as he was known hereabout, of his estate makes no +difference to the other Blakes living near Emberon,” wrote Mr. Sherwood. + +“It is some kin at a distance, children of a half sister of Old Hughie, +who have made a claim against the estate. Mr. Andrew Blake, who is well +versed in the Scotch law, assures us these distant relatives have not +the shadow of a chance of winning their suit. He is so sure of this that +he has kindly offered to advance certain sums to your mother to tide us +over until the case is settled. + +“I am sending some money to your Uncle Henry for your use, if any +emergency should arise. You must not look for our return, my dear Nancy, +too soon. Momsey's health is so much improved by the sea voyage and the +wonderfully invigorating air here, that I should be loath to bring her +home at once, even if the matter of the legacy were settled. By the way, +the sum she will finally receive from Mr. Hugh Blake's estate will be +quite as much as the first letter from the lawyer led us to expect. Some +of your dearest wishes, my dear, may be realized in time.” + +“Oh! I can go to Lakeview Hall with Bess, after all!” cried Nan, aloud, +at this point. + +Indeed, that possibility quite filled the girl's mind for a while. +Nothing else in Papa Sherwood's letter, aside from the good news of +Momsey's improved health, so pleased her as this thought. She hastened +to write a long letter to Bess Harley, with Lakeview Hall as the text. + +Summer seemed to stride out of the forest now, full panoplied. After the +frost and snow of her early days at Pine Camp, Nan had not expected +such heat. The pools beside the road steamed. The forest was atune from +daybreak to midnight with winged denizens, for insect and bird life +seemed unquenchable in the Big Woods. + +Especially was this true of the tamarack swamp. It was dreadfully hot +at noontide on the corduroy road which passed Toby Vanderwiller's little +farm; but often Nan Sherwood went that way in the afternoon. Mr. Mangel, +the school principal, had written Nan and encouraged her to send a full +description of some of Corson Vanderwiller's collection, especially of +the wonderful death's-head moth, to a wealthy collector in Chicago. Nan +did this at once. + +So, one day, a letter came from the man and in it was a check for +twenty-five dollars. + +“This is a retainer,” the gentleman wrote. “I am much interested in your +account of the lame boy's specimens. I want the strangely marked moth +in any case, and the check pays for an option on it until I can come and +see his specimens personally.” + +Nan went that very afternoon to the tamarack swamp to tell the +Vanderwillers this news and give Toby the check. She knew poor Corson +would be delighted, for now he could purchase the longed-for silk dress +for his grandmother. + +The day was so hot and the way so long that Nan was glad to sit down +when she reached the edge of the sawdust strip, to rest and cool off +before attempting this unshaded desert. A cardinal bird--one of the +sauciest and most brilliant of his saucy and brilliant race, flitted +about her as she sat upon a log. + +“You pretty thing!” crooned Nan. “If it were not wicked I'd wish to have +you at home in a cage. I wish--” + +She stopped, for in following the flight of the cardinal her gaze +fastened upon a most surprising thing off at some distance from the +sawdust road. A single dead tree, some forty feet in height and almost +limbless, stood in solemn grandeur in the midst of the sawdust waste. It +had been of no use to the woodcutters and they had allowed the shell of +the old forest monarch to stand. Now, from its broken top, Nan espied a +thin, faint column of blue haze rising. + +It was the queerest thing! It was not mist, of course and she did not +see how it could be smoke. There was no fire at the foot of the tree, +for she could see the base of the bole plainly. She even got up and ran +a little way out into the open in order to see the other side of the +dead tree. + +The sky was very blue, and the air was perfectly still. Almost Nan was +tempted to believe that her eyes played her false. The column was almost +the color of the sky itself, and it was thin as a veil. + +How could there be a fire in the top of that tall tree? + +“There just isn't! I don't believe I see straight!” declared Nan to +herself, moving on along the roadway. “But I'll speak to Toby about it.” + + + +Chapter XXV. THE TEMPEST + +Nan, however, did not mention to Toby the haze rising from the dead +tree. In the first place, when she reached the little farm on the island +in the tamarack swamp, old Toby Vanderwiller was not at home. His wife +greeted the girl warmly, and Corson was glad to see her. When Nan spread +the check before him and told him what it was for, and what he could do +with so much money, the crippled boy was delighted. + +It was a secret between them that the grandmother was to have the black +silk dress that she had longed for all her married life; only Nan and +Corson knew that Nan was commissioned to get the check cashed and buy +the dress pattern at the Forks; or send to a catalogue house for it if +she could not find a suitable piece of goods at any of the local stores. + +Nan lingered, hoping that Toby would come home. It finally grew so late +that she dared not wait longer. She had been warned by Aunt Kate not to +remain after dusk in the swamp, nor had she any desire to do so. + +Moreover there was a black cloud rolling up from the west. That +was enough to make the girl hurry, for when it rained in the swamp, +sometimes the corduroy road was knee deep in water. + +The cloud had increased to such proportions when Nan was half way across +the sawdust desert that she began to run. She had forgotten all about +the smoking tree. + +Not a breath of air was stirring as yet; but there was the promise of +wind in that cloud. The still leaves on the bushes, the absence of bird +life overhead, the lazy drone of insects, portended a swift change soon. +Nan was weather-wise enough to know that. + +She panted on, stumbling through the loose sawdust, but stumbling +equally in the ruts; for the way was very rough. This road was lonely +enough at best; but it seemed more deserted than ever now. + +A red fox, his tail depressed, shot past her, and not many yards away. +It startled Nan, for it seemed as though something dreadful was about to +happen and the fox knew it and was running away from it. + +She could not run as fast as the fox; but Nan wished that she could. And +she likewise wished with all her heart that she would meet somebody. + +That somebody she hoped would be Tom. Tom was drawing logs from some +point near, she knew. A man down the river had bought some timber and +they had been cut a few weeks before. Tom was drawing them out of the +swamp for the man; and he had mentioned only that morning at breakfast +that he was working within sight of the sawdust tract and the corduroy +road. + +Nan felt that she would be safe with big, slow Tom. Even the thought of +thunder and lightning would lose some of its terrors if she could only +get to Tom. + +Suddenly she heard a voice shouting, then the rattle of chain harness. +The voice boomed out a stave of an old hymn: + +“On Jordan's stormy bank I stand, And cast a wishful eye.” + +“It's Tom!” gasped Nan, and ran harder. + +She was almost across the open space now. The cooler depths of the +forest were just ahead. Beyond, a road crossed the mainly-traveled swamp +track at right angles to it, and this was the path Tom followed. + +He was now coming from the river, going deeper into the swamp for +another log. Nan continued to run, calling to him at the top of her +voice. + +She came in sight of the young timberman and his outfit. His wagon +rattled so that he could not easily hear his cousin calling to him. He +sat on the tongue of the wagon, and his big, slow-moving horses jogged +along, rattling their chains in a jingle more noisy than harmonious. + +The timber cart was a huge, lumbering affair with ordinary cartwheels in +front but a huge pair behind with an extended reach between them; and +to the axle of the rear pair of wheels the timber to be transported +was swung off the ground and fastened with chains. Nan ran after the +rumbling cart and finally Tom saw her. + +“My mercy me!” gasped the boy, using one of his mother's favorite +expressions. “What you doing here, Nan?” + +“Chasing you, Tom,” laughed the girl. “Is it going to rain?” + +“I reckon. You'll get wet if it does.” + +“I don't care so much for that,” confessed Nan. “But I am so afraid of +thunder! Oh, there it comes.” + +The tempest muttered in the distance. Tom, who had pulled in his horses +and stopped, looked worried. “I wish you weren't here, Nan,” he said. + +“How gallant you are, I declare, Tommy Sherwood,” cried Nan, laughing +again, and then shuddering as the growl of the thunder was repeated. + +“Swamp's no place for a girl in a storm,” muttered the boy. + +“Well, I am here, Tommy; what are you going to do with me?” she asked +him, saucily. + +“If you're so scared by thunder you'd better begin by stopping your +ears,” he drawled. + +Nan laughed. Slow Tom was not often good at repartee. “I'm going to +stick by you till it's over, Tom,” she said, hopping up behind him on +the wagon-tongue. + +“Cracky, Nan! You'll get soaked. It's going to just smoke in a few +minutes,” declared the anxious young fellow. + +And that reminded Nan again of the smoking tree. + +“Oh, Tom! Do you know I believe there is a tree afire over yonder,” she +cried, pointing. + +“A tree afire?” + +“Yes. I saw it smoking.” + +“My mercy me!” exclaimed Tom again. “What do you mean?” + +Nan told him about the mystery. The fact that a column of smoke arose +out of the top of the dead tree seemed to worry Tom. Nan became alarmed. + +“Oh, dear, Tom! Do you really think it was afire?” + +“I, don't know. If it was afire, it is afire now,” he said. “Show me, +Nan.” + +He turned the horses out of the beaten track through the brush and +brambles, to the edge of the open place which had been heaped with +sawdust from the steam-mill. + +Just as they broke cover a vivid flash of lightning cleaved the black +cloud that had almost reached the zenith by now, and the deep rumble of +thunder changed to a sharp chatter; then followed a second flash and a +deafening crash. + +“Oh, Tom!” gasped Nan, as she clung to him. + +“The flash you see'll never hit you, Nan,” drawled Tom, trying to be +comforting. “Remember that.” + +“It isn't so much the lightning I fear as it is the thunder,” murmured +Nan, in the intermission. “It just so-o-ounds as though the whole house +was coming down.” + +“Ho!” cried Tom. “No house here, Nan.” + +“But-----” + +The thunder roared again. A light patter on the leaves and ground +announced the first drops of the storm. + +“Which tree was it you saw smoking?” asked the young fellow. + +Nan looked around to find the tall, broken-topped tree. A murmur that +had been rising in the distance suddenly grew to a sweeping roar. The +trees bent before the blast. Particles of sawdust stung their faces. The +horses snorted and sprang ahead. Tom had difficulty in quieting them. + +Then the tempest swooped upon them in earnest. + + + +Chapter XXVI. BUFFETED BY THE ELEMENTS + +Nan knew she had never seen it rain so hard before. The falling water +was like a drop-curtain, swept across the stage of the open tract of +sawdust. In a few minutes they were saturated to the skin. Nan could not +have been any wetter if she had gone in swimming. + +“Oh!” she gasped into Tom's ear. “It is the deluge!” + +“Never was, but one rain 't didn't clear up yet,” he returned, with +difficulty, for his big body was sheltering Nan in part, and he was +facing the blast. + +“I know. That's this one,” she agreed. “But, it's awful.” + +“Say! Can you point out that tree that smoked?” asked Tom. + +“Goodness! It can't be smoking now,” gasped Nan, stifled with rain and +laughter. “This storm would put out Vesuvius.” + +“Don't know him,” retorted her cousin. “But it'd put most anybody out, I +allow. Still, fire isn't so easy to quench. Where's the tree?” + +“I can't see it, Tom,” declared Nan, with her eyes tightly closed. She +really thought he was too stubborn. Of course, if there had been any +fire in that tree-top, this rain would put it out in about ten seconds. +So Nan believed. + +“Look again, Nan,” urged her cousin. “This is no funning. If there's +fire in this swamp.” + +“Goodness, gracious!” snapped Nan. “What a fuss-budget you are to be +sure, Tom. If there was a fire, this rain would smother it. Oh! Did it +ever pelt one so before?” + +Fortunately the rain was warm, and she was not much discomforted by +being wet. Tom still clung to the idea that she had started in his slow +mind. + +“Fire's no funning, I tell you,” he growled. “Sometimes it smoulders +for days and days, and weeks and weeks; then it bursts out like a +hurricane.” + +“But the rain” + +“This sawdust is mighty hard-packed, and feet deep,” interrupted Tom. +“The fire might be deep down.” + +“Why, Tom! How ridiculously you talk!” cried the girl. “Didn't I tell +you I saw the smoke coming out of the top of a tree? Fire couldn't be +deep down in the sawdust and the smoke come out of the tree top.” + +“Couldn't, heh?” returned Tom. “Dead tree, wasn't it?” + +“Oh, yes.” + +“Hollow, too, of course?” + +“I don't know.” + +“Might be hollow clear through its length,” Tom explained seriously. +“The butt might be all rotted out. Just a tough shell of a tree standing +there, and 'twould be a fine chimney if the fire was smouldering down at +its old roots.” + +“Oh, Tom! I never thought of such a thing,” gasped Nan. + +“And you don't see the tree now?” + +“Let me look! Let me look!” cried Nan, conscience-stricken. + +In spite of the beating rain and wind she got to her knees, still +clinging to her big cousin, and then stood upon the broad tongue of +the wagon. The horses stood still with their heads down, bearing the +buffeting of the storm with the usual patience of dumb beasts. + +A sheer wall of water seemed to separate them from every object out +upon the open land. Behind them the bulk of the forest loomed as another +barrier. Nan had really never believed that rain could fall so hard. It +almost took her breath. + +Moreover, what Tom said about the smoking tree began to trouble the +girl. She thought of the fire at Pale Lick, of which she had received +hints from several people. That awful conflagration, in which she +believed two children belonging to her uncle and aunt had lost their +lives, had started in the sawdust. + +Suddenly she cried aloud and seized Tom more tightly. + +“Cracky! Don't choke a fellow!” he coughed. + +“Oh, Tom!” + +“Well” + +“I think I see it.” + +“The tree that smoked?” asked her cousin. + +“Yes. There!” + +For the moment it seemed as though the downpour lightened. Veiled by the +still falling water a straight stick rose high in the air ahead of them. +Tom chirruped to the horses and made them, though unwilling, go forward. + +They dragged the heavy cart unevenly. Through the heavy downpour the +trail was hard to follow, and once in a while a rear wheel bumped over +a stump, and Nan was glad to drop down upon the tongue again, and cling +more tightly than ever to her cousin's collar. + +“Sure that's it?” queried Tom, craning his neck to look up into the +tall, straight tree. + +“I, I'm almost sure,” stammered Nan. + +“I, don't, see, any, smoke,” drawled Tom, with his head still raised. + +The rain had almost ceased, an intermission which would not be of long +duration. Nan saw that her cousin's prophecy had been true; the ground +actually smoked after the downpour. The sun-heated sawdust steamed +furiously. They seemed to be crossing a heated cauldron. Clouds of steam +rose all about the timber cart. + +“Why, Tommy!” Nan choked. “It does seem as though there must be fire +under this sawdust now.” + +Tom brought his own gaze down from the empty tree-top with a jerk. +“Hoo!” he shouted, and leaned forward suddenly to flick his off horse +with the whiplash. Just then the rear wheel on that side slumped down +into what seemed a veritable volcano. + +Flame and smoke spurted out around the broad wheel. Nan screamed. +The wind suddenly swooped down upon them, and a ball of fire, flaming +sawdust was shot into the air and was tossed twenty feet by a puff of +wind. + +“We're over an oven!” gasped Tom, and laid the whip solidly across the +backs of the frightened horses. + +They plunged. Another geyser of fire and smoke spurted from the hole +into which the rear wheel had slumped. Again and again the big horses +flung themselves into the collars in an endeavor to get the wheel out. + +“Oh, Tommy!” cried Nan. “We'll be burned up!” + +“No you won't,” declared her cousin, leaping down. “Get off and run, +Nan.” + +“But you--” + +“Do as I say!” commanded Tom. “Run!” + +“Where, where'll I run to?” gasped the girl, leaping off the tongue, +too, and away from the horses' heels. + +“To the road. Get toward home!” cried Tom, running around to the rear of +the timber cart. + +“And leave you here?” cried Nan. “I guess not, Mr. Tom!” she murmured. + +But he did not hear that. He had seized his axe and was striding toward +the edge of the forest. For a moment Nan feared that Tom was running +away as he advised her to do. But that would not be like Tom Sherwood! + +At the edge of the forest he laid the axe to the root of a sapling about +four inches through at the butt. Three strokes, and the tree was down. +In a minute he had lopped off the branches for twenty feet, then removed +the top with a single blow. + +As he turned, dragging the pole with him, up sprang the fire again from +the hollow into which the wheel of the wagon had sunk. It was a smoking +furnace down there, and soon the felloe and spokes would be injured by +the flames and heat. Sparks flew on the wings of the wind from out of +the mouth of the hole. Some of them scattered about the horses and they +plunged again, squealing. + +It seemed to Nan impossible after the recent cloudburst that the fire +could find anything to feed upon. But underneath the packed surface of +the sawdust, the heat of summer had been drying out the moisture for +weeks. And the fire had been smouldering for a long time. Perhaps for +yards and yards around, the interior of the sawdust heap was a glowing +furnace. + +Nan would not run away and Tom did not see her. As he came plunging +back to the stalled wagon, suddenly his foot slumped into the yielding +sawdust and he fell upon his face. He cried out with surprise or pain. +Nan, horrified, saw the flames and smoke shooting out of the hole into +which her cousin had stepped. For the moment the girl felt as if her +heart had stopped beating. + +“Oh, Tom! Oh, Tom!” she shrieked, and sprang toward him. + +Tom was struggling to get up. His right leg had gone into the yielding +mass up to his hip, and despite his struggles he could not get it out. +A long yellow flame shot out of the hole and almost licked his face. It, +indeed, scorched his hair on one side of his head. + +But Nan did not scream again. She needed her breath, all that she could +get, for a more practical purpose. Her cousin waved her back feebly, and +tried to tell her to avoid the fire. + +Nan rushed in, got behind him, and seized her cousin under the arms. To +lift him seemed a giant's task; but nevertheless she tried. + + + +Chapter XXVII. OLD TOBY IN TROUBLE + +The squealing and plunging of the horses, the rattling of their chains, +the shrieking of the wind, the reverberating cracks of thunder made +a deafening chorus in Nan's ears. She could scarcely hear what the +imperiled Tom shouted to her. Finally she got it: + +“Not that way! Pull sideways!” + +He beat his hands impotently upon the crust of sawdust to the left. Nan +tugged that way. Tom pulled, too, heaving his great body upward, and +scratching and scrambling along the sawdust with fingers spread like +claws. His right leg came out of the hole, and just then the rain +descended torrentially again. + +The flames from this opening in the roof of the furnace were beaten +down. Tom got to his feet, shaking and panting. He hobbled painfully +when he walked. + +But in a moment he seized upon the pole he had dropped and made for the +smoking timber cart. The terrified horses tried again and again to break +away; but the chain harnesses were too strong; nor did the mired wheel +budge. + +“Oh, Tom! Oh, Tom!” begged Nan. “Let us make the poor horses free, and +run ourselves.” + +“And lose my wagon?” returned her cousin, grimly. “Not much!” + +The rain, which continued to descend with tropical violence, almost beat +Nan to the ground; but Tom Sherwood worked furiously. + +He placed the butt of the lever he had cut under the hub of the great +wheel. There was a sound stump at hand to use as a fulcrum. Tom threw +himself upon the end of the lever. Nan ran to add her small weight to +the endeavor. The wheel creaked and began to rise slowly. + +The sawdust was not clinging, it was not like real mire. There was no +suction to hold the wheel down. Merely the crust had broken in and the +wheel had encountered an impediment of a sound tree root in front of it +so that, when the horses tugged, the tire had come against the root and +dragged back the team. + +Out poured the flames and smoke again, the flames hissing as they were +quenched by the falling water. Higher, higher rose the cart wheel. Nan, +who was behind her cousin, saw his neck and ears turn almost purple from +the strain he put in the effort to dislodge the wheel. Up, up it came, +and then----- + +“Gid-ap! 'Ap, boys! Yah! Gid-ap!” + +The horses strained. The yoke chains rattled. Tom gasped to Nan: + +“Take my whip! Quick! Let 'em have it!” + +The girl had always thought the drover's whip Tom used a very cruel +implement, and she wished he did not use it. But she knew now that it +was necessary. She leaped for the whip which Tom had thrown down and +showed that she knew its use. + +The lash hissed and cracked over the horses' backs. Tom voiced one last, +ringing shout. The cart wheel rose up, the horses leaped forward, and +the big timber cart was out of its plight. + +Flames and smoke poured out of the hole again. The rain dashing upon and +into the aperture could not entirely quell the stronger element. But the +wagon was safe, and so, too, were the two cousins. + +Tom was rather painfully burned and Nan began to cry about it. “Oh! Oh! +You poor, poor dear!” she sobbed. “It must smart you dreadfully, Tommy.” + +“Don't worry about me,” he answered. “Get aboard. Let's get out of +this.” + +“Are you going home?” + +“Bet you!” declared Tom. “Why, after this rain stops, this whole blamed +place may be in flames. Must warn folks and get out the fire guard.” + +“But the rain will put out the fire, Tom,” said Nan, who could not +understand even now the fierce power of a conflagration of this kind. + +“Look there!” yelled Tom, suddenly glancing back over her head as she +sat behind him on the wagon tongue. + +With a roar like an exploding boiler, the flames leaped up the heart of +the hollow tree. The bursted crust of the sawdust heap had given free +ingress to the wind, and a draught being started, it sucked the flames +directly up the tall chimney the tree made. + +The fire burst from the broken top. The flames met the falling rain as +though they were unquenchable. Indeed the clouds were scattering, and +second by second the downfall was decreasing. The tempest of rain was +almost over; but the wind remained to fan the flames that had now broken +cover in several spots, as well as through the tall and hollow tree. + +Tom hastened his team toward the main road that passed through the +tamarack swamp. At one end of it was Pine Camp; in the other direction, +after passing the knoll on which the Vanderwillers lived, the roadway +came out upon a more traveled road to the forks and the railroad. + +Pine Camp was the nearest place where help could be secured to beat down +the fire, if, indeed, this were at all possible. There was a telephone +line there which, in a roundabout way, could be made to carry the news +of the forest fire to all the settlements in the Big Woods and along the +railroad line. + +But Nan seized Tom's arm and shook it to call his attention as the +horses neared the road. + +“Tom! For goodness' sake!” she gasped. + +“What's the matter now?” her cousin demanded, rather sharply, for his +burns were painful. + +“Toby, the Vanderwillers! What will become of them?” + +“What d'you mean?” asked Tom, aghast. + +“That poor cripple! They can't get away, he and his grandmother. Perhaps +Toby hasn't come home yet.” + +“And the wind's that way,” Tom interrupted. + +It was indeed. The storm had come up from the west and the wind was +still blowing almost directly into the east. A sheet of flame flew from +the top of the old dead tree even as the boy spoke, and was carried +toward the thick forest. It did not reach it, and as the blazing brand +fell it was quenched on the wet surface of the sawdust. + +Nevertheless, the fire was spreading under the crust and soon the few +other dead trees left standing on the tract would burst into flame. As +they looked, the fire burst out at the foot of the tree and began to +send long tongues of flame licking up the shredded bark. + +The effect of the drenching rain would soon be gone and the fire would +secure great headway. + +“Those poor folks are right in the track of the fire, I allow,” admitted +Tom. “I wonder if he's got a good wide fire strip ploughed?” + +“Oh! I know what you mean,” Nan cried. “You mean all around the edge of +his farm where it meets the woods?” + +“Yes. A ploughed strip may save his buildings. Fire can't easily cross +ploughed ground. Only, if these woods get really ablaze, the fire will +jump half a mile!” + +“Oh no, Tom! You don't mean that?” + +“Yes, I do,” said her cousin, gloomily. “Tobe's in a bad place. You +don't know what a forest fire means, nor the damage it does, Nannie. I'm +right troubled by old Tobe's case.” + +“But there's no danger for Pine Camp, is there?” asked the girl, +eagerly. + +“Plenty of folks there to make a fire-guard. Besides, the wind's not +that way, exactly opposite. And she's not likely to switch around so +soon, neither. I, don't, know” + +“The folks at home ought to know about it,” Nan interrupted. + +“They'll know it, come dark,” Tom said briefly. “They'll be looking for +you and they'll see the blaze. Why! After dark that old dead tree will +look like a lighthouse for miles 'n' miles!” + +“I suppose it will,” agreed Nan. “But I do want to get home, Tom.” + +“Maybe the storm's not over,” said her cousin, cocking an eye towards +the clouded heavens. “If it sets in for a long rain (and one's due about +this time according to the Farmer's Almanac) it would keep the fire +down, put it out entirely, maybe. But we can't tell.” + +Nan sighed and patted his shoulder. “I know it's our duty to go to the +island, Tommy. You're a conscientious old thing. Drive on.” + +Tom clucked to the horses. He steered them into the roadway, but headed +away from home. Another boy with the pain he was bearing would not have +thought of the old lumberman and his family. They were the only people +likely to be in immediate danger from the fire if it spread. The cousins +might easily reach the Vanderwiller's island, warn them of the fire, and +return to town before it got very late, or before the fire crossed the +wood-road. + +They rumbled along, soon striking the corduroy road, having the thick +forest on either hand again. The ditches were running bank full. Over +a quagmire the logs, held down by cross timbers spiked to the sleepers, +shook under the wheels, and the water spurted up through the interstices +as the horses put down their heavy feet. + +“An awful lot of water fell,” Tom said soberly. + +“Goodness! The swamp is full,” agreed Nan. + +“We may have some trouble in reaching Toby's place,” the boy added. “But +maybe--” + +He halted in his speech, and the next instant pulled the horses down to +a willing stop. “Hark-a-that!” whispered Tom. + +“Can it be anybody crying? Maybe it's a wildcat,” said Nan, with a vivid +remembrance of her adventure in the snow that she had never yet told to +any member of the family. + +“It's somebody shouting, all right,” observed Tom. “Up ahead a way. +Gid-ap!” + +He hurried the horses on, and they slopped through the water which, in +places, flowed over the road, while in others it actually lifted the +logs from their foundation and threatened to spoil the roadway entirely. + +Again and again they heard the faint cry, a man's voice. Tom stood up +and sent a loud cry across the swamp in answer: + +“We're coming! Hold on! + +“Don't know what's the matter with him,” he remarked, dropping down +beside Nan again, and stirring the horses to a faster pace. “S'pose he's +got into a mud-hold, team and all, maybe.” + +“Oh, Tom! Maybe he'll be sucked right down into this awful mud.” + +“Not likely. There aren't many quicksands, or the like, hereabout. Never +heard tell of 'em, if there are. Old Tobe lost a cow once in some +slough.” + +They came to a small opening in the forest just then. Here a great tree +had been uprooted by the wind and leaned precariously over a quagmire +beside the roadway. Fortunately only some of the lower branches touched +the road line and Tom could get his team around them. + +Then the person in trouble came into sight. Nan and her cousin saw him +immediately. He was in the middle of the shaking morass waist deep in +the mire, and clinging to one of the small hanging limbs of the uprooted +tree. + +“Hickory splits!” ejaculated Tom, stopping the team. “It's old Tobe +himself! Did you ever see the like!” + + + +Chapter XXVIII. THE GIRL IN THE HOLLOW TREE + +Just why old Toby Vanderwiller was clinging to that branch and did not +try to wade ashore, neither Nan nor Tom could understand. But one thing +was plain: the old lumberman thought himself in danger, and every once +in a while he gave out a shout for help. But his voice was growing weak. + +“Hey, Tobe!” yelled Tom. “Why don't you wade ashore?” + +“There ye be, at last, hey?” snarled the old man, who was evidently just +as angry as he could be. “Thought ye'd never come. Hearn them horses +rattling their chains, must ha' been for an hour.” + +“That's stretching it some,” laughed Tom. “That tree hasn't been toppled +over an hour.” + +“Huh! Ye can't tell me nothin' 'beout that!” declared Toby. “I was right +here when it happened.” + +“Goodness!” gasped Nan. + +“Yep. And lemme tell ye, I only jest 'scaped being knocked down when she +fell.” + +“My!” murmured Nan again. + +“That's how I got inter this muck hole,” growled the old lumberman. “I +jumped ter dodge the tree, and landed here.” + +“Why don't you wade ashore?” demanded Tom again, preparing in a +leisurely manner to cast the old man the end of a line he had coiled on +the timber cart. + +“Yah!” snarled Toby. “Why don't Miz' Smith keep pigs? Don't ax fool +questions, Tommy, but gimme holt on that rope. I'm afraid ter let go the +branch, for I'll sink, and if I try ter pull myself up by it, the whole +blamed tree'll come down onter me. Ye see how it's toppling?” + +It was true that the fallen tree was in a very precarious position. When +Toby stirred at all, the small weight he rested on the branch made the +head of the tree dip perilously. And if it did fall the old man would +be thrust into the quagmire by the weight of the branches which overhung +his body. + +“Let go of it, Toby!” called Tom, accelerating his motions. “Catch +this!” + +He flung the coil with skill and Toby seized it. The rocking tree +groaned and slipped forward a little. Toby gave a yell that could have +been heard much farther than his previous cries. + +But Tom sank back on the taut rope and fairly jerked the old man out +of the miry hole. Scrambling on hands and knees, Toby reached firmer +ground, and then the road itself. + +Nan uttered a startled exclamation and cowered behind the cart. The +huge tree, groaning and its roots splintering, sagged down and, in +an instant, the spot there the old lumberman had been, was completely +covered by the interlacing branches of the uprooted tree. + +“Close squeal, that,” remarked Tom, helping the old man to his feet. + +Toby stared at them both, wiping the mire from his face as he did so. +He was certainly a scarecrow figure after his submersion in the mud; gut +Nan did not feel like laughing at him. The escape had been too narrow. + +“Guess the Almighty sent you just in time, Tom, my boy,” said Toby +Vanderwiller. “He must have suthin' more for the old man to do yet, +before he cashes in. And little Sissy, too. Har! Henry Sherwood's son +and Henry Sherwood's niece. Reckon I owe him a good turn,” he muttered. + +Nan heard this, though Tom did not, and her heart leaped. She hoped that +Toby would feel sufficient gratitude to help Uncle Henry win his case +against Gedney Raffer. But, of course, this was not the time to speak of +it. + +When the old lumberman heard about the fire in the sawdust he was quite +as excited as the young folk had been. It was fast growing dark now, but +it was impossible from the narrow road to see even the glow of the fire +against the clouded sky. + +“I believe it's goin' to open up and rain ag'in,” Toby said. “But if you +want to go on and plow me a fire-strip, Tommy, I'll be a thousand times +obleeged to you.” + +“That's what I came this way for,” said the young fellow briefly. “Hop +on and we'll go to the island as quickly as possible.” + +They found Mrs. Vanderwiller and the crippled boy anxiously watching the +flames in the tree top from the porch of the little house on the island. +Nan ran to them to relate their adventures, while Toby got out the plow +and Tom hitched his big horses to it. + +The farm was not fenced, for the road and forest bounded it completely. +Tom put the plow in at the edge of the wood and turned his furrows +toward it, urging the horses into a trot. It was not that the fire was +near; but the hour was growing late and Tom knew that his mother and +father would be vastly anxious about Nan. + +The young fellow made twelve laps, turning twelve broad furrows that +surely would guard the farm against any ordinary fire. But by the time +he was done it did not look as though the fire in the sawdust would +spread far. The clouds were closing up once more and it was again +raining, gently but with an insistence that promised a night of +downpour, at least. + +Old Mrs. Vanderwiller had made supper, and insisted upon their eating +before starting for Pine Camp. And Tom, at least, did his share with +knife and fork, while his horses ate their measure of corn in the +paddock. It was dark as pitch when they started for home, but Tom was +cheerful and sure of his way, so Nan was ashamed to admit that she was +frightened. + +“Tell yer dad I'll be over ter Pine Camp ter see him 'fore many days,” + Old Toby jerked out, as they were starting. “I got suthin' to say to +him, I have!” + +Tom did not pay much attention to this; but Nan did. Her heart leaped +for joy. She believed that Toby Vanderwiller's words promised help for +Uncle Henry. + +But she said nothing to Tom about it. She only clung to his shoulder as +the heavy timber cart rattled away from the island. + +A misty glow hung over the sawdust strip as they advanced; but now that +the wind had died down the fire could not spread. Beside the road the +glow worms did their feeble best to light the way; and now and then an +old stump in the swamp displayed a ghostly gleam of phosphorus. + +Nan had never been in the swamp before at night. The rain had driven +most of the frogs and other croaking creatures to cover. But now and +then a sudden rumble “Better-go-roun'!” or “Knee-deep! Knee-deep!” + proclaimed the presence of the green-jacketed gentlemen with the yellow +vests. + +“Goodness me! I'd be scared to death to travel this road by myself,” Nan +said, as they rode on. “The frogs make such awful noises.” + +“But frogs won't hurt you,” drawled Tom. + +“I know all that,” sighed Nan. “But they sound as if they would. There! +That one says, just as plain as plain can be, 'Throw 'im in! Throw 'im +in!” + +“Good!” chuckled Tom. “And there's a drunken old rascal calling: +'Jug-er-rum! Jug-er-rum!'!” + +A nighthawk, wheeling overhead through the rain, sent down her +discordant cry. Deep in a thicket a whip-poor-will complained. It was +indeed a ghostly chorus that attended their slow progress through the +swamp at Pine Camp. + +When they crossed the sawdust tract there was little sign of the fire. +The dead tree had fallen and was just a glowing pile of coals, fast +being quenched by the gently falling rain. For the time, at least, the +danger of a great conflagration was past. + +“Oh! I am so glad,” announced Nan, impetuously. “I was afraid it was +going to be like that Pale Lick fire.” + +“What Pale Lick fire?” demanded Tom, quickly. “What do you know about +that?” + +“Not much, I guess,” admitted his cousin, slowly. “But you used to live +there, didn't you?” + +“Rafe and I don't remember anything about it,” said Tom, in his quiet +way. “Rafe was a baby and I wasn't much better. Marm saved us both, so +we've been told. She and dad never speak about it.” + +“Oh! And Indian Pete?” whispered Nan. + +“He saved the whole of us--dad and all. He knew a way out through a +slough and across a lake. He had a dug-out. He got badly burned dragging +dad to the boat when he was almost suffocated with smoke,” Tom said +soberly. + +“'Tisn't anything we talk about much, Nan. Who told you?” + +“Oh, it's been hinted to me by various people,” said Nan, slowly. “But I +saw Injun Pete, Tom.” + +“When? He hasn't been to Pine Camp since you came.” + +Nan told her cousin of her adventure in the hollow near Blackton's +lumber camp. Tom was much excited by that. + +“Gracious me, Nan! But you are a plucky girl. Wait till Rafe hears about +it. And marm and dad will praise you for being so level-headed today. +Aren't many girls like you, Nan, I bet!” + +“Nor boys like you, Tom,” returned the girl, shyly. “How brave you were, +staying to pull that old wagon-wheel out of the fire.” + +“Ugh!” growled Tom. “A fat time I'd have had there if it hadn't been for +you helping me out of the oven. Cracky! I thought I was going to have my +leg burned to a cinder. + +“That would have been terrible!” shuddered Nan. “What would poor Aunt +Kate have said?” + +“We can't tell her anything about it,” Tom hastened to say. “You see, my +two older brothers, Jimmy and Alfred, were asleep in the garret of our +house at Pale Lick, and marm thought they'd got out. It wasn't until +afterward that she learned they'd been burned up with the house. She's +never got over it.” + +“I shouldn't think she would,” sighed Nan. + +“And you see she's awfully afraid of fire, even now,” said Tom. + +They rattled on over the logs of the road; here and there they came to +bad places, where the water had not gone down; and the horses were very +careful in putting their hoofs down upon the shaking logs. However, it +was not much over an hour after leaving the island that they spied the +lights of Pine Camp from the top of the easy rise leading out of the +tamarack swamp. + +They met Rafe with a lantern half way down the hill. Uncle Henry was +away and Aunt Kate had sent Rafe out to look for Nan, although she +supposed that the girl had remained at the Vanderwillers' until the rain +was over, and that Toby would bring her home. + +There was but one other incident of note before the three of them +reached the rambling house Uncle Henry had built on the outskirts of +Pine Camp. As they turned off the swamp road through the lane that ran +past the Llewellen cottage, Rafe suddenly threw the ray of his lantern +into a hollow tree beside the roadway. A small figure was there, and it +darted back out of sight. + +“There!” shouted Rafe. “I knew you were there, you little nuisance. What +did you run out of the house and follow me for, Mar'gret Llewellen?” + +He jumped in and seized the child, dragging her forth from the hollow of +the big tree. He held her, while she squirmed and screamed. + +“You lemme alone, Rafe Sherwood! Lemme alone!” she commanded. “I ain't +doin' nothin' to you.” + +“Well, I bet you are up to some monkey-shines, out this time of night,” + said Rafe, giving her a little shake. “You come on back home, Mag.” + +“I won't!” declared the girl. + +“Yes, do, Margaret,” begged Nan. “It's going to rain harder. Don't hurt +her, Rafe.” + +“Yah! You couldn't hurt her,” said Rafe. “She's as tough as a little +pine-knot, and don't you forget it! Aren't you, Mag?” + +“Lemme go!” repeated Margaret, angrily. + +“What did you chase down here after me for?” asked Rafe, the curious. + +“I, I thought mebbe you was comin' to hunt for something,” stammered the +girl. + +“So I was. For Nancy here,” laughed Rafe. + +“Thought 'twas somethin' of mine,” said the girl. “Lemme go now!” + +She jerked away her hand and scuttled into the house that they were then +just passing. + +“Wonder what the little imp came out to watch me for?” queried Rafe. + +After they had arrived at home and the excitement o the return was over; +after she and Tom had told as much of their adventures as they thought +wise, and Nan had retired to the east chamber, she thought again about +Margaret and her queer actions by the roadside. + +“Why, that tree is where Margaret hides her most precious possessions,” + said Nan, suddenly, sitting up in bed. “Why, what could it be she was +afraid Rafe would find there? Why can that child have hidden something +there that she doesn't want any of us to see?” + +Late as it was, and dark as it was, and stormy as the night was, she +felt that she must know immediately what Margaret Llewellen had hidden +in the hollow tree. + + + +Chapter XXIX. GREAT NEWS FROM SCOTLAND + +Nan put two and two together, and the answer came right. + +She got out of bed, lit her lamp again and began to dress. She turned +her light down to a dim glimmer, however, for she did not want her aunt +to look out of the window of her bedroom on the other side of the parlor +and catch a glimpse of her light. + +In the half darkness Nan made a quick toilet; and then, with her +raincoat on and hood over her head, she hesitated with her hand upon the +knob of the door. + +“If I go through the parlor and out the side door, Aunt Kate will hear +me,” thought Nan. “That won't do at all.” + +She looked at the further window. Outside the rain was pattering and +there was absolutely no light. In the pocket of her raincoat Nan had +slipped the electric torch she had brought from home, something of which +Aunt Kate cordially approved, and was always begging Uncle Henry to buy +one like it. + +The pocket lamp showed her the fastenings of the screen. Tom had made +it to slide up out of the way when she wanted to open or close the sash. +And, as far as she could see, any one could open it from the outside as +easily as from the room itself. + +“And that's just what she did,” decided Nan. “How foolish of me not to +think of it before.” + +With this enigmatical observation Nan prepared to leave the room by this +very means. She was agile, and the sill of the window was only three +feet from the ground. It was through this opening that she had helped +Margaret Llewellen into her room on the first occasion that odd child +had visited her. + +Nan jumped out, let the screen down softly, and hurried across the +unfenced yard to the road. She knew well enough when she reached the +public track, despite the darkness for the mirey clay stuck to her shoes +and made the walking difficult. + +She flashed her lamp once, to get her bearings, and then set off down +the lane toward the swamp road. There was not a light in any house she +passed, not even in Mr. Fen Llewellen's cottage. “I guess Margaret's +fast asleep,” murmured Nan, as she passed swiftly on. + +The rain beat down upon the girl steadily, and Nan found it shivery +out here in the dark and storm. However, her reason for coming, Nan +conceived, was a very serious one. This was no foolish escapade. + +By showing her light now and then she managed to follow the dark lane +without stepping off into any of the deep puddles which lay beside the +path. She came, finally, to the spot where Rafe had met her and Tom with +his lantern that evening. Here stood the great tree with a big hollow in +it, Margaret Llewellen's favorite playhouse. + +For a moment Nan hesitated. The place looked so dark and there might be +something alive in the hollow. + +But she plucked up courage and flashed her lamp into it. The white ray +played about the floor of the hollow. The other Llewellen children dared +not come here, for Margaret punished them if they disturbed anything +belonging to her. + +What Nan was looking for was not in sight. She stepped inside, and +raised the torch. The rotting wood had been neatly scooped out, and +where the aperture grew smaller at the top a wide shelf had been made by +the ingenious Margaret. Nan had never been in this hide-out before. + +“It must be here! It must be here!” she kept telling herself, and stood +on her tiptoes to feel along the shelf, which was above her head. + +Nan discovered nothing at first. She felt along the entire length of the +shelf again. Nothing! + +“I know better!” she almost sobbed. “My dear, beautiful.” + +She jumped up, feeling back on the shelf with her right hand. Her +fingers touched something, and it was not the rotting wood of the tree! + +“It's there!” breathed the excited girl. She flashed her lamp around, +searching for something to stand upon. There in the corner was a roughly +made footstool. + +In a moment Nan had the footstool set in position, and had stepped upon +it. Her hand darted to the back of the shelf. There was a long box, a +pasteboard box. + +Nan dropped her lamp with a little scream of ecstasy, and of course the +light went out. But she had the long box clasped in her arms. She could +not wait to get home with it, but tumbled off the stool and sat down +upon it, picked up the torch, held it so the round spot-light gave her +illumination, and untied the string. + +Off came the cover. She peeped within. The pink and white loveliness of +Beulah's wax features peered up at her. + +In fifteen minutes Nan was back in her room, without being discovered by +anybody, and with the doll safely clasped in her arms. Indeed, she went +to bed a second time that night with her beloved playmate lying on the +pillow beside her, just as she had done when a little girl. + +“I suppose I'm foolish,” she confessed to Aunt Kate the next morning +when she told her about it. “But I loved Beulah so much when I was +little that I can't forget her now. If I go to Lakeview Hall I'm going +to take her with me. I don't care what the other girls say!” + +“You are faithful in your likes, child,” said Aunt Kate nodding. “'Tis a +good trait. But I'd like to lay that Marg'ret Llewellen across my knee, +for her capers.” + +“And I didn't think she cared for dolls,” murmured Nan. + +But it was young Bob who betrayed the mysterious reason for his sister's +act. + +“Huh!” he said, with a boy's disgust for such things. “Mag's crazy about +pretty faces, if they're smooth, an' pink. She peeked into that Sherwood +gal's room and seed her playin' doll; then she had ter have it for +herself 'cause it was so pretty and had a smooth face, not like the +kids' dolls that Aunt Matildy buyed.” + +Poor little Margaret was greatly chagrined at the discovery of her +secret. She ran away into the woods whenever she saw Nan coming, for a +long time thereafter. It took weeks for the girl from Tillbury to regain +the half-wild girl's confidence again. + +Nan was just as busy and happy as she could be, considering the +uncertain news from Scotland and Uncle Henry's unfortunate affair with +Gedney Raffer. She helped Aunt Kate with the housework early every +morning so that they might both hurry into the woods to pick berries. + +Pine Camp was in the midst of a vast huckleberry country, and at the +Forks a cannery had been established. Beside, the Forks was a big +shipping centre for the fresh berries. + +Uncle Henry bought crates and berry “cups,” and sometimes the whole +family picked all day long in the berry pasture, taking with them a cold +luncheon, and eating it picnic fashion. + +It was great fun, Nan thought, despite the fact that she often came home +so wearied that her only desire was to drop into bed. But the best part +of it, the saving grace of all this toil, was the fact that she was +earning money for herself! Account was faithfully kept of every cup of +berries she picked, and, when Uncle Henry received his check from the +produce merchant to whom he shipped the berries, Nan was paid her share. + +These welcome earnings she saved for a particular purpose, and for no +selfish one, you may be sure. Little Margaret Llewellen still ran from +her and Nan wished to win the child back; so she schemed to do this. + +After all, there was something rather pitiful in the nature of the child +who so disliked any face that was “wizzled,” but loved those faces that +were fair and smooth. + +Margaret only possessed a feeling that is quite common to humanity; she +being such a little savage, she openly expressed an emotion that many of +us have, but try to hide. + +The Llewellen children picked berries, of course, as did most of the +other neighbors. Pine Camp was almost a “deserted village” during the +season when the sweet, blue fruit hung heavy on the bushes. + +Sometimes the Sherwood party, and the Llewellens, would cross each +others' paths in the woods, or pastures; but little Margaret always +shrank into the background. If Nan tried to surprise her, the half wild +little thing would slip away into the deeper woods like one of its own +denizens. + +Near the river one day Margaret had an experience that should have +taught her a lesson, however, regarding wandering alone in the forest. +And the adventure should, too, have taught the child not to shrink so +from an ugly face. + +Nan had something very important to tell Margaret. Her savings had +amounted to quite a goodly sum and in the catalog of a mail-order +house she had found something of which she wished to secure Margaret's +opinion. The child, as usual, ran away when they met, and even Bob could +not bring her back. + +“She's as obstinate as dad's old mu-el,” grunted the disgusted boy. +“Can't do a thing with her, Nan Sherwood.” + +“I'll just get her myself!” declared Nan, laughing, and she started into +the thicker woods to circumvent Margaret. She did not follow the river +as the smaller girl had, but struck into the bush, intending to circle +around and head Margaret off. + +She had not pushed her way through the clinging vines and brush for ten +minutes before she heard somebody else in the jungle. She thought it was +the little girl, at first; then she caught sight of a man's hat and knew +that Margaret did not wear a hat at all. + +“Goodness! Who can that be?” thought Nan. She was a little nervous about +approaching strange people in the wood; although at this season there +was nothing to apprehend from stragglers, there were so many berry +pickers within call. + +Nan did not seek to overtake the man, however, and would have kept on +in her original direction, had she not heard a cry and a splitting crash +toward the river bank. Some accident had happened, and when Nan heard +the scream repeated, she was sure that the voice was that of Margaret. + +So she set off directly, on a run, tearing her dress and scratching her +hands and face, but paying no attention to either misfortune. She only +wanted to get to the scene of the accident and lend her aid, if it was +needed. + +And it would have been needed if it had not been for the man whose hat +she had seen a few moments before. He made his passage through the bush +much quicker than could Nan, and when the latter reached an opening +where she could see the river, the stranger was just leaping into the +deep pool under the high bank. + +It was plain to be seen what had happened. A sycamore overhung the +river and somebody had climbed out upon a small branch to reach a few +half-ripened grapes growing on a vine that ran up the tree. + +The branch had split, drooping downward, and the adventurous +grape-gatherer had been cast into the water. + +“Oh, Margaret!” screamed Nan, confident that it was the reckless child +that was in peril. + +She hurried to the brink of the low bluff, from which the rescuer had +plunged. He had already seized the child (there was an eddy here under +the bank) and was striking out for the shore. Nan saw his wet face, with +the bedraggled hair clinging about it. + +It was the awfully scarred face of Injun Pete; but to the excited Nan, +at that moment, it seemed one of the most beautiful faces she had ever +seen! + +The Indian reached the bank, clung to a tough root, and lifted up the +gasping Margaret for Nan to reach. The girl took the child and scrambled +up the bank again; by the time she was at the top, Injun Pete was beside +her. + +“She not hurt, Little missy,” said the man, in his soft voice, and +turning his face so that Nan should not see it. “She just scared.” + +Margaret would not even cry. She was too plucky for that. When she got +her breath she croaked: + +“Put me down, Nan Sherwood. I ain't no baby.” + +“But you're a very wet child,” said Nan, laughing, yet on the verge of +tears herself. “You might have been drowned, you WOULD have been had it +not been for Mr. Indian Pete.” + +“Ugh!” whispered Margaret. “I seen him when I come up out o' that nasty +water. I wanted to go down again.” + +“Hush, Margaret!” cried Nan, sternly. “You must thank him.” + +The man was just then moving away. He shook himself like a dog coming +out of the stream, and paid no further attention to his own wet +condition. + +“Wait, please!” Nan called after him. + +“She all right now,” said the Indian. + +“But Margaret wants to thank you, don't you, Margaret?” + +“Much obleeged,” said the little girl, bashfully. “You air all right, +you air.” + +“That all right, that all right,” said the man, hurriedly. “No need to +thank me.” + +“Yes, there is,” said Nan, insistently. “Come here, please. Margaret +wants to kiss you for saving her life.” + +“Oh!” The word came out of Margaret's lips like an explosion. Nan stared +very sternly at her. “If you don't,” she said in a low tone, “I'll tell +your father all about how you came to fall into the river.” + +Under this threat Margaret became amenable. She puckered up her lips +and stretched her arms out toward Indian Pete. The man stumbled back and +fell on his knees beside the two girls. Nan heard the hoarse sob in his +throat as he took little Margaret in his arms. + +“Bless you! Bless you!” he murmured, receiving the kiss right upon his +scarred cheek. But Nan saw that Margaret's eyes were tightly closed as +she delivered the caress, per order! + +The next moment the man with the scarred face had slipped away and +disappeared in the forest. They saw him no more. + +However, just as soon as the catalog house could send it, Margaret +received a beautiful, pink-cheeked, and flaxen-haired Doll, not as fine +as Beulah, but beautiful enough to delight any reasonable child. + +Nan had won back Margaret's confidence and affection. + +Meanwhile the hot summer was fast passing. Nan heard from her chum, Bess +Harley, with commendable regularity; and no time did Bess write without +many references to Lakeview Hall. + +Nan, advised by her former teacher in Tillbury, had brought her books to +Pine Camp, and had studied faithfully along the lines of the high school +work. She was sure she could pass quite as good an entrance examination +for Lakeview Hall as Bess could. + +And at last good news came from Scotland: + +“I am not quite ready to bring Momsey home,” Papa Sherwood wrote. “But +the matter of her fortune is at least partially settled. The claims of +the other relatives have been disallowed. Mr. Andrew Blake is prepared +to turn over to your Momsey a part of her wonderful fortune. The rest +will come later. She will tell you all about it herself. + +“What I wish to say to you particularly in this letter,” pursued Mr. +Sherwood, “is, that arrangements have been made for you to attend +Lakeview Hall this coming semester. You will meet your friend, Elizabeth +Harley, in Chicago, and will go with her to the school. I am writing by +this mail to the principal of the Hall. Mr. Harley has made all other +necessary arrangements for you.” + +“Oh!” cried Nan, clasping her hands. “It's too good to be true! It can't +be possible! I just know I'll wake up in a minute and find all this an +exciting dream, and that's all!” + +But Nan was wrong on that point, as the reader will see if her further +adventures are followed in the next volume of the series, entitled, “Nan +Sherwood at Lakeview Hall, or, The Mystery of the Haunted Boathouse.” + +While Nan was still intensely excited over this letter from Scotland, +Toby Vanderwiller drove up to the Sherwood house behind his broken-kneed +pony. This was the first time any of the Sherwoods had seen him since +the day of the big storm and the fire in the sawdust. + + + +Chapter XXX. OFF FOR LAKEVIEW HALL + +Nan ran out immediately to speak to the old lumberman; but Toby was +calling for Uncle Henry: + +“Hey, Hen! Hen Sherwood! Come out yere,” he cried. + +Uncle Henry halloaed from the stables, and came striding at the call. +Nan reached the old rattletrap wagon first. + +“Oh, Mr. Vanderwiller!” she said. “I am glad to see you! And how is your +wife and Corson?” + +He looked down at her reflectively, and for a moment did not say a word. +Then he swallowed something and said, jerkily: + +“An' you're the one that done it all, Sissy! The ol' woman an' the boy +air as chipper as bluejays. An' they air a honin' for a sight on you.” + +“Yes. I haven't been over lately. But that man from Chicago came, didn't +he?” + +“I sh'd say 'yes'! He come,” said Toby, in awe. “An' what d'ye s'pose? +He done buyed a heap of Corson's spec'mens an' paid him more'n a hundred +dollars for 'em. And that ain't countin' that there dead-head butterfly +ye made sech a time about. + +“I reckoned,” pursued Toby, “that you was right crazy about that there +bug. One bug's as bad as another to my way of thinkin'. But it seems +that Chicago feller thinked dif'rent.” + +“It really was one of the very rare death's-head moths?” cried Nan, +delighted. + +“So he said. And he was willin' ter back up his belief with cold cash,” + declared Toby, smiting his leg for emphasis. “He paid us harnsome for +it; and he said he'd take a lot more spec'mens if-- + +“Har! Here ye be, Hen,” he added, breaking off to greet Nan's uncle. “I +got suthin' to say to you. I kin say it now, for I ain't beholden ter +nobody. With what me and the ol' woman had scrimped and saved, an' what +this feller from Chicago give Corson, I done paid off my debt to ol' Ged +Raffer, an' the little farm's free and clear.” + +“I'm glad to hear it, Tobe,” Uncle Henry declared, shaking hands with +the old lumberman again. “I certain sure am glad to hear it! I'm pleased +that you shouldn't have that worry on your mind any longer.” + +“And it has been a worry,” said Old Toby, shaking his head. “More'n you +think for. Ye see, it snarled me all up so's I warn't my own master.” + +“I see.” + +“Ye see, Ged was allus after me to go inter court an' back up his claim +ag'in you on that Perkins Tract.” + +“I see,” said Henry Sherwood again, nodding. + +“On the other hand, you wanted me, if I knowed which was right, to +witness, too. If I'd witnessed for Ged, ev'rybody wuld ha' thought I +done it because he had a mortgage on the farm.” + +“I s'pose so,” admitted Uncle Henry. + +“Or, if I helped you, they'd ha' thought you'd bribed me--mebbe helped +me git square with Ged.” + +“I couldn't. Too poor just now,” said Uncle Henry, grimly. “But I'd the +mind for it, Toby.” + +“Well, there ye be. Whichever way the cat jumped, I'd lost the respect +of the community,” said the old lumberman. “But now I am independent, I +don't give a dern!” + +Mr. Sherwood looked at him expectantly. Toby's “wizzled” face shone. + +“I got a debt owin' to that leetle gal you got here, and somethin' to +pay off to Tommy, too. But money won't do it, ef I had money. I am goin' +to tell what I know about that boundary, though, Hen, and it will do YOU +good! I can find another old feller, livin' down Pale Lick way, that can +corroborate my evidence. + +“You can git that injunction vacated at once, Hen, if you want, and put +your axe-men right back into the Perkins Tract to work. That's what I +come 'round to tell ye.” + +Aunt Kate was moved to tears, an unusual expression of emotion on her +part. Being of pioneer stock, and having suffered much in the past, +Nan's aunt was not easily moved. Uncle Henry was delighted. It was a +great day for the Sherwoods. + +It was another great day when, a week later, the roan ponies were +brought to the door and Nan's trunk was strapped upon the back of the +buckboard. Uncle Henry was to drive her to the train; but she would +travel alone to Chicago to meet her chum, Bess Harley. + +“And go to Lakeview Hall! I never did really expect I'd get there,” Nan +sighed, as she clung to Aunt Kate's neck. “It almost makes me forget +that Momsey and Papa Sherwood are not at home yet. + +“But, my dear!” she added, “if such a thing could be, you and Uncle +Henry have taken the place of my own dear parents all these months I +have been at Pine Camp. I've had a dee-lightful time. I'll never forget +you all. I love you, love you, love you.” + +The roan ponies started on the jump. The boys cheered her from the +corner of the house, having bashfully remained in the background. Even +Margaret Llewellen and her impish brother, Bob, appeared and shrilly +bade her goodbye. + +Nan was off for school, and wonderful adventures lay before her! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp, by Annie Roe Carr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP *** + +***** This file should be named 2691-0.txt or 2691-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/9/2691/ + +Produced by Justin Philips + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site 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. diff --git a/2691-0.zip b/2691-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..16d263d --- /dev/null +++ b/2691-0.zip diff --git a/2691-h.zip b/2691-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8544da1 --- /dev/null +++ b/2691-h.zip diff --git a/2691-h/2691-h.htm b/2691-h/2691-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..48cf2d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/2691-h/2691-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8366 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp, by Annie Roe Carr + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp, by Annie Roe Carr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp + or, The Old Lumberman's Secret + +Author: Annie Roe Carr + +Release Date: December 27, 2008 [EBook #2691] +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP *** + + + + +Produced by Justin Philips, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP + </h1> + <h2> + or, The Old Lumberman's Secret + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Annie Roe Carr + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter I. </a> THE YELLOW + POSTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter II. </a> THE + COTTAGE ON AMITY STREET <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter III. + </a> "FISHING” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter + IV. </a> SWEEPING CLEAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> + Chapter V. </a> GREAT EXPECTATIONS <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter VI. </a> A SPRAT FOR A HERRING + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter VII. </a> A VISTA + OF NEW FORTUNES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter VIII. </a> TWO + IMPORTANT HAPPENINGS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter IX. + </a> ON THE WAY TO THE WILDERNESS <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0010"> Chapter X. </a> GEDNEY RAFFER <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> Chapter XI. </a> PINE CAMP AT LAST + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> Chapter XII. </a> "HOME + WAS NEVER LIKE THIS” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> Chapter XIII. + </a> MARGARET LLEWELLEN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> + Chapter XIV. </a> AT THE LUMBER CAMP <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0015"> Chapter XV. </a> A CAT AND HER KITTENS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> Chapter XVI. </a> "INJUN + PETE” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> Chapter XVII. </a> SPRING + IN THE BIG WOODS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> Chapter XVIII. </a> AT + DEAD MAN'S BEND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> Chapter XIX. </a> OLD + TOBY VANDERWILLER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> Chapter XX. </a> NAN'S + SECRET <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> Chapter XXI. </a> IN + THE TAMARACK SWAMP <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> Chapter XXII. + </a> ON THE ISLAND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> + Chapter XXIII. </a> A MYSTERY <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0024"> Chapter XXIV. </a> THE SMOKING TREE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> Chapter XXV. </a> THE + TEMPEST <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> Chapter XXVI. </a> BUFFETED + BY THE ELEMENTS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> Chapter XXVII. </a> OLD + TOBY IN TROUBLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> Chapter XXVIII. + </a> THE GIRL IN THE HOLLOW TREE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0029"> Chapter XXIX. </a> GREAT NEWS FROM + SCOTLAND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> Chapter XXX. </a> OFF + FOR LAKEVIEW HALL <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + Chapter I. THE YELLOW POSTER + </h2> + <p> + “Oh, look there, Nan!” cried Bess Harley suddenly, as they turned into + High Street from the avenue on which Tillbury's high school was situated. + </p> + <p> + “Look where?” queried Nan Sherwood promptly. “Up in the air, down on the + ground or all around?” and she carried out her speech in action, finally + spinning about on one foot in a manner to shock the more staid Elizabeth. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nan!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bess!” mocked her friend. + </p> + <p> + She was a rosy-cheeked, brown-eyed girl, with fly-away hair, a blue + tam-o'-shanter set jauntily upon it, and a strong, plump body that she had + great difficulty in keeping still enough in school to satisfy her + teachers. + </p> + <p> + “Do behave, Nan,” begged Bess. “We're on the public street.” + </p> + <p> + “How awful!” proclaimed Nan Sherwood, making big eyes at her chum. “Why + folks know we're only high-school girls, so, of course, we're crazy! + Otherwise we wouldn't BE high-school girls.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” cried Bess, interrupting. “Do be reasonable, Nan. And look + yonder! What do you suppose that crowd is at the big gate of the Atwater + Mills?” + </p> + <p> + Nan Sherwood's merry face instantly clouded. She was not at all a + thoughtless girl, although she was of a sanguine, cheerful temperament. + </p> + <p> + The startled change in her face amazed Bess. + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear!” the latter cried. “What is it? Surely, there's nobody hurt in + the mills? Your father——-” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid, Bess dear, that it means there are a great many hurt in the + mills.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nan! How horridly you talk,” cried Bess. “That is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Not hurt in the machinery, not mangled by the looms,” Nan went on to say, + gravely. “But dreadfully hurt nevertheless, Bess. Father has been + expecting it, I believe. Let's go and read the poster.” + </p> + <p> + “Why it is a poster, isn't it?” cried Bess. “What does it say?” + </p> + <p> + The two school girls, both neatly dressed and carrying their bags of text + books, pushed into the group before the yellow quarter-sheet poster pasted + on the fence. + </p> + <p> + The appearance of Nan and Bess was distinctly to their advantage when + compared with that of the women and girls who made up the most of the + crowd interested in the black print upon the poster. + </p> + <p> + The majority of these whispering, staring people were foreigners. All bore + marks of hard work and poverty. The hands of even the girls in the group + were red and cracked. It was sharp winter weather, but none wore gloves. + </p> + <p> + If they wore a head-covering at all, it was a shawl gathered at the throat + by the clutch of frost-bitten fingers. There was snow on the ground; but + few wore overshoes. + </p> + <p> + They crowded away from the two well-dressed high-school girls, looking at + them askance. Bess Harley scarcely noticed the mill-hands' wives and + daughters. She came of a family who considered these poor people little + better than cattle. Nan Sherwood was so much interested in the poster that + she saw nothing else. It read: + </p> + <p> + NOTICE: Two weeks from date all departments of these mills will be closed + until further notice. Final payment of wages due will be made on January + 15th. Over-supply of our market and the prohibitive price of cotton make + this action a necessity. ATWATER MILLS COMPANY. December 28th. + </p> + <p> + “Why, dear me!” murmured Bess. “I thought it might really be something + terrible. Come on, Nan. It's only a notice of a vacation. I guess most of + them will be glad to rest awhile.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is going to pay for their bread and butter while the poor + creatures are resting?” asked Nan seriously, as the two girls moved away + from the group before the yellow poster. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, Nan!” her chum cried. “You do always think of the most dreadful + things. It troubles me to know anything about poverty and poor people. I + can't help them, and I don't want to know anything about them.” + </p> + <p> + “If I didn't know that you are better than your talk, Bess,” said Nan, + still gravely, “I'd think you a most callous person. You just don't + understand. These poor people have been fearing this shut-down for months. + And all the time they have been expecting it they have been helpless to + avert it and unable to prepare for it.” + </p> + <p> + “They might have saved some of their wages, I suppose,” said Bess. “I + heard father say the other night how much money the mills paid out in a + year to the hands, some perfectly en<i>or</i>mous sum.” + </p> + <p> + “But just think how many people that has to be divided among,” urged Nan. + “Lots of the men earn only eight or nine dollars a week, and have families + to support.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, they don't have to be supported as we are,” objected the + easy-minded Bess. “Anyway my father says frugality should be taught to the + poor just the same as reading and writing. They ought to learn how to + save.” + </p> + <p> + “When you earn only just enough to supply your needs, and no more, how can + you divide your income so as to hoard up any part of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! Don't ask questions in political economy out of school, Nan!” + cried Bess, forgetting that she had started the discussion herself. “I + just HATE that study, and wish we didn't have to take it! I can't answer + that question, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll answer it then,” declared Nan. “If you are a mill-hand your stomach + won't let you save money. There probably won't be a dozen families + affected by this shut-down who have more than ten dollars saved.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness! You don't mean that that's true? Why, dad gives me that much to + spend on myself each month,” Bess cried. “The poor things! Even if they + are frowsy and low, I am sorry for them. But, of course, the shut-down + doesn't trouble you, Nan. Not personally, I mean. Your father has had a + good position for so many years——-” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not at all sure that it won't trouble us,” Nan interposed gravely. + “But of course we are not in danger of starvation.” + </p> + <p> + She felt some delicacy about entirely confiding in Bess on the subject. + Nan had heard the pros and cons of the expected closing of the mills + discussed at home almost every day for weeks past; but family secrets + should never be mentioned outside the family circle, as Nan very well + knew. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” signed Bess, whose whole universe revolved around a central sun + called Self, as is the case with many girls brought up by indulgent + parents. “I hope, dear, that this trouble won't keep you from entering + Lakeview with me next fall.” + </p> + <p> + Nan laughed. “There never was a chance of my going with you, Bess, and + I've told you so often enough——-” + </p> + <p> + “Now, don't you say that, Nan Sherwood!” cried her chum. “I've just made + up my mind that you shall go, and that's all there is to it! You've just + got to go!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to kidnap me and bear me off to that ogre's castle, whether or + not?” + </p> + <p> + “It's the very nicest school that ever was,” cried Bess. “And such a + romantic place.” + </p> + <p> + “Romantic?” repeated Nan curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed! A great big stone castle overlooking Lake Michigan, a + regular fortress, they say. It was built years ago by Colonel Gilpatrick + French, when he came over from Europe with some adventurous Irishmen who + thought all they had to do was to sail over to Canada and the whole + country would be theirs for the taking.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness me! I've read something about that,” said Nan, interested. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Lakeview Hall, as the school is called, was built by that rich + Colonel French. And they say there are dungeons under it.” + </p> + <p> + “Where they keep their jams and preserves, now, I suppose?” laughed Nan. + </p> + <p> + “And secret passages down to the shore of the lake. And the great hall + where the brave Irishmen used to drill is now the assembly hall of the + school.” + </p> + <p> + “Sounds awfully interesting,” admitted Nan. + </p> + <p> + “And Dr. Beulah Prescott, who governs the hall, the preceptress, you know, + is really a very lovely lady, my mother says,” went on the enthusiastic + Bess. “MY mother went to school to her at Ferncliffe.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bess,” Nan said warmly, “It must be a perfectly lovely place! But I + know I can never go there.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you say that! Don't you say that!” cried the other girl. “I won't + listen to you! You've just got to go!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you'll have to kidnap me, then,” repeated Nan, with a rueful + smile. “I'm very sure that my father won't be able to afford it, + especially now that the mills will close.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nan! I think you're too mean,” wailed her friend. “It's my pet + project. You know, I've always said we should go to preparatory school + together, and then to college.” + </p> + <p> + Nan's eyes sparkled; but she shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “We sat together in primary school, and we've always been in the same + grade through grammar and into high,” went on Bess, who was really very + faithful in her friendships. “It would just break my heart, Nan, if we + were to be separated now.” + </p> + <p> + Nan put her arm about her. They had reached the corner by Bess's big house + where they usually separated after school. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you cry, honey!” Nan begged her chum. “You'll find lots of nice + girls at that Lakeview school, I am sure. I'd dearly love to go with you, + but you might as well understand right now, dear, that my folks are poor.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor!” gasped Bess. + </p> + <p> + “Too poor to send me to Lakeview,” Nan went on steadily. “And with the + mills closing as they are, we shall be poorer still. I may have to get a + certificate as Bertha Pike did, and go to work. So you mustn't think any + more about my going to that beautiful school with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! I won't listen to you another moment, Nan Sherwood!” cried Bess, + and sticking her fingers in her ears, she ran angrily away and up the walk + to the front door. + </p> + <p> + Nan walked briskly away toward Amity Street. She did not turn back to wave + her hand as usual at the top of the hill. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter II. THE COTTAGE ON AMITY STREET + </h2> + <p> + The little shingled cottage stood back from the street, in a deeper yard + than most of its neighbors. It was built the year Nan was born, so the + roses, the honeysuckle, and the clematis had become of stalwart growth and + quite shaded the front and side porches. + </p> + <p> + The front steps had begun to sag a little; but Mr. Sherwood had blocked + them up. The front fence had got out of alignment, and the same able + mechanic had righted it and set the necessary new posts. + </p> + <p> + The trim of the little cottage on Amity Street had been painted twice + within Nan's remembrance; each time her father had done the work in his + spare time. + </p> + <p> + Now, with snow on the ground and frozen turf peeping out from under the + half-melted and yellowed drifts, the Sherwood cottage was not so + attractive as in summer. Yet it was a cozy looking house with the early + lamplight shining through the kitchen window and across the porch as Nan + approached, swinging her schoolbooks. + </p> + <p> + Papa Sherwood called it, with that funny little quirk in the corner of his + mouth, “a dwelling in amity, more precious than jewels or fine gold.” + </p> + <p> + And it was just that. Nan had had experience enough in the houses of her + school friends to know that none of them were homes like her own. + </p> + <p> + All was amity, all was harmony, in the little shingled cottage on this + short by-street of Tillbury. + </p> + <p> + It was no grave and solemn place where the natural outburst of childish + spirits was frowned upon, or one had to sit “stiff and starched” upon + stools of penitence. + </p> + <p> + No, indeed! Nan had romped and played in and about the cottage all her + life. She had been, in fact, of rather a boisterous temperament until + lately. + </p> + <p> + Her mother's influence was always quieting, and not only with her little + daughter. Mrs. Sherwood's voice was low, and with a dear drawl in it, so + Nan declared. + </p> + <p> + She had come from the South to Northern Illinois, from Tennessee, to be + exact, where Mr. Sherwood had met and married her. She had grace and + gentleness without the languor that often accompanies those qualities. + </p> + <p> + Her influence upon both her daughter and her husband was marked. They + deferred to her, made much of her, shielded her in every way possible from + all that was rude or unpleasant. + </p> + <p> + Yet Mrs. Sherwood was a perfectly capable and practical housekeeper, and + when her health would allow it she did all the work of the little family + herself. Just now she was having what she smilingly called “one of her + lazy spells,” and old Mrs. Joyce came in to do the washing and cleaning + each week. + </p> + <p> + It was one of Mrs. Sherwood's many virtues that she bore with a smile + recurrent bodily ills that had made her a semi-invalid since Nan was a + very little girl. But in seeking medical aid for these ills, much of the + earnings of the head of the household had been spent. + </p> + <p> + The teakettle was singing when Nan entered the “dwelling in amity”, and + her mother's low rocker was drawn close to the side-table on which the + lamp stood beside the basket of mending. + </p> + <p> + Although Mrs. Sherwood could not at present do her own laundry-work, she + insisted upon darning and patching and mending as only she could darn and + patch and mend. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sherwood insisted that a sock always felt more comfortable on his foot + after “Momsey” had darned it than when it was new. And surely she was a + very excellent needlewoman. + </p> + <p> + This evening, however, her work had fallen into her lap with an idle + needle sticking in it. She had been resting her head upon her hand and her + elbow on the table when Nan came in. But she spoke in her usual bright way + to the girl as the latter first of all kissed her and then put away her + books and outer clothing. + </p> + <p> + “What is the good word from out of doors, honey?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Nan's face was rather serious and she could not coax her usual smile into + being. Her last words with Bess Harley had savored of a misunderstanding, + and Nan was not of a quarrelsome disposition. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid there isn't any real good word to be brought from outside + tonight, Momsey,” she confessed, coming back to stand by her mother's + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Can that be possible, Daughter!” said Mrs. Sherwood, with her low, + caressing laugh. “Has the whole world gone wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I missed in two recitations and have extras to make up, in the + first place,” rejoined Nan ruefully. + </p> + <p> + “And what else?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Bess and I didn't have exactly a falling out; but I couldn't help + offending her in one thing. That's the second trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “And is there a 'thirdly,' my dear?” queried little Mrs. Sherwood + tranquilly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, yes! The worst of all!” cried Nan. “The yellow poster is up at + the mills.” + </p> + <p> + “The yellow poster?” repeated her mother doubtfully, not at first + understanding the significance of her daughter's statement. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You know. When there's anything bad to announce to the hands the + Atwater Company uses yellow posters, like a small-pox, or typhoid warning. + The horrid thing! The mills shut down in two weeks, Momsey, and no knowing + when they will open again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear!” was the little woman's involuntary tribute to the + seriousness of the announcement. + </p> + <p> + In a moment she was again her usual bright self. She drew Nan closer to + her and her own brown eyes, the full counterpart of her daughter's, + winkled merrily. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what let's do, Nan,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we do, Momsey?” repeated the girl, rather lugubriously. + </p> + <p> + “Why, let's not let Papa Sherwood know about it, it will make him feel so + bad.” + </p> + <p> + Nan began to giggle at that. She knew what her mother meant. Of course, + Mr. Sherwood, being at the head of one of the mill departments, would know + all about the announcement of the shut-down; but they would keep up the + fiction that they did not know it by being particularly cheerful when he + came home from work. + </p> + <p> + So Nan giggled and swallowed back her sobs. Surely, if Momsey could + present a cheerful face to this family calamity, she could! + </p> + <p> + The girl ran her slim fingers into the thick mane of her mother's coiled + hair, glossy brown hair through which only a few threads of white were + speckled. + </p> + <p> + “Your head feels hot, Momsey,” she said anxiously. “Does it ache?” + </p> + <p> + “A wee bit, honey,” confessed Mrs. Sherwood. + </p> + <p> + “Let me take the pins out and rub your poor head, dear,” said Nan. “You + know, I'm a famous 'massagist.' Come do, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “If you like, honey.” + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that, a little later, when Mr. Sherwood came home with feet + that dragged more than usual on this evening, he opened the door upon a + very beautiful picture indeed. + </p> + <p> + His wife's hair was “a glory of womanhood,” for it made a tent all about + her, falling quite to the floor as she sat in her low chair. Out of this + canopy she looked up at the brawny, serious man, roguishly. + </p> + <p> + “Am I not a lazy, luxurious person, Papa Sherwood?” she demanded. “Nan is + becoming a practical maid, and I presume I put upon the child dreadfully, + she is good-natured, like you, Robert.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, I know our Nan gets all her good qualities from me, Jessie,” said + her husband. “If she favored you she would, of course, be a very hateful + child.” + </p> + <p> + He kissed his wife tenderly. As Nan said, he always “cleaned up” at the + mills and “came home kissable.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to be just next door to an angel, if I absorbed the virtues of + both my parents,” declared Nan briskly, beginning to braid the wonderful + hair which she had already brushed. “I often think of that.” + </p> + <p> + Her father poked her tentatively under the shoulder blades with a blunt + forefinger, making her squirm. + </p> + <p> + “I don't feel the wings sprouting yet, Nancy,” he said, in his dry way. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not, yet!” exclaimed the girl. “I'd have to have a new winter coat + if you did, and I know we can't afford that just now.” + </p> + <p> + “You never said a truer word, Nan,” replied Mr. Sherwood, his voice + dropping to a less cheerful level, as he went away to change his coat and + light the hanging lamp in the dining room where the supper table was + already set. + </p> + <p> + Mother and daughter looked at each other rather ruefully. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me!” whispered Nan. “I never do open my mouth but I put my foot + in it!” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness!” returned her mother, much amused. “That is an acrobatic feat + that I never believed you capable of, honey.” + </p> + <p> + “We-ell! I reminded Papa Sherwood of our hard luck instead of being bright + and cheerful like you.” + </p> + <p> + “We will give him a nice supper, honey, and make him forget his troubles. + Time enough to call to order the ways and means committee afterward.” Her + husband came back into the kitchen as Nan finished arranging the hair. + “Come, Papa Sherwood!” cried the little lady. “Hot biscuit; the last of + the honey; sweet pickles; sliced cold ham; and a beautiful big plum cake + that our Nan made this morning before school time, her own self. You MUST + smile at all those dainties.” + </p> + <p> + And the husband and father smiled. They all made an effort to help each + other. But they knew that with the loss of his work would doubtless come + the loss of the home. During the years that had elapsed, Mr. Sherwood had + paid in part for the cottage; but now the property was deteriorating + instead of advancing in value. He could not increase the mortgage upon it. + Prompt payment of interest half-yearly was demanded. And how could he meet + these payments, not counting living expenses, when his income was entirely + cut off? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sherwood was forty-five years old, an age at which it is difficult for + a man to take up a new trade, or to obtain new employment at his old one. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter III. “FISHING” + </h2> + <p> + Nan told of Bess Harley's desire to have her chum accompany her to + Lakeview Hall the following autumn, as a good joke. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I'll be in some good situation by that time,” she said to her + mother, confidentially, “helping, at least, to support myself instead of + being a burden upon father and you.” + </p> + <p> + “It's very unselfish of you to propose that, honey,” replied her mother. + “But, perhaps, such a sacrifice as the curtailment of your education will + not be required of you.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my DEAR!” gasped Nan. “I couldn't go to Lakeview Hall. It would + cost, why! a pile!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know how much a pile is, translated into coin of the realm, + honey,” responded Mrs. Sherwood with her low, sweet laugh. “But the only + thing we can give our dear daughter, your father and I, is an education. + That you MUST have to enable you to support yourself properly when your + father can do no more for you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I s'pose I've already had as much education as most girls in Tillbury + get. So many of them go into the mills and factories at my age. If they + can get along, I suppose I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” begged her mother quickly. “Don't speak of such a thing. I + couldn't bear to have you obliged to undertake your own support in any + such way. + </p> + <p> + “Both your father and I, honey, had the benefit of more than the ordinary + common-school education. I went three years to the Tennessee Training + College; I was prepared to teach when your father and I met and married. + He obtained an excellent training for his business in a technical college. + We hoped to give our children, if we were blessed with them, an even + better start in life than we had. + </p> + <p> + “Had your little brother lived, honey,” added Mrs. Sherwood tenderly, “we + should have tried to put him through college, and you, as well. It would + have been something worthwhile for your father to work for. But I am + afraid all these years that his money has been wasted in attempts to + benefit my health.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Momsey! Don't say it, that way,” urged Nan. “What would we ever do + without you? But I sometimes think how nice it would be had I been a boy, + my own brother, for instance. A boy can be so much more help than a girl.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame!” cried her mother, laughing. “Do you dare admit a boy is + smarter than a girl, Nan?” + </p> + <p> + “Not smarter. Only better able to do any kind of work, I guess. They + wouldn't let me work in the file shop, or drive a grocery wagon.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness! Listen to the child!” gasped Mrs. Sherwood. “I should hope not! + Why, honey, is your mind running continually on such dreadful things? I am + afraid your father and I allow you to hear us talk too frequently about + family matters. You must not assume the family's burdens at your age.” + </p> + <p> + There was that trend to Nan Sherwood's character, however. With all her + blithesomeness and high spirits she was inclined to be serious in thought. + </p> + <p> + This conversation occurred several days after the evening when, on their + way home from school, Nan and her school chum, Bess Harley, had read the + yellow poster at the gate of the Atwater Mills. + </p> + <p> + The district surrounding the mills, in which most of the hands lived, had + put on an aspect of mourning. Some of the workmen and their families had + already packed up and gone. Most of the houses occupied by the hands were + owned by the Atwater Company, and if the poor people remained till January + 15th, the wages due them then would be eaten up by the rent of the + tenements. + </p> + <p> + So they were wise to leave when they could. Many who remained would be a + burden upon the taxpayers of Tillbury before the winter was over. + </p> + <p> + Nan and her folks were not in such a sad situation as the laborers, of + course. Mr. Sherwood had a small sum in bank. He had, too, a certain + standing in the community and a line of credit at the stores that he might + have used. + </p> + <p> + Debt, however, save that upon their house, he had fought to keep out of + all his married life. That his equity in the Amity Street cottage was so + small was not his fault; but he owed not any man. + </p> + <p> + “Now we must go fishing,” Mrs. Sherwood said, in her sprightly way, when + the little family really discussed the unfortunate situation after the + announcement of the shut-down of the mills was made public. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness, Momsey! What a reckless creature you are,” laughed Mr. + Sherwood. “Waste our precious time in such employment, and in the dead of + winter, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Papa Sherwood, I don't mean that kind of fishing at all!” cried the + little woman gaily. “We are going to fish for employment for you, perhaps + for a new home.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” gasped Nan. The thought of deserting the little cottage on Amity + Street was a dreadful shock. + </p> + <p> + “We must face that possibility,” said her mother firmly. “It may be. + Tillbury will see very hard times now that the mills are closed. Other + mills and shops will follow suit.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true, Momsey,” agreed the husband and father. + </p> + <p> + “I am a very logical person, am I not?” said the smiling little lady. + </p> + <p> + “But the fishing?” cried Nan curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes. I am coming to that,” said her mother. “The fishing, to be sure! + Why, we are going to write letters to just everybody we know, and some we + only know by hearsay, and find out if there isn't a niche for Papa + Sherwood somewhere outside Tillbury.” + </p> + <p> + “So we can!” cried Nan, clapping her hands. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid there is general depression in my line of business + everywhere,” suggested Mr. Sherwood. “For some years the manufacturers + have been forcing cotton goods upon a false market. And the recent attempt + to help the cotton growers by boosting the price of raw cotton will come + near to ruining the mills and mill workers. It is always so. In an attempt + to benefit one class of the people another class is injured.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, never mind politics, sir!” cried his little wife. “We poor, weak + women aren't supposed to understand such things. Only when Nan and I get + the vote, and all the other millions of women and girls, we will have no + class legislation. 'The greatest good for the greatest number' will be our + motto.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sherwood only smiled. He might have pointed out that in that very + statement was the root of all class legislation. He knew his wife's + particular ideas were good, however, her general political panacea was + rather doubtful. He listened thoughtfully as she went on: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we must fish for a new position for papa. We may have to go away + from here. Perhaps rent the house. You know, we have had good offers for + it.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” admitted Mr. Sherwood. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” sighed Nan, but below her breath so that Momsey and Papa + Sherwood did not hear the sigh. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to write to Cousin Adair MacKenzie, in Memphis. He is quite + prominent in business there,” pursued Mrs. Sherwood. “We might find a + footing in Memphis.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sherwood looked grave, but said nothing. He knew that the enervating + climate of the Southern river city would never do for his wife. Change of + climate might benefit her greatly; the doctors had all said so of late; + but not that change. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” continued Nan's mother, “there is your brother, Henry, up in + Michigan.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I remember Uncle Henry,” cried Nan. “Such a big, big man!” + </p> + <p> + “With a heart quite in keeping with the size of his body, honey,” her + mother quickly added. “And your Aunt Kate is a very nice woman. Your uncle + has lumber interests. He might find something for your father there.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll write to Hen, Jessie,” Mr. Sherwood said decisively. “But a lumber + camp is no place for you. Let's see, his mail address is Hobart Forks, + isn't it? Right in the heart of the woods. If you weren't eaten up by + black gnats, you would be by ennui,” and he chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness!” cried Mrs. Sherwood, making big eyes at him. “Are those a new + kind of mosquito? Ennui, indeed! Am I a baby? Is Nan another?” + </p> + <p> + “But think of Nan's education, my dear,” suggested Mr. Sherwood. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to work and help the family instead of going to school any + longer,” Nan declared. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, Daughter, not yet,” her father said quickly. “However, I will + write to Hen. He may be able to suggest something.” + </p> + <p> + “It might be fun living in the woods,” Nan said. “I'm not afraid of gnats, + or mosquitoes, or, or on-wees!” + </p> + <p> + She chanced to overhear her father and Dr. Christian talking the next day + on the porch, and heard the wise old physician say: + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure I could countenance that, Robert. What Jessie needs is an + invigorating, bracing atmosphere. A sea voyage would do her the greatest + possible good.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps a trip to Buffalo, down the lakes?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! That's merely an old woman's home-made plaster on the wound. + Something more drastic. Salt air. A long, slow voyage, overseas. It often + wracks the system, but it brings the patient to better and more stable + health. Jessie may yet be a strong, well woman if we take the right course + with her.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Mr. Sherwood wrote to his brother. He had to do so, it + seemed. There was no other course open to him. + </p> + <p> + And while he fished in that direction, Momsey threw out her line toward + Memphis and Adair MacKenzie. Mr. Sherwood pulled in his line first, + without much of a nibble, it must be confessed. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Bob,” the elder Sherwood wrote: “Things are flatter than a + stepped-on pancake with me. I've got a bunch of trouble with old Ged + Raffer and may have to go into court with him. Am not cutting a stick of + timber. But you and Jessie and the little nipper,” (“Consider!” interjected + Nan, “calling me 'a little nipper'! What does he consider a big + 'nipper'?”) “come up to Pine Camp. Kate and I will be mighty glad to have + you here. Tom and Rafe are working for a luckier lumberman than I, and + there's plenty of room here for all hands, and a hearty welcome for you + and yours as long as there's a shot in the locker.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just like Hen,” Nan's father said. “He'd divide his last crust + with me. But I don't want to go where work is scarce. I must go where it + is plentiful, where a man of even my age will be welcome.” + </p> + <p> + “Your age, Papa Sherwood! How you talk,” drawled Nan's mother in her + pretty way. “You are as young as the best of 'em yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Employers don't look at me through your pretty eyes, Momsey,” he + returned, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said his wife, still cheerfully, “my fishing seems to be + resultless yet. Perhaps the bait's gone off the hook. Had I better haul in + the line and bait again? I was always doing that when I went fishing with + Adair and his brothers, years ago, when I was a little girl.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband shook his head. “Have patience, Jessie,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He had few expectations from the Memphis letter; yet there was a most + surprising result from it on the way, something which by no possibility + could the little family in the Amity Street cottage have suspected. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IV. SWEEPING CLEAN + </h2> + <p> + “My goodness me!” ejaculated Bess Harley. “Talk about the 'leaden wings of + Time.' Why! Time sweeps by us on electrically-driven, ball-bearing + pinions. Here's another week gone, Nan, and tomorrow's Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Nan agreed. “Time flies all too quickly, for me, anyway. The mills + have been closed a week now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! That's all I hear,” complained Bess. “Those tiresome old mills. + Our Maggie's sister was crying in the kitchen last night because her Mike + couldn't get a job now the mills were closed, and was drinking up all the + money they had saved. That's what the mill-hands do; their money goes to + the saloon-keepers!” + </p> + <p> + “The proportion of their income spent by the laboring class for alcoholic + beverages is smaller by considerable than that spent by the well-to-do for + similar poison!” quoted Nan decisively. “Mike is desperate, I suppose, + poor fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “My goodness me!” cried Bess again. “You are most exasperating, Nan + Sherwood. Mike's case has nothing to do with political Economy, and I do + wish you'd drop that study out of school——” + </p> + <p> + “I have!” gasped Nan, for just then her books slipped from her strap; “and + history, rhetoric, and philosophical readings along with it,” and she + proceeded cheerfully to pick up the several books mentioned. + </p> + <p> + “You can't mean,” Bess said, still severely, “that you won't go to + Lakeview with me, Nan?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you wouldn't keep saying that, Bess,” Nan Sherwood cried. “Is it + my fault? Don't you suppose I'd love to, if I could? We have no money. + Father is out of work. There is no prospect of other work for him in + Tillbury, he says, and,” Nan continued desperately, “how do you suppose I + can go to a fancy boarding school under these circumstances?” + </p> + <p> + “Why——-” + </p> + <p> + For once Elizabeth was momentarily silenced. Suddenly her face brightened. + “I tell you!” she exclaimed. “I'll speak to my father about it. He can fix + it so that you will be able to go to the Hall with me, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to see myself an object of charity!” Nan cried, with heat. “I, + guess, not! What I can't earn, or my father can't give me, I'll go + without, Bess. That's all there is to that!” + </p> + <p> + Bess stared at her with quivering lips. “You can't be so mean, Nan,” she + faltered. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not mean!” denied the other. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to know what you call it? Why, father'd never miss your tuition + money in the world. And I know he'd pay your way if I asked him and told + him how bad I felt about your not going.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a dear, Bess!” declared Nan, impulsively hugging her friend again. + “But you mustn't ask him, honey. It wouldn't be right, and I couldn't + accept. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you understand, honey, that I have some pride in the matter? So + have Papa Sherwood and Momsey. What they can't do for me their own selves + I wouldn't want anybody to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that sounds awfully silly to me, Nan!” said Bess. “Why not take all + you can get in this world? I'm sure I should.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know what you are saying,” Nan returned seriously. “And, then, + you are not poor, so you can afford to say it, and even do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor! I'm getting to hate that word,” cried Bess stormily. “It never + bothered me before, much. We're not poor and none of our friends were + poor. Not until those old mills closed. And now it seems all I hear is + about folks being POOR. I hate it!” + </p> + <p> + “I guess,” said Nan ruefully, “you don't hate it half as much as those of + us who have to suffer it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm just going to find some way of getting you to Lakeview Hall, my + dear,” Bess rejoined gloomily. “Why! I won't want to go myself if you + don't go, Nan.” + </p> + <p> + Her friend thought she would better not tell Bess just then that the + prospect was that she, with her father and mother, would have to leave + Tillbury long before the autumn. Mr. Sherwood was trying to obtain a + situation in Chicago, in a machine shop. He had no hope of getting another + foreman's position. + </p> + <p> + Nothing had been heard from Mr. Adair MacKenzie, of Memphis. Mrs. Sherwood + wanted to write again; but her husband begged her not to. He had a proper + pride. It looked to him as though his wife's cousin did not care to be + troubled by the necessities of his relations. + </p> + <p> + “We'll get along!” was Mr. Sherwood's repeated and cheerful statement. + “Never say die! Hope is our anchor! Fate shall not balk us! And all the + other copy-book maxims.” + </p> + <p> + But it was Mrs. Sherwood and Nan who managed to save and scrimp and be + frugal in many infinitesimal ways, thus making their savings last + marvelously. + </p> + <p> + Nan gave up her entire Saturdays to household tasks. She insisted on that, + and urged the curtailment of the weekly expense by having Mrs. Joyce come + in to help but one day. + </p> + <p> + “I can iron, Momsey, and if I can't do it very well at first, I can + learn,” declared the plucky girl. “And, of course, I can sweep. That's + good for me. Our physical instructor says so. Instead of going to the gym + on Saturday, I'll put in calisthenics and acrobatic stunts with a broom + and duster.” + </p> + <p> + She was thorough, too. She could not have been her father's daughter + without having that virtue. There was no “lick and a promise” in Nan + Sherwood's housekeeping. She did not sweep the dust under the bureau, or + behind the door, or forget to wipe the rounds of the chairs and the + baseboard all around the rooms. + </p> + <p> + Papa Sherwood, coughing in the lower hall as the dust descended from + above, declared she went through the cottage like a whirlwind. It was not + as bad as that, but her vigorous young arms wielded the broom with + considerable skill. + </p> + <p> + One Saturday, with every other room swept but the front hall, she closed + the doors into that, and set wide open the outer door. There was more snow + on the ground now; but the porch was cleaned and the path to the front + gate neatly dug and swept. The tinkle of sleigh bells and the laughter of + a crowd of her school friends swept by the corner of Amity Street. Nan ran + out upon the porch and waved her duster at them. + </p> + <p> + There she stood, smiling out upon her little world for a minute. She might + not see Amity Street, and the old neighbors, many weeks longer. A + half-promise of work from the Chicago machine shop boss had reached Mr. + Sherwood that morning by post. It seemed the only opening, and it meant + that they would have to give up the “dwelling in amity” and go to crowded + Chicago to live. For Momsey was determined that Papa Sherwood should not + go without her. + </p> + <p> + Nan came back into the hall and began to wield the broom again. She could + not leave the door open too long, for it was cold outside and the winter + chill would get into the house. They had to keep all the rooms at an even + temperature on account of Momsey's health. + </p> + <p> + But she swept vigorously, moving each piece of furniture, and throwing the + rugs out upon the porch for a special sweeping there. The rough mat at the + door was a heavy one. As Nan stooped to pick it up and toss it after the + other small rugs, she saw the corner of a yellow envelope sticking from + under the edge of the hall carpet. + </p> + <p> + “Wonder what that is?” murmured Nan. “Somebody has thrust a circular, or + advertisement, under our door, and it's gone under the carpet. Yes! + There's a tack out there.” + </p> + <p> + She seized the corner of the envelope with thumb and finger. She drew it + out. Its length surprised her. It was a long, official looking envelope, + not bulky but most important looking. In the upper left-hand corner was + printed: + </p> + <p> + ADAIR MACKENZIE & CO. STOCKS AND BONDS MEMPHIS + </p> + <p> + It was properly stamped and addressed to her mother. By the postmark on it + Nan knew it must have been tucked under the door by the postman more than + a week before. Somehow he had failed to ring their bell when he left the + letter. The missing tack in the edge of the hall carpet had allowed the + document to slide out of sight, and it might have been hidden for weeks + longer had chance not shown the small corner of straw-colored paper to + Nan. + </p> + <p> + She felt breathless. Her knees trembled. Somehow, Nan just KNEW that the + letter from her mother's cousin must be of enormous importance. She set + her broom in the corner and closed the door. It was fated that she should + do no more sweeping that day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter V. GREAT EXPECTATIONS + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Sherwood, in overalls and an old cap, had been sifting cinders out + behind the shed. They had to be careful of fuel as well as of most other + things. Momsey would not open the long envelope until he had been called + and had come in. Nan still wore the bright colored bandana wound about her + head, turban-wise, for a dust cap. Papa Sherwood beat the ashes from his + hands as he stood before the glowing kitchen range. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked calmly. “A notice of a new tax assessment? Or a + cure-all advertisement of Somebody's Pills?” + </p> + <p> + “It's from Cousin Adair,” said Momsey, a little breathlessly. “And it's + been lying at our door all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “All what time?” asked Mr. Sherwood curiously. + </p> + <p> + “All the time we have been so disappointed in our inquiries elsewhere,” + said Momsey soberly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” responded her husband doubtfully, and said no more. + </p> + <p> + “It makes my knees shake,” confessed Nan. “Do open it, Momsey!” + </p> + <p> + “I, I feel that it is important, too,” the little lady said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear,” her husband finally advised, having waited in patience, + “unless it is opened we shall never know whether your feeling is prophetic + or not. 'By the itching of my thumb,' and so forth!” + </p> + <p> + Without making any rejoinder to this, and perhaps without hearing his + gentle raillery, Mrs. Sherwood reached up to the coils of her thick hair + to secure woman's never-failing implement, a hairpin. + </p> + <p> + There were two enclosures. Both she shook into her lap. The sealed, + foreign-looking letter she picked up first. It was addressed in a clerkly + hand to, + </p> + <p> + “MISTRESS JESSIE ADAIR BLAKE, “KINDNESS OF MESSRS. ADAIR MACKENZIE & + CO. “MEMPHIS, TENN., U.S.A.” + </p> + <p> + “From England. No! From Scotland,” murmured Nan, looking over her mother's + shoulder in her eagerness. She read the neatly printed card in the corner + of the foreign envelope: + </p> + <p> + KELLAM & BLAKE HADBORNE CHAMBERS EDINBURGH + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sherwood was whispering her maiden name over to herself. She looked + up suddenly at her husband with roguish eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I'd almost forgotten there ever was such a girl as Jessie Adair Blake,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Momsey!” squealed Nan, with clasped hands and immense impatience. + “Don't, DON'T be so slow! Open it!” + </p> + <p> + “No-o,” her mother said, with pursed lips. “No, honey. The other comes + first, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + It was a letter typewritten upon her cousin's letter-head; but it was not + dictated by Mr. Adair MacKenzie. Instead, it was from Mr. MacKenzie's + secretary, who stated that her employer had gone to Mexico on business + that might detain him for several weeks. + </p> + <p> + “A letter addressed by you to Mr. MacKenzie arrived after his departure + and is being held for him with other personal communications until his + return; but being assured that you are the Jessie Adair Blake, now + Sherwood—to whom the enclosed letter from Scotland is addressed, I + take the liberty of forwarding the same. The Scotch letter reached us + after Mr. MacKenzie's departure, likewise. Will you please acknowledge the + receipt of the enclosure and oblige?” + </p> + <p> + This much of the contents of the secretary's letter was of particular + interest to the Sherwoods. Momsey's voice shook a little as she finished + reading it. Plainly she was disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Adair, I am sure, would have suggested something helpful had he + been at home,” she said sadly. “It, it is a great disappointment, Robert.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” replied Mr. Sherwood, perhaps not without some secret + relief. “It will all come out right. At least, your cousin hasn't refused + his assistance. We shall be established somewhere before he returns from + his Mexican trip.” + </p> + <p> + “I, I did depend so much upon Adair's good will and advice,” signed + Momsey. + </p> + <p> + “But, dear me suz!” gasped Nan impatiently. “What are you folks bothering + over that for? It isn't Cousin Adair that I want to know about. It's this + letter, Momsey,” and she seized the thin yet important envelope from + Scotland and shook it before her mother's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Better look into it, Momsey,” advised Mr. Sherwood easily, preparing to + return to the cinder sifting. “Maybe it's from some of your relatives in + the Old Country. I see 'Blake' printed in the corner. Didn't your father + have an uncle or somebody, who was steward on the estate of a Scotch Laird + of some renown?” + </p> + <p> + “Heck, mon!” cried Momsey, with her usual gaiety, and throwing off the + cloud of gloom that had momentarily subdued her spirit. “Ye air a wise + cheil. Ma faither talked muckle o' Uncle Hughie Blake, remimberin' him + fra' a wee laddie when his ain faither took him tae Scotland, and tae + Castle Emberon, on a veesit.” + </p> + <p> + Nan and Papa Sherwood laughed at her when she assumed the Scotch burr of + her forebears. With precision she cut the flap of this smaller envelope. + She felt no excitement now. She had regained control of herself after the + keen disappointment arising from the first letter. + </p> + <p> + She calmly opened the crackly sheet of legal looking paper in her lap. It + was not a long letter, and it was written in a stiff, legal hand, instead + of being typewritten, each character as precise as the legal mind that + dictated it: + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Jessie Adair Blake, (Known to be a married woman, but wedded + name unknown to writer.) + </p> + <p> + “Dear Madam: It is my duty to inform you that your father (the late + Randolph Hugh Blake) was made sole beneficiary of his late uncle, Mr. Hugh + Blake, the Laird of Emberon's steward, by a certain testament, or will, + made many years ago. Mr. Hugh Blake has recently died a bachelor, and + before his demise he added a codicil to the above testament, or will, + naming you, his great niece, his sole heir and beneficiary. + </p> + <p> + “There are other relatives who may make some attempt to oppose your claim; + but none of near blood. Your title to the said estate is clear; but it is + quite necessary that you should appear before our Courts with proofs of + identity, and so forth. On receipt from you of acknowledgment of this + letter, with copies of identification papers (your grandfather's + naturalization papers, your father's discharge from army, your own birth + certificate and marriage lines, and so forth) I will give myself the + pleasure of forwarding any further particulars you may wish, and likewise + place at your command my own services in obtaining possession for you of + your great uncle's estate. + </p> + <p> + “The said estate of Mr. Hugh Blake, deceased, amounts, in real and + personal property, including moneys in the bank, to about the sum, roughly + estimated, of 10,000 pounds. + </p> + <p> + “Respectfully, your servant, + </p> + <p> + “Andrew Blake, Solicitor and Att'y.” + </p> + <p> + Nan had leaned over her mother's shoulder, big-eyed, scarce believing the + plainly written words she read. It was preposterous, ridiculous, fanciful, + a dream from which she must awake in a moment to the full realization of + their dreadful need of just such a godsend as this. + </p> + <p> + It was her father's voice that roused the girl. He had not seen the letter + and Momsey had read it silently to herself. + </p> + <p> + “Look out, Nancy! What is the matter with your mother?” + </p> + <p> + With a cry the girl caught the frail little lady in her arms as the letter + slipped unheeded from her lap to the floor. Mrs. Sherwood's eyes were + closed. She had fainted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VI. A SPRAT FOR A HERRING + </h2> + <h3> + “I don't need the doctor this time, honey; joy never killed yet.” + </h3> + <p> + So said Mrs. Sherwood, opening her eyes to see the scared face of Nan + close above her. Then she saw her husband at her feet, quietly chafing her + hands in his own hard, warm palms. She pulled hers gently from his clasp + and rested them upon his head. Mr. Sherwood's hair was iron-gray, thick, + and inclined to curl. She ran her little fingers into it and clung + tightly. + </p> + <p> + “Let, let me get my breath!” she gasped. Then, after a moment she smiled + brilliantly into the wind-bitten face of the kneeling man. “It's all over, + Robert,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “My dear!” he cried thickly; while Nan could not wholly stifle the cry of + fear that rose to her lips. + </p> + <p> + “It's all over,” repeated the little woman. “All the worry, all the + poverty, all the uncertainty, all the hard times.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sherwood looked startled indeed. He had no idea what the letter from + Scotland contained, and he feared that his wife, who had already suffered + so much, was for the moment quite out of her head. + </p> + <p> + “My poor Jessie,” he began, but her low, sweet laugh stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Not poor! Never poor again, Robert!” she cried. “God is very good to us. + At the very darkest hour He has shown us the dawn. Robert, we are rich!” + </p> + <p> + “Great goodness, Jessie! What do you mean? Exclaimed Mr. Sherwood, + stumbling to his feet at last. + </p> + <p> + “It's true! It's true, Papa Sherwood!” Nan cried, clapping her hands. + “Don't you call ten thousand dollars riches?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten, thousand, dollars?” murmured her father. He put his hand to his head + and looked confusedly about for a seat, into which he weakly dropped. Nan + had picked up the letter and now she dramatically thrust it into his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Read that, Papa Sherwood!” she said commandingly. + </p> + <p> + He read the communication from the Scotch attorney, first with immense + surprise, then with profound doubt. Who but a young imaginative girl, like + Nan, or a woman with unbounded faith in the miracles of God, like her + mother, could accept such a perfectly wonderful thing as being real? + </p> + <p> + “A hoax,” thought the man who had worked so hard all his life without the + least expectation of ever seeing a penny that he did not earn himself. + “Can it be that any of those heedless relatives of my wife's in Memphis + have attempted a practical joke at this time?” + </p> + <p> + He motioned for Nan to bring him the envelope, too. This he examined + closely, and then read the communication again. It looked all regular. The + stationery, the postmark, the date upon it, all seemed perfectly in + accord. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sherwood's gay little laugh shattered the train of her husband's + thought. “I know what the matter is with you, Papa Sherwood,” she said. + “You think it must be a practical joke.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” gasped Nan, feeling a positive pain at her heart. This awful + possibility had never entered her mind before. + </p> + <p> + “But it isn't,” went on her mother blithely. “It is real. Mr. Hugh Blake, + of Emberon, must have been very old; and he was probably as saving and + canny as any Scotchman who ever wore kilts. It is not surprising that he + should have left an estate of considerable size——-” + </p> + <p> + “Ten thousand dollars!” breathed Nan again. She loved to repeat it. There + was white magic in the very sound of such a sum of money. But her father + threw a conversational bomb into their midst the next instant. + </p> + <p> + “Ten thousand dollars, you goosey!” he said vigorously. “That's the main + doubt in the whole business. It isn't ten thousand dollars. It's fifty + thousand dollars! A pound, either English or Scotch, is almost five of our + dollars. Ten thousand dollars would certainly be a fortune for us; fifty + thousand is beyond the dreams of avarice.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me!” said Nan weakly. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Sherwood merely laughed again. “The more the better,” she said. + “Why shouldn't we be able to put fifty thousand dollars to good use?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we can, Momsey,” said Nan eagerly. “But, will we be let?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sherwood laughed grimly at that; but his wife continued confidently: + </p> + <p> + “I am sure nobody needs it more than we do.” + </p> + <p> + “Why!” her daughter said, just as excitedly, “we'll be as rich as Bess + Harley's folks. Oh, Momsey! Oh, Papa Sherwood! Can I go to Lakewood Hall?” + </p> + <p> + The earnestness of her cry showed the depths to which that desire had + plumbed during these last weeks of privation and uncertainty. It was Nan's + first practical thought in relation to the possibility of their changed + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + The father and mother looked at each other with shocked understanding. The + surprise attending the letter had caused both parents to forget, for the + moment, the effect of this wonderful promise of fortune, whether true or + false, on imaginative, high-spirited Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Let us be happy at first, Nan, just in the knowledge that some money is + coming to us,” Mrs. Sherwood said more quietly. “Never mind how much, or + how little. Time will tell all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you talk like father,” cried Nan, pouting. + </p> + <p> + “And let father talk a little, too,” Mr. Sherwood said, smiling, “and to + you both.” His right forefinger struck the letter emphatically in his + other hand. “This is a very wonderful, a blessed, thing, if true. But it + has to be proven. We must build our hopes on no false foundation.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Papa Sherwood! How can we, when the man says there——-” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” whispered Momsey, squeezing her excited little daughter's hand. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place,” continued Mr. Sherwood quietly and gravely, “there + may be some mistake in the identification of your mother, child, as the + niece mentioned in this old man's will.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Nan could not help that gasp. + </p> + <p> + “Again, there may be stronger opposition to her claim than this lawyer at + present sees. Fifty thousand dollars is a whole lot of money, and other + people by the name of Blake will be tempted by it.” + </p> + <p> + “How mean of them!” whispered Nan. + </p> + <p> + “And, above all,” pursued Mr. Sherwood, “this may be merely a scheme by + unprincipled people to filch small sums of money from gullible people. The + 'foreign legacy swindle' is worked in many different ways. There may be + calls for money, by this man who names himself Andrew Blake, for + preliminary work on the case. We haven't much; but if he is baiting for + hundreds of Blakes in America he may secure, in the aggregate, a very tidy + sum indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Father!” cried Nan. “That's perfectly horrid!” + </p> + <p> + “But perfectly possible. Let us not swallow this bait, hook, line and + sinker. You see, he sends no copy of the will in question, or that codicil + relating to your mother's legacy; nor does he offer identification or + surety as to his own standing. Don't let the possibilities of this + wonderful thing carry you off your feet, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Nan's lip was quivering and she could scarcely crowd back the tears. To + have one's hopes rise so high only to be dashed——-. + </p> + <p> + “Don't completely crush us, Papa Sherwood, with your perfectly + unanswerable logic,” said his wife lightly. “We'll remember all these + strictures, and more. We can at least put the matter to the test.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” agreed her husband. “We will prepare the papers requested by + this Scotch attorney. I will even inquire of a good lawyer here something + regarding the Scotch laws in such a matter as this, if it will be + necessary to make a personal appearance before the local courts over + there. And perhaps we can find out the true standing of Mr. Andrew Blake, + of Kellam & Blake, Edinburgh. It will cost us a little money, and we + can ill spare it now; but to satisfy ourselves——-” + </p> + <p> + “We will throw a sprat to catch a herring,” quoted Momsey cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” repeated Mr. Sherwood. + </p> + <p> + “But, dear, DEAR!” moaned Nan. “Is that all it is going to amount to? + Don't you really believe it's all true, Papa Sherwood?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't say that I do, my dear,” returned her father gravely. “Such + romantic things as this do not often happen outside of story books.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, I declare!” cried Nan desperately, “I wish we lived in a story + book!” + </p> + <p> + “Your father will make inquiries at once, honey,” said Momsey easily, + seemingly very little disturbed herself by her husband's doubts and fears. + To her mind this wonderful turn of fortune's wheel was in direct answer to + prayer. Nothing could shake her faith in the final result of her husband's + inquiries. Yet, she was proud of his caution and good sense. + </p> + <p> + “I do think it is dreadful,” murmured Nan, “to believe one's self rich for + only a minute!” + </p> + <p> + “Have patience, honey,” said her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile,” added Mr. Sherwood, rising, “I will go back to sifting + cinders.” + </p> + <p> + But Nan did no more sweeping that day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VII. A VISTA OF NEW FORTUNES + </h2> + <p> + Nan said nothing to Bess Harley, her particular chum and confidant, about + the wonderful letter that had come from Scotland. Although Momsey and Nan + talked the legacy over intimately that Saturday afternoon, and planned + what they would really do with some of the money “when their ship came + in,” the young girl knew that the matter was not to be discussed outside + of the family circle. + </p> + <p> + Not even the hope Nan now cherished of accompanying her chum to Lakeview + Hall when the next school year opened was divulged when the two girls were + together on Sunday, or on the days that immediately followed. + </p> + <p> + Nan Sherwood went about her household and school tasks in a sort of waking + dream. Imagination was continually weaving pictures in her mind of what + might happen if the vista of new fortunes that had opened before the + little family in the Amity Street cottage really came true. + </p> + <p> + Papa Sherwood's first reports on the matter of the Scotch legacy were not + inspiring. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bludsoe says we'd better go slow,” he said seriously. Mr. Bludsoe was + a lawyer of high repute in Tillbury. “This letter may be written by an + attorney in Edinburgh; but there are rascally lawyers there as well as + elsewhere. Bludsoe had correspondents in London. They may be able to + inform him regarding the firm of solicitors, Kellam & Blake, if the + firm really is entered at the Scotch bar.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! But won't that mean delay?” murmured Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile,” said her father, smiling at her impatience, “we will prepare + the papers identifying your dear mother so that, if this wonderful new + fortune should be a reality, we can put in a proper claim for it. Just the + same,” he added to his wife, when Nan had left the room, “I have written + to that machine shop boss in Chicago that I am ready to come to work any + day he may send for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Robert!” gasped the little lady. “Won't you believe?” + </p> + <p> + “Like the darkey who was asked if he believed the world was round, and + said, 'Ah believes it, but Ah ain't dead sho' of it.' I presume this great + fortune is possible, Jessie, but I haven't perfect and abiding faith in + its existence, FOR us,” said her husband. + </p> + <p> + But Momsey had just that quality of faith. She went singing about her + household tasks and her usual smile beamed quite beatific. So said Dr. + Christian, who stepped in to see her, as was his custom every few days. + </p> + <p> + “What's this? What's this?” the old medical practitioner demanded of Mr. + Sherwood, on the porch, where he usually made his report, and to which Nan + often stole to listen openly to them discuss her mother's case. “I find + her in a state of happy excitement, and that is quite right, Robert, quite + right, if the hopes that are the wellspring of it are not quenched. What + does it mean? Have you arranged the sea voyage I advised?” + </p> + <p> + Papa Sherwood's face changed suddenly. He looked oddly, Nan thought, at + the doctor. “I don't know but that is it, Doc,” he said. “That sea voyage + may be in the offing.” + </p> + <p> + “Best thing that could happen to her, best thing that could happen to + her!” declared the old physician with emphasis, as he stumped away. + </p> + <p> + Nan wondered what that could mean. A sea voyage for Momsey? Of course, for + all of them. She could not imagine Momsey going anywhere without her and + Papa Sherwood. + </p> + <p> + She knew she was not to say anything about what she heard pass between her + father and the doctor on the porch. Indeed, Nan was no bearer of tales in + any event. But she was very curious. The steam from the cauldron of + Mystery seldom arose in the little “dwelling in amity” save about + Christmas time or just previous to Nan's birthday. But Papa Sherwood + certainly was enigmatical and Momsey was mysteriously happy, as Dr. + Christian had said. + </p> + <p> + “And we'll put steam heat in the little house. You know, Robert, we've + always wanted to,” Nan's mother suddenly said one evening as they all sat + around the reading lamp, and quite apropos of nothing at all. Then she + laughed, flushing prettily. “There! You see what my mind runs on. I really + can't help it.” + </p> + <p> + It was only a day or two later that the second letter came from Memphis. + Mr. Adair MacKenzie had returned from Mexico and evidently one of the + first duties he performed was to write his Cousin Jessie his + congratulations. + </p> + <p> + “A letter on quite another matter,” this epistle read, “from our distant + kinsman, Andrew Blake, of Kellam & Blake, apprised me that the ancient + Hugh Blake, steward to the Lairds of Emberon for so many years, was dead + and that his property was willed to your father, whose appearance as a lad + at Emberon pleased the old man greatly. + </p> + <p> + “You are to be congratulated. The estate is considerable, I understand. + Your husband's troubles which are mentioned in your letter that I found + awaiting my return will now be over. For, although Andrew Blake intimates + that there may be considerable opposition in the courts there, over the + money going to an American heir, you will be able in the end to establish + your rights. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, my dear Jessie, I know of nobody in our family to whom I + would rather see fortune come than to yourself and your dear ones. If I + can be of any assistance, financially, or otherwise, in helping you obtain + your rights in this event, believe me, I stand ready to give such aid. Do + not hesitate to call upon me. My regards to your husband and little girl + whom I have never seen; Alice and John join me in expressing our good + wishes for your happy future. I remain, with the old love I always had for + you, Your cousin, Adair MacKenzie.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Robert, what have you to say?” cried Momsey triumphantly, while Nan + danced a fandango about the room. + </p> + <p> + “This much,” replied her husband, smiling. “Our minds are relieved on one + point, at least. Kellam & Blake are respectable attorneys. We will + send our communication to Mr. Blake at once, without waiting for Mr. + Bludsoe's enquiries to bear fruit. Your Cousin Adair knows the Scotch + firm, and of course vouches for their trustworthiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, Papa Sherwood, you are so practical!” sighed Nan. She meant + “vexing;” they were interchangeable terms to her mind at this exciting + point. “Can't you work up any enthusiasm over Momsey's wonderful fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “Its existence is established, it would seem, beyond peradventure,” said + Mr. Sherwood drily. “But our attempt to obtain the fortune is not yet + begun.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, ee!” squealed Nan. “You don't really suppose anybody will try to + keep Momsey from getting it?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly that,” said her father. “The Blakes are a widely scattered clan. + There are probably a number of people as close in blood-tie to the old man + who has just died as your mother, my dear. These people may all bob up, + one after another, to dispute Momsey's claim.” + </p> + <p> + “But, dear me!” gasped Nan. “The money was willed to Momsey.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, these other relatives, if there be such—can keep + Momsey out of the enjoyment of her rights for a long time. Court processes + are slow, and especially so, I should judge, among the canny and careful + Scotch. I think we would better leave it to the lawyers to settle. We + cannot hasten the courts by worrying over the fortune. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” pursued Papa Sherwood judiciously, “that instead of spending + our time discussing and dreaming of the fortune in Scotland, we would + better go right on with our tasks here as though there were really no + fortune at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my!” whispered Nan, her eyes clouding. “That's because of my last + fortnightly report. I know I fell behind in history and rhetoric.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be too hard on us, Papa Sherwood,” said Momsey brightly. + “Anticipation is more than half of every pleasure. I lie awake every night + and spend this great fortune of ours to the very last penny.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” the little lady added, with more gravity, “I wouldn't really + spend fifty thousand dollars so recklessly as I do in my mind. But I can + found schools, and hospitals, and educate Nan, and give you, Papa + Sherwood, a great big business, and buy two automobiles, and——-” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! Enough!” cried Mr. Sherwood, in mock seriousness. “You are a born + spendthrift, Momsey. That you have had no chance to really be one thus far + will only make your case more serious when you have this legacy in your + possession. Two automobiles, no less!” + </p> + <p> + “But I want you both, my dears, to bear one very important fact in mind. + Roughly estimated the fortune is ten thousand pounds. To be exact, it may + be a good deal less at the start. Then, after the lawyers and the courts + get through with the will and all, the remainder that dribbles into your + pocket, Momsey, may be a very small part of ten thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how horrid, Papa Sherwood!” cried Nan. “We won't listen to him, will + we, Momsey?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes we will,” her mother said quietly, but smiling. “But we will + still believe that the world is good and that God has given us great good + fortune. Papa talks very sensibly; but I know that there is nothing to + fear. We are going to be very well off for the rest of our lives, and I + cannot be thankful enough for it.” + </p> + <p> + At that Mr. Sherwood literally threw up his hands. “Nevertheless,” he + said, “I expect to go to Chicago next Monday, to begin work in the machine + shop. The boss writes me that I can come at that time.” + </p> + <p> + “I will get your clothes ready for you, Robert,” said Momsey calmly. + “Perhaps you will feel better in your mind if you keep busy during this + time of waiting.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VIII. TWO IMPORTANT HAPPENINGS + </h2> + <p> + It happened, however, that Mr. Sherwood did not go to Chicago to work in + the machine shop. Something happened before the week was out, that quite + put his intention aside. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Nan declared that two important happenings just then changed the + current of affairs at the little cottage on Amity Street and that she had + a principal part in the action of the first of these unexpected + happenings. + </p> + <p> + It was lovely skating on Norway Pond, and both Nan and her chum, Bess + Harley, were devoted to the sport. Nan had been unable to be on the ice + Saturdays, because of her home tasks; but when her lessons were learned, + she was allowed to go after supper. + </p> + <p> + It happened to be just at the dark of the moon this week; that kept many + off the ice, although the weather was settled and the ice was perfectly + safe. Sometimes the boys built a bonfire on Woody Point, with refuse from + the planing mill, and that lit up a good bit of the ice. + </p> + <p> + But once out on the pond, away from the shadows cast by the high banks, + the girls could see well enough. They were both good skaters, and with + arms crossed and hands clasped, they swung up the middle of the pond in + fine style. + </p> + <p> + “I just love to skate with you, Nan,” sighed Bess ecstatically. “You move + just like my other self. We're Siamese twins. We strike out together + perfectly. Oh, my dear! I don't see whatever I am to do if you refuse to + go to Lakeview with me.” + </p> + <p> + Nan could scarcely keep from telling Bess of the wonderful new fortune + that seemed about to come to her; but she was faithful to her home + training, and only said: + </p> + <p> + “Don't fret about it, honey. Maybe something will turn up to let me go.” + </p> + <p> + “If you'd let my father pay your way——-?” insinuated Bess. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk of that. It's impossible,” said Nan decisively. “It's a long + time yet to fall. Maybe conditions will be different at home. A dozen + things may happen before school opens in September.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! But they may not be the right things,” sighed Bess. + </p> + <p> + She could not be too melancholy on such a night as this, however. It was + perfectly quiet, and the arch of the sky was like black velvet pricked out + with gold and silver stars. Their soft radiance shed some light upon the + pond, enough, at least, to show the girl chums the way before them as they + skimmed on toward Powerton Landing. + </p> + <p> + They had left a noisy crowd of boys behind them, near the stamp Factory, + mostly mill boys, and the like. Bess had been taught at home to shrink + from association with the mill people and that is why she had urged Nan to + take this long skate up the pond. Around the Tillbury end of it they were + always falling in with little groups of mill boys and girls whom Bess did + not care to meet. + </p> + <p> + There was another reason this evening for keeping away from the stamp + factory, too. The manager of that big shop had hired a gang of ice cutters + a few days before, and had filled his own private icehouse. The men had + cut out a roughly outlined square of the thick ice, sawed it into cakes, + and poled it to shore and so to the sleds and the manager's icehouse. + </p> + <p> + It was not a large opening in the ice; but even if the frost continued, it + would be several days before the new ice would form thickly enough to bear + again over that spot. + </p> + <p> + Elsewhere, however, the ice was strong, for all the cutting for the big + icehouses had been done long before near the Landing. The lights of + Powerton Landing were twinkling ahead of them as the two friends swept on + up the long lake. The wind was in their faces, such wind as there was, and + the air was keen and nippy. + </p> + <p> + The action of skating, however, kept Nan and Bess warm. Bess in her furs + and Nan in her warm tam-o'-shanter and the muffler Momsey had knitted with + her own hands, did not mind the cold. + </p> + <p> + The evening train shrieked out of the gap and across the long trestle just + beyond the landing, where it halted for a few seconds for passengers to + embark or to leave the cars. This train was from Chicago, and on Monday + Papa Sherwood expected to go to that big city to work. + </p> + <p> + The thought gave Nan a feeling of depression. The little family in the + Amity street cottage had never been separated for more than a day since + she could remember. It was going to be hard on Momsey, with Papa Sherwood + away and Nan in school all day. How were they going to get along without + Papa Sherwood coming home to supper, and doing the hard chores? + </p> + <p> + Bess awoke her chum from these dreams. “Dear me, Nan! Have you lost your + tongue all of a sudden? Do say something, or do something.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's race the train down the pond to Tillbury,” proposed Nan instantly. + </p> + <p> + The lights of the long coaches were just moving out of the station at the + Landing. The two girls came about in a graceful curve and struck out for + home at a pace that even the train could not equal. The rails followed the + shore of the pond on the narrow strip of lowland at the foot of the + bluffs. They could see the lights shining through the car windows all the + way. + </p> + <p> + The fireman threw open the door of his firebox to feed the furnace and a + great glare of light, and a shower of sparks, spouted from the smokestack. + The rumble of the wheels from across the ice seemed louder than usual. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Bess!” gasped Nan, quite excited. “We can do better than this! + Why, that old train will beat us!” + </p> + <p> + For they were falling behind. The train hooted its defiance as it swept + down toward Woody Point. The girls shot in toward the shore, where the + shadow of the high bluff lay heavily upon the ice. + </p> + <p> + They heard the boys' voices somewhere below them, but Bess and Nan could + not see them yet. They knew that the boys had divided into sides and were + playing old-fashioned hockey, “shinny-on-your-own-side” as it was locally + called. Above the rumbling of the train they heard the crack of the + shinny-stick against the wooden block, and the “z-z-z-zip!” of the missile + as it scaled over the ice. + </p> + <p> + “Those boys will get into the ice-hole if they don't look out,” Nan had + just said to her chum, when suddenly a wild yell arose from the hockey + players. + </p> + <p> + The train was slowing down at the signal tower, and finally stopped there. + A freight had got in on the main track which had to be cleared before the + passenger train could go into Tillbury station. The coaches stood right + along the edge of the frozen pond. + </p> + <p> + But it was nothing in connection with the evening train that caused such a + commotion among the skaters near the stamp factory. There was a crash of + breaking ice and a scrambling of skaters away from the spot. The boys' + yells communicated panic to other people ashore. + </p> + <p> + “He's in! He's in!” Nan and Bess heard the boys yelling. Then a man's + voice took up the cry: “He'll be drowned! Help! Help!” + </p> + <p> + “That's old Peter Newkirk,” gasped Nan, squeezing Bess' gloved hands + tightly. “He's night watchman at the stamp works, and he has only one arm. + He can't help that boy.” + </p> + <p> + The youngsters who had been playing hockey so recklessly near the thin + ice, were not as old as Nan and Bess, and the accident had thrown them + into utter confusion. Some skated for the shore, screaming for ropes and + fence-rails; others only tried to get away from the danger spot + themselves. None did the first thing to help their comrade who had broken + through the ice. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going, Nan?” gasped Bess, pulling back. “You'll have us + both in the water, too.” + </p> + <p> + “We can save him! Quick!” returned her chum eagerly. + </p> + <p> + She let go of Bess and unwound the long muffler from about her own neck. + “If we could only see him!” the girl said, over and over. + </p> + <p> + And then a brilliant idea struck Nan Sherwood, and she turned to shout to + old Peter Newkirk on the shore. “Peter! Peter! Turn on the electric light + sign! Turn it on so we can see where he's gone in!” + </p> + <p> + The watchman had all his wits about him. There was a huge electric sign on + the stamp works roof, advertising the company's output. The glare of it + could be seen for miles, and it lit up brilliantly the surroundings of the + mill. + </p> + <p> + Peter Newkirk bounded away to the main door of the works. The switch that + controlled the huge sign was just inside that door. Before Nan and Bess + had reached the edge of the broken ice, the electricity was suddenly shot + into the sign and the whole neighborhood was alight. + </p> + <p> + “I see him! There he is!” gasped Nan to her chum. “Hold me tight by the + skirt, Bess! We'll get him!” + </p> + <p> + She flung herself to her knees and stopped sliding just at the edge of the + old, thick ice. With a sweep of her strong young arm she shot the end of + the long muffler right into the clutching hands of the drowning boy. + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily he seized it. He had been down once, and submersion in the + ice water had nearly deprived him of both consciousness and power to help + save himself. But Nan drew him quickly through the shattered ice-cakes to + the edge of the firm crystal where she knelt. + </p> + <p> + “We have him! We have him!” she cried, in triumph. “Give me your hand, + boy! I won't let you go down again.” + </p> + <p> + But to lift him entirely out of the water would have been too much for her + strength. However, several men came running now from the stalled passenger + train. The lighting of the electric sign had revealed to them what was + going on upon the pond. + </p> + <p> + The man who lifted the half-drowned boy out of the water was not one of + the train crew, but a passenger. He was a huge man in a bearskin coat and + felt boots. He was wrapped up so heavily, and his fur cap was pulled down + so far over his ears and face, that Nan could not see what he really + looked like. In a great, gruff voice he said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, now! Give me a girl like you ev'ry time! I never saw the beat of + it. Here, mister!” as he put the rescued boy into the arms of a man who + had just run from a nearby house. “Get him between blankets and he'll be + all right. But he's got this smart little girl to thank that he's alive at + all.” + </p> + <p> + He swung around to look at Nan again. Bess was crying frankly, with her + gloved hands before her face. “Oh, Nan! Nan!” she sobbed. “I didn't do a + thing, not a thing. I didn't even hang to the tail of your skirt as you + told me. I, I'm an awful coward.” + </p> + <p> + The big man patted Nan's shoulder lightly. “There's a little girl that I'm + going to see here in Tillbury,” he said gruffly. “I hope she turns out to + be half as smart as you are, sissy.” Then he tramped back to the train + that was just then starting. + </p> + <p> + Nan began to laugh. “Did you hear that funny man?” she asked Bess. “Do + stop your crying, Bess! You have no reason to cry. You are not hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “But, but you might have been, been drowned, too,” sobbed her chum. “I + didn't help you a mite.” + </p> + <p> + “Bother!” exclaimed Nan Sherwood. “Don't let's talk about it. We'll go + home. I guess we've both had enough skating for tonight.” + </p> + <p> + Bess wiped away her tears and clung to Nan's hand all the way to their + usual corner for separating. Nan ran home from there quickly and burst + into the kitchen to find Momsey and Papa Sherwood in the midst of a very + serious conference. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” cried Nan, startled by the gravity of her father and + the exaltation upon her mother's face. “What's happened?” + </p> + <p> + “A very great thing, Nan, honey,” said Momsey, drawing her daughter to her + side. “Tell her, Papa Sherwood.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed deeply and put away the letter they had been reading. “It's from + Mr. Blake, of Edinburgh,” he said. “I can no longer doubt the existence of + the fortune, my dears. But I fear we shall have to strive for it in the + Scotch courts.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Nan, under her breath. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Blake tells us here that it is absolutely necessary for us to come to + Scotland, and for your mother to appear in person before the court there. + The sum of money and other property willed to Momsey by her great uncle is + so large that the greatest care will be exercised by the Scotch judges to + see that it goes to the right person.” + </p> + <p> + “As your mother once said, we must throw a sprat to catch a herring. In + this case we shall be throwing a sprat to catch a whale! For the amount of + money we may have to spend to secure the fifty thousand dollars left by + Mr. Hugh Blake, of Emberon, is small, in comparison to the fortune itself. + </p> + <p> + “We must go to Scotland,” finished Mr. Sherwood firmly. “And we must start + as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IX. ON THE WAY TO THE WILDERNESS + </h2> + <p> + It seemed to Nan Sherwood that night as though she never could get to + sleep. Her mind and imagination worked furiously. + </p> + <p> + Momsey and Papa Sherwood had sent her to bed early. There had been no time + to tell them about the accident on the ice and her part in it. Her parents + had much to discuss, much to decide upon. The Scotch lawyer urged their + presence before the court having jurisdiction in the matter of the late + Mr. Hugh Blake's will, and that as soon as they could cross the ocean. + </p> + <p> + Transportation from the little Illinois town, across the intervening + states to the seaport, and thence, over the winter ocean to Glasgow, and + so on by rail to Edinburgh, was a journey the contemplation of which, to + such a quiet family as the Sherwoods, was nothing less than appalling. + </p> + <p> + And there were many things to take into consideration that Nan did not + wholly understand. Mrs. Sherwood would require her husband's undivided + attention while she made the long and arduous journey. The sea voyage was + right in line with the physician's opinion of what was needed to restore + her health; but it was a venture at best. + </p> + <p> + Had the family possessed plenty of money it is doubtful if Mr. Sherwood + would have risked more than a coasting voyage. Conditions rising out of + the legacy from the great uncle in Scotland spelled necessity in this + case. Of the little sum left in bank, most of it would be required to pay + the fares of Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood to Edinburgh, and their modest living + there for a few weeks. There was not enough money in hand to pay a third + passage and the expenses of a third person in Scotland, until the court + business should be settled. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sherwood had already taken Mr. Bludsoe, the lawyer, into his + confidence. He could make arrangements through him to mortgage the cottage + if it became absolutely necessary. He shrank from accepting financial help + from Mrs. Sherwood's relatives in Memphis. + </p> + <p> + Besides, decision must be made immediately. Plans must be made almost + overnight. They must start within forty-eight hours to catch a certain + steamer bound for the Scotch port of Glasgow, as Mr. Sherwood had already + found out. And all their questions resolved finally into this very + important one: + </p> + <p> + “WHAT SHALL WE DO ABOUT NAN?” + </p> + <p> + Nan, in her little white bed, had no idea that she was the greatest + difficulty her parents found in this present event. It never entered her + busy mind that Papa Sherwood and Momsey would dream of going to Scotland + without her. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we do with Nan?” Momsey said over and over again. She realized + as well as did Mr. Sherwood that to take the child was an utter + impossibility. Their financial circumstances, as well as other + considerations would not allow it. + </p> + <p> + Yet, what should they do with her, with whom to trust her during their + uncertain absence on the other side? No answer that came to their minds + seemed the right one. They rose that wintry morning without having this + most important of all questions decided. + </p> + <p> + This was Sunday and Mrs. Joyce always came over for breakfast; for she + lived alone and never had any too much to eat, Nan was sure. As for the + old woman's eating with the family, that was a fiction she kept up for + appearance's sake, perhaps, or to salve her own claims to former + gentility. She always set a place for herself at the family table in the + dining room and then was too busy to eat with them, taking her own meal in + the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Therefore it was she only who heard the commanding rap at the kitchen door + in the midst of the leisurely meal, and answered it. + </p> + <p> + Just then Nan had dropped her knife and fork and was staring from Momsey's + pitying face to Papa Sherwood's grave one, as she cried, in a whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Not me? Oh, my dears! You're never going without me, all that long + journey? What, whatever shall I do without you both?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, honey! Don't say it that way!” begged Momsey, putting her + handkerchief to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “If it was not quite impossible, do you think for a moment, daughter, that + we would contemplate leaving you at home?” queried Mr. Sherwood, his own + voice trembling. + </p> + <p> + “It, it seems impossible!” gasped Nan, “just as though it couldn't be. I + won't know what to do without you, my dears. And what will you do without + me?” + </p> + <p> + That seemed to be unanswerable, and it quite broke Momsey down. She sobbed + openly into her handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Who's going to be her little maid?” demanded Nan, of her father. “Who's + going to 'do' her beautiful hair? Who's going to wait on her when she has + her dreadful headaches? And who's going to play 'massagist' like me? I + want to know who can do all those things for Momsey if you take her away + from me, Papa Sherwood?” and she ended quite stormily. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child!” Mr. Sherwood said urgently. “I want you to listen to me. + Our situation is such that we cannot possibly take you with us. That is + final. It is useless for us to discuss the point, for there is nothing to + be gained by discussing it from now till Doomsday.” + </p> + <p> + Nan gulped down a sob and looked at him with dry eyes. Papa Sherwood had + never seemed so stern before, and yet his own eyes were moist. She began + to see that this decision was very hard upon her parents, too. + </p> + <p> + “Now do you understand,” he asked gently, “that we cannot take our little + daughter with us, but that we are much worried by the fact, and we do not + know what to do with her while we are gone?” + </p> + <p> + “You, you might as well put me in an orphan asylum,” choked Nan. “I'll be + an orphan till you get back.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, honey!” cried her mother. + </p> + <p> + “There now!” said Nan, jumping up quickly and going around the table to + her mother's side. “You poor dear! I won't say anything more to hurt and + trouble you. I'm a selfish thing, that's what I am.” + </p> + <p> + Momsey wound her arms about her. Papa Sherwood still looked grave. “We get + no nearer to the proper solution of the difficulty,” he said. “Of course, + Nancy, the orphan asylum is out of the question.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll stay here, of course,” Nan said, with some difficulty keeping her + voice from quavering. + </p> + <p> + “Not alone in the house, honey,” Momsey said quickly. + </p> + <p> + “With Mrs. Joyce?” suggested Nan tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “No,” Mr. Sherwood said. “She is not the person to be trusted with you.” + </p> + <p> + “There's Mrs. Grimes' boarding house around the corner?” suggested Nan. + </p> + <p> + Momsey shuddered. “Never! Never! My little girl in a boarding house. Oh, + Papa Sherwood! We must find somebody to care for her while we are away, + who loves Nan.” + </p> + <p> + And it was just here that a surprisingly gruff voice took up the matter + and decided it in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “That's me,” said the voice, with conviction. “She's just the sort of + little girl I cotton to, sister Jessie. And Kate'll be fairly crazy about + her. If you're going anywhere for a long spell, just let me take her up to + Pine Camp. We have no little girls up there, never had any. But I bet we + know how to treat 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Hen!” shouted Mr. Sherwood, stumbling up from the table, and putting out + both hands to the big man whom Mrs. Joyce had ushered in from the kitchen + so unexpectedly. + </p> + <p> + “Henry Sherwood!” gasped Momsey, half rising herself in her surprise and + delight. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” cried Nan, “it's the bear-man!” for Mr. Henry Sherwood wore the + great fur coat and cap that he had worn the evening before when he had + come to Nan's aid in rescuing the boy from Norway Pond. + </p> + <p> + Afterward Nan confessed, naively, that she ought to have known he was her + Uncle Henry. Nobody, she was quite sure, could be so big and brawny as the + lumberman from Michigan. + </p> + <p> + “She's the girl for me,” proclaimed Uncle Henry admiringly. “Smart as a + whip and as bold as a catamount. Hasn't she told you what she did last + night? Sho! Of course not. She don't go 'round blowing about her deeds of + valor, I bet!” and the big man went off into a gale of laughter that + seemed to shake the little cottage. + </p> + <p> + Papa Sherwood and Momsey had to learn all the particulars then, and both + glowed with pride over their little daughter's action. Gradually, after + numerous personal questions were asked and answered on both sides, the + conversation came around to the difficulty the little family was in, and + the cause of it. + </p> + <p> + Henry Sherwood listened to the story of the Scotch legacy with wide-open + eyes, marveling greatly. The possibility of his brother's wife becoming + wealthy amazed and delighted his simple mind. The fact that they had to + take the long journey to Scotland to obtain the money troubled him but + little. Although he had never traveled far himself, save to Chicago from + the Michigan woods, Mr. Henry Sherwood had lived in the open so much that + distances did not appall him. + </p> + <p> + “Sure you'll go,” he proclaimed, reaching down into a very deep pocket and + dragging to light a long leather pouch, with a draw-string of home-cured + deer skin. “And if you are short, Bob, we'll go down into this poke and + see what there is left. + </p> + <p> + “I came down to Chicago to see about a piece of timber that's owned by + some sharps on Jackson Street. I didn't know but I might get to cut that + timber. I've run it careless-like, and I know pretty near what there is in + it. So I said to Kate: + </p> + <p> + “'I'll see Bob and his wife, and the little nipper——-” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness!” ejaculated Nan, under her breath. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Henry's eyes twinkled and the many wrinkles about them screwed up + into hard knots. “Beg pardon!” he exclaimed, for his ears were very sharp. + “This young lady, I should have said. Anyhow, I told Kate I'd see you all + and find out what you were doing. + </p> + <p> + “Depending on mills and such for employment isn't any very safe way to + live, I think. Out in the woods you are as free as air, and there aren't + so many bosses, and you don't have to think much about 'the market' and + 'supply and demand,' and all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Just the same,” said Mr. Robert Sherwood, his own eyes twinkling, “you + are in some trouble right now, I believe, Hen?” + </p> + <p> + “Sho! You've got me there,” boomed his brother with a great laugh. “But + there aren't many reptiles like old Ged Raffer. And we can thank a + merciful Creator for that. I expect there are just a few miserly old hunks + like Ged as horrible examples to the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the nature of your trouble with this old fellow?” asked Mr. + Robert Sherwood. + </p> + <p> + “We've got hold on adjoining options. I had my lines run by one of the + best surveyors in the Peninsula of Michigan. But he up and died. Ged + claims I ran over on his tract about a mile. He got to court first, got an + injunction, and tied me all up in a hard legal knot until the state + surveyors can go over both pieces of timber. The land knows when that'll + be! Those state surveyors take a week of frog Sundays to do a job. + </p> + <p> + “I can't cut a stick on my whole piece 'cause Ged claims he'll have a + right to replevin an equal number of sticks cut, if the surveyors back up + his contention. Nasty mess. The original line was run years and years ago, + and they're not many alive today in the Big woods that know the rights of + it. + </p> + <p> + “I expect,” added Uncle Henry, shaking his bushy head, “that old Toby + Vanderwiller knows the rights of that line business; but he won't tell. + Gedney Raffer's got a strangle hold on Toby and his little swamp farm, and + Toby doesn't dare say his soul's his own. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” continued the lumberman, with another of his big laughs. “This has + nothing to do with your stew, Bob. I didn't want to come to the house last + night and surprise you; so I stayed at the hotel. And all the time I was + thinking of this little nip, Beg pardon! This young lady, and how smart + and plucky she was. + </p> + <p> + “And lo and behold,” pursued Uncle Henry, “she turns out to be my own + niece. I'm going to take her back with me to Pine Camp. Kate's got to see + and know her. The boys will be tickled out of their boots to have a girl + like her around. That's our one lack at Pine Camp. There never was a girl + in the family. + </p> + <p> + “Seems that this was just foreordained. You and Jessie have got to go 'way + off, over the water; can't leave this plucky girl alone. Her old uncle and + aunt are the proper folks to take care of her. What do you say yourself, + young lady?” + </p> + <p> + Nan had liked the big man from the very beginning. She was a sensible + child, too. She saw that she must settle this matter herself, for it was + too hard a question for either Momsey or Papa Sherwood to decide. She + gained control of herself now; but nobody will ever know how much courage + it took for her to say, promptly: + </p> + <p> + “Of course I will go home with you, Uncle Henry. It will be fun, I think, + to go into the woods in the winter. And, and I can come right back as soon + as Momsey and Papa Sherwood return from Scotland.” + </p> + <p> + So it was settled, just like that. The rush in which both parties got + under way on Monday made Nan's head whirl. Momsey was to buy a few + necessary things in New York before she boarded the steamer. Nan had a + plentiful supply of warm winter clothing, and she took a trunkful. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Joyce was left to take a peep at the little, locked cottage on Amity + Street, now and then. Nan could say “Goodbye” only very hastily to Bess + Harley and her other school friends. Her school had to be broken off at a + bad time in the year, but there was the prospect of a change in Nan's + method of education the next fall. + </p> + <p> + Momsey and Papa Sherwood took the train east an hour before Nan and Uncle + Henry boarded that for Chicago. All went with a rush and clatter, and Nan + found herself at last rumbling out of Tillbury, on her way to the northern + wilderness, while a thin drive of fine snowflakes tapped on the car + windows. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter X. GEDNEY RAFFER + </h2> + <p> + It was fortunate for Nan Sherwood that on the day of parting with her + parents she had so much to do, and that there was so much to see, and so + many new things of which to think. + </p> + <p> + She had never traveled to Chicago before, nor far from Tillbury at all. + Even the chair car was new to the girl's experience and she found it + vastly entertaining to sit at a broad window with her uncle in the + opposite chair, gazing out upon the snowy landscape as the train hurried + over the prairie. + </p> + <p> + She had a certain feeling that her Uncle Henry was an anomaly in the chair + car. His huge bearskin coat and the rough clothing under it; his felt + boots, with rubber soles and feet; the fact that he wore no linen and only + a string tie under the collar of his flannel shirt; his great bronzed + hands and blunted fingers with their broken nails, all these things set + him apart from the other men who rode in the car. + </p> + <p> + Papa Sherwood paid much attention to the niceties of dress, despite the + fact that his work at the Atwater Mills had called for overalls and, + frequently, oily hands. Uncle Henry evidently knew little about stiff + collars and laundered cuffs, or cravats, smart boots, bosomed shirts, or + other dainty wear for men. He was quite innocent of giving any offence to + the eye, however. Lying back in the comfortable chair with his coat off + and his great lumberman's boots crossed, he laughed at anything Nan said + that chanced to be the least bit amusing, until the gas-globes rang again. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Nan as though there never was such a huge man before. She + doubted if Goliath could have looked so big to young David, when the + shepherd boy went out with his sling to meet the giant. Uncle Henry was + six feet, four inches in height and broad in proportion. The chair creaked + under his weight when he moved. Other people in the car gazed on the quite + unconscious giant as wonderingly as did Nan herself. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Henry,” she asked him once, “are all the men in the Big Woods as + tall as you are?” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness me! No, child,” he chuckled. “But the woods don't breed many + runts, that's a fact. There's some bigger than I. Long Sam Dorgan is near + seven feet he isn't quite sure, for he's so ticklish that you can't ever + measure him,” and Uncle Henry's chuckle burst into a full-fledged laugh. + “He's just as graceful as a length of shingle lathing, too. And freckles + and liver spots on his hands and face, well, he certain sure is a handsome + creature. + </p> + <p> + “He went to town once and stayed over night. Wasn't any bed long enough at + the hotel, and Sam had got considerably under the weather, anyhow, from + fooling with hard cider. So he wasn't particular about where he bedded + down, and they put him to sleep in the horse trough.” + </p> + <p> + “The horse trough!” gasped Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It was pretty dry when Sam went to bed; but right early in the + morning a sleepy hostler stumbled out to the trough and began to pump + water into it for the cattle. Maybe Long Sam needed a bath, but not just + that way. He rose up with a yell like a Choctaw Indian. Said he was just + dreaming of going through the Sault Ste. Marie in a barrel, and he + reckoned the barrel burst open.” + </p> + <p> + Nan was much amused by this story, as she was by others that the old + lumberman related. He was full of dry sayings and his speech had many + queer twists to it. His bluff, honest way delighted the girl, although he + was so different from Papa Sherwood. As Momsey had said, Uncle Henry's + body had to be big to contain his heart. One can excuse much that is rough + in a character so lovable as that of Uncle Henry's. + </p> + <p> + The snow increased as the train sped on and the darkness gradually + thickened. Uncle Henry took his niece into the dining car where they had + supper, with a black man with shiny eyes and very white teeth, who seemed + always on the broad grin, to wait upon them. Nan made a mental note to + write Bess Harley all about the meal and the service, for Bess was always + interested in anything that seemed “aristocratic,” and to the + unsophisticated girl from Tillbury the style of the dining car seemed + really luxurious. + </p> + <p> + When the train rolled into the Chicago station it was not yet late; but it + seemed to Nan as though they had ridden miles and miles, through lighted + streets hedged on either side with brick houses. The snow was still + falling, but it looked sooty and gray here in the city. Nan began to feel + some depression, and to remember more keenly that Momsey and Papa Sherwood + were flying easterly just as fast as an express train could take them. + </p> + <p> + It was cold, too. A keen, penetrating wind seemed to search through the + streets. Uncle Henry said it came from the lake. He beckoned to a taxicab + driver, and Nan's trunk was found and strapped upon the roof. Then off + they went to the hotel where Uncle Henry always stopped when he came to + Chicago, and where his own bag was checked. + </p> + <p> + Looking through the cab windows, the girl began to take an immediate + interest in life again. So many people, despite the storm! So many + vehicles tangled up at the corners and waiting for the big policemen to + let them by in front of the clanging cars! Bustle, hurry, noise, + confusion! + </p> + <p> + “Some different from your Tillbury,” drawled Uncle Henry. “And just as + different from Pine Camp as chalk is from cheese.” + </p> + <p> + “But so interesting!” breathed Nan, with a sigh. “Doesn't it ever get to + be bedtime for children in the city?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for those kids,” grumbled Uncle Henry. “Poor creatures. They sell + papers, or flowers, or matches, or what-not, all evening long. And stores + keep open, and hotel bars, and drug shops, besides theatres and the like. + There's a big motion picture place! I went there once. It beats any show + that ever came to Hobart Forks, now I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we have motion picture shows at Tillbury. We have had them in the + school hall, too,” said Nan complacently. “But, of course, I'd like to see + all the people and the lights, and so forth. It looks very interesting in + the city. But the snow is dirty, Uncle Henry.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And most everything else is dirty when you get into these brick and + mortar tunnels. That's what I call the streets. The air even isn't clean,” + went on the lumberman. “Give me the woods, with a fresh wind blowing, and + the world looks good to me,” then his voice and face fell, as he added, + “excepting that snake-in-the-grass, Ged Raffer.” + </p> + <p> + “That man must make you a lot of trouble, Uncle Henry,” said Nan + sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “He does,” growled the lumberman. “He's a miserable, fox-faced scoundrel, + and I've no more use for him than I have for an egg-sucking dog. That's + the way I feel about it.” + </p> + <p> + They reached the hotel just then, and Uncle Henry's flare of passion was + quenched. The hostelry he patronized was not a new hotel; but it was a + very good one, and Nan's heart beat high as she followed the porter + inside, with Uncle Henry directing the taxicab driver and a second porter + how to dispose of the trunk for the night. + </p> + <p> + Nan had her bag in which were her night clothes, toilet articles, and + other necessities. The porter carried this for her and seated her on a + comfortable lounge at one side while Uncle Henry arranged about the rooms. + </p> + <p> + To do honor to his pretty niece the lumberman engaged much better quarters + than he would have chosen for himself. When they went up to the rooms Nan + found a pretty little bath opening out of hers, and the maid came and + asked her if she could be of any help. The girl began to feel quite “grown + up.” It was all very wonderful, and she loved Uncle Henry for making + things so pleasant for her. + </p> + <p> + She had to run to his door and tell him this before she undressed. He had + pulled off his boots and was tramping up and down the carpeted floor in + his thick woolen socks, humming to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Taking a constitutional, Nan,” he declared. “Haven't had any exercise for + this big body of mine all day. Sitting in that car has made me as cramped + as a bear just crawling out of his den in the spring.” + </p> + <p> + He did not tell her that had he been alone he would have gone out and + tramped the snowy streets for half the night. But he would not leave her + alone in the hotel. “No, sir,” said Uncle Henry. “Robert would never + forgive me if anything happened to his honey-bird. And fire, or something, + might break out here while I was gone.” + </p> + <p> + He said nothing like this to Nan, however, but kissed her good night and + told her she should always bid him good night in just that way as long as + she was at Pine Camp. + </p> + <p> + “For Kate and I have never had a little girl,” said the big lumberman, + “and boys get over the kissing stage mighty early, I find. Kate and I + always did hanker for a girl.” + </p> + <p> + “If you owned a really, truly daughter of your own, Uncle Henry, I believe + you'd spoil her to death!” cried Nan, the next morning, when she came out + of the fur shop to which he had taken her. + </p> + <p> + He had insisted that she was not dressed warmly enough for the woods. “We + see forty and forty-five below up there, sometimes,” he said. “You think + this raw wind is cold; it is nothing to a black frost in the Big Woods. + Trees burst as if there were dynamite in 'em. You've never seen the like. + </p> + <p> + “Of course the back of winter's about broken now. But we may have some + cold snaps yet. Anyhow, you look warmer than you did.” + </p> + <p> + And that was true, for Nan was dressed like a little Esquimau. Her coat + had a pointed hood to it; she wore high fur boots, the fur outside. Her + mittens of seal were buttoned to the sleeves of her coat, and she could + thrust her hands, with ordinary gloves on them, right into these warm + receptacles. + </p> + <p> + Nan thought they were wonderfully served at the hotel where they stopped, + and she liked the maid on her corridor very much, and the boy who brought + the icewater, too. There really was so much to tell Bess that she began to + keep a diary in a little blank-book she bought for that purpose. + </p> + <p> + Then the most wonderful thing of all was the message from Papa Sherwood + which arrived just before she and Uncle Henry left the hotel for the + train. It was a “night letter” sent from Buffalo and told her that Momsey + was all right and that they both sent love and would telegraph once more + before their steamship left the dock at New York. + </p> + <p> + Nan and Uncle Henry drove through the snowy streets to another station and + took the evening train north. They traveled at first by the Milwaukee + Division of the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad; and now another new + experience came Nan's way. Uncle Henry had secured a section in the + sleeping car and each had a berth. + </p> + <p> + It was just like being put to sleep on a shelf, Nan declared, when the + porter made up the beds at nine o'clock. She climbed into the upper berth + a little later, sure that she would not sleep, and intending to look out + of the narrow window to watch the snowy landscape fly by all night. + </p> + <p> + And much to her surprise (only the surprise came in the morning) she fell + fast asleep almost immediately, lulled by the rocking of the huge car on + its springs, and did not arouse until seven o'clock and the car stood on + the siding in the big Wisconsin city. + </p> + <p> + They hurried to get a northern bound train and were soon off on what Uncle + Henry called the “longest lap” of their journey. The train swept them up + the line of Lake Michigan, sometimes within sight of the shore, often + along the edge of estuaries, particularly following the contour of Green + By, and then into the Wilderness of upper Wisconsin and the Michigan + Peninsula. + </p> + <p> + On the Peninsula Division of the C. & N. W. they did not travel as + fast as they had been running, and before Hobart Forks was announced on + the last local train they traveled in, Nan Sherwood certainly was tired of + riding by rail. The station was in Marquette County, near the Schoolcraft + line. Pine Camp was twenty miles deeper in the Wilderness. It seemed to + Nan that she had been traveling through forests, or the barren stumpage + where forests had been, for weeks. + </p> + <p> + “Here's where we get off, little girl,” Uncle Henry said, as he seized his + big bag and her little one and made for the door of the car. Nan ran after + him in her fur clothing. She had found before this that he was right about + the cold. It was an entirely different atmosphere up here in the Big Woods + from Tillbury, or even Chicago. + </p> + <p> + The train creaked to a stop. They leaped down upon the snowy platform. + Only a plain station, big freight house, and a company of roughly dressed + men to meet them. Behind the station a number of sleighs and sledges + stood, their impatient horses shaking the innumerable bells they wore. + </p> + <p> + Nan, stumbling off the car step behind her uncle, came near to colliding + with a small man in patched coat and cowhide boots, and with a rope tied + about his waist as some teamsters affect. He mumbled something in anger + and Nan turned to look at him. + </p> + <p> + He wore sparse, sandy whiskers, now fast turning gray. The outthrust of + the lower part of his face was as sharp as that of a fox, and he really + looked like a fox. She was sure of his identity before uncle Henry wheeled + and, seeing the man, said: + </p> + <p> + “What's that you are saying, Ged Raffer? This is my niece, and if you lay + your tongue to her name, I'll give you something to go to law about in a + hurry. Come, Nan. Don't let that man touch so much as your coat sleeve. + He's like pitch. You can't be near him without some of his meanness + sticking to you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XI. PINE CAMP AT LAST + </h2> + <p> + It was the first shade upon Uncle Henry's character that displeased Nan. + He was evidently a passionate man, prone to give way to elemental + feelings, literally, “a man of wrath.” + </p> + <p> + Gedney Raffer, weazened, snakelike, sly, and treacherous, had doubtless + wronged Uncle Henry deeply. But this fact could not excuse the huge + lumberman's language on the platform of the Hobart Forks station. + </p> + <p> + Nan wanted to stop her ears with her fingers and run from the spot. The + tough fellows standing around enjoyed the war of words hugely. Mr. + Sherwood was too big to strike Gedney Raffer, and of course the latter + dared not use his puny fists on the giant. + </p> + <p> + The blunt club of the lumberman's speech was scarcely a match for the + sharp rapier of Raffer's tongue. As the crowd laughed it was evident that + the fox-faced man was getting the verbal best of the controversy. + </p> + <p> + Nan's ears burned and tears stood in her eyes. Uncle Henry descended to + personal threats and the smaller man called out: + </p> + <p> + “You jest put your hand on me, you big, overgrown sawney! That's all I'm + a-waitin' for. You 'tack me and I'll have you in the caboose, sure's my + name's Gedney Raffer. Try it!” + </p> + <p> + The quarrel was most distressing. Nan pulled at her uncle's coat sleeve. + The rough men eyed her curiously. She had never felt so ashamed in her + life. + </p> + <p> + “Do come, Uncle Henry,” she whispered. “I'm cold.” + </p> + <p> + That statement started the fuming giant at once. Nan's sensitiveness to a + rude quarrel did not impress the man; but her sensitiveness to the weather + shocked him immediately. + </p> + <p> + “My goodness, girl! We'll go right up to the hotel,” he said, kindly. “Any + of you fellows seen Rafe or Tom in town this morning with the sled and + roans?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Hen!” cried the station master, waving a yellow paper. “Here's a + telegraph despatch for you.” + </p> + <p> + It was really for Nan, and from Papa Sherwood filed just before the Afton + Castle sailed from New York: + </p> + <p> + “Momsey and papa send love and kisses. Be cheerful and good. Write often. + We think of you always. Kind wishes for Henry, Kate and boys. We look + forward to fair voyage and safe landing. Will cable from other side. + Expect happy meeting in spring. R. and J. Sherwood.” + </p> + <p> + “They got a good start,” commented Uncle Henry, putting all thought of his + quarrel with Ged Raffer behind him at once. “We'll hope they have a safe + voyage. Now! Where are those boys of mine?” + </p> + <p> + The town of Hobart Forks was by no means a lumber town. Millions of feet + of timber was boomed on the river within the limits of the town every + season, and there were great mills along the banks of the stream, too. But + there were other industries, as well as churches, amusement places and + many pleasant dwellings. It was no settlement of “slab shanties” with a + few saloons and a general store. Nan had yet to see this latter kind of + settlement. + </p> + <p> + But what she saw about the central market place of Hobart Forks opened her + eyes considerably to an appreciation of the rough country she had come to, + and the rough people to be met therein. + </p> + <p> + The storekeepers she saw through the frosted windows were dressed like + storekeepers in Tillbury; and there were well dressed women on the + streets, a few, at least. + </p> + <p> + But most of the men striding through the snow were as roughly dressed as + her uncle, and not many were as good looking as Mr. Sherwood. Some who + came out of the swinging doors of saloons staggered, and were very noisy + in their speech and rude in their actions. Of course nobody spoke to Nan, + or troubled her; Henry Sherwood was undoubtedly a man of standing in the + settlement and highly respected. + </p> + <p> + Not far from the market place they came upon a sprawling old tavern, with + a fenced yard at one side. As they approached, a sled drawn by a wild + looking pair of rough, red-roan ponies, dashed out of the yard and stopped + at the broad front portico of the hotel. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Tom! What's the matter with you?” called Uncle Henry. “Here we are!” + </p> + <p> + The driver turned a broad, good-humored face to look over his burly + shoulder. Nan saw that Tom Sherwood strongly resembled his father. + </p> + <p> + “That you, Dad?” he drawled. “I'd about given you up. I didn't want to + drive down to the depot with these crazy creatures. And if I'd left 'em + standing they'd have kicked Phil's shed to pieces, I do believe. The + train's been in half an hour and more.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said his father. “I had a mess of words with Ged Raffer. That + delayed me.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to give him the back of your hand, and say no more about it,” + declared Tom, in a tone that showed he warmed in his bosom the family + grudge against the fox-faced man. + </p> + <p> + “Here's your Cousin Nan, Tom,” said his father, without making rejoinder + to the young man's observation. “She must go into Phil's and get warm and + have a cup of hot coffee. I'll take some in a new-fangled bottle I bought + down in Chicago, so we can all have a hot drink on the way home.” + </p> + <p> + “'Twon't keep warm twenty miles,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Yes 'twill. It'll keep HOT for twenty miles and more. They call it a + thermos bottle. It'll keep coffee hot, or cold, for a day, just as you + please.” + </p> + <p> + “Jehosaphat, Dad! What kind of a swindle's that? How does the bottle know + whether you want your drink hot or cold? Huh! Those city folks couldn't + make me believe any such thing,” objected the son. + </p> + <p> + Nan had to giggle at that, and Uncle Henry demanded: “Did you ever see + such a gump? Go on down to the station and tell Abe to fling that trunk + and the bags into the back of the sled. We'll have our coffee, and get the + thermos bottle filled, too, by the time you come back.” + </p> + <p> + Nan liked tom Sherwood. He was about nineteen and almost as big as his + father. He was gentle with her, and showed himself to be an expert driver + of the roan colts. Otherwise Nan might have been much afraid during the + first mile of the journey to Pine Camp, for certainly she had never seen + horses behave so before. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't been out of the stable for a week,” explained Tom cooly as the + roans plunged and danced, and “cut up didos” generally, as Uncle Henry + remarked. + </p> + <p> + “We had a big fall of snow,” Tom went on to say. “Bunged us all up in the + woods; so Rafe and I came in. Marm's all right. So's everybody else around + the Camp, except Old Man Llewellen. He's down with rheumatism, or + tic-douloureux, or something. He's always complaining.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Uncle Henry, and then went on to relate for his son's + benefit the wonderful thing that had happened to his brother and his + brother's wife, and why Nan had come up into Michigan without her parents. + </p> + <p> + “We'll be mighty proud to have her,” said Tom simply. He was only a great + boy, after all, and he blushed every time he caught Nan looking at him. + The girl began to feel very much grown up. + </p> + <p> + They were glad of the hot coffee, and Tom was shown how and why the + mysterious bottle kept the drink hot. They only made that single halt (and + only for a few minutes for the horses to drink) before reaching Pine Camp. + They traveled through the snow-covered woods most of the way. There were + few farms and no settlements at all until they reached Pine Camp. + </p> + <p> + The road was not well beaten and they could not have got through some of + the drifts with less spirited ponies than the roans. When they crossed the + long bridge over the river and swept into the village street, Nan was + amazed. + </p> + <p> + Likewise, her heart sank a little. There was not a building in the place + more than a story and a half in height. Most of them were slab cottages. + Few yards were fenced. There were two stores, facing each other on the + single street of the town, with false-fronts running up as tall as the + second story would have been had there been a second story. + </p> + <p> + The roans dashed through the better beaten path of the street, with + everybody along the way hailing Henry Sherwood vociferously. The giant + waved his hand and shouted in reply. Nan cowered between him and Tom, on + the seat, shielding her face from the flying snow from the ponies' hoofs, + though the tears in her eyes were not brought there only by the sting of + the pelting she received. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XII. “HOME WAS NEVER LIKE THIS” + </h2> + <p> + The roan ponies dashed through the slab settlement, past the blacksmith + and wheelwright shop and the ugly red building Tom told Nan was the + school, and reached a large, sprawling, unpainted dwelling on the + outskirts of the village. + </p> + <p> + There were barns back of the Sherwood house; there was no fence between + the yard and the road, the windows of the house stared out upon the + passerby, blindless, and many of them without shades. There was such a + painful newness about the building that it seemed to Nan the carpenters + must have just packed their tools and gone, while the painters had not yet + arrived. + </p> + <p> + “Well! Here we are,” announced Mr. Henry Sherwood, as Tom held in the + still eager ponies. He stepped out and offered Nan his hand. “Home again, + little girl. I reckon Kate will be mighty glad to see you, that she will.” + </p> + <p> + Nan leaped out and began to stamp her feet on the hard snow, while Uncle + Henry lifted out the trunk and bags. Just as the ponies sprang away again, + a door in the ugly house opened and a tall, angular woman looked forth. + </p> + <p> + “Bring her in, Hen!” she cried, in a high-pitched voice. “I want to see + her.” + </p> + <p> + Nan went rather timidly up the path. Her aunt was almost as tall as her + husband. She was very bony and was flat-chested and unlovely in every way. + That is, so it seemed, when the homesick girl raised her eyes to Aunt + Kate's face. + </p> + <p> + That face was as brown as sole-leather, and the texture of the skin seemed + leathery as well. There was a hawklike nose dominating the unfeminine + face. The shallows below the cheekbones were deep, as though she had + suffered the loss of her back molars. The eyebrows were straggly; the eyes + themselves of a pale, watery blue; the mouth a thin line when her + colorless lips were closed; and her chin was as square and determined as + Uncle Henry's own. + </p> + <p> + As Nan approached she saw something else about this unlovely woman. On her + neck was a great, livid scar, of a hand's breadth, and which looked like a + scald, or burn. No attempt was made to conceal this unsightly blemish. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, there was nothing about Aunt Kate Sherwood suggesting a softening + of her hard lines. Her plain, ugly print dress was cut low at the throat, + and had no collar or ruff to hide the scar. Nan's gaze was fastened on + that blemish before she was half way to the door, and she could see + nothing else at first. + </p> + <p> + The girl fought down a physical shudder when Aunt Kate's clawlike hands + seized her by both shoulders, and she stooped to kiss the visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome, dear Nannie,” her sharp voice said, and Nan thought that, with + ease, one might have heard her in the middle of the village. + </p> + <p> + But when Aunt Kate's lips touched the girl's forehead they were Warm, and + soft as velvet. Her breath was sweet. There was a wholesome cleanliness + about her person that pleased Nan. The ugly dress was spotless and + beautifully laundered. She had a glimpse of the unplastered kitchen and + saw a row of copper pots on the shelf over the dresser that were scoured + to dazzling brightness. The boards of the floor were white as milk. The + big, patent range glistened with polish, and its nickel-work was rubbed + till it reflected like a mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome, my dear!” said Aunt Kate again. “I hope you will be happy while + you stay with us.” + </p> + <p> + Happy! With Momsey and Papa Sherwood on the ocean, and the “little + dwelling in amity” closed and deserted? Nan feared she would break down + and cry. + </p> + <p> + Her Aunt Kate left her to herself a minute just then that she might + overcome this weakness. Uncle Henry came up the path with the bags, + smiling broadly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old woman!” he said heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old man!” she returned. + </p> + <p> + And then suddenly, Nan Sherwood had a new vision. She was used to seeing + her pretty mother and her handsome father display their mutual affection; + it had not seemed possible that rough, burly Uncle Henry and ugly Aunt + Kate could feel the same degree of affection for each other. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Henry dropped the bags. Aunt Kate seemed to be drawn toward him when + he put out his hands. Nan saw their lips meet, and then the giant gently, + almost reverently, kissed the horrid scar on Aunt Kate's neck. + </p> + <p> + “Here's Nan!” cried the big lumberman jovially. “The pluckiest and + smartest little girl in seven states! Take her in out of the cold, Kate. + She's not used to our kind of weather, and I have been watching for the + frost flowers to bloom on her pretty face all the way from the forks.” + </p> + <p> + The woman drew Nan into the warm kitchen. Uncle Henry followed in a minute + with the trunk. + </p> + <p> + “Where'll I put this box, Kate?” he asked. “I reckon you've fixed up some + cozy place for her?” + </p> + <p> + “The east room, Hen,” Aunt Kate replied. “The sun lies in there mornings. + I took the new spring rocker out of the parlor, and with the white + enameled bedstead you bought in Chicago, and the maple bureau we got of + that furniture pedlar, and the best drugget to lay over the carpet I + reckon Nannie has a pretty bedroom.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Nan stared openly around the strange kitchen. The joists and + rafters were uncovered by laths or plaster. Muslin, that had once been + white, was tacked to the beams overhead for a ceiling. The smoke from the + cookstove had stained it to a deep brown color above the stove and to a + lighter, meerschaum shade in the corners. + </p> + <p> + The furniture was of the rudest plainest kind much of it evidently + home-made. Uncle Henry was not unhandy with tools. She learned, later, + that he and the boys had practically built the house by themselves. They + were finishing it inside, as they had time. In some of the rooms the + inside window and door frames were not yet in place. + </p> + <p> + There was an appetizing smell from the pots upon the stove, and the long + table was set for dinner. They would not let Nan change from her traveling + dress before sitting down to the table. Tom and Rafe came in and all three + men washed at the long, wooden sink. + </p> + <p> + Rafe was of slighter build than his brother, and a year or more younger. + He was not so shy as Tom, either; and his eyes sparkled with mischief. Nan + found that she could not act “grown up” with her Cousin Rafe. + </p> + <p> + The principal dish for dinner was venison stew, served with vegetables and + salt-rising bread. There was cake, too, very heavy and indigestible, and + speckled with huckleberries that had been dried the fall previous. Aunt + Kate was no fancy cook; but appetite is the best sauce, after all, and Nan + had her share of that condiment. + </p> + <p> + During the meal there was not much conversation save about the wonderful + fortune that had fallen to Nan's mother and the voyage she and her husband + were taking to Scotland to secure it. Nan learned, too, that Uncle Henry + had telegraphed from Tillbury of Nan's coming to Pine Camp, and + consequently Aunt Kate was able to prepare for her. + </p> + <p> + And that the good woman had done her best to make a nest for her little + niece in the ugly house, Nan was assured. After dinner she insisted upon + the girl's going to the east room to change her dress and lie down. The + comparison between this great chamber and Nan's pretty room at home was + appalling. + </p> + <p> + The room had been plastered, but the plaster was of a gray color and + unfinished. The woodwork was painted a dusty, brick red with mineral + paint. The odd and ugly pieces of furniture horrified Nan. The drugget on + the floor only served to hide a part of the still more atrociously + patterned carpet. The rocking chair complained if one touched it. The top + of the huge maple dresser was as bald as one's palm. + </p> + <p> + Nan sat down on the unopened trunk when her aunt had left her. She dabbed + her eyes with her handkerchief. Home certainly was never like this! She + did not see how she was ever going to be able to stand it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIII. MARGARET LLEWELLEN + </h2> + <p> + “If Momsey or Papa Sherwood knew about this they'd be awfully sorry for + me,” thought Nan, still sitting on the trunk. “Such a looking place! + Nothing to see but snow and trees,” for the village of Pine Camp was quite + surrounded by the forest and all the visitor could see from the windows of + her first-floor bedroom were stumps and trees, with deep snow everywhere. + </p> + <p> + There was a glowing wood stove in the room and a big, chintz-covered box + beside it, full of “chunks.” It was warm in the room, the atmosphere being + permeated with the sweet tang of wood smoke. + </p> + <p> + Nan dried her eyes. There really was not any use in crying. Momsey and + Papa Sherwood could not know how bad she felt, and she really was not + selfish enough to wish them to know. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Nanny Sherwood!” she scolded herself, “there's not a particle of use + of your sniveling. It won't 'get you anywhere,' as Mrs. Joyce says. You'll + only make your eyes red, and the folks will see that you're not happy + here, and they will be hurt. + </p> + <p> + “Mustn't make other folks feel bad just because I feel bad myself,” Nan + decided. “Come on! Pluck up your courage! + </p> + <p> + “I know what I'll do,” she added, literally shaking herself as she jumped + off the trunk. “I'll unpack. I'll cover up everything ugly that I can with + something pretty from Tillbury.” + </p> + <p> + Hurried as she had been her departure from the cottage on Amity Street, + Nan had packed in her trunk many of those little possessions, dear to her + childish heart, that had graced her bedroom. These appeared from the trunk + even before she hung away her clothes in the unplastered closet where the + cold wind searched through the cracks from out-of-doors. Into that closet, + away back in the corner, went a long pasteboard box, tied carefully with + strong cord. Nan patted it gently with her hand before she left the box, + whispering: + </p> + <p> + “You dear! I wouldn't have left you behind for anything! I won't let them + know you are here; but sometimes, when I'm sure nobody will interrupt, you + shall come out.” + </p> + <p> + She spread a fringed towel over the barren top of the dresser. It would + not cover it all, of course; but it made an island in a sea of emptiness. + </p> + <p> + And on the island she quickly set forth the plain little toilet-set her + mother had given her on her last birthday, the manicure set that was a + present from Papa Sherwood, and the several other knickknacks that would + help to make the big dresser look as though “there was somebody at home,” + as she whispered to herself. + </p> + <p> + She draped a scarf here, hung up a pretty silk bag there, placed Momsey's + and Papa Sherwood's portraits in their little silver filigree easels on + the mantelpiece, flanking the clock that would not run and which was held + by the ugly china shepherdess with only one foot and a broken crook, the + latter ornament evidently having been at one time prized by the babies of + her aunt's family, for the ring at the top was dented by little teeth. + </p> + <p> + Nothing, however, could take the curse of ugliness off the staring gray + walls of the room, or from the horrible turkey-red and white + canton-flannel quilt that bedecked the bed. Nan longed to spill the + contents of her ink bottle over that hideous coverlet, but did not dare. + </p> + <p> + The effort to make the big east room look less like a barn made Nan feel + better in her mind. It was still dreary, it must be confessed. There were + a dozen things she wished she could do to improve it. There were nothing + but paper shades at the windows. Even a simple scrim curtain——- + </p> + <p> + And, in thinking of this, Nan raised her eyes to one window to see a face + pressed close against the glass, and two rolling, crablike eyes glaring in + at her. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” ejaculated Nan Sherwood. “What is the matter with that child's + eyes? They'll drop out of her head!” + </p> + <p> + She ran to the window, evidently startling the peeper quite as much as she + had been startled herself. The girl, who was about Nan's own age, fell + back from the pane, stumbled in the big, men's boots she wore, and + ungracefully sprawled in the snow upon her back. She could not get away + before Nan had the window open. + </p> + <p> + The sash was held up by a notched stick. Nan put her head and shoulders + out into the frosty air and stared down at the prostrate girl, who stared + up at her in return. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” Nan asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin',” replied the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “What were you peeping in for?” + </p> + <p> + “To see you,” was the more frank reply. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” asked Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you the new gal?” + </p> + <p> + “I've newly come here, yes,” admitted Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm not such a sight, am I?” laughed the girl from Tillbury. “But you + are, lying there in the snow. You'll get your death of cold. Get up.” + </p> + <p> + The other did so. Beside the men's boots, which were patched and old, she + wore a woollen skirt, a blouse, and a shawl over her head and shoulders. + She shook the snow from her garments much as a dog frees himself from + water after coming out of a pond. + </p> + <p> + “It's too cold to talk with this window open. You're a neighbor, aren't + you?” + </p> + <p> + The girl nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Then come in,” urged Nan. “I'm sure my aunt will let you.” + </p> + <p> + The girl shook her head in a decided negative to this proposal. “Don't + want Marm Sherwood to see me,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “She told me not to come over after you come 'ithout I put on my new dress + and washed my hands and face.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” exclaimed Nan, looking at her more closely. “You seem to have a + clean face, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But that dress she 'gin me, my brother Bob took and put on Old + Beagle for to dress him up funny. And Beagle heard a noise he thought was + a fox barking and he started for the tamarack swamp, lickety-split. I + expect there ain't enough of that gingham left to tie around a sore + thumb.” + </p> + <p> + Nan listened to this in both amusement and surprise. The girl was a new + specimen to her. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, anyway,” she urged. “I can't keep the window open.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll climb in, then,” declared the other suddenly, and, suiting the + action to the word, she swarmed over the sill; but she left one huge boot + in the snow, and Nan, laughing delightedly, ran for the poker to fish for + it, and drew it in and shut down the window. + </p> + <p> + The strange girl was warming her hands at the fire. Nan pushed a chair + toward her and took one herself, but not the complaining spring rocking + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me all about yourself,” the girl demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Nan Sherwood, and I've come here to Pine Camp to stay while my father + and mother have gone to Scotland.” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard about Scotland,” declared the girl with the very prominent + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Gran'ther Llewellen sings that song. You know: + </p> + <p> + “'Scotland's burning! Scotland's burning! Where, where? Where, where? + Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! Pour on water! Pour on water! Fire's out! Fire's + out!'” + </p> + <p> + Nan laughed. “I've heard that, too,” she said. “But it was another + Scotland.” Then: “So your name is Llewellen?” + </p> + <p> + “Marg'ret Llewellen.” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard your grandfather is sick,” said Nan, remembering Tom's report + of the health of the community when he had met her and her uncle at Hobart + Forks. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He's got the tic-del-rew,” declared Margaret, rather unfeelingly. + “Aunt Matildy says he's allus creakin' round like a rusty gate-hinge.” + </p> + <p> + “Why! That doesn't sound very nice,” objected Nan. “Don't you love your + grandfather?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” said this perfectly frank young savage. “He's so awfully + wizzled.” + </p> + <p> + “'Wizzled'?” repeated Nan, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. His face is all wizzled up like a dried apple.” + </p> + <p> + “But you love your aunt Matilda?” gasped Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she's wizzled some,” confessed Margaret. Then she said: “I don't + like faces like hern and Marm Sherwood's. I like your face. It's smooth.” + </p> + <p> + Nan had noticed that this half-wild girl was of beautifully fair + complexion herself, and aside from her pop eyes was quite petty. But she + was a queer little thing. + </p> + <p> + “You've been to Chicago, ain't you?” asked Margaret suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “We came through Chicago on our way up here from my home. We stayed one + night there,” Nan replied. + </p> + <p> + “It's bigger'n Pine Camp, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “My goodness, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Bigger'n the Forks?” queried Margaret doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is much, much bigger,” said Nan, hopeless of making one so + densely ignorant understand anything of the proportions of the metropolis + of the lakes. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I told Bob,” Margaret said. “He don't believe it. Bob's my + brother, but there never was such a dunce since Adam.” + </p> + <p> + Nan had to laugh. The strange girl amused her. But Margaret said + something, too, that deeply interested the visitor at Pine Camp before she + ended her call, making her exit as she had her entrance, by the window. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you never seen this house of your uncle's before, did you?” + queried Margaret at one point in the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. I never visited them before.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you uster visit 'em when they lived at Pale Lick?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I don't remember that they ever lived anywhere else beside here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they did. I heard Gran'ther tell about it. But mebbe 'twas before + you an' me was born. It was Pale Lick, I'm sure. That's where they lost + their two other boys.” + </p> + <p> + “What two other boys?” asked Nan, amazed. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you ever hear tell you had two other cousins?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you did,” said Margaret importantly. “And when Pale Lick burned up, + them boys was burned up, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” gasped Nan, horrified. + </p> + <p> + “Lots of folks was burned. Injun Pete come near being burned up. He ain't + been right, I reckon, since. And I reckon that's where Marm Sherwood got + that scar on the side of her neck.” + </p> + <p> + Nan wondered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIV. AT THE LUMBER CAMP + </h2> + <p> + Nan said nothing just then about her queer little visitor. Aunt Kate asked + her when she came out of the east room and crossed the chill desert of the + parlor to the general sitting room: + </p> + <p> + “Did you have a nice sleep, Nannie?” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness, Auntie!” laughed Nan. “I got over taking a nap in the daytime a + good while ago, I guess. But you come and see what I have done. I haven't + been idle.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Kate went and peeped into the east chamber. “Good mercy, child! It + doesn't look like the same room, with all the pretty didos,” she said. + “And that's your pretty mamma in the picture on the mantel? My! Your papa + looks peaked, doesn't he? Maybe that sea voyage they are taking will do + 'em both good.” + </p> + <p> + Nan had to admit that beside her uncle and cousins her father did look + “peaked.” Robust health and brawn seemed to be the two essentials in the + opinion of the people of Pine Camp. Nan was plump and rosy herself and so + escaped criticism. + </p> + <p> + Her uncle and aunt, and the two big boys as well, were as kind to her as + they knew how to be. Nan could not escape some of the depression of + homesickness during the first day or two of her visit to the woods + settlement; but the family did everything possible to help her occupy her + mind. + </p> + <p> + The long evenings were rather amusing, although the family knew little + about any game save checkers, “fox and geese,” and “hickory, dickory, + dock.” Nan played draughts with her uncle and fox and geese and the other + kindergarten game with her big cousins. To see Tom, with his eyes screwed + up tight and the pencil poised in his blunt, frost-cracked fingers over + the slate, while he recited in a base sing-song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Hick'ry, dick'ry, dock + The mouse ran up the clock, + The clock struck one, + An' down he come + Hick'ry, dick'ry, dock,” + </pre> + <p> + was side-splitting. Nan laughed till she cried. Poor, simple Tom did know + just what amused his little cousin so. + </p> + <p> + Rafe was by no means so slow, or so simple. Nan caught him cheating more + than once at fox and geese. Rafe was a little sly, and he was continually + making fun of his slow brother, and baiting him. Uncle Henry warned him: + </p> + <p> + “Now, Rafe, you're too big for your Marm or me to shingle your pants; but + Tom's likely to lick you some day for your cutting up and I sha'n't blame + him. Just because he's slow to wrath, don't you get it in your head that + he's afraid, or that he can't settle your hash in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Nan was greatly disturbed to hear so many references to fistic encounters + and fighting of all sorts. These men of the woods seemed to be possessed + of wild and unruly passions. What she heard the boys say caused her to + believe that most of the spare time of the men in the lumber camps was + spent in personal encounters. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, deary. They aren't so bad as they sound,” Aunt Kate told her, + comfortably. “Lots of nice men work in the camps all their lives and never + fight. Look at your Uncle Henry.” + </p> + <p> + But Nan remembered the “mess of words” (as he called it) that Uncle Henry + had had with Gedney Raffer on the railroad station platform at the Forks, + and she was afraid that even her aunt did not look with the same horror on + a quarrel that Nan herself did. + </p> + <p> + The girl from Tillbury had a chance to see just what a lumber camp was + like, and what the crew were like, on the fourth day after her arrival at + her Uncle Henry's house. The weather was then pronounced settled, and word + came for the two young men, Tom and Rafe, to report at Blackton's camp the + next morning, prepared to go to work. Tom drove a team which was then at + the lumber camp, being cared for by the cook and foreman; Rafe was a + chopper, for he had that sleight with an ax which, more than mere muscle, + makes the mighty woodsman. + </p> + <p> + “Their dad'll drive 'em over to Blackton's early, and you can go, too,” + said Aunt Kate. “That is, if you don't mind getting up right promptly in + the morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't mind that,” Nan declared. “I'm used to getting up early.” + </p> + <p> + But she thought differently when Uncle Henry's heavy hand rapped on the + door of the east chamber so early the next morning that it seemed to Nan + Sherwood that she had only been in bed long enough to close her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness, Uncle!” she muttered, when she found out what it meant. “What + time is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Three o'clock. Time enough for you to dress and eat a snack before we + start,” replied her uncle. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said Nan to herself. “I thought the house was afire.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Henry heard her through the door and whispered, shrilly: “Sh! Don't + let your aunt hear you say anything like that, child.” + </p> + <p> + “Like what?” queried Nan, in wonder. + </p> + <p> + “About fire. Remember!” added Uncle Henry, rather sternly, Nan thought, as + he went back to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Then Nan remembered what the strange little girl, Margaret Llewellen, had + said about the fire at Pale Lick that had burned her uncle's former home. + Nan had not felt like asking her uncle or aunt, or the boys, either, about + it. The latter had probably been too young to remember much about the + tragedy. + </p> + <p> + Although Nan had seen Margaret on several fleeting occasions since her + first interview with the woods girl, there had been no opportunity of + talking privately with her. And Margaret would only come to the window. + She was afraid to tell “Marm Sherwood” how she had lost the new dress that + had been given to her. + </p> + <p> + It was now as black outside Nan's window as it could be. She lit her oil + lamp and dressed swiftly, running at last through the cold parlor and + sitting room into the kitchen, where the fire in the range was burning + briskly and the coffee pot was on. Tom and Rafe were there comfortably + getting into thick woolen socks and big lumbermen's boots. + </p> + <p> + There was a heaping pan of Aunt Kate's doughnuts on the table, flanked + with the thick china coffee cups and deep saucers. Her uncle and the boys + always poured their coffee into the saucers and blew on it to take the + first heat off, then gulped it in great draughts. + </p> + <p> + Nan followed suit this morning, as far as cooling the coffee in the saucer + went. There was haste. Uncle Henry had been up some time, and now he came + stamping into the house, saying that the ponies were hitched in and were + standing in readiness upon the barn floor, attached to the pung. + </p> + <p> + “We've twenty-five miles to ride, you see, Nannie,” he said. “The boys + have to be at Blackton's so's to get to work at seven.” + </p> + <p> + They filled the thermos bottle that had so puzzled Tom, and then sallied + forth. The ponies were just as eager as they had been the day Nan had come + over from the Forks. She was really half afraid of them. + </p> + <p> + It was so dark that she could scarcely see the half-cleared road before + them as the ponies dashed away from Pine Camp. The sky was completely + overcast, but Uncle Henry declared it would break at sunrise. + </p> + <p> + Where the track had been well packed by former sleighs, the ponies' hoofs + rang as though on iron. The bits of snow that were flung off by their + hoofs were like pieces of ice. The bells on the harness jingled a very + pretty tune, Nan thought. She did not mind the biting cold, indeed, only + her face was exposed. Uncle Henry had suggested a veil; but she wanted to + see what she could. + </p> + <p> + For the first few miles it remained very dark, however. Had it not been + for the snow they could not have seen objects beside the road at all. + There was a lantern in the back of the pung and that flung a stream of + yellow light behind them; but Uncle Henry would not have the radiance of + it shot forward. + </p> + <p> + “A light just blinds you,” he said. “I'd rather trust to the roans' + sense.” + </p> + <p> + The ponies galloped for a long way, it seemed to Nan; then they came to a + hill so steep that they were glad to drop to a walk. Their bodies steamed + in a great cloud as they tugged the sleigh up the slope. Dark woods shut + the road in on either hand. Nan's eyes had got used to the faint light so + that she could see this at least. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she heard a mournful, long-drawn howl, seemingly at a great + distance. + </p> + <p> + “Must be a farm somewhere near,” she said to Rafe, who sat beside her on + the back seat. + </p> + <p> + “Nope. No farms around here, Nan,” he returned. + </p> + <p> + “But I hear a dog howl,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + Rafe listened, too. Then he turned to her with a grin on his sharp face + that she did not see. “Oh, no, you don't,” he chuckled. “That's no dog.” + </p> + <p> + Again the howl was repeated, and it sounded much nearer. Nan realized, + too, that it was a more savage sound than she had ever heard emitted by a + dog. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she asked, speaking in a low voice to Rafe. + </p> + <p> + “Wolves!” responded her cousin maliciously. “But you mustn't mind a little + thing like that. You don't have wolves down round where you live, I + s'pose?” + </p> + <p> + Nan knew that he was attempting to plague her, so she said: “Not for pets, + at least, Rafe. These sound awfully savage.” + </p> + <p> + “They are,” returned her cousin calmly. + </p> + <p> + The wolf cry came nearer and nearer. The ponies had started on a trot + again at the top of the hill, and her uncle and Tom did not seem to notice + the ugly cry. Nan looked back, and was sure that some great animal + scrambled out of the woods and gave chase to them. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there some danger?” she asked Rafe again. + </p> + <p> + “Not for us,” he said. “Of course, if the whole pack gathers and catches + us, then we have to do something.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you do?” demanded Nan quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the last time we were chased by wolves, we happened to have a ham + and a side of bacon along. So we chucked out first the one, and then the + other, and so pacified the brutes till we got near town.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Nan, half believing, half in doubt. + </p> + <p> + She looked back again. There, into the flickering light of the lantern, a + gaunt, huge creature leaped. Nan could see his head and shoulders now and + then as he plunged on after the sleigh, and a wickeder looking beast, she + hoped never to see. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she gasped again, and grabbed at Rafe's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be afraid,” drawled that young rascal. “I reckon he hasn't many + of his jolly companions with him. If he had, of course, we'd have to throw + you out to pacify him. That's the rule—youngest and prettiest goes + first——-” + </p> + <p> + “Like the ham, I s'pose?” sniffed Nan, in some anger, and just then Tom + reached over the back of the front seat and seized his brother by the + shoulder with a grip that made Rafe shriek with pain. + </p> + <p> + Nan was almost as startled as was Rafe. In the half-darkness Tom's dull + face blazed with anger, and he held his writhing brother as though he were + a child. + </p> + <p> + “You ornery scamp!” he said, almost under his breath. “You try to scare + that little girl, and I'll break you in two!” + </p> + <p> + Nan was horrified. She begged Tom to let his brother alone. “I was only + fooling her,” snarled Rafe, rubbing his injured shoulder, for Tom had the + grip of a pipe wrench. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Henry never turned around at all; but he said: “If I had a gun I'd + be tempted to shoot that old wolf hound of Toby Vanderwiller's. He's + always running after sleds and yelling his head off.” + </p> + <p> + Nan was glad the creature following them was not really a wolf; but she + knew she should be just as much afraid of him if she met him alone, as + though he really were a wolf. However, mostly, she was troubled by the + passionate nature of her two cousins. She had never seen Tom show any + anger before; but it was evident that he had plenty of spirit if it were + called up. And she was, secretly, proud that the slow-witted young giant + should have displayed his interest in her welfare so plainly. Rafe sat and + nursed his shoulder in silence for several miles. + </p> + <p> + The cold was intense. As the sky lightened along the eastern horizon it + seemed to Nan as though the frost increased each moment. The bricks at + their feet were getting cool; and they had already had recourse to the + thermos bottle, which was now empty of the gratefully hot drink it had + contained. + </p> + <p> + As the light gradually increased Nan saw Rafe watching her with sudden + attention. After his recent trick she was a little afraid of Rafe. Still + it did not seem possible that the reckless fellow would attempt any second + piece of fooling so soon after his brother's threat. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly Rafe yelled to his father to pull down the roans, and as the + ponies stopped, he reached from the sled into a drift and secured a big + handful of snow. Seizing Nan quickly around the shoulders he began to rub + her cheek vigorously with the snow. Nan gasped and almost lost her breath; + but she realized immediately what Rafe was about. + </p> + <p> + The frost had nipped her cheek, and her cousin had seen the white spot + appear. “The rubbing stung awfully, and the girl could not keep back the + tears; but she managed to repress the sobs. + </p> + <p> + “There!” exclaimed Rafe. “You are a plucky girl. I'm sorry I got some of + that snow down your neck, Nan. Couldn't help it. But it's the only thing + to do when the thermometer is thirty-two degrees below zero. Why! A fellow + went outside with his ears uncovered at Droomacher's camp one day last + winter and after awhile he began to rub his ears and one of 'em dropped + off just like a cake of ice.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop your lying, boy!” commanded his father. “It isn't as bad as that, + Nan. But you want to watch out for frost bite here in the woods, just the + same as we had to watch out for the automobiles in crossing those main + streets in Chicago.” + </p> + <p> + With a red sun rising over the low ridge of wooded ground to the east, the + camp in the hollow was revealed, the smoke rising in a pillar of blue from + the sheet-iron chimney of the cookhouse; smoke rising, too, from a dozen + big horses being curried before the stables. + </p> + <p> + Most of the men had arrived the night before. They were tumbling out of + the long, low bunkhouse now and making good use of the bright tin + washbasins on the long bench on the covered porch. Ice had been broken to + get the water that was poured into the basins, but the men laved their + faces and their hairy arms and chests in it as though it were summer + weather. + </p> + <p> + They quickly ran in for their outer shirts and coats, however, and then + trooped in to the end of the cook shed where the meals were served. Tom + turned away to look over his horses and see that they were all ready for + the day's work. Rafe put up the roan ponies in a couple of empty stalls + and gave them a feed of oats. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Henry took Nan by the hand, and, really she felt as though she + needed some support, she was so stiff from the cold, and led her into the + warm room where the men were gathering for the hearty meal the cook and + his helper had prepared. + </p> + <p> + The men were boisterous in their greeting of Uncle Henry, until they saw + Nan. Than, some bashfully, some because of natural refinement, lowered + their voices and were more careful how they spoke before the girl. + </p> + <p> + But she heard something that troubled her greatly. An old, grizzled man in + a corner of the fireplace where the brisk flames leaped high among the + logs, and who seemed to have already eaten his breakfast and was busily + stoning an axe blade, looked up as Nan and her uncle approached, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Seen Ged Raffer lately, Hen?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw him at the Forks the other day, Toby,” Mr. Sherwood replied. + </p> + <p> + “Yaas. I heard about that,” said the old man drawlingly. “But since then?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, he was tellin' me that he'd got you on the hip this time, Hen. If + you as much as put your hoof over on that track he's fighting you about, + he'll plop you in jail, that's what he'll do! He's got a warrant all made + out by Jedge Perkins. I seen it.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Henry walked closer to the old man and looked down at him from his + great height. “Tobe,” he said, “you know the rights of that business well + enough. You know whether I'm right in the contention, or whether Ged's + right. You know where the old line runs. Why don't you tell?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mercy me!” croaked the old man, and in much haste. “I ain't goin' to + git into no land squabble, no, sir! You kin count me out right now!” And + he picked up his axe, restored the whetstone to its sheath on the wall, + and at once went out of the shack. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XV. A CAT AND HER KITTENS + </h2> + <p> + That was a breakfast long to be remembered by Nan Sherwood, not + particularly because of its quality, but for the quantity served. She had + never seen men like these lumbermen eat before, save for the few days she + had been at Uncle Henry's house. + </p> + <p> + Great platters of baked beans were placed on the table, flanked by the + lumps of pork that had seasoned them. Fried pork, too, was a “main-stay” + on the bill-of-fare. The deal table was graced by no cloth or napery of + any kind. There were heaps of potatoes and onions fried together, and + golden cornbread with bowls of white gravy to ladle over it. + </p> + <p> + After riding twenty-five miles through such a frosty air, Nan would have + had to possess a delicate appetite indeed not to enjoy these viands. She + felt bashful because of the presence of so many rough men; but they left + her alone for the most part, and she could listen and watch. + </p> + <p> + “Old Toby Vanderwiller tell you what Ged's been blowin' about, Henry?” + asked one of the men at the table, busy ladling beans into his mouth with + a knife, a feat that Nan thought must be rather precarious, to say the + least. + </p> + <p> + “Says he's going to jail me if I go on to the Perkins Tract,” growled + Uncle Henry, with whom the matter was doubtless a sore subject. + </p> + <p> + “Yaas. But he says more'n that,” said this tale bearer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Ged says a whole lot besides his prayers,” responded Uncle Henry, + good-naturedly. Perhaps he saw they were trying to bait him. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, 'tain't nothin' prayerful he's sayin',” drawled the first speaker, + after a gulp of coffee from his thick china cup. “Some of the boys at + Beckett's, you know, they're a tough crowd, was riggin' him about what you + said to him down to the Forks, and Ged spit out that he'd give a lump of + money to see you on your back.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” grunted Uncle Henry. + </p> + <p> + “And some of 'em took him up, got the old man right down to cases.” + </p> + <p> + “That so?” asked Mr. Sherwood curiously. “What's Ged going to do? + Challenge me to a game of cat's cradle? Or does he want to settle the + business at draughts, three best out o' five?” + </p> + <p> + “Now you know dern well, Hen,” said the other, as some of the listeners + laughed loudly at Mr. Sherwood's sally, “that old Ged Raffer will never + lock horns with you 'ceptin' it's in court, where he'll have the full + pertection of the law, and a grain the best of it into the bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I s'pose that's so,” admitted Nan's uncle, rather gloomily, she + thought. + </p> + <p> + “So, if Beckett's crowd are int'rested in bumping you a whole lot, you may + be sure Ged's promised 'em real money for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” exclaimed Uncle Henry. “You're fooling now. He hasn't hired any + half-baked chip-eaters and Canucks to try and beat me up?” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't foolin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” + </p> + <p> + “You kin 'pshaw' till the cows come home,” cried the other heatedly. “I + got it straight.” + </p> + <p> + “Who from?” + </p> + <p> + “Sim Barkis, him what's cookin' for Beckett's crew.” + </p> + <p> + “Good man, Sim. Never caught him in a lie yet. You are beginning to sound + reasonable, Josh,” and Mr. Sherwood put down his knife and fork and looked + shrewdly at his informant. “Now tell me,” he said, “how much is Sim going + to get for helping to pay Ged Raffer's debts?” + </p> + <p> + “Har!” ejaculated the other man. “You know Sim ain't that kind.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, then. How much does he say the gang's going to split between + 'em after they've done me up brown according to contract?” scoffed Uncle + Henry, and Nan realized that her giant relative had not the least fear of + not being able to meet any number of enemies in the open. + </p> + <p> + “Sim come away before they got that far. Of course Ged didn't say right + out in open meetin' that he'd give so many dollars for your scalp. But he + got 'em all int'rested, and it wouldn't surprise him, so Sim said, if on + the quiet some of those plug-uglies had agreed to do the job.” + </p> + <p> + Nan shuddered, and had long since stopped eating. But nobody paid any + attention to her at the moment. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Henry drawled: “They're going to do the hardest day's job for the + smallest pay that they ever did on this Michigan Peninsula. I'm much + obliged to you, Josh, for telling me. I never go after trouble, as you + fellows all know; but I sha'n't try to dodge it, either.” + </p> + <p> + He picked up his knife and fork and went quietly on with his breakfast. + But Nan could not eat any more at all. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to the gently nurtured girl from Tillbury as though she had + fallen in with people from another globe. Even the mill-hands, whom Bess + Harley so scorned, were not like these great, rough fellows whose minds + seemed continually to be fixed upon battle. At least, she had never seen + or heard such talk as had just now come to her ears. + </p> + <p> + The men began, one by one, to push back the benches and go out. There was + a great bustle of getting under way as the teams started for the woods, + and the choppers, too, went away. Tom hurried to start his big pair of + dapple grays, and Nan was glad to bundle up again and run out to watch the + exodus. + </p> + <p> + They were a mighty crew. As Uncle Henry had said, the Big Woods did not + breed runts. + </p> + <p> + Remembering the stunted, quick-moving, chattering French Canadians, and + the scattering of American-born employees among them, who worked in the + Tillbury mills, Nan was the more amazed by the average size of these + workmen. The woodsmen were a race of giants beside the narrow-shouldered, + flat-chested pygmies who toiled in the mills. + </p> + <p> + Tom strode by with his timber sled. Rafe leaped on to ride and Tom + playfully snapped his whiplash at him. Nan was glad to see that the two + brothers smiled again at each other. Their recent tiff seemed to be + forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Some of the choppers had already gone on ahead to the part of the tract + where the marked trees were being felled. Now the pluck, pluck, pluck of + the axe blows laid against the forest monarchs, reached the girl's ears. + She thought the flat stuttering sound of the axes said “pluck” very + plainly, and that that was just the word they should say. + </p> + <p> + “For it does take lots of pluck to do work of this kind,” Nan confided to + her uncle, who walked up and down on the porch smoking an after-breakfast + pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. No softies allowed on the job,” said he, cheerfully. “Some of the + boys may be rough and hard nuts to crack; but it is necessary to have just + such boys or we couldn't get out the timber.” + </p> + <p> + “But they want to fight so much!” gasped Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Sho!” said her uncle, slowly. “It's mostly talk. They feel the itch for + hard work and hard play, that's all. You take lively, full-muscled + animals, and they are always bucking and quarreling—trying to see + which one is the best. Take two young, fat steers they'll lock horns at + the drop of a hat. It's animal spirits, Nan. They feel that they've got to + let off steam. Where muscle and pluck count for what they do in the lumber + camps, there's bound to be more or less ructions.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps this might be; but Nan was dreadfully sorry, nevertheless, that + Uncle Henry had this trouble with Mr. Gedney Raffer. The girl feared that + there had been something besides “letting off steam” in the challenge her + uncle had thrown down to his enemy, or to the men that enemy could hire to + attack him. + </p> + <p> + The timber sledges soon began to drift back, for some of the logs had been + cut before the big storm, and had only to be broken out of the drifts and + rolled upon the sleds with the aid of the men's canthooks. It was a + mystery at first to Nan how they could get three huge logs, some of them + three feet in diameter at the butt, on to the sled; two at the bottom and + one rolled upon them, all being fastened securely with the timber-chain + and hook. + </p> + <p> + How the horses strained in their collars to start the mighty load! But + once started, the runners slipped along easily enough, even through the + deep snow, packing the compressible stuff in one passage as hard as ice. + Nan followed in this narrow track to the very bank of the river where the + logs were heaped in long windrows, ready to be launched into the stream + when the waters should rise at the time of the spring freshet. + </p> + <p> + Tom managed his team alone, and unloaded alone, too. It was marvelous (so + Nan thought) that her cousin could start the top log with the great + canthook, and guide it as it rolled off the sled so that it should lie + true with timbers that had been piled before. The strain of his work made + him perspire as though it were midsummer. He thrust the calks on his + bootsoles into the log and the shreds of bark and small chips flew as he + stamped to get a secure footing for his work. Then he heaved like a giant, + his shoulders humping under the blue jersey he wore, and finally the log + turned. Once started, it was soon rolled into place. + </p> + <p> + Nan ran into the cook shed often to get warm. Her uncle was busy with the + boss of the camp, so she had nobody but the cook and his helper to speak + to for a time. Therefore it was loneliness that made her start over the + half-beaten trail for the spot where the men were at work, without saying + a word to anybody. + </p> + <p> + None of the teams had come by for some time; but she could hear faintly + the sound of the axes and the calling of the workmen to each other and + their sharp commands to the horses. + </p> + <p> + She went away from the camp a few hundred yards and then found that the + trail forked. One path went down a little hill, and as that seemed easy to + descend, Nan followed it into a little hollow. It seemed only one sled had + come this way and none of the men were here. The voices and axes sounded + from higher up the ridge. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she heard something entirely different from the noise of the + woodsmen. It was the snarling voice of a huge cat and almost instantly Nan + sighted the creature which stood upon a snow-covered rock beside the path. + It had tasseled ears, a wide, wicked “smile,” bristling whiskers, and + fangs that really made Nan tremble, although she was some yards from the + bobcat. + </p> + <p> + As she believed, from what her cousins had told her, bobcats are not + usually dangerous. They never seek trouble with man, save under certain + conditions; and that is when a mother cat has kittens to defend. + </p> + <p> + This was a big female cat, and, although the season was early, she had + littered and her kittens, three of them, were bedded in a heap of leaves + blown by the wind into a hollow tree trunk. + </p> + <p> + The timberman driving through the hollow had not seen the bobcat and her + three blind babies; but he had roused the mother cat and she was now all + ready to spring at intruders. + </p> + <p> + That Nan was not the person guilty of disturbing her repose made no + difference to the big cat. She saw the girl standing, affrighted and + trembling, in the path and with a ferocious yowl and leap she crossed the + intervening space and landed in the snow within almost arm's reach of the + fear-paralyzed girl. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVI. “INJUN PETE” + </h2> + <p> + Nan Sherwood could not cry out, though she tried. She opened her lips only + to find her throat so constricted by fear that she could not utter a + sound. Perhaps her sudden and utter paralysis was of benefit at the + moment, after all; for she could not possibly have escaped the infuriated + lynx by running. + </p> + <p> + The creature's own movements were hampered by the deep drift in which she + had landed. The soft snow impeded the cat and, snarling still, she whirled + around and around like a pinwheel to beat a firmer foundation from which + to make her final spring at her victim. + </p> + <p> + Nan, crouching, put her mittened hands before her face. She saw no chance + for escape and could not bear to see the vicious beast leap at her again. + “Momsey! Papa Sherwood!” she thought, rather than breathed aloud. + </p> + <p> + Then, down the hill toward her, plunged a swift body. She rather felt the + new presence than saw it. The cat yowled again, and spit. There was the + impact of a clubbed gun upon the creature's head. + </p> + <p> + “Sacre bleu! Take zat! And zat!” cried a sharp voice, between the blows + that fell so swiftly. The animal's cries changed instantly from rage to + pain. Nan opened her eyes in time to see the maddened cat flee swiftly. + She bounded to the big tree and scrambled up the trunk and out upon the + first limb. There she crouched, over the place where her kittens were + hidden, yowling and licking her wounds. There was blood upon her head and + she licked again and again a broken forefoot between her yowls of rage and + pain. + </p> + <p> + But Nan was more interested just then in the person who had flown to her + rescue so opportunely. He was not one of the men from the camp, or anybody + whom she had ever seen before. + </p> + <p> + He was not a big man, but was evidently very strong and active. His dress + was of the most nondescript character, consisting mainly of a tattered fur + cap, with a woolen muffler tied over his ears; a patched and parti-colored + coat belted at the waist with a frayed rope. His legs disappeared into the + wide tops of a pair of boots evidently too big for him, with the feet + bundled in bagging so that he could walk on top of the snow, this in lieu + of regular snowshoes. + </p> + <p> + His back was toward Nan and he did not turn to face her as he said: + </p> + <p> + “Be not afeared, leetle Man'zelle. Le bad chat is gone. We shall now do + famous-lee, eh? No be afeared more.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, sir,” gasped Nan, trying to be brave. “Won't, won't it come + back?” + </p> + <p> + “Nev-air!” cried the man, with a flourish of the gun which was a + rusty-barreled old weapon, perhaps more dangerous at the butt end than at + its muzzle. “Ze chat only fear for her babies. She have zem in dat tree. + We will go past leeving zem streectly alone, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” cried Nan hastily. “I'm going back to the camp. I didn't know there + were such dangerous things as that in these woods.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You are de strange leetle Mam'zelle den?” responded the man. “You do + not know ze Beeg Woods?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I don't know anything about this wilderness,” confessed Nan. “My + uncle brought me to the camp up yonder this morning, and I hope he'll go + right home again. It's awful!” + </p> + <p> + “Eet seem terrifying to ze leetle Mam'zelle because she is unused—eh? + Me! I be terrified at ze beeg city where she come from, p'r'aps. Zey tell + Pete 'bout waggings run wizout horses, like stea'mill. Ugh! No wanter see + dem. Debbil in 'em,” and he laughed, not unpleasantly, making a small joke + of the suggestion. + </p> + <p> + Indeed his voice, now that the sharpness of excitement had gone out of it, + was a very pleasant voice. The broken words he used assured Nan that his + mother tongue must be French. He was probably one of the “Canucks” she had + heard her cousins speak of. French Canadians were not at all strange to + Nan Sherwood, for in Tillbury many of the mill hands were of that race. + </p> + <p> + But she thought it odd that this man kept his face studiously turned from + her. Was he watching the bobcat all the time? Was the danger much more + serious than he would own? + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you look at me?” cried the girl, at length. “I'm awfully much + obliged to you for coming to help me as you did. And my uncle will want to + thank you I am sure. Won't you tell me your name?” + </p> + <p> + The man was silent for a moment. Then, when he spoke, his voice was lower + and there was an indescribably sad note in it. + </p> + <p> + “Call me 'Injun Pete', zat me. Everybody in de beeg Woods know Injun Pete. + No odder name now. Once ze good Brodders at Aramac goin' make scholar of + Pete, make heem priest, too, p'r'aps. He go teach among he's mudder's + people. Mudder Micmac, fadder wild Frinchman come to dees lakeshore. But + nev-air can Pete be Teacher, be priest. Non, non! Jes' Injun Pete.” + </p> + <p> + Nan suddenly remembered what little Margaret Llewellen had said about the + fire at Pale Lick, and “Injun Pete.” The fact that this man kept his face + turned from her all this time aroused her suspicion. She was deeply, + deeply grateful to him for what he had just done for her, and, naturally, + she enlarged in her mind the peril in which she had been placed. + </p> + <p> + Margaret had suggested this unfortunate half-breed was “not right in his + head” because of the fire which had disfigured him. But he spoke very + sensibly now, it seemed to Nan; very pitifully, too, about his blasted + hopes of a clerical career. She said, quietly: + </p> + <p> + “I expect you know my uncle and his family, Pete. He is Mr. Sherwood of + Pine Camp.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Mis-tair Hen Sherwood! I know heem well,” admitted the man. “He + nice-a man ver' kind to Injun Pete.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to have you look at me, please,” said Nan, still softly. “You + see, I want to know you again if we meet. I am very grateful.” + </p> + <p> + Pete waved her thanks aside with a royal gesture. “Me! I be glad to be of + use, oh, oui! Leetle Man'zelle mus' not make mooch of nottin', eh?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed again, but he did not turn to look at her. Nan reached out a + tentative hand and touched his sleeve. “Please, Mr. Pete,” she said. “I, I + want to see you. I, I have heard something about your having been hurt in + a fire. I am sure you must think yourself a more hateful sight than you + really are.” + </p> + <p> + A sob seemed to rise in the man's throat, and his shoulders shook. He + turned slowly and looked at her for a moment over his shoulder. Then he + went swiftly away across the snow (for the bobcat had disappeared into her + lair) and Nan stumbled back up the trail toward the camp, the tears + blinding her own eyes. + </p> + <p> + The disfigured face of the half-breed HAD been a shock to her. She could + never speak of it afterward. Indeed, she could not tell Uncle Henry about + her meeting with the lynx, and her rescue—she shrank so from + recalling Injun Pete's disfigured face. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVII. SPRING IN THE BIG WOODS + </h2> + <p> + That visit to the lumber camp was memorable for Nan Sherwood in more ways + than one. Her adventure with the lynx she kept secret from her relatives, + because of the reason given in the previous chapter. But there was another + incident that marked the occasion to the girl's mind, and that was the + threat of Gedney Raffer, reported to her Uncle Henry. + </p> + <p> + Nan thought that such a bad man as Raffer appeared to be would undoubtedly + carry out his threat. He had offered money to have Mr. Sherwood beaten up, + and the ruffians he had bribed would doubtless be only too eager to earn + the reward. + </p> + <p> + To tell the truth, for weeks thereafter, Nan never saw a rough-looking man + approach the house on the outskirts of Pine Camp, without fearing that + here was coming a ruffian bent on her uncle's injury. + </p> + <p> + That Uncle Henry seemed quite to have forgotten the threat only made Nan + more keenly alive to his danger. She dared not discuss the matter with + Aunt Kate, for Nan feared to worry that good woman unnecessarily. Besides, + having been used to hiding from her own mother all unpleasant things, the + girl naturally displayed the same thoughtfulness for Aunt Kate. + </p> + <p> + For, despite Mrs. Henry Sherwood's bruskness and masculine appearance, Nan + learned that there were certain matters over which her aunt showed extreme + nervousness. + </p> + <p> + For instance, she was very careful of the lamps used in the house—she + insisted upon cleaning and caring for them herself; she would not allow a + candle to be used, because it might be overturned; and she saw to it + herself that every fire, even the one in Nan's bedroom, was properly + banked before the family retired at night. + </p> + <p> + Nan had always in mind what Uncle Henry said about mentioning fire to Aunt + Kate; so the curious young girl kept her lips closed upon the subject. But + she certainly was desirous of knowing about that fire, so long ago, at + Pale Lick, how it came about; if Aunt Kate had really got her great scar + there; and if it was really true that two members of her uncle's family + had met their death in the conflagration. + </p> + <p> + She tried not to think at all of Injun Pete. That was too terrible! + </p> + <p> + With all her heart, Nan wished she might do something that would really + help Uncle Henry solve his problem regarding the timber rights on the + Perkins Tract. The very judge who had granted the injunction forbidding + Mr. Sherwood to cut timber on the tract was related to the present owners + of the piece of timberland; and the tract had been the basis of a feud in + the Perkins family for two generations. + </p> + <p> + Many people were more or less interested in the case and they came to the + Sherwood home and talked excitedly about it in the big kitchen. Some + advised an utter disregard of the law. Others were evidently minded to + increase the trouble between Raffer and Uncle Henry by malicious + tale-bearing. + </p> + <p> + Often Nan thought of what Uncle Henry had said to old Toby Vanderwiller. + She learned that Toby was one of the oldest settlers in this part of the + Michigan Peninsula, and in his youth had been a timber runner, that is, a + man who by following the surveyors' lines on a piece of timber, and + weaving back and forth across it, can judge its market value so nearly + right that his employer, the prospective timber merchant, is able to bid + intelligently for the so-called “stumpage” on the tract. + </p> + <p> + Toby was still a vigorous man save when that bane of the woodsman, + rheumatism, laid him by the heels. He had a bit of a farm in the tamarack + swamp. Once, being laid up by his arch enemy, with his joints stiffened + and muscles throbbing with pain, Toby had seen the gaunt wolf of + starvation, more terrible than any timber wolf, waiting at his doorstone. + His old wife and a crippled grandson were dependent on Toby, too. + </p> + <p> + Thus in desperate straits Toby Vanderwiller had accepted help from Gedney + Raffer. It was a pitifully small sum Raffer would advance upon the little + farm; but it was sufficient to put Toby in the usurer's power. This was + the story Nan learned regarding Toby. And Uncle Henry believed that Toby, + with his old-time knowledge of land-boundaries, could tell, if he would, + which was right in the present contention between Mr. Sherwood and Gedney + Raffer. + </p> + <p> + These, and many other subjects of thought, kept the mind of Nan Sherwood + occupied during the first few weeks of her sojourn at Pine Camp. She had, + too, to keep up her diary that she had begun for Bess Harley's particular + benefit. Every week she sent off to Tillbury a bulky section of this + report of her life in the Big woods. It was quite wonderful how much there + proved to be to write about. Bess wrote back, enviously, that never did + anything interesting, by any possibility, happen, now that Nan was away + from Tillbury. The town was “as dull as ditch water.” She, Bess, lived + only in hopes of meeting her chum at Lakeview Hall the next September. + </p> + <p> + This hope Nan shared. But it all lay with the result of Momsey's and Papa + Sherwood's visit to Scotland and Emberon Castle. And, Nan thought, it + seemed as though her parents never would even reach that far distant goal. + </p> + <p> + They had taken a slow ship for Momsey's benefit and the expected + re-telegraphed cablegram was looked for at the Forks for a week before it + possibly could come. + </p> + <p> + It was a gala day marked on Nan's calendar when Uncle Henry, coming home + from the railroad station behind the roan ponies, called to her to come + out and get the message. Momsey and Papa Sherwood had sent it from + Glasgow, and were on their way to Edinburgh before Nan received the word. + Momsey had been very ill a part of the way across the ocean, but went + ashore in improved health. + </p> + <p> + Nan was indeed happy at this juncture. Her parents were safely over their + voyage on the wintry ocean, so a part of her worry of mind was lifted. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile spring was stealing upon Pine Camp without Nan's being really + aware of the fact. Uncle Henry had said, back in Chicago, that “the back + of winter was broken”; but the extreme cold weather and the deep snow she + had found in the Big Woods made Nan forget that March was passing and + timid April was treading on his heels. + </p> + <p> + A rain lasting two days and a night washed the roads of snow and turned + the fast disappearing drifts to a dirty yellow hue. In sheltered fence + corners and nooks in the wood, the grass lifted new, green blades, and + queer little Margaret Llewellen showed Nan where the first anemones and + violets hid under last year's drifted leaves. + </p> + <p> + The river ice went out with a rush after it had rained a few hours; after + that the “drives” of logs were soon started. Nan went down to the long, + high bridge which spanned the river and watched the flood carry the logs + through. + </p> + <p> + At first they came scatteringly, riding the foaming waves end-on, and + sometimes colliding with the stone piers of the bridge with sufficient + force to split the unhewn timbers from end to end, some being laid open as + neatly as though done with axe and wedge. + </p> + <p> + When the main body of the drive arrived, however, the logs were like + herded cattle, milling in the eddies, stampeded by a cross-current, + bunching under the bridge arches like frightened steers in a chute. And + the drivers herded the logs with all the skill of cowboys on the range. + </p> + <p> + Each drive was attended by its own crew, who guarded the logs on either + bank, launching those that shoaled on the numerous sandbars or in the + shallows, keeping them from piling up in coves and in the mouths of + estuaries, or creeks, some going ahead at the bends to fend off and break + up any formation of the drifting timbers that promised to become a jam. + </p> + <p> + Behind the drive floated the square bowed and square sterned chuck-boat, + which carried cook and provisions for the men. A “boom”, logs chained + together, end to end, was thrown out from one shore of the wide stream at + night, and anchored at its outer end. Behind this the logs were gathered + in an orderly, compact mass and the men could generally get their sleep, + save for the watchman; unless there came a sudden rise of water in the + night. + </p> + <p> + It was a sight long to be remembered, Nan thought, when the boom was + broken in the morning. Sometimes an increasing current piled the logs up a + good bit. It was a fear-compelling view the girl had of the river on one + day when she went with Uncle Henry to see the first drive from Blackton's + camp. Tom was coming home with his team and was not engaged in the drive. + But reckless Rafe was considered, for his age, a very smart hand on a log + drive. + </p> + <p> + The river had risen two feet at the Pine Camp bridge overnight. It was a + boiling brown flood, covered with drifting foam and debris. The roar of + the freshet awoke Nan in her bed before daybreak. So she was not surprised + to see the river in such a turmoil when, after a hasty breakfast, she and + Uncle Henry walked beside the flood. + </p> + <p> + “They started their drive last night,” Uncle Henry said, “and boomed her + just below the campsite. We'll go up to Dead Man's Bend and watch her come + down. There is no other drive betwixt us and Blackton's.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it called by such a horrid name, Uncle?” asked Nan. + </p> + <p> + “What, honey?” he responded. + </p> + <p> + “That bend in the river.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I don't know rightly, honey-bird. She's just called that. Many a + man's lost his life there since I came into this part of the country, + that's a fact. It's a dangerous place,” and Nan knew by the look on her + uncle's face that he was worried. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVIII. AT DEAD MAN'S BEND + </h2> + <p> + Nan and her uncle came out on the bluff that overlooked the sharp bend + which hid the upper reaches of the river from Pine Camp. Across the + stream, almost from bank to bank, a string of gravel flats made a barrier + that all the rivermen feared. + </p> + <p> + Blackton was no careless manager, and he had a good foreman in Tim Turner. + The big boss had ridden down to the bend in a mud-splashed buggy, and was + even prepared to take a personal hand in the work, if need be. The foreman + was coming down the river bank on the Pine Camp side of the stream, + watching the leading logs of the drive, and directing the foreguard. Among + the latter Nan spied Rafe. + </p> + <p> + “There he is, Uncle!” she cried. “Oh! He's jumped out on that log, see?” + </p> + <p> + “He's all right, girl, he's all right,” said Uncle Henry comfortingly. + “Rafe's got good calks on his boots.” + </p> + <p> + The boy sprang from log to log, the calks making the chips fly, and with a + canthook pushed off a log that had caught and swung upon a small bank. He + did it very cleverly, and was back again, across the bucking logs, in half + a minute. + </p> + <p> + Below, the foreman himself was making for a grounded log, one of the first + of the drive. It had caught upon some snag, and was swinging broadside + out, into the stream. Let two or three more timbers catch with it and + there would be the nucleus of a jam that might result in much trouble for + everybody. + </p> + <p> + Tim Turner leaped spaces of eight and ten feet between the logs, landing + secure and safe upon the stranded log at last. With the heavy canthook he + tried to start it. + </p> + <p> + “That's a good man, Tim Turner,” said Mr. Sherwood, heartily. “He's worked + for me, isn't afraid of anything, Ha! But that's wrong!” he suddenly + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Turner had failed to start the stranded log. Other logs were hurtling down + the foam-streaked river, aimed directly for the stranded one. They would + begin to pile up in a heap in a minute. The foreman leaped to another log, + turning as he did so to face the shore. That was when Uncle Henry declared + him wrong. + </p> + <p> + Turner was swinging his free arm, and above the roar of the river and the + thunder of the grinding and smashing logs they could hear him shouting for + somebody to bring him an axe. One of his men leaped to obey. Nan and Mr. + Sherwood did not notice just then who this second man was who put himself + in jeopardy, for both had their gaze on the foreman and that which menaced + him. + </p> + <p> + Shooting across on a slant was a huge log, all of three feet through at + the butt, and it was aimed for the timber on which Turner stood. He did + not see it. Smaller logs were already piling against the timber he had + left, and had he leaped back to the stranded one he would have been + comparatively safe. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sherwood was quick to act in such an emergency as this; but he was too + far from the spot to give practical aid in saving Turner from the result + of his own heedlessness. He made a horn of his two hands and shouted to + the foreguard at the foot of the bluff: + </p> + <p> + “He's going into the water! Launch Fred Durgin's boat below the bend! Get + her! Quick, there!” + </p> + <p> + Old riverman that he was, Uncle Henry was pretty sure of what was about to + happen. The huge log came tearing on, butt first, a wave of troubled water + split by its on-rush. Turner was watching the person bringing him the axe, + and never once threw a glance over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Nan cried out and seized Uncle Henry's arm. “Look! Oh, Uncle! + It's Rafe!” she gasped, pointing. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, I know it,” said her uncle, wonderfully cool, Nan thought, and + casting a single glance at the figure flying over the bucking logs toward + the endangered foreman. “He'll do what he can.” + </p> + <p> + Nan could not take her eyes from her cousin after that. It seemed to be a + race between Rafe and the charging log, to see which should first reach + the foreman. Rafe, reckless and harebrained as he was, flew over the logs + as sure-footed as a goat. Nan felt faint. Her cousin's peril seemed far + greater to her than that of the foreman. + </p> + <p> + A step might plunge Rafe into the foaming stream! When a log rolled under + him she cried out under her breath and clamped her teeth down on to her + lower lip until the blood almost came. + </p> + <p> + “He'll be killed! He'll be killed!” she kept repeating in her own mind. + But Uncle Henry stood like a rock and seemingly gave no more attention to + his son than he did to Turner, or to the men running down the bank to + seize upon and launch the heavy boat. + </p> + <p> + Rafe was suddenly balked and had to stop. Too great a stretch of water + separated him from the next floating log. Turner beckoned him on. It was + difficult to make the foreman hear above the noise of the water and the + continual grinding of the logs, but Rafe yelled some warning and pointed + toward the timber now almost upon Turner's foothold. + </p> + <p> + The man shot a glance behind him. The butt of the driving log rose + suddenly into the air as though it would crush him. + </p> + <p> + Turner leaped to the far end of the log on which he stood. But too great a + distance separated him from the log on which Rafe had secured a foothold. + </p> + <p> + Crash! + </p> + <p> + Nan heard, on top of the bluff, the impact of the great timber as it was + flung by the current across the smaller log. Turner shot into the air as + though he were flung from a catapult. But he was not flung in Rafe's + direction, and the boy could not help him. + </p> + <p> + He plunged into the racing stream and disappeared. The huge timber rode + over the smaller log and buried it from sight. But its tail swung around + and the great log was headed straight down the river again. + </p> + <p> + As its smaller end swung near, Rafe leaped for it and secured a footing on + the rolling, plunging log. How he kept his feet under him Nan could not + imagine. A bareback rider in a circus never had such work as this. Rafe + rode his wooden horse in masterly style. + </p> + <p> + There, ahead of him in the boiling flood, an arm and head appeared. Turner + came to the surface with his senses unimpaired and he strove to clutch the + nearest log. But the stick slipped away from him. + </p> + <p> + Rafe ran forward on the plunging timber he now rode the huge stick that + had made all the trouble, and tried to reach the man in the water. No use! + </p> + <p> + Of course, there was no way for Rafe to guide his log toward the drowning + man. Nor did he have anything to reach out for Turner to grasp. The axe + handle was not long enough, and the foreman's canthook had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Below, the men were struggling to get the big boat out from under the bank + into the stream. Two of them stood up with their canthooks to fend off the + drifting logs; the others plied the heavy oars. + </p> + <p> + But the boat was too far from the man in the river. He was menaced on all + sides by plunging logs. He barely escaped one to be grazed on the shoulder + by another. A third pressed him under the surface again; but as he went + down this second time, Rafe Sherwood threw away his axe and leaped into + the flood! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIX. OLD TOBY VANDERWILLER + </h2> + <p> + Nan was sure her Cousin Rafe would be drowned, as well as his foreman. She + covered her eyes for a moment, and could not look. + </p> + <p> + Then a great cheer arose from the men in the boat and those still + remaining on the bank of the river. Her uncle, beside her, muttered: + </p> + <p> + “Plucky boy! Plucky boy!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes flew open and she looked again. In the midst of the scattering + foam she saw a small log over which her cousin had flung his left arm; his + other arm was around the foreman, and Rafe was bearing his head above + water. Turner had been struck and rendered senseless by the blow. + </p> + <p> + The small log slipped through a race between two shallows, ahead of the + greater timber. The latter indeed grounded for a moment and that gave the + victim of the accident and his rescuer a chance for life. + </p> + <p> + They shot ahead with the log to which Rafe clung. The men in the boat + shouted encouragement, and rowed harder. In a minute the boat came + alongside the log and two of the rivermen grabbed the boy and the + unconscious foreman. They had them safely in the boat, and the boat was at + the shore again in three minutes. + </p> + <p> + By that time the big boss himself, Mr. Blackton, was tearing out over the + logs from the other shore, axe in hand, to cut the key log of the jam, the + formation of which Turner had tried to prevent. A hundred logs had piled + up against the stoppage by this time and there promised to be a bad time + at the bend if every one did not work quickly. + </p> + <p> + Before Nan and her uncle could reach the foot of the bluff, Turner had + regained consciousness and was sitting on a stranded log, holding his + head. Rafe, just as he had come out of the river, was out on the logs + again lending a hand at the work so necessary to the success of the drive. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me!” cried Nan, referring to her cousin, “he ought to go home + and change his clothes. He'll get his death of cold.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll work hard enough for the next hour to overcome the shock of the + cold water. It's lucky if he isn't in again before they get that trouble + over,” responded Uncle Henry. Then he added, proudly: “That's the kind of + boys we raise in the Big Woods, Nannie. Maybe they are rough-spoken and + aren't really parlor-broke, but you can depend on 'em to do something when + there's anything to do!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Uncle!” cried the girl. “I think Rafe is just the bravest boy I ever + saw. But I should think Aunt Kate would be scared every hour he is away + from home, he is so reckless.” + </p> + <p> + She was very proud herself of Rafe and wrote Bess a lot about him. Slow + Tom did not figure much in Nan Sherwood's letters, or in her thoughts, + about this time. Thoughts and letters were filled with handsome Rafe. + </p> + <p> + It was while the Blackton drive was near Pine Camp that Nan became + personally acquainted with old Toby Vanderwiller. It was after dinner that + day that she met Margaret and Bob Llewellen and the three went down to the + river bank, below the bridge, to watch the last of the Blackton drive. + </p> + <p> + The chuck-boat had pushed off into the rough current and was bobbing about + in the wake of the logs; but all the men had not departed. + </p> + <p> + “That's old Toby,” said Bob, a black-haired boy, full of mischief. “He + don't see us. Le's creep up and scare him.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Nan, decidedly; “don't you dare!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, shucks! Girls ain't no fun,” the boy growled. “Mag's bad enough, but + you air wuss'n she, Nan Sherwood. What's old Toby to you? He's allus as + cross as two sticks, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “We won't make him any crosser,” said Nan, laughing. “What's the good?” + </p> + <p> + Nan saw that the old man had his coat off, and had slipped down the right + sleeve of his woolen shirt to bare his shoulder and upper right arm. He + was clumsily trying to bandage the arm. + </p> + <p> + “He's got hurt,” Nan cried to Margaret. “I wonder how?” + </p> + <p> + “Dunno,” returned the smaller girl, carelessly. Although she was not + mischievous like her brother, Margaret seldom showed traits of tenderness + or affection. Nan was in some doubt as to whether the strange girl liked + her. Margaret often patted Nan's cheeks and admired her smooth skin; but + she never expressed any real affection. She was positively the oddest + little piece of humanity Nan had ever met. + </p> + <p> + Once Nan asked her if she had a doll. “Doll?” snarled Margaret with + surprising energy. “A'nt Matildy give me one once't an' I throwed it as + far as I could inter the river, so I did! Nasty thing! Its face was all + painted and rough.” + </p> + <p> + Nan could only gasp. Drown a doll-baby! Big girl as she considered + herself, she had a very tender spot in her heart for doll-babies. + </p> + <p> + Margaret Llewellen only liked people with fair faces and smooth + complexions; she could not possibly be interested in old Toby + Vanderwiller, who seemed always to need a shave, and whose face, like that + of Margaret's grandfather, was “wizzled.” + </p> + <p> + Nan ran down to him and asked: “Can't I help you, Mr. Vanderwiller? Did + you get badly hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” grunted Toby. “Ain't you Hen Sherwood's gal?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm his niece,” she told him. “Can I help?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I dunno. I got a wallop from one o' them logs when we was breakin' + that jam, and it's scraped the skin off me arm——” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” cried Nan, earnestly. “Oh! Mr. Vanderwiller! That must be + painful. Haven't you anything to put on it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' but this rag,” grunted Toby, drily. “An' ye needn't call me + 'Mister,' Sissy. I ain't useter bein' addressed that way.” + </p> + <p> + Nan laughed; but she quickly washed the scraped patch on the old man's arm + with clean water and then bound her own handkerchief over the abrasion + under the rather doubtful rag that Toby himself supplied. + </p> + <p> + “You're sure handy, Sissy,” he said, rising and allowing her to help him + into the shirt again and on with his coat. “Now I'll hafter toddle along + or Tim will give me a call-down. Much obleeged. If ye get inter the + tam'rack swamp, come dry-foot weather, stop and see me an' my old woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I'd love to, Mr. Vanderwiller,” Nan cried. “The swamp must be full of + just lovely flowers now.” + </p> + <p> + The old man's face wrinkled into a smile, the first she had seen upon it. + Really! He was not a bad looking man, after all. + </p> + <p> + “You fond of posies, sissy?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I am!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “There's a-plenty in the swamp,” he told her. “And no end of ferns and + sich. You come see us and my old woman'll show ye. She's a master hand at + huntin' up all kind o' weeds I tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll surely come, when the weather gets warmer,” Nan called after Toby as + the old man dogtrotted down the bank of the river. But he did not answer + and was quickly out of sight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XX. NAN'S SECRET + </h2> + <h3> + But Margaret Llewellen declared she would not go with her! + </h3> + <p> + “It's nasty in the Tam'rack swamp; and there's frogs and, and snakes. + Ketch me! And as fur goin' ter see Tobe and his old woman, huh! They're + both as ugly as sin.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Margaret!” exclaimed Nan, in horror. “How you talk!” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, it's so. I don't like old, wizzled-up folks, I don't, now I tell + ye!” + </p> + <p> + “That sounds awfully cruel,” said Nan, soberly. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” snorted Margaret, no other word would just express her manner of + showing disgust. “There ain't no reason why I should go 'round makin' + believe likin' them as I don't like. Dad useter take the hide off'n me and + Bob for lyin'; an' then he'd stand an' palaver folks that he jest couldn't + scurce abide, fur I heard him say so. That's lyin', too ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “I, I don't believe it is right to criticize our parents,” returned Nan, + dodging the sharp girl's question. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe yourn don't need criticizin',” responded Margaret, bluntly. “My dad + ain't no angel, you kin bet.” + </p> + <p> + And it was a fact that the Llewellen family was a peculiar one, from + “Gran'ther” down to Baby Bill, whom Margaret did not mind taking care of + when he was not “all broke out with the rash on his face.” The girl's + dislike for any countenance that was not of the smoothest, or skin of the + softest texture, seemed strange indeed. + </p> + <p> + Margaret's mother was dead. She had five brothers and sisters of assorted + ages, up to 'Lonzo, who was sixteen and worked in the woods like Nan's + cousins. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Matilda kept house for the motherless brood, and for Gran'ther and + Mr. Fen Llewellen. They lived in a most haphazard fashion, for, although + they were not really poor, the children never seemed to have any decent + clothing to wear; and if, by chance, they got a new garment, something + always happened to it as, for instance, the taking of Margaret's new + gingham by Bob as a dress for old Beagle. + </p> + <p> + As the Llewellens were close neighbors of the Sherwoods, Nan saw much of + Margaret. The local school closed soon after the visitor had come to Pine + Camp, and Nan had little opportunity of getting acquainted with other + girls, save at the church service, which was held in the schoolhouse only + every other Sunday. There was no Sunday School at Pine Camp, even for the + very youngest of the children. + </p> + <p> + Nan talked to Aunt Kate about that. Aunt Kate was the very kindest-hearted + woman that ever lived; but she had little initiative herself about + anything outside her own house. “Goodness knows, I'd like to see the + kiddies gathered together on Sunday afternoon and taught good things,” she + signed; “but lawsy, Nan! I'm not the one to do it. I'm not good enough + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you teach Tom and Rafe, and—and—” Nan stopped. She had + almost mentioned the two older boys of her aunt's, whom she had heard were + destroyed in the Pale Lick fire. Aunt Kate did not notice, for she went on + to say: + </p> + <p> + “Why—yes; I taught Tom and Rafe to say their prayers, and I hope + they say 'em now, big as they are. And we often read the Bible. It's a + great comfort, the main part of it. I never did take to the 'begats,' + though.” + </p> + <p> + “But couldn't we,” suggested Nan, “interest other people and gather the + children together on Sundays? Perhaps the old gentleman who comes here to + preach every fortnight might help.” + </p> + <p> + “Elder Posey's not here but three hours or so, any time. Just long enough + to give us the word and grab a bite at somebody's house. Poor old man! He + attends three meetings each Sunday, all different, and lives on a farm at + Wingate weekdays where he has to work and support his family. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't get but fifty dollars a year from each church, it's not making + him a millionaire very fast,” pursued Aunt Kate, with a soft little laugh. + “Poor old man! I wish we could pay him more; but Pine Camp's not rich.” + </p> + <p> + “You all seem to have enough and to spare, Auntie,” said Nan, who was an + observant girl for her age. “Nobody here is really poor.” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless he's right down lazy,” said her aunt, vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “Then I should think they'd build a proper church and give a minister some + more money, so that he could afford to have a Sunday School as well.” + </p> + <p> + “Lawsy me, Nan!” exclaimed her aunt. “The men here in Pine Camp haven't + been woke up to such things. They hate to spend that fifty dollars for + Elder Posey, they'd get a cheaper man if there were such. There's never + been much out of the common happen here at Pine Camp. It takes trouble and + destruction to wake folks up to their Christian duty in these woods. Now, + at Pale Lick they've got a church——-” + </p> + <p> + She stopped suddenly, and her face paled, while the ugly scar on her neck + seemed to glow; but that may have been only in contrast. Aunt Kate turned + away her head, and finally arose and went into her own room and closed the + door. Nan dared not continue the subject when the good woman came out + again, and the talk of a Sunday School for Pine Camp, for the time being, + was ended. + </p> + <p> + There were hours when the girl from Tillbury was very lonely indeed. + Writing to Bess and other girl friends in her old home town and penning + long letters on thin paper to Momsey and Papa Sherwood in Scotland, did + not fill all of these hours when Nan shut herself into that east room. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she pulled down the paper shades and opened the clothes closet + door, bringing out the long box she had hidden away there on the first day + she had come to Pine Camp. In that box, wrapped in soft tissue paper, and + dressed in the loveliest gown made by Momsey's own skillful fingers, was + the great doll that had been given to Nan on her tenth birthday. + </p> + <p> + When girls went to high school, of course they were supposed to put away + dolls, together with other childish things. But Nan Sherwood never could + neglect her doll-babies and had often spent whole rainy days playing with + them in secret in the attic of the little house on Amity Street. + </p> + <p> + Her other dolls had been left, carefully wrapped and shielded from the + mice, at Tillbury; but Nan had been unable to leave Beautiful Beulah + behind. She packed her in the bottom of her trunk, unknown even to Momsey + in the hurry of departure. She had not told a soul here at Pine Camp that + she possessed a doll; she knew the boys would make fun of her for sure. + </p> + <p> + But she often sat behind the drawn shades nursing the big doll and + crooning softly to it as she swung back and forth in the spring + rocking-chair. Tom had oiled the springs for her so that it no longer + creaked. + </p> + <p> + She did not confide even in Aunt Kate about the big doll. They were all + very kind to her; but Nan had a feeling that she ought to be grown up here + among her backwoods relatives. How could she ever face roguish Rafe if he + knew she liked to “play dolls?” + </p> + <p> + Fearing that even Margaret would tell, Nan had never shown the woods girl + Beautiful Beulah. Once she was afraid Margaret had come to the window to + peep in when Nan had the doll out of her hiding place; but she was not + sure, and Nan hoped her secret was still inviolate. At least, Margaret + never said a word about it. + </p> + <p> + Margaret's sisters had dolls made of corncobs, and rag babies with painted + faces like the one Margaret had thrown into the river and drowned; but + Margaret turned up her nose at them all. She never seemed to want to “play + house” as do most girls of her age. She preferred to run wild, like a + colt, with Bob in the woods and swamp. + </p> + <p> + Margaret did not wish to go into the swamp with Nan, however, on her first + visit to Toby Vanderwiller's little farm. This was some weeks after the + log drives, and lumbering was over for the season. Uncle Henry and the + boys, rather than be idle, were working every acre they owned, and Nan was + more alone than she had ever been since coming to Pine Camp. + </p> + <p> + She had learned the way to Toby's place, the main trail through the swamp + going right by the hummock on which the old man's farm was situated. She + knew there was a corduroy road most of the way—that is, a road built + of logs laid side by side directly over the miry ground. Save in very wet + weather this road was passable for most vehicles. + </p> + <p> + The distance was but three miles, however, and Nan liked walking. Besides, + nobody who has not seen a tamarack swamp in late spring or early summer, + can ever imagine how beautiful it is. Nan never missed human companionship + when she was on the long walks she so often took in the woods. + </p> + <p> + She had learned now that, despite her adventure with the lynx in the + snow-drifted hollow, there was scarcely any animal to fear about Pine + Camp. Bears had not been seen for years; bobcats were very infrequently + met with and usually ran like scared rabbits; foxes were of course shy, + and the nearest approach to a wolf in all that section was Toby + Vanderwiller's wolfhound that had once frightened Nan so greatly. + </p> + <p> + Hares, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, and many, many birds, peopled the + forest and swamp. In sunken places where the green water stood and steamed + in the sun, turtles and frogs were plentiful; and occasionally a snake, as + harmless as it was wicked looking, slid off a water-soaked log at Nan's + approach and slipped under the oily surface of the pool. + </p> + <p> + On the day Nan walked to Toby's place the first time, she saw many wonders + of plant life along the way, exotics clinging to rotten logs and stumps; + fronds of delicate vines that she had never before heard of; ferns of + exquisite beauty. And flashing over them, and sucking honey from every + cuplike flower, were shimmering humming-birds and marvelously marked + butterflies. + </p> + <p> + The birds screamed or sang or chattered over the girl's head as she + tripped along. Squirrels peeped at her, barked, and then whisked their + tails in rapid flight. Through the cool, dark depths where the forest + monarchs had been untouched by the woodsmen, great moths winged their lazy + flight. Nan knew not half of the creatures or the wonderful plants she + saw. + </p> + <p> + There were sounds in the deeps of the swamplands that she did not + recognize, either. Some she supposed must be the voices of huge frogs; + other notes were bird-calls that she had never heard before. But suddenly, + as she approached a turn in the corduroy road, her ear was smitten by a + sound that she knew very well indeed. + </p> + <p> + It was a man's voice, and it was not a pleasant one. It caused Nan to halt + and look about for some place to hide until the owner of the voice went + by. She feared him because of his harsh tones, though she did not, at the + moment, suspect who it was. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly she heard plainly a single phrase: “I'd give money, I tell + ye, to see Hen Sherwood git his!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXI. IN THE TAMARACK SWAMP + </h2> + <p> + The harsh tone of the unseen man terrified Nan Sherwood; but the words he + spoke about her Uncle Henry inspired her to creep nearer that she might + see who it was, and hear more. The fact that she was eavesdropping did not + deter the girl. + </p> + <p> + She believed her uncle's life to be in peril! + </p> + <p> + The dampness between the logs of the roadway oozed up in little pools and + steamed in the hot blaze of the afternoon sun. Insects buzzed and hummed, + so innumerable that the chorus of their voices was like the rumble of a + great church-organ. + </p> + <p> + Nan stepped from the road and pushed aside the thick underbrush to find a + dry spot to place her foot. The gnats danced before her and buzzed in her + ears. She brushed them aside and so pushed on until she could see the road + again. A lean, yellow horse, tackled to the shafts of a broken top-buggy + with bits of rope as well as worn straps, stood in the roadway. The man on + the seat, talking to another on the ground, was Mr. Gedney Raffer, the + timberman who was contending at law with Uncle Henry. + </p> + <p> + It was he who had said: “I'd give money, I tell ye, to see Hen Sherwood + git his.” + </p> + <p> + There had fallen a silence, but just as Nan recognized the mean looking + old man on the carriage seat, she heard the second man speak from the + other side of the buggy. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you like I done Hen himself, Ged; I don't wanter be mixed up in no + land squabble. I ain't for neither side.” + </p> + <p> + It was Toby. Nan knew his voice, and she remembered how he had answered + Uncle Henry at the lumber camp, the first day she had seen the old + lumberman. Nan could not doubt that the two men were discussing the + argument over the boundary of the Perkins Tract. + </p> + <p> + Gedney Raffer snarled out an imprecation when old Toby had replied as + above. “Ef you know which side of your bread the butter's on, you'll side + with me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “We don't often have butter on our bread, an' I ain't goin' ter side with + nobody,” grumbled Toby Vanderwiller. + </p> + <p> + “S-s!” hissed Raffer. “Come here!” + </p> + <p> + Toby stepped closer to the rattletrap carriage. “You see your way to goin' + inter court an' talkin' right, and you won't lose nothin' by it, Tobe.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh? Only my self-respect, I s'pose,” grunted the old lumberman, and Nan + approved very much of him just then. + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” exclaimed Raffer. + </p> + <p> + “Bah, yourself!” Toby Vanderwiller returned with some heat. “I got some + decency left, I hope. I ain't goin' to lie for you, nor no other man, Ged + Raffer!” + </p> + <p> + “Say! Would it be lyin' ef you witnessed on my side?” demanded the eager + Raffer. + </p> + <p> + “That's my secret,” snapped the old lumberman. “If I don't witness for + you, be glad I don't harm you.” + </p> + <p> + “You dare!” cried Raffer, shaking his fist at the other as he leaned from + the buggy seat. + </p> + <p> + “You hearn me say I wouldn't go inter court one way or 'tother,” repeated + Toby, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Wal,” snarled Raffer, “see't ye don't see't ye don't. 'Specially for any + man but me. Ye 'member what I told ye, Tobe. Money's tight and I oughter + call in that loan.” + </p> + <p> + Toby was silent for half a minute. Then Nan heard him sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ged,” he observed, “it's up to you. If you take the place it'll be + the poorhouse for that unforchunit boy of mine and mebbe for the ol' + woman, 'specially if I can't strike a job for next winter. These here + lumber bosses begin to think I'm too stiff in the j'ints.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, wal!” snarled Raffer. “I can't help it. How d'ye expec' I kin help + you ef you won't help me?” + </p> + <p> + He clucked to the old horse, which awoke out of its drowse with a start, + and moved on sluggishly. Toby stood in the road and watched him depart. + Nan thought the old lumberman's to be the most sorrowful figure she had + ever seen. + </p> + <p> + Her young heart beat hotly against the meanness and injustice of Gedney + Raffer. He had practically threatened Toby with foreclosure on his little + farm if the old lumberman would not help him in his contention with Mr. + Sherwood. On the other hand, Uncle Henry desired his help; but Uncle + Henry, Nan knew, would not try to bribe the old lumberman. Under these + distressing circumstances, which antagonist's interests was Toby + Vanderwiller likely to serve? + </p> + <p> + This query vastly disturbed Nan Sherwood. All along she had desired much + to help Uncle Henry solve his big problem. The courts would not allow him + to cut a stick of timber on the Perkins Tract until a resurvey of the line + was made by government-appointed surveyors, and that would be, when? + </p> + <p> + Uncle Henry's money was tied up in the stumpage lease, or first payment to + the owners of the land. It was a big contract and he had expected to pay + his help and further royalties on the lease, from the sale of the timber + he cut on the tract. Besides, many valuable trees had been felled before + the injunction was served, and lay rotting on the ground. Every month they + lay there decreased their value. + </p> + <p> + And now, it appeared, Gedney Raffer was doing all in his power to + influence old Toby to serve as a witness in his, Raffer's, interests. + </p> + <p> + Had toby been willing to go into court and swear that the line of the + Perkins Tract was as Mr. Sherwood claimed, the court would have to vacate + the injunction and Uncle Henry could risk going ahead and cutting and + hauling timber from the tract. Uncle Henry believed Toby knew exactly + where the line lay, for he had been a landloper, or timber-runner in this + vicinity when the original survey was made, forty-odd years before. + </p> + <p> + It was plain to Nan, hiding in the bushes and watching the old man's face, + that he was dreadfully tempted. Working as hard as he might, summer and + winter alike, Toby Vanderwiller had scarcely been able to support his wife + and grandson. His occasional attacks of rheumatism so frequently put him + back. If Raffer took away the farm and the shelter they had, what would + become of them? + </p> + <p> + Uncle Henry was so short of ready money himself that he could not assume + the mortgage if Raffer undertook to foreclose. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me! If Momsey would only write to me that she is really rich,” + thought Nan, “I'd beg her for the money. I'll tell her all about poor Toby + in my very next letter and maybe, if she gets all that money from the + courts in Scotland, she will let me give Toby enough to pay off the + mortgage.” + </p> + <p> + She never for a moment doubted that Uncle Henry's contention about the + timber tract line was right. He must be correct, and old Toby must know + it! That is the way Nan Sherwood looked at the matter. + </p> + <p> + But now, seeing Toby turning back along the corduroy road, and slowly + shuffling toward home, she stepped out of the hovering bushes and walked + hastily after him. She overtook him not many yards beyond the spot where + he had stood talking with Raffer. He looked startled when she spoke his + name. + </p> + <p> + “Well! You air a sight for sore eyes, Sissy,” he said; but added, + nervously, “How in Joe Tunket did you git in the swamp? Along the road?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Come right erlong this way?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Did ye meet anybody?” demanded old Toby, eyeing her sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Raffer, driving his old buckskin horse. That's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't say nothin' to ye, did he?” asked Toby, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Not a word,” replied Nan, honestly. “I'm afraid of him and I hid in the + bushes till he had gone by.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” sighed Toby, as though relieved. “Jest as well. Though Ged wouldn't + ha' dared touch ye, Sissy.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. I'm here now,” said Nan, brightly. “And I want you to show me + your house and introduce me to Mrs. Vanderwiller.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. My ol' woman will be glad to see ye,” said the man, briskly. + “'Tain't more'n a mile furder on.” + </p> + <p> + But first they came to a deserted place, a strip more than half a mile + wide, where the trees had been cut in a broad belt through the swamp. All + Nan could see was sawdust and the stumps of felled trees sticking out of + it. The sawdust, Toby said, was anywhere from two to twenty feet deep, and + there were acres of it. + </p> + <p> + “They had their mill here, ye kin see the brick work yonder. They hauled + out the lumber by teams past my place. The stea'mill was here more'n two + years. They hauled the sawdust out of the way and dumped it in ev'ry + holler, jest as it come handy.” + </p> + <p> + “What a lot there is of it!” murmured Nan, sniffing doubtfully at the + rather unpleasant odor of the sawdust. + </p> + <p> + “I wish't 'twas somewhere else,” grunted Toby. + </p> + <p> + “Why-so?” + </p> + <p> + “Fire git in it and it'd burn till doomsday. Fire in sawdust is a mighty + bad thing. Ye see, even the road here is made of sawdust, four foot or + more deep and packed as solid as a brick walk. That's the way Pale Lick + went, sawdust afire. Ha'f the town was built on sawdust foundation an' she + smouldered for weeks before they knowed of it. Then come erlong a big wind + and started the blaze to the surface.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” murmured Nan, much interested. “Didn't my Uncle Henry live there + then?” + </p> + <p> + “I sh'd say he did,” returned Toby, emphatically. “Didn't he never tell ye + about it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. They never speak of Pale Lick.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I won't, nuther,” grunted old Toby. “'Taint pretty for a young gal + like you to hear about. Whush! Thar goes a loon!” + </p> + <p> + A big bird had suddenly come into sight, evidently from some nearby + water-hole. It did not fly high and seemed very clumsy, like a duck or + goose. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Are they good to eat, Mr. Vanderwiller?” cried Nan. “Rafe brought in + a brace of summer ducks the other day, and they were awfully good, the way + Aunt Kate cooked them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” drawled Toby, slyly, “I've hearn tell ye c'd eat a loon, ef 'twas + cooked right. But I never tried it.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you cook a loon, Mr. Vanderwiller?” asked Nan, interested in all + culinary pursuits. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they tell me thet it's some slow process,” said the old man, his + eyes twinkling. “Ye git yer loon, pluck an' draw it, let it soak overnight + in vinegar an' water, vitriol vinegar they say is the best. Then ye put it + in the pot an' let it simmer all day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” queried the perfectly innocent Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Then ye throw off that water,” Toby said, soberly, “and ye put on fresh + water an' let it cook all the next day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “An' then ye throw in a piece of grin'stone with the loon, and set it to + bilin' again. When ye kin stick a fork in the grin'stone, the loon's + done!” + </p> + <p> + Nan joined in Toby's loud laugh at this old joke, and pretty soon + thereafter they came to the hummock on which the Vanderwillers lived. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXII. ON THE ISLAND + </h2> + <p> + In the winter it was probably dreary enough; but now the beauty of the + swelling knoll where the little whitewashed house stood, with the tiny + fields that surrounded it, actually made Nan's heart swell and the tears + come into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to her as though she had never seen the grass so green as here, + and the thick wood that encircled the little farm was just a hedge of + blossoming shrubs with the tall trees shooting skyward in unbroken ranks. + A silver spring broke ground at the corner of the paddock fence. A pool + had been scooped out for the cattle to drink at; but it was not muddied, + and the stream tinkled down over the polished pebbles to the wider, more + sluggish stream that meandered away from the farm into the depths of the + swamp. + </p> + <p> + Toby told her, before they reached the hummock, that this stream rose in + the winter and flooded all about the farm, so that the latter really was + an island. Unless the ice remained firm they sometimes could not drive out + with either wagon or sled for days at a time. + </p> + <p> + “Then you live on an island,” cried Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Ye might say so,” complained Toby. “And sometimes we feel like as + though we was cast away on one, too.” + </p> + <p> + But the girl thought it must really be great fun to live on an island. + </p> + <p> + They went up to the house along the bank of the clear stream. On the side + porch, vine-covered to the eaves, sat an old woman rocking in a low chair + and another figure in what seemed at a distance, to be a child's wagon of + wickerwork, but with no tongue and a high back to it. + </p> + <p> + “Here's Gran'pop!” cried a shrill voice and the little wagon moved swiftly + to the edge of the steps. Nan almost screamed in fear as it pitched + downward. But the wheels did not bump over the four steps leading to the + ground, for a wide plank had been laid slantingly at that side, and over + this the wheels ran smoothly, if rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “You have a care there, Corson!” shrilled the old lady after the cripple. + “Some day you'll break your blessed neck.” + </p> + <p> + Nan thought he was a little boy, until they met. Then she was surprised to + see a young man's head set upon a shriveled child's body! Corson + Vanderwiller had a broad brow, a head of beautiful, brown, wavy hair, and + a fine mustache. He was probably all of twenty-five years old. + </p> + <p> + But Nan soon learned that the poor cripple was not grown in mind, more + than in body, to that age. His voice was childish, and his speech and + manner, too. He was bashful with Nan at first; then chattered like a + six-year-old child to her when she had once gained his confidence. + </p> + <p> + He wheeled himself about in the little express wagon very well indeed, old + Toby having rigged brakes with which he moved the wagon and steered it. + His arms and hands were quite strong, and when he wished to get back on to + the piazza, he seized a rope his grandfather had hung there, and dragged + himself, wagon and all, up the inclined plane, or gangplank, as it might + be called. + </p> + <p> + He showed Nan all his treasures, and they included some very childish + toys, a number of them showing the mechanical skill of his grandfather's + blunt fingers. But among them, too, were treasures from the swamp and + woods that were both very wonderful and very beautiful. + </p> + <p> + Old Toby had made Corson a neatly fitted cabinet in which were specimens + of preserved butterflies and moths, most of them of the gay and common + varieties; but some, Nan was almost sure, were rare and valuable. There + was one moth in particular, with spread wings, on the upper side of the + thorax of which was traced in white the semblance of a human skull. Nan + was almost sure that this must be the famous death's-head moth she had + read about in school; but she was not confident enough to say anything to + old Toby Vanderwiller. A few specimens of this rare insect have been found + in the swamps of America, although it was originally supposed to be an Old + World moth. + </p> + <p> + Nan did say, however, to Toby that perhaps some of these specimens might + be bought by collectors. The pressed flowers were pretty but not + particularly valuable. In the museum at the Tillbury High School there was + a much finer collection from the Indiana swamps. + </p> + <p> + “Sho!” said Toby, slowly; “I wouldn't wanter sell the boy's pretties. I + brung most on 'em home to him; but he mounted 'em himself.” + </p> + <p> + Nan suspected that old Mrs. Vanderwiller had much to do with the neat + appearance of the cabinet. She was a quiet, almost a speechless, old lady. + But she was very kind and she set out her best for Nan's luncheon before + the girl from Tillbury returned home. + </p> + <p> + “We ain't got much here on the island,” the old lady said; “but we do love + to have visitors. Don't we, Corson?” + </p> + <p> + “Nice ones,” admitted the cripple, munching cake. + </p> + <p> + He had heard something of what Nan suggested to Toby about the moths and + other specimens. So when the old lady was absent from the porch he + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Say, girl!” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she asked, smiling at him. + </p> + <p> + “Is what's in that cabinet wuth as much as a dollar?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I expect so,” said Nan. “More.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you give me a dollar for 'em?” he asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I couldn't! But perhaps I can write to somebody who would be + interested in buying some of your things, and for much more than a + dollar.” + </p> + <p> + Corson looked disappointed. Nan asked, curiously: “Why do you want the + dollar?” + </p> + <p> + “To git Gran'mom a silk dress,” he said promptly. “She's admired to have + one all her life, and ain't never got to git it yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure that's nice of you,” declared Nan, warmly. “I'll try to sell + some of your collection.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he jerked out. “It's got to be pretty soon, or she won't git to + wear it much. I heard her tell Gran'pop so.” + </p> + <p> + This impressed Nan Sherwood as being very pitiful, for she was of a + sympathetic nature. And it showed that Corson Vanderwiller, even if he was + simple-minded, possessed one of the great human virtues, gratitude. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIII. A MYSTERY + </h2> + <p> + On this, her first visit to the island in the swamp, Nan said nothing to + old Toby Vanderwiller about the line dispute between her uncle and Gedney + Raffer, which the old lumberman was supposed to be able to settle if he + would. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vanderwiller insisted upon Toby's hitching up an old, broken-kneed + pony he owned, and taking her over the corduroy road to Pine Camp, where + she arrived before dark. To tell the truth, little Margaret Llewellen was + not the only person who thought it odd that Nan should want to go to see + the Vanderwillers in the heart of the tamarack swamp. Nan's uncle and aunt + and cousins considered their guest a little odd; but they made no open + comment when the girl arrived at home after her visit. + </p> + <p> + Nan was full of the wonders she had seen, commonplace enough to her + relatives who had lived all their lives in touch with the beautiful and + queer things of Nature as displayed in the Michigan Peninsula. Perhaps + none but Tom appreciated her ecstasy over crippled Corson Vanderwiller's + collection. + </p> + <p> + Rafe was inclined to poke good-natured fun at his young cousin for her + enthusiasm; but Tom showed an understanding that quite surprised Nan. + Despite his simplicity regarding some of the commonest things of the great + outside world, he showed that he was very observant of the things about + him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tom was always like that,” scoffed Rafe, with ready laughter at his + slow brother. “He'd rather pick up a bug any day and put it through a + cross-examination, than smash it under the sole of his boot.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think bugs were made to smash,” Tom said stoutly. + </p> + <p> + “Whew! What in thunder were they made for?” demanded the mocking Rafe. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think God Almighty made things alive just for us to make 'em + dead,” said Tom, clumsily, and blushing a deep red. + </p> + <p> + Rafe laughed again. Rafe had read much more in a desultory fashion than + Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Tom ought to be one of those Brahmas,” he said, chuckling. “They carry a + whisk broom to brush off any seat they may sit on before they sit down, + so's they sha'n't crush an ant, or any other crawling thing. They're + vegetarians, too, and won't take life in any form.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Rafe!” exclaimed his mother, who was never quite sure when her + younger son was playing the fool. “You know that Brahmas are hens. I've + got some in my flock those big white and black, lazy fowls, with feathers + on their legs.” + </p> + <p> + Nan had to laugh at that as well as Rafe. “Brahma fowl, I guess, came from + Brahma, or maybe Brahmaputra, all right. But Rafe means Brahmans. They're + a religious people of India,” the girl from Tillbury said. + </p> + <p> + “And maybe they've got it right,” Tom said stubbornly. “Why should we kill + unnecessarily?” + </p> + <p> + Nan could have hugged him. At any rate, a new feeling for him was born at + that moment, and she applauded. Aunt Kate said: + </p> + <p> + “Tom always was soft-hearted,” and her big son became silent. She might as + well have called him “soft-headed”; but Nan began better to appreciate + Tom's worth from that time on. + </p> + <p> + Rafe remained in her eyes still the reckless, heroic figure he had seemed + when running over the logs the day of the timber drive. But she began to + confide in Tom after this evening of her return from the tamarack swamp. + </p> + <p> + However, this is somewhat in advance of the story. The pleasant evening + passed as usual until bedtime came for Nan. She retired to her east + chamber, for the windows of which Tom had made screens to keep out the + night-flying insects. No matter how tired she was at night there was one + thing Nan Sherwood seldom forgot. + </p> + <p> + Possibly it was silly in a girl who was almost through her freshman year + at high school, but Nan brought out Beautiful Beulah and rocked her, and + hugged her, and crooned over her before she went to bed. She was such a + comfort! + </p> + <p> + So Nan, on this evening, went first of all to the closet and reached down + to draw out the box in which she had kept the doll hidden ever since + coming to Pine Camp. + </p> + <p> + It was not there! + </p> + <p> + At first Nan Sherwood could not believe this possible. She dropped on her + knees and scrambled over the floor of her closet, reaching under the + hanging skirts and frocks, her fear rising, second by second. + </p> + <p> + The box was not in its place. She arose and looked about her room wildly. + Of course, she had not left it anywhere else, that was out of the + question. + </p> + <p> + She could scarcely believe that any member of the family had been in her + room, much less would disturb anything that was hers. Not even Aunt Kate + came to the east chamber often. Nan had insisted upon taking care of the + room, and she swept and dusted and cleaned like the smart little housewife + she was. Aunt Kate had been content to let her have her way in this. + </p> + <p> + Of course Nan never locked her door. But who would touch a thing belonging + to her? And her doll! Why, she was sure the family did not even know she + had such a possession. + </p> + <p> + Almost wildly the girl ran out of her chamber and into the sitting room, + where the family was still gathered around the evening lamp, Rafe cleaning + his shot-gun, Tom reading slowly the local paper, published at the Forks, + Aunt Kate mending, and Uncle Henry sitting at the open window with his + pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's gone!” gasped Nan, as she burst into the room. + </p> + <p> + “What's gone?” asked Aunt Kate, and Uncle Henry added: “What's happened to + you, honey-bird?” + </p> + <p> + “My Beulah!” cried Nan, almost sobbing. “My Beulah, she's been taken!” + </p> + <p> + “My mercy, child!” cried Aunt Kate, jumping up. “Are you crazy?” + </p> + <p> + “Who's Beulah?” demanded Rafe, looking up from his gun and, Nan thought, + showing less surprise than the others. + </p> + <p> + “My Beulah doll,” said Nan, too troubled now to care whether the family + laughed at her or not. “My Beautiful Beulah. Somebody's played a trick.” + </p> + <p> + “A doll!” shouted Rafe, and burst into a chatter of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy me, child!” repeated Aunt Kate. “I didn't know you had a doll.” + </p> + <p> + “Got a baby rattle, too, Sissy?” chuckled Rafe. “And a ring to cut your + teeth on? My, my!” + </p> + <p> + “Stop that, Rafe!” commanded his father, sternly, while Tom flushed and + glared angrily at his brother. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know you had a doll, Nannie,” said Mrs. Sherwood, rather weakly. + “Where'd you have it?” + </p> + <p> + “In my closet,” choked Nan. “She's a great, big, beautiful thing! I know + somebody must be playing a joke on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody here, Nannie,” said Uncle Henry, with decision. “You may be sure + of that.” But he looked at Rafe sternly. That young man thought it the + better part of wisdom to say no more. + </p> + <p> + In broken sentences the girl told her innocent secret, and why she had + kept the doll hidden. Aunt Kate, after, all, seemed to understand. + </p> + <p> + “My poor dear!” she crooned, patting Nan's hand between her hard palms. + “We'll all look for the dolly. Surely it can't have been taken out of the + house.” + </p> + <p> + “And who'd even take it out of her closet?” demanded Tom, almost as stern + as his father. + </p> + <p> + “It surely didn't walk away of itself,” said Aunt Kate. + </p> + <p> + She took a small hand lamp and went with Nan to the east chamber. They + searched diligently, but to no good end, save to assure Nan that Beulah + had utterly disappeared. + </p> + <p> + As far as could be seen the screens at the windows of the bedroom had not + been disturbed. But who would come in from outside to steal Nan's doll? + Indeed, who would take it out of the closet, anyway? The girl was almost + sure that nobody had known she had it. It was strange, very strange + indeed. + </p> + <p> + Big girl that she was, Nan cried herself to sleep that night over the + mystery. The loss of Beulah seemed to snap the last bond that held her to + the little cottage in Amity street, where she had spent all her happy + childhood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIV. THE SMOKING TREE + </h2> + <p> + Nan awoke to a new day with the feeling that the loss of her treasured + doll must have been a bad dream. But it was not. Another search of her + room and the closet assured her that it was a horrid reality. + </p> + <p> + She might have lost many of her personal possessions without a pang; but + not Beautiful Beulah. Nan could not tell her aunt or the rest of the + family just how she felt about it. She was sure they would not understand. + </p> + <p> + The doll had reminded her continually of her home life. Although the stay + of her parents in Scotland was much more extended than they or Nan had + expected, the doll was a link binding the girl to her old home life which + she missed so much. + </p> + <p> + Her uncle and aunt had tried to make her happy here at Pine Camp. As far + as they could do so they had supplied the love and care of Momsey and Papa + Sherwood. But Nan was actually ill for her old home and her old home + associations. + </p> + <p> + On this morning, by herself in her bedroom, she cried bitterly before she + appeared before the family. + </p> + <p> + “I have no right to make them feel miserable just because my heart, is, + breaking,” she sobbed aloud. “I won't let them see how bad I feel. But if + I don't find Beulah, I just know I shall die!” + </p> + <p> + Could she have run to Momsey for comfort it would have helped, Oh, how + much! + </p> + <p> + “I am a silly,” Nan told herself at last, warmly. “But I cannot help it. + Oh, dear! Where can Beulah have gone?” + </p> + <p> + She bathed her eyes well in the cold spring water brought by Tom that she + always found in the jug outside her door in the morning, and removed such + traces of tears as she could; and nobody noticed when she went out to + breakfast that her eyelids were puffy and her nose a bit red. + </p> + <p> + The moment Rafe caught sight of her he began to squall, supposedly like an + infant, crying: + </p> + <p> + “Ma-ma! Ma-ma! Tum an' take Too-tums. Waw! Waw! Waw!” + </p> + <p> + After all her hurt pride and sorrow, Nan would have called up a laugh at + this. But Tom, who was drinking at the water bucket, wheeled with the full + dipper and threw the contents into Rafe's face. That broke off the teasing + cousin's voice for a moment; but Rafe came up, sputtering and mad. + </p> + <p> + “Say! You big oaf!” he shouted. “What you trying to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Trying to be funny,” said Tom, sharply. “And you set me the example.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, boys!” begged Aunt Kate. “Don't quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + “And, dear me, boys,” gasped Nan, “please don't squabble about me.” + </p> + <p> + “That big lummox!” continued Rafe, still angry. “Because dad backs him up + and says he ought to lick me, he does this. I'm going to defend myself. If + he does a thing like that again, I'll fix him.” + </p> + <p> + Tom laughed in his slow way and lumbered out. Uncle Henry did not hear + this, and Nan was worried. She thought Aunt Kate was inclined to side with + her youngest boy. Rafe would always be “the baby” to Aunt Kate. + </p> + <p> + At any rate Nan was very sorry the quarrel had arisen over her. And she + was careful to say nothing to fan further the flame of anger between her + cousins. Nor did she say anything more about the lost doll. So the family + had no idea how heartsore and troubled the girl really was over the + mystery. + </p> + <p> + It hurt her the more because she could talk to nobody about Beulah. There + was not a soul in whom she could confide. Had Bess Harley been here at + Pine Camp Nan felt that she could not really expect sympathy from her chum + at this time; for Bess considered herself quite grown up and her own dolls + were relegated to the younger members of her family. + </p> + <p> + Nan could write to her chum, however, and did. She could write to Momsey, + and did that, too; not forgetting to tell her absent parents about old + Toby Vanderwiller, and his wife and his grandson, and of their dilemma. If + only Momsey's great fortune came true, Nan was sure that Gedney Raffer + would be paid off and Toby would no longer have the threat of + dispossession held over him. + </p> + <p> + Nan Sherwood wrote, too, to Mr. Mangel, the principal of the Tillbury High + School, and told him about the collection the crippled grandson of the old + lumberman had made, mentioning those specimens which had impressed her + most. She had some hope that the strange moth might be very valuable. + </p> + <p> + Nan was so busy writing letters, and helping Aunt Kate preserve some early + summer fruit, that she did not go far from the house during the next few + days, and so did not see even Margaret Llewellen. The other girl friends + she had made at Pine Camp lived too far away for her to visit them often + or have them come to call on her. + </p> + <p> + A long letter from Papa Sherwood about this time served to take Nan's mind + off the mystery, in part, at least. It was a nice letter and most joyfully + received by the girl; but to her despair it gave promise of no very quick + return of her parents from Scotland: + </p> + <p> + “Those relatives of your mother's whom we have met here, Mr. Andrew + Blake's family, for instance, have treated us most kindly. They are, + themselves, all well-to-do, and gentlefolk as well. The disposal by Old + Hughie Blake, as he was known hereabout, of his estate makes no difference + to the other Blakes living near Emberon,” wrote Mr. Sherwood. + </p> + <p> + “It is some kin at a distance, children of a half sister of Old Hughie, + who have made a claim against the estate. Mr. Andrew Blake, who is well + versed in the Scotch law, assures us these distant relatives have not the + shadow of a chance of winning their suit. He is so sure of this that he + has kindly offered to advance certain sums to your mother to tide us over + until the case is settled. + </p> + <p> + “I am sending some money to your Uncle Henry for your use, if any + emergency should arise. You must not look for our return, my dear Nancy, + too soon. Momsey's health is so much improved by the sea voyage and the + wonderfully invigorating air here, that I should be loath to bring her + home at once, even if the matter of the legacy were settled. By the way, + the sum she will finally receive from Mr. Hugh Blake's estate will be + quite as much as the first letter from the lawyer led us to expect. Some + of your dearest wishes, my dear, may be realized in time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I can go to Lakeview Hall with Bess, after all!” cried Nan, aloud, at + this point. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, that possibility quite filled the girl's mind for a while. Nothing + else in Papa Sherwood's letter, aside from the good news of Momsey's + improved health, so pleased her as this thought. She hastened to write a + long letter to Bess Harley, with Lakeview Hall as the text. + </p> + <p> + Summer seemed to stride out of the forest now, full panoplied. After the + frost and snow of her early days at Pine Camp, Nan had not expected such + heat. The pools beside the road steamed. The forest was atune from + daybreak to midnight with winged denizens, for insect and bird life seemed + unquenchable in the Big Woods. + </p> + <p> + Especially was this true of the tamarack swamp. It was dreadfully hot at + noontide on the corduroy road which passed Toby Vanderwiller's little + farm; but often Nan Sherwood went that way in the afternoon. Mr. Mangel, + the school principal, had written Nan and encouraged her to send a full + description of some of Corson Vanderwiller's collection, especially of the + wonderful death's-head moth, to a wealthy collector in Chicago. Nan did + this at once. + </p> + <p> + So, one day, a letter came from the man and in it was a check for + twenty-five dollars. + </p> + <p> + “This is a retainer,” the gentleman wrote. “I am much interested in your + account of the lame boy's specimens. I want the strangely marked moth in + any case, and the check pays for an option on it until I can come and see + his specimens personally.” + </p> + <p> + Nan went that very afternoon to the tamarack swamp to tell the + Vanderwillers this news and give Toby the check. She knew poor Corson + would be delighted, for now he could purchase the longed-for silk dress + for his grandmother. + </p> + <p> + The day was so hot and the way so long that Nan was glad to sit down when + she reached the edge of the sawdust strip, to rest and cool off before + attempting this unshaded desert. A cardinal bird—one of the sauciest + and most brilliant of his saucy and brilliant race, flitted about her as + she sat upon a log. + </p> + <p> + “You pretty thing!” crooned Nan. “If it were not wicked I'd wish to have + you at home in a cage. I wish—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, for in following the flight of the cardinal her gaze fastened + upon a most surprising thing off at some distance from the sawdust road. A + single dead tree, some forty feet in height and almost limbless, stood in + solemn grandeur in the midst of the sawdust waste. It had been of no use + to the woodcutters and they had allowed the shell of the old forest + monarch to stand. Now, from its broken top, Nan espied a thin, faint + column of blue haze rising. + </p> + <p> + It was the queerest thing! It was not mist, of course and she did not see + how it could be smoke. There was no fire at the foot of the tree, for she + could see the base of the bole plainly. She even got up and ran a little + way out into the open in order to see the other side of the dead tree. + </p> + <p> + The sky was very blue, and the air was perfectly still. Almost Nan was + tempted to believe that her eyes played her false. The column was almost + the color of the sky itself, and it was thin as a veil. + </p> + <p> + How could there be a fire in the top of that tall tree? + </p> + <p> + “There just isn't! I don't believe I see straight!” declared Nan to + herself, moving on along the roadway. “But I'll speak to Toby about it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXV. THE TEMPEST + </h2> + <p> + Nan, however, did not mention to Toby the haze rising from the dead tree. + In the first place, when she reached the little farm on the island in the + tamarack swamp, old Toby Vanderwiller was not at home. His wife greeted + the girl warmly, and Corson was glad to see her. When Nan spread the check + before him and told him what it was for, and what he could do with so much + money, the crippled boy was delighted. + </p> + <p> + It was a secret between them that the grandmother was to have the black + silk dress that she had longed for all her married life; only Nan and + Corson knew that Nan was commissioned to get the check cashed and buy the + dress pattern at the Forks; or send to a catalogue house for it if she + could not find a suitable piece of goods at any of the local stores. + </p> + <p> + Nan lingered, hoping that Toby would come home. It finally grew so late + that she dared not wait longer. She had been warned by Aunt Kate not to + remain after dusk in the swamp, nor had she any desire to do so. + </p> + <p> + Moreover there was a black cloud rolling up from the west. That was enough + to make the girl hurry, for when it rained in the swamp, sometimes the + corduroy road was knee deep in water. + </p> + <p> + The cloud had increased to such proportions when Nan was half way across + the sawdust desert that she began to run. She had forgotten all about the + smoking tree. + </p> + <p> + Not a breath of air was stirring as yet; but there was the promise of wind + in that cloud. The still leaves on the bushes, the absence of bird life + overhead, the lazy drone of insects, portended a swift change soon. Nan + was weather-wise enough to know that. + </p> + <p> + She panted on, stumbling through the loose sawdust, but stumbling equally + in the ruts; for the way was very rough. This road was lonely enough at + best; but it seemed more deserted than ever now. + </p> + <p> + A red fox, his tail depressed, shot past her, and not many yards away. It + startled Nan, for it seemed as though something dreadful was about to + happen and the fox knew it and was running away from it. + </p> + <p> + She could not run as fast as the fox; but Nan wished that she could. And + she likewise wished with all her heart that she would meet somebody. + </p> + <p> + That somebody she hoped would be Tom. Tom was drawing logs from some point + near, she knew. A man down the river had bought some timber and they had + been cut a few weeks before. Tom was drawing them out of the swamp for the + man; and he had mentioned only that morning at breakfast that he was + working within sight of the sawdust tract and the corduroy road. + </p> + <p> + Nan felt that she would be safe with big, slow Tom. Even the thought of + thunder and lightning would lose some of its terrors if she could only get + to Tom. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she heard a voice shouting, then the rattle of chain harness. The + voice boomed out a stave of an old hymn: + </p> + <p> + “On Jordan's stormy bank I stand, And cast a wishful eye.” + </p> + <p> + “It's Tom!” gasped Nan, and ran harder. + </p> + <p> + She was almost across the open space now. The cooler depths of the forest + were just ahead. Beyond, a road crossed the mainly-traveled swamp track at + right angles to it, and this was the path Tom followed. + </p> + <p> + He was now coming from the river, going deeper into the swamp for another + log. Nan continued to run, calling to him at the top of her voice. + </p> + <p> + She came in sight of the young timberman and his outfit. His wagon rattled + so that he could not easily hear his cousin calling to him. He sat on the + tongue of the wagon, and his big, slow-moving horses jogged along, + rattling their chains in a jingle more noisy than harmonious. + </p> + <p> + The timber cart was a huge, lumbering affair with ordinary cartwheels in + front but a huge pair behind with an extended reach between them; and to + the axle of the rear pair of wheels the timber to be transported was swung + off the ground and fastened with chains. Nan ran after the rumbling cart + and finally Tom saw her. + </p> + <p> + “My mercy me!” gasped the boy, using one of his mother's favorite + expressions. “What you doing here, Nan?” + </p> + <p> + “Chasing you, Tom,” laughed the girl. “Is it going to rain?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon. You'll get wet if it does.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care so much for that,” confessed Nan. “But I am so afraid of + thunder! Oh, there it comes.” + </p> + <p> + The tempest muttered in the distance. Tom, who had pulled in his horses + and stopped, looked worried. “I wish you weren't here, Nan,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “How gallant you are, I declare, Tommy Sherwood,” cried Nan, laughing + again, and then shuddering as the growl of the thunder was repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Swamp's no place for a girl in a storm,” muttered the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am here, Tommy; what are you going to do with me?” she asked him, + saucily. + </p> + <p> + “If you're so scared by thunder you'd better begin by stopping your ears,” + he drawled. + </p> + <p> + Nan laughed. Slow Tom was not often good at repartee. “I'm going to stick + by you till it's over, Tom,” she said, hopping up behind him on the + wagon-tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Cracky, Nan! You'll get soaked. It's going to just smoke in a few + minutes,” declared the anxious young fellow. + </p> + <p> + And that reminded Nan again of the smoking tree. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tom! Do you know I believe there is a tree afire over yonder,” she + cried, pointing. + </p> + <p> + “A tree afire?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I saw it smoking.” + </p> + <p> + “My mercy me!” exclaimed Tom again. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Nan told him about the mystery. The fact that a column of smoke arose out + of the top of the dead tree seemed to worry Tom. Nan became alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, Tom! Do you really think it was afire?” + </p> + <p> + “I, don't know. If it was afire, it is afire now,” he said. “Show me, + Nan.” + </p> + <p> + He turned the horses out of the beaten track through the brush and + brambles, to the edge of the open place which had been heaped with sawdust + from the steam-mill. + </p> + <p> + Just as they broke cover a vivid flash of lightning cleaved the black + cloud that had almost reached the zenith by now, and the deep rumble of + thunder changed to a sharp chatter; then followed a second flash and a + deafening crash. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tom!” gasped Nan, as she clung to him. + </p> + <p> + “The flash you see'll never hit you, Nan,” drawled Tom, trying to be + comforting. “Remember that.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't so much the lightning I fear as it is the thunder,” murmured + Nan, in the intermission. “It just so-o-ounds as though the whole house + was coming down.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho!” cried Tom. “No house here, Nan.” + </p> + <p> + “But——-” + </p> + <p> + The thunder roared again. A light patter on the leaves and ground + announced the first drops of the storm. + </p> + <p> + “Which tree was it you saw smoking?” asked the young fellow. + </p> + <p> + Nan looked around to find the tall, broken-topped tree. A murmur that had + been rising in the distance suddenly grew to a sweeping roar. The trees + bent before the blast. Particles of sawdust stung their faces. The horses + snorted and sprang ahead. Tom had difficulty in quieting them. + </p> + <p> + Then the tempest swooped upon them in earnest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXVI. BUFFETED BY THE ELEMENTS + </h2> + <p> + Nan knew she had never seen it rain so hard before. The falling water was + like a drop-curtain, swept across the stage of the open tract of sawdust. + In a few minutes they were saturated to the skin. Nan could not have been + any wetter if she had gone in swimming. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she gasped into Tom's ear. “It is the deluge!” + </p> + <p> + “Never was, but one rain 't didn't clear up yet,” he returned, with + difficulty, for his big body was sheltering Nan in part, and he was facing + the blast. + </p> + <p> + “I know. That's this one,” she agreed. “But, it's awful.” + </p> + <p> + “Say! Can you point out that tree that smoked?” asked Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness! It can't be smoking now,” gasped Nan, stifled with rain and + laughter. “This storm would put out Vesuvius.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know him,” retorted her cousin. “But it'd put most anybody out, I + allow. Still, fire isn't so easy to quench. Where's the tree?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't see it, Tom,” declared Nan, with her eyes tightly closed. She + really thought he was too stubborn. Of course, if there had been any fire + in that tree-top, this rain would put it out in about ten seconds. So Nan + believed. + </p> + <p> + “Look again, Nan,” urged her cousin. “This is no funning. If there's fire + in this swamp.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness, gracious!” snapped Nan. “What a fuss-budget you are to be sure, + Tom. If there was a fire, this rain would smother it. Oh! Did it ever pelt + one so before?” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately the rain was warm, and she was not much discomforted by being + wet. Tom still clung to the idea that she had started in his slow mind. + </p> + <p> + “Fire's no funning, I tell you,” he growled. “Sometimes it smoulders for + days and days, and weeks and weeks; then it bursts out like a hurricane.” + </p> + <p> + “But the rain” + </p> + <p> + “This sawdust is mighty hard-packed, and feet deep,” interrupted Tom. “The + fire might be deep down.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Tom! How ridiculously you talk!” cried the girl. “Didn't I tell you + I saw the smoke coming out of the top of a tree? Fire couldn't be deep + down in the sawdust and the smoke come out of the tree top.” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't, heh?” returned Tom. “Dead tree, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Hollow, too, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Might be hollow clear through its length,” Tom explained seriously. “The + butt might be all rotted out. Just a tough shell of a tree standing there, + and 'twould be a fine chimney if the fire was smouldering down at its old + roots.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tom! I never thought of such a thing,” gasped Nan. + </p> + <p> + “And you don't see the tree now?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me look! Let me look!” cried Nan, conscience-stricken. + </p> + <p> + In spite of the beating rain and wind she got to her knees, still clinging + to her big cousin, and then stood upon the broad tongue of the wagon. The + horses stood still with their heads down, bearing the buffeting of the + storm with the usual patience of dumb beasts. + </p> + <p> + A sheer wall of water seemed to separate them from every object out upon + the open land. Behind them the bulk of the forest loomed as another + barrier. Nan had really never believed that rain could fall so hard. It + almost took her breath. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, what Tom said about the smoking tree began to trouble the girl. + She thought of the fire at Pale Lick, of which she had received hints from + several people. That awful conflagration, in which she believed two + children belonging to her uncle and aunt had lost their lives, had started + in the sawdust. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she cried aloud and seized Tom more tightly. + </p> + <p> + “Cracky! Don't choke a fellow!” he coughed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tom!” + </p> + <p> + “Well” + </p> + <p> + “I think I see it.” + </p> + <p> + “The tree that smoked?” asked her cousin. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. There!” + </p> + <p> + For the moment it seemed as though the downpour lightened. Veiled by the + still falling water a straight stick rose high in the air ahead of them. + Tom chirruped to the horses and made them, though unwilling, go forward. + </p> + <p> + They dragged the heavy cart unevenly. Through the heavy downpour the trail + was hard to follow, and once in a while a rear wheel bumped over a stump, + and Nan was glad to drop down upon the tongue again, and cling more + tightly than ever to her cousin's collar. + </p> + <p> + “Sure that's it?” queried Tom, craning his neck to look up into the tall, + straight tree. + </p> + <p> + “I, I'm almost sure,” stammered Nan. + </p> + <p> + “I, don't, see, any, smoke,” drawled Tom, with his head still raised. + </p> + <p> + The rain had almost ceased, an intermission which would not be of long + duration. Nan saw that her cousin's prophecy had been true; the ground + actually smoked after the downpour. The sun-heated sawdust steamed + furiously. They seemed to be crossing a heated cauldron. Clouds of steam + rose all about the timber cart. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Tommy!” Nan choked. “It does seem as though there must be fire under + this sawdust now.” + </p> + <p> + Tom brought his own gaze down from the empty tree-top with a jerk. “Hoo!” + he shouted, and leaned forward suddenly to flick his off horse with the + whiplash. Just then the rear wheel on that side slumped down into what + seemed a veritable volcano. + </p> + <p> + Flame and smoke spurted out around the broad wheel. Nan screamed. The wind + suddenly swooped down upon them, and a ball of fire, flaming sawdust was + shot into the air and was tossed twenty feet by a puff of wind. + </p> + <p> + “We're over an oven!” gasped Tom, and laid the whip solidly across the + backs of the frightened horses. + </p> + <p> + They plunged. Another geyser of fire and smoke spurted from the hole into + which the rear wheel had slumped. Again and again the big horses flung + themselves into the collars in an endeavor to get the wheel out. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tommy!” cried Nan. “We'll be burned up!” + </p> + <p> + “No you won't,” declared her cousin, leaping down. “Get off and run, Nan.” + </p> + <p> + “But you—” + </p> + <p> + “Do as I say!” commanded Tom. “Run!” + </p> + <p> + “Where, where'll I run to?” gasped the girl, leaping off the tongue, too, + and away from the horses' heels. + </p> + <p> + “To the road. Get toward home!” cried Tom, running around to the rear of + the timber cart. + </p> + <p> + “And leave you here?” cried Nan. “I guess not, Mr. Tom!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + But he did not hear that. He had seized his axe and was striding toward + the edge of the forest. For a moment Nan feared that Tom was running away + as he advised her to do. But that would not be like Tom Sherwood! + </p> + <p> + At the edge of the forest he laid the axe to the root of a sapling about + four inches through at the butt. Three strokes, and the tree was down. In + a minute he had lopped off the branches for twenty feet, then removed the + top with a single blow. + </p> + <p> + As he turned, dragging the pole with him, up sprang the fire again from + the hollow into which the wheel of the wagon had sunk. It was a smoking + furnace down there, and soon the felloe and spokes would be injured by the + flames and heat. Sparks flew on the wings of the wind from out of the + mouth of the hole. Some of them scattered about the horses and they + plunged again, squealing. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Nan impossible after the recent cloudburst that the fire + could find anything to feed upon. But underneath the packed surface of the + sawdust, the heat of summer had been drying out the moisture for weeks. + And the fire had been smouldering for a long time. Perhaps for yards and + yards around, the interior of the sawdust heap was a glowing furnace. + </p> + <p> + Nan would not run away and Tom did not see her. As he came plunging back + to the stalled wagon, suddenly his foot slumped into the yielding sawdust + and he fell upon his face. He cried out with surprise or pain. Nan, + horrified, saw the flames and smoke shooting out of the hole into which + her cousin had stepped. For the moment the girl felt as if her heart had + stopped beating. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tom! Oh, Tom!” she shrieked, and sprang toward him. + </p> + <p> + Tom was struggling to get up. His right leg had gone into the yielding + mass up to his hip, and despite his struggles he could not get it out. A + long yellow flame shot out of the hole and almost licked his face. It, + indeed, scorched his hair on one side of his head. + </p> + <p> + But Nan did not scream again. She needed her breath, all that she could + get, for a more practical purpose. Her cousin waved her back feebly, and + tried to tell her to avoid the fire. + </p> + <p> + Nan rushed in, got behind him, and seized her cousin under the arms. To + lift him seemed a giant's task; but nevertheless she tried. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXVII. OLD TOBY IN TROUBLE + </h2> + <p> + The squealing and plunging of the horses, the rattling of their chains, + the shrieking of the wind, the reverberating cracks of thunder made a + deafening chorus in Nan's ears. She could scarcely hear what the imperiled + Tom shouted to her. Finally she got it: + </p> + <p> + “Not that way! Pull sideways!” + </p> + <p> + He beat his hands impotently upon the crust of sawdust to the left. Nan + tugged that way. Tom pulled, too, heaving his great body upward, and + scratching and scrambling along the sawdust with fingers spread like + claws. His right leg came out of the hole, and just then the rain + descended torrentially again. + </p> + <p> + The flames from this opening in the roof of the furnace were beaten down. + Tom got to his feet, shaking and panting. He hobbled painfully when he + walked. + </p> + <p> + But in a moment he seized upon the pole he had dropped and made for the + smoking timber cart. The terrified horses tried again and again to break + away; but the chain harnesses were too strong; nor did the mired wheel + budge. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tom! Oh, Tom!” begged Nan. “Let us make the poor horses free, and run + ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “And lose my wagon?” returned her cousin, grimly. “Not much!” + </p> + <p> + The rain, which continued to descend with tropical violence, almost beat + Nan to the ground; but Tom Sherwood worked furiously. + </p> + <p> + He placed the butt of the lever he had cut under the hub of the great + wheel. There was a sound stump at hand to use as a fulcrum. Tom threw + himself upon the end of the lever. Nan ran to add her small weight to the + endeavor. The wheel creaked and began to rise slowly. + </p> + <p> + The sawdust was not clinging, it was not like real mire. There was no + suction to hold the wheel down. Merely the crust had broken in and the + wheel had encountered an impediment of a sound tree root in front of it so + that, when the horses tugged, the tire had come against the root and + dragged back the team. + </p> + <p> + Out poured the flames and smoke again, the flames hissing as they were + quenched by the falling water. Higher, higher rose the cart wheel. Nan, + who was behind her cousin, saw his neck and ears turn almost purple from + the strain he put in the effort to dislodge the wheel. Up, up it came, and + then——- + </p> + <p> + “Gid-ap! 'Ap, boys! Yah! Gid-ap!” + </p> + <p> + The horses strained. The yoke chains rattled. Tom gasped to Nan: + </p> + <p> + “Take my whip! Quick! Let 'em have it!” + </p> + <p> + The girl had always thought the drover's whip Tom used a very cruel + implement, and she wished he did not use it. But she knew now that it was + necessary. She leaped for the whip which Tom had thrown down and showed + that she knew its use. + </p> + <p> + The lash hissed and cracked over the horses' backs. Tom voiced one last, + ringing shout. The cart wheel rose up, the horses leaped forward, and the + big timber cart was out of its plight. + </p> + <p> + Flames and smoke poured out of the hole again. The rain dashing upon and + into the aperture could not entirely quell the stronger element. But the + wagon was safe, and so, too, were the two cousins. + </p> + <p> + Tom was rather painfully burned and Nan began to cry about it. “Oh! Oh! + You poor, poor dear!” she sobbed. “It must smart you dreadfully, Tommy.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry about me,” he answered. “Get aboard. Let's get out of this.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going home?” + </p> + <p> + “Bet you!” declared Tom. “Why, after this rain stops, this whole blamed + place may be in flames. Must warn folks and get out the fire guard.” + </p> + <p> + “But the rain will put out the fire, Tom,” said Nan, who could not + understand even now the fierce power of a conflagration of this kind. + </p> + <p> + “Look there!” yelled Tom, suddenly glancing back over her head as she sat + behind him on the wagon tongue. + </p> + <p> + With a roar like an exploding boiler, the flames leaped up the heart of + the hollow tree. The bursted crust of the sawdust heap had given free + ingress to the wind, and a draught being started, it sucked the flames + directly up the tall chimney the tree made. + </p> + <p> + The fire burst from the broken top. The flames met the falling rain as + though they were unquenchable. Indeed the clouds were scattering, and + second by second the downfall was decreasing. The tempest of rain was + almost over; but the wind remained to fan the flames that had now broken + cover in several spots, as well as through the tall and hollow tree. + </p> + <p> + Tom hastened his team toward the main road that passed through the + tamarack swamp. At one end of it was Pine Camp; in the other direction, + after passing the knoll on which the Vanderwillers lived, the roadway came + out upon a more traveled road to the forks and the railroad. + </p> + <p> + Pine Camp was the nearest place where help could be secured to beat down + the fire, if, indeed, this were at all possible. There was a telephone + line there which, in a roundabout way, could be made to carry the news of + the forest fire to all the settlements in the Big Woods and along the + railroad line. + </p> + <p> + But Nan seized Tom's arm and shook it to call his attention as the horses + neared the road. + </p> + <p> + “Tom! For goodness' sake!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter now?” her cousin demanded, rather sharply, for his + burns were painful. + </p> + <p> + “Toby, the Vanderwillers! What will become of them?” + </p> + <p> + “What d'you mean?” asked Tom, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “That poor cripple! They can't get away, he and his grandmother. Perhaps + Toby hasn't come home yet.” + </p> + <p> + “And the wind's that way,” Tom interrupted. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed. The storm had come up from the west and the wind was still + blowing almost directly into the east. A sheet of flame flew from the top + of the old dead tree even as the boy spoke, and was carried toward the + thick forest. It did not reach it, and as the blazing brand fell it was + quenched on the wet surface of the sawdust. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the fire was spreading under the crust and soon the few + other dead trees left standing on the tract would burst into flame. As + they looked, the fire burst out at the foot of the tree and began to send + long tongues of flame licking up the shredded bark. + </p> + <p> + The effect of the drenching rain would soon be gone and the fire would + secure great headway. + </p> + <p> + “Those poor folks are right in the track of the fire, I allow,” admitted + Tom. “I wonder if he's got a good wide fire strip ploughed?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I know what you mean,” Nan cried. “You mean all around the edge of + his farm where it meets the woods?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. A ploughed strip may save his buildings. Fire can't easily cross + ploughed ground. Only, if these woods get really ablaze, the fire will + jump half a mile!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, Tom! You don't mean that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” said her cousin, gloomily. “Tobe's in a bad place. You don't + know what a forest fire means, nor the damage it does, Nannie. I'm right + troubled by old Tobe's case.” + </p> + <p> + “But there's no danger for Pine Camp, is there?” asked the girl, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of folks there to make a fire-guard. Besides, the wind's not that + way, exactly opposite. And she's not likely to switch around so soon, + neither. I, don't, know” + </p> + <p> + “The folks at home ought to know about it,” Nan interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “They'll know it, come dark,” Tom said briefly. “They'll be looking for + you and they'll see the blaze. Why! After dark that old dead tree will + look like a lighthouse for miles 'n' miles!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it will,” agreed Nan. “But I do want to get home, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe the storm's not over,” said her cousin, cocking an eye towards the + clouded heavens. “If it sets in for a long rain (and one's due about this + time according to the Farmer's Almanac) it would keep the fire down, put + it out entirely, maybe. But we can't tell.” + </p> + <p> + Nan sighed and patted his shoulder. “I know it's our duty to go to the + island, Tommy. You're a conscientious old thing. Drive on.” + </p> + <p> + Tom clucked to the horses. He steered them into the roadway, but headed + away from home. Another boy with the pain he was bearing would not have + thought of the old lumberman and his family. They were the only people + likely to be in immediate danger from the fire if it spread. The cousins + might easily reach the Vanderwiller's island, warn them of the fire, and + return to town before it got very late, or before the fire crossed the + wood-road. + </p> + <p> + They rumbled along, soon striking the corduroy road, having the thick + forest on either hand again. The ditches were running bank full. Over a + quagmire the logs, held down by cross timbers spiked to the sleepers, + shook under the wheels, and the water spurted up through the interstices + as the horses put down their heavy feet. + </p> + <p> + “An awful lot of water fell,” Tom said soberly. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness! The swamp is full,” agreed Nan. + </p> + <p> + “We may have some trouble in reaching Toby's place,” the boy added. “But + maybe—” + </p> + <p> + He halted in his speech, and the next instant pulled the horses down to a + willing stop. “Hark-a-that!” whispered Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Can it be anybody crying? Maybe it's a wildcat,” said Nan, with a vivid + remembrance of her adventure in the snow that she had never yet told to + any member of the family. + </p> + <p> + “It's somebody shouting, all right,” observed Tom. “Up ahead a way. + Gid-ap!” + </p> + <p> + He hurried the horses on, and they slopped through the water which, in + places, flowed over the road, while in others it actually lifted the logs + from their foundation and threatened to spoil the roadway entirely. + </p> + <p> + Again and again they heard the faint cry, a man's voice. Tom stood up and + sent a loud cry across the swamp in answer: + </p> + <p> + “We're coming! Hold on! + </p> + <p> + “Don't know what's the matter with him,” he remarked, dropping down beside + Nan again, and stirring the horses to a faster pace. “S'pose he's got into + a mud-hold, team and all, maybe.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tom! Maybe he'll be sucked right down into this awful mud.” + </p> + <p> + “Not likely. There aren't many quicksands, or the like, hereabout. Never + heard tell of 'em, if there are. Old Tobe lost a cow once in some slough.” + </p> + <p> + They came to a small opening in the forest just then. Here a great tree + had been uprooted by the wind and leaned precariously over a quagmire + beside the roadway. Fortunately only some of the lower branches touched + the road line and Tom could get his team around them. + </p> + <p> + Then the person in trouble came into sight. Nan and her cousin saw him + immediately. He was in the middle of the shaking morass waist deep in the + mire, and clinging to one of the small hanging limbs of the uprooted tree. + </p> + <p> + “Hickory splits!” ejaculated Tom, stopping the team. “It's old Tobe + himself! Did you ever see the like!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXVIII. THE GIRL IN THE HOLLOW TREE + </h2> + <p> + Just why old Toby Vanderwiller was clinging to that branch and did not try + to wade ashore, neither Nan nor Tom could understand. But one thing was + plain: the old lumberman thought himself in danger, and every once in a + while he gave out a shout for help. But his voice was growing weak. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Tobe!” yelled Tom. “Why don't you wade ashore?” + </p> + <p> + “There ye be, at last, hey?” snarled the old man, who was evidently just + as angry as he could be. “Thought ye'd never come. Hearn them horses + rattling their chains, must ha' been for an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “That's stretching it some,” laughed Tom. “That tree hasn't been toppled + over an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Ye can't tell me nothin' 'beout that!” declared Toby. “I was right + here when it happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness!” gasped Nan. + </p> + <p> + “Yep. And lemme tell ye, I only jest 'scaped being knocked down when she + fell.” + </p> + <p> + “My!” murmured Nan again. + </p> + <p> + “That's how I got inter this muck hole,” growled the old lumberman. “I + jumped ter dodge the tree, and landed here.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you wade ashore?” demanded Tom again, preparing in a leisurely + manner to cast the old man the end of a line he had coiled on the timber + cart. + </p> + <p> + “Yah!” snarled Toby. “Why don't Miz' Smith keep pigs? Don't ax fool + questions, Tommy, but gimme holt on that rope. I'm afraid ter let go the + branch, for I'll sink, and if I try ter pull myself up by it, the whole + blamed tree'll come down onter me. Ye see how it's toppling?” + </p> + <p> + It was true that the fallen tree was in a very precarious position. When + Toby stirred at all, the small weight he rested on the branch made the + head of the tree dip perilously. And if it did fall the old man would be + thrust into the quagmire by the weight of the branches which overhung his + body. + </p> + <p> + “Let go of it, Toby!” called Tom, accelerating his motions. “Catch this!” + </p> + <p> + He flung the coil with skill and Toby seized it. The rocking tree groaned + and slipped forward a little. Toby gave a yell that could have been heard + much farther than his previous cries. + </p> + <p> + But Tom sank back on the taut rope and fairly jerked the old man out of + the miry hole. Scrambling on hands and knees, Toby reached firmer ground, + and then the road itself. + </p> + <p> + Nan uttered a startled exclamation and cowered behind the cart. The huge + tree, groaning and its roots splintering, sagged down and, in an instant, + the spot there the old lumberman had been, was completely covered by the + interlacing branches of the uprooted tree. + </p> + <p> + “Close squeal, that,” remarked Tom, helping the old man to his feet. + </p> + <p> + Toby stared at them both, wiping the mire from his face as he did so. He + was certainly a scarecrow figure after his submersion in the mud; gut Nan + did not feel like laughing at him. The escape had been too narrow. + </p> + <p> + “Guess the Almighty sent you just in time, Tom, my boy,” said Toby + Vanderwiller. “He must have suthin' more for the old man to do yet, before + he cashes in. And little Sissy, too. Har! Henry Sherwood's son and Henry + Sherwood's niece. Reckon I owe him a good turn,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + Nan heard this, though Tom did not, and her heart leaped. She hoped that + Toby would feel sufficient gratitude to help Uncle Henry win his case + against Gedney Raffer. But, of course, this was not the time to speak of + it. + </p> + <p> + When the old lumberman heard about the fire in the sawdust he was quite as + excited as the young folk had been. It was fast growing dark now, but it + was impossible from the narrow road to see even the glow of the fire + against the clouded sky. + </p> + <p> + “I believe it's goin' to open up and rain ag'in,” Toby said. “But if you + want to go on and plow me a fire-strip, Tommy, I'll be a thousand times + obleeged to you.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I came this way for,” said the young fellow briefly. “Hop on + and we'll go to the island as quickly as possible.” + </p> + <p> + They found Mrs. Vanderwiller and the crippled boy anxiously watching the + flames in the tree top from the porch of the little house on the island. + Nan ran to them to relate their adventures, while Toby got out the plow + and Tom hitched his big horses to it. + </p> + <p> + The farm was not fenced, for the road and forest bounded it completely. + Tom put the plow in at the edge of the wood and turned his furrows toward + it, urging the horses into a trot. It was not that the fire was near; but + the hour was growing late and Tom knew that his mother and father would be + vastly anxious about Nan. + </p> + <p> + The young fellow made twelve laps, turning twelve broad furrows that + surely would guard the farm against any ordinary fire. But by the time he + was done it did not look as though the fire in the sawdust would spread + far. The clouds were closing up once more and it was again raining, gently + but with an insistence that promised a night of downpour, at least. + </p> + <p> + Old Mrs. Vanderwiller had made supper, and insisted upon their eating + before starting for Pine Camp. And Tom, at least, did his share with knife + and fork, while his horses ate their measure of corn in the paddock. It + was dark as pitch when they started for home, but Tom was cheerful and + sure of his way, so Nan was ashamed to admit that she was frightened. + </p> + <p> + “Tell yer dad I'll be over ter Pine Camp ter see him 'fore many days,” Old + Toby jerked out, as they were starting. “I got suthin' to say to him, I + have!” + </p> + <p> + Tom did not pay much attention to this; but Nan did. Her heart leaped for + joy. She believed that Toby Vanderwiller's words promised help for Uncle + Henry. + </p> + <p> + But she said nothing to Tom about it. She only clung to his shoulder as + the heavy timber cart rattled away from the island. + </p> + <p> + A misty glow hung over the sawdust strip as they advanced; but now that + the wind had died down the fire could not spread. Beside the road the glow + worms did their feeble best to light the way; and now and then an old + stump in the swamp displayed a ghostly gleam of phosphorus. + </p> + <p> + Nan had never been in the swamp before at night. The rain had driven most + of the frogs and other croaking creatures to cover. But now and then a + sudden rumble “Better-go-roun'!” or “Knee-deep! Knee-deep!” proclaimed the + presence of the green-jacketed gentlemen with the yellow vests. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness me! I'd be scared to death to travel this road by myself,” Nan + said, as they rode on. “The frogs make such awful noises.” + </p> + <p> + “But frogs won't hurt you,” drawled Tom. + </p> + <p> + “I know all that,” sighed Nan. “But they sound as if they would. There! + That one says, just as plain as plain can be, 'Throw 'im in! Throw 'im + in!” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” chuckled Tom. “And there's a drunken old rascal calling: + 'Jug-er-rum! Jug-er-rum!'!” + </p> + <p> + A nighthawk, wheeling overhead through the rain, sent down her discordant + cry. Deep in a thicket a whip-poor-will complained. It was indeed a + ghostly chorus that attended their slow progress through the swamp at Pine + Camp. + </p> + <p> + When they crossed the sawdust tract there was little sign of the fire. The + dead tree had fallen and was just a glowing pile of coals, fast being + quenched by the gently falling rain. For the time, at least, the danger of + a great conflagration was past. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am so glad,” announced Nan, impetuously. “I was afraid it was going + to be like that Pale Lick fire.” + </p> + <p> + “What Pale Lick fire?” demanded Tom, quickly. “What do you know about + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much, I guess,” admitted his cousin, slowly. “But you used to live + there, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Rafe and I don't remember anything about it,” said Tom, in his quiet way. + “Rafe was a baby and I wasn't much better. Marm saved us both, so we've + been told. She and dad never speak about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! And Indian Pete?” whispered Nan. + </p> + <p> + “He saved the whole of us—dad and all. He knew a way out through a + slough and across a lake. He had a dug-out. He got badly burned dragging + dad to the boat when he was almost suffocated with smoke,” Tom said + soberly. + </p> + <p> + “'Tisn't anything we talk about much, Nan. Who told you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's been hinted to me by various people,” said Nan, slowly. “But I + saw Injun Pete, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “When? He hasn't been to Pine Camp since you came.” + </p> + <p> + Nan told her cousin of her adventure in the hollow near Blackton's lumber + camp. Tom was much excited by that. + </p> + <p> + “Gracious me, Nan! But you are a plucky girl. Wait till Rafe hears about + it. And marm and dad will praise you for being so level-headed today. + Aren't many girls like you, Nan, I bet!” + </p> + <p> + “Nor boys like you, Tom,” returned the girl, shyly. “How brave you were, + staying to pull that old wagon-wheel out of the fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” growled Tom. “A fat time I'd have had there if it hadn't been for + you helping me out of the oven. Cracky! I thought I was going to have my + leg burned to a cinder. + </p> + <p> + “That would have been terrible!” shuddered Nan. “What would poor Aunt Kate + have said?” + </p> + <p> + “We can't tell her anything about it,” Tom hastened to say. “You see, my + two older brothers, Jimmy and Alfred, were asleep in the garret of our + house at Pale Lick, and marm thought they'd got out. It wasn't until + afterward that she learned they'd been burned up with the house. She's + never got over it.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't think she would,” sighed Nan. + </p> + <p> + “And you see she's awfully afraid of fire, even now,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + They rattled on over the logs of the road; here and there they came to bad + places, where the water had not gone down; and the horses were very + careful in putting their hoofs down upon the shaking logs. However, it was + not much over an hour after leaving the island that they spied the lights + of Pine Camp from the top of the easy rise leading out of the tamarack + swamp. + </p> + <p> + They met Rafe with a lantern half way down the hill. Uncle Henry was away + and Aunt Kate had sent Rafe out to look for Nan, although she supposed + that the girl had remained at the Vanderwillers' until the rain was over, + and that Toby would bring her home. + </p> + <p> + There was but one other incident of note before the three of them reached + the rambling house Uncle Henry had built on the outskirts of Pine Camp. As + they turned off the swamp road through the lane that ran past the + Llewellen cottage, Rafe suddenly threw the ray of his lantern into a + hollow tree beside the roadway. A small figure was there, and it darted + back out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “There!” shouted Rafe. “I knew you were there, you little nuisance. What + did you run out of the house and follow me for, Mar'gret Llewellen?” + </p> + <p> + He jumped in and seized the child, dragging her forth from the hollow of + the big tree. He held her, while she squirmed and screamed. + </p> + <p> + “You lemme alone, Rafe Sherwood! Lemme alone!” she commanded. “I ain't + doin' nothin' to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I bet you are up to some monkey-shines, out this time of night,” + said Rafe, giving her a little shake. “You come on back home, Mag.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't!” declared the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do, Margaret,” begged Nan. “It's going to rain harder. Don't hurt + her, Rafe.” + </p> + <p> + “Yah! You couldn't hurt her,” said Rafe. “She's as tough as a little + pine-knot, and don't you forget it! Aren't you, Mag?” + </p> + <p> + “Lemme go!” repeated Margaret, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “What did you chase down here after me for?” asked Rafe, the curious. + </p> + <p> + “I, I thought mebbe you was comin' to hunt for something,” stammered the + girl. + </p> + <p> + “So I was. For Nancy here,” laughed Rafe. + </p> + <p> + “Thought 'twas somethin' of mine,” said the girl. “Lemme go now!” + </p> + <p> + She jerked away her hand and scuttled into the house that they were then + just passing. + </p> + <p> + “Wonder what the little imp came out to watch me for?” queried Rafe. + </p> + <p> + After they had arrived at home and the excitement o the return was over; + after she and Tom had told as much of their adventures as they thought + wise, and Nan had retired to the east chamber, she thought again about + Margaret and her queer actions by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that tree is where Margaret hides her most precious possessions,” + said Nan, suddenly, sitting up in bed. “Why, what could it be she was + afraid Rafe would find there? Why can that child have hidden something + there that she doesn't want any of us to see?” + </p> + <p> + Late as it was, and dark as it was, and stormy as the night was, she felt + that she must know immediately what Margaret Llewellen had hidden in the + hollow tree. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIX. GREAT NEWS FROM SCOTLAND + </h2> + <h3> + Nan put two and two together, and the answer came right. + </h3> + <p> + She got out of bed, lit her lamp again and began to dress. She turned her + light down to a dim glimmer, however, for she did not want her aunt to + look out of the window of her bedroom on the other side of the parlor and + catch a glimpse of her light. + </p> + <p> + In the half darkness Nan made a quick toilet; and then, with her raincoat + on and hood over her head, she hesitated with her hand upon the knob of + the door. + </p> + <p> + “If I go through the parlor and out the side door, Aunt Kate will hear + me,” thought Nan. “That won't do at all.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at the further window. Outside the rain was pattering and there + was absolutely no light. In the pocket of her raincoat Nan had slipped the + electric torch she had brought from home, something of which Aunt Kate + cordially approved, and was always begging Uncle Henry to buy one like it. + </p> + <p> + The pocket lamp showed her the fastenings of the screen. Tom had made it + to slide up out of the way when she wanted to open or close the sash. And, + as far as she could see, any one could open it from the outside as easily + as from the room itself. + </p> + <p> + “And that's just what she did,” decided Nan. “How foolish of me not to + think of it before.” + </p> + <p> + With this enigmatical observation Nan prepared to leave the room by this + very means. She was agile, and the sill of the window was only three feet + from the ground. It was through this opening that she had helped Margaret + Llewellen into her room on the first occasion that odd child had visited + her. + </p> + <p> + Nan jumped out, let the screen down softly, and hurried across the + unfenced yard to the road. She knew well enough when she reached the + public track, despite the darkness for the mirey clay stuck to her shoes + and made the walking difficult. + </p> + <p> + She flashed her lamp once, to get her bearings, and then set off down the + lane toward the swamp road. There was not a light in any house she passed, + not even in Mr. Fen Llewellen's cottage. “I guess Margaret's fast asleep,” + murmured Nan, as she passed swiftly on. + </p> + <p> + The rain beat down upon the girl steadily, and Nan found it shivery out + here in the dark and storm. However, her reason for coming, Nan conceived, + was a very serious one. This was no foolish escapade. + </p> + <p> + By showing her light now and then she managed to follow the dark lane + without stepping off into any of the deep puddles which lay beside the + path. She came, finally, to the spot where Rafe had met her and Tom with + his lantern that evening. Here stood the great tree with a big hollow in + it, Margaret Llewellen's favorite playhouse. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Nan hesitated. The place looked so dark and there might be + something alive in the hollow. + </p> + <p> + But she plucked up courage and flashed her lamp into it. The white ray + played about the floor of the hollow. The other Llewellen children dared + not come here, for Margaret punished them if they disturbed anything + belonging to her. + </p> + <p> + What Nan was looking for was not in sight. She stepped inside, and raised + the torch. The rotting wood had been neatly scooped out, and where the + aperture grew smaller at the top a wide shelf had been made by the + ingenious Margaret. Nan had never been in this hide-out before. + </p> + <p> + “It must be here! It must be here!” she kept telling herself, and stood on + her tiptoes to feel along the shelf, which was above her head. + </p> + <p> + Nan discovered nothing at first. She felt along the entire length of the + shelf again. Nothing! + </p> + <p> + “I know better!” she almost sobbed. “My dear, beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + She jumped up, feeling back on the shelf with her right hand. Her fingers + touched something, and it was not the rotting wood of the tree! + </p> + <p> + “It's there!” breathed the excited girl. She flashed her lamp around, + searching for something to stand upon. There in the corner was a roughly + made footstool. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Nan had the footstool set in position, and had stepped upon + it. Her hand darted to the back of the shelf. There was a long box, a + pasteboard box. + </p> + <p> + Nan dropped her lamp with a little scream of ecstasy, and of course the + light went out. But she had the long box clasped in her arms. She could + not wait to get home with it, but tumbled off the stool and sat down upon + it, picked up the torch, held it so the round spot-light gave her + illumination, and untied the string. + </p> + <p> + Off came the cover. She peeped within. The pink and white loveliness of + Beulah's wax features peered up at her. + </p> + <p> + In fifteen minutes Nan was back in her room, without being discovered by + anybody, and with the doll safely clasped in her arms. Indeed, she went to + bed a second time that night with her beloved playmate lying on the pillow + beside her, just as she had done when a little girl. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I'm foolish,” she confessed to Aunt Kate the next morning when + she told her about it. “But I loved Beulah so much when I was little that + I can't forget her now. If I go to Lakeview Hall I'm going to take her + with me. I don't care what the other girls say!” + </p> + <p> + “You are faithful in your likes, child,” said Aunt Kate nodding. “'Tis a + good trait. But I'd like to lay that Marg'ret Llewellen across my knee, + for her capers.” + </p> + <p> + “And I didn't think she cared for dolls,” murmured Nan. + </p> + <p> + But it was young Bob who betrayed the mysterious reason for his sister's + act. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” he said, with a boy's disgust for such things. “Mag's crazy about + pretty faces, if they're smooth, an' pink. She peeked into that Sherwood + gal's room and seed her playin' doll; then she had ter have it for herself + 'cause it was so pretty and had a smooth face, not like the kids' dolls + that Aunt Matildy buyed.” + </p> + <p> + Poor little Margaret was greatly chagrined at the discovery of her secret. + She ran away into the woods whenever she saw Nan coming, for a long time + thereafter. It took weeks for the girl from Tillbury to regain the + half-wild girl's confidence again. + </p> + <p> + Nan was just as busy and happy as she could be, considering the uncertain + news from Scotland and Uncle Henry's unfortunate affair with Gedney + Raffer. She helped Aunt Kate with the housework early every morning so + that they might both hurry into the woods to pick berries. + </p> + <p> + Pine Camp was in the midst of a vast huckleberry country, and at the Forks + a cannery had been established. Beside, the Forks was a big shipping + centre for the fresh berries. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Henry bought crates and berry “cups,” and sometimes the whole family + picked all day long in the berry pasture, taking with them a cold + luncheon, and eating it picnic fashion. + </p> + <p> + It was great fun, Nan thought, despite the fact that she often came home + so wearied that her only desire was to drop into bed. But the best part of + it, the saving grace of all this toil, was the fact that she was earning + money for herself! Account was faithfully kept of every cup of berries she + picked, and, when Uncle Henry received his check from the produce merchant + to whom he shipped the berries, Nan was paid her share. + </p> + <p> + These welcome earnings she saved for a particular purpose, and for no + selfish one, you may be sure. Little Margaret Llewellen still ran from her + and Nan wished to win the child back; so she schemed to do this. + </p> + <p> + After all, there was something rather pitiful in the nature of the child + who so disliked any face that was “wizzled,” but loved those faces that + were fair and smooth. + </p> + <p> + Margaret only possessed a feeling that is quite common to humanity; she + being such a little savage, she openly expressed an emotion that many of + us have, but try to hide. + </p> + <p> + The Llewellen children picked berries, of course, as did most of the other + neighbors. Pine Camp was almost a “deserted village” during the season + when the sweet, blue fruit hung heavy on the bushes. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes the Sherwood party, and the Llewellens, would cross each others' + paths in the woods, or pastures; but little Margaret always shrank into + the background. If Nan tried to surprise her, the half wild little thing + would slip away into the deeper woods like one of its own denizens. + </p> + <p> + Near the river one day Margaret had an experience that should have taught + her a lesson, however, regarding wandering alone in the forest. And the + adventure should, too, have taught the child not to shrink so from an ugly + face. + </p> + <p> + Nan had something very important to tell Margaret. Her savings had + amounted to quite a goodly sum and in the catalog of a mail-order house + she had found something of which she wished to secure Margaret's opinion. + The child, as usual, ran away when they met, and even Bob could not bring + her back. + </p> + <p> + “She's as obstinate as dad's old mu-el,” grunted the disgusted boy. “Can't + do a thing with her, Nan Sherwood.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll just get her myself!” declared Nan, laughing, and she started into + the thicker woods to circumvent Margaret. She did not follow the river as + the smaller girl had, but struck into the bush, intending to circle around + and head Margaret off. + </p> + <p> + She had not pushed her way through the clinging vines and brush for ten + minutes before she heard somebody else in the jungle. She thought it was + the little girl, at first; then she caught sight of a man's hat and knew + that Margaret did not wear a hat at all. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness! Who can that be?” thought Nan. She was a little nervous about + approaching strange people in the wood; although at this season there was + nothing to apprehend from stragglers, there were so many berry pickers + within call. + </p> + <p> + Nan did not seek to overtake the man, however, and would have kept on in + her original direction, had she not heard a cry and a splitting crash + toward the river bank. Some accident had happened, and when Nan heard the + scream repeated, she was sure that the voice was that of Margaret. + </p> + <p> + So she set off directly, on a run, tearing her dress and scratching her + hands and face, but paying no attention to either misfortune. She only + wanted to get to the scene of the accident and lend her aid, if it was + needed. + </p> + <p> + And it would have been needed if it had not been for the man whose hat she + had seen a few moments before. He made his passage through the bush much + quicker than could Nan, and when the latter reached an opening where she + could see the river, the stranger was just leaping into the deep pool + under the high bank. + </p> + <p> + It was plain to be seen what had happened. A sycamore overhung the river + and somebody had climbed out upon a small branch to reach a few + half-ripened grapes growing on a vine that ran up the tree. + </p> + <p> + The branch had split, drooping downward, and the adventurous + grape-gatherer had been cast into the water. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret!” screamed Nan, confident that it was the reckless child + that was in peril. + </p> + <p> + She hurried to the brink of the low bluff, from which the rescuer had + plunged. He had already seized the child (there was an eddy here under the + bank) and was striking out for the shore. Nan saw his wet face, with the + bedraggled hair clinging about it. + </p> + <p> + It was the awfully scarred face of Injun Pete; but to the excited Nan, at + that moment, it seemed one of the most beautiful faces she had ever seen! + </p> + <p> + The Indian reached the bank, clung to a tough root, and lifted up the + gasping Margaret for Nan to reach. The girl took the child and scrambled + up the bank again; by the time she was at the top, Injun Pete was beside + her. + </p> + <p> + “She not hurt, Little missy,” said the man, in his soft voice, and turning + his face so that Nan should not see it. “She just scared.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret would not even cry. She was too plucky for that. When she got her + breath she croaked: + </p> + <p> + “Put me down, Nan Sherwood. I ain't no baby.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're a very wet child,” said Nan, laughing, yet on the verge of + tears herself. “You might have been drowned, you WOULD have been had it + not been for Mr. Indian Pete.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” whispered Margaret. “I seen him when I come up out o' that nasty + water. I wanted to go down again.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Margaret!” cried Nan, sternly. “You must thank him.” + </p> + <p> + The man was just then moving away. He shook himself like a dog coming out + of the stream, and paid no further attention to his own wet condition. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, please!” Nan called after him. + </p> + <p> + “She all right now,” said the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “But Margaret wants to thank you, don't you, Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Much obleeged,” said the little girl, bashfully. “You air all right, you + air.” + </p> + <p> + “That all right, that all right,” said the man, hurriedly. “No need to + thank me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is,” said Nan, insistently. “Come here, please. Margaret wants + to kiss you for saving her life.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” The word came out of Margaret's lips like an explosion. Nan stared + very sternly at her. “If you don't,” she said in a low tone, “I'll tell + your father all about how you came to fall into the river.” + </p> + <p> + Under this threat Margaret became amenable. She puckered up her lips and + stretched her arms out toward Indian Pete. The man stumbled back and fell + on his knees beside the two girls. Nan heard the hoarse sob in his throat + as he took little Margaret in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Bless you! Bless you!” he murmured, receiving the kiss right upon his + scarred cheek. But Nan saw that Margaret's eyes were tightly closed as she + delivered the caress, per order! + </p> + <p> + The next moment the man with the scarred face had slipped away and + disappeared in the forest. They saw him no more. + </p> + <p> + However, just as soon as the catalog house could send it, Margaret + received a beautiful, pink-cheeked, and flaxen-haired Doll, not as fine as + Beulah, but beautiful enough to delight any reasonable child. + </p> + <p> + Nan had won back Margaret's confidence and affection. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the hot summer was fast passing. Nan heard from her chum, Bess + Harley, with commendable regularity; and no time did Bess write without + many references to Lakeview Hall. + </p> + <p> + Nan, advised by her former teacher in Tillbury, had brought her books to + Pine Camp, and had studied faithfully along the lines of the high school + work. She was sure she could pass quite as good an entrance examination + for Lakeview Hall as Bess could. + </p> + <p> + And at last good news came from Scotland: + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite ready to bring Momsey home,” Papa Sherwood wrote. “But the + matter of her fortune is at least partially settled. The claims of the + other relatives have been disallowed. Mr. Andrew Blake is prepared to turn + over to your Momsey a part of her wonderful fortune. The rest will come + later. She will tell you all about it herself. + </p> + <p> + “What I wish to say to you particularly in this letter,” pursued Mr. + Sherwood, “is, that arrangements have been made for you to attend Lakeview + Hall this coming semester. You will meet your friend, Elizabeth Harley, in + Chicago, and will go with her to the school. I am writing by this mail to + the principal of the Hall. Mr. Harley has made all other necessary + arrangements for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Nan, clasping her hands. “It's too good to be true! It can't + be possible! I just know I'll wake up in a minute and find all this an + exciting dream, and that's all!” + </p> + <p> + But Nan was wrong on that point, as the reader will see if her further + adventures are followed in the next volume of the series, entitled, “Nan + Sherwood at Lakeview Hall, or, The Mystery of the Haunted Boathouse.” + </p> + <p> + While Nan was still intensely excited over this letter from Scotland, Toby + Vanderwiller drove up to the Sherwood house behind his broken-kneed pony. + This was the first time any of the Sherwoods had seen him since the day of + the big storm and the fire in the sawdust. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXX. OFF FOR LAKEVIEW HALL + </h2> + <p> + Nan ran out immediately to speak to the old lumberman; but Toby was + calling for Uncle Henry: + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Hen! Hen Sherwood! Come out yere,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Henry halloaed from the stables, and came striding at the call. Nan + reached the old rattletrap wagon first. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Vanderwiller!” she said. “I am glad to see you! And how is your + wife and Corson?” + </p> + <p> + He looked down at her reflectively, and for a moment did not say a word. + Then he swallowed something and said, jerkily: + </p> + <p> + “An' you're the one that done it all, Sissy! The ol' woman an' the boy air + as chipper as bluejays. An' they air a honin' for a sight on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I haven't been over lately. But that man from Chicago came, didn't + he?” + </p> + <p> + “I sh'd say 'yes'! He come,” said Toby, in awe. “An' what d'ye s'pose? He + done buyed a heap of Corson's spec'mens an' paid him more'n a hundred + dollars for 'em. And that ain't countin' that there dead-head butterfly ye + made sech a time about. + </p> + <p> + “I reckoned,” pursued Toby, “that you was right crazy about that there + bug. One bug's as bad as another to my way of thinkin'. But it seems that + Chicago feller thinked dif'rent.” + </p> + <p> + “It really was one of the very rare death's-head moths?” cried Nan, + delighted. + </p> + <p> + “So he said. And he was willin' ter back up his belief with cold cash,” + declared Toby, smiting his leg for emphasis. “He paid us harnsome for it; + and he said he'd take a lot more spec'mens if— + </p> + <p> + “Har! Here ye be, Hen,” he added, breaking off to greet Nan's uncle. “I + got suthin' to say to you. I kin say it now, for I ain't beholden ter + nobody. With what me and the ol' woman had scrimped and saved, an' what + this feller from Chicago give Corson, I done paid off my debt to ol' Ged + Raffer, an' the little farm's free and clear.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to hear it, Tobe,” Uncle Henry declared, shaking hands with the + old lumberman again. “I certain sure am glad to hear it! I'm pleased that + you shouldn't have that worry on your mind any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “And it has been a worry,” said Old Toby, shaking his head. “More'n you + think for. Ye see, it snarled me all up so's I warn't my own master.” + </p> + <p> + “I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye see, Ged was allus after me to go inter court an' back up his claim + ag'in you on that Perkins Tract.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Henry Sherwood again, nodding. + </p> + <p> + “On the other hand, you wanted me, if I knowed which was right, to + witness, too. If I'd witnessed for Ged, ev'rybody wuld ha' thought I done + it because he had a mortgage on the farm.” + </p> + <p> + “I s'pose so,” admitted Uncle Henry. + </p> + <p> + “Or, if I helped you, they'd ha' thought you'd bribed me—mebbe + helped me git square with Ged.” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't. Too poor just now,” said Uncle Henry, grimly. “But I'd the + mind for it, Toby.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there ye be. Whichever way the cat jumped, I'd lost the respect of + the community,” said the old lumberman. “But now I am independent, I don't + give a dern!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sherwood looked at him expectantly. Toby's “wizzled” face shone. + </p> + <p> + “I got a debt owin' to that leetle gal you got here, and somethin' to pay + off to Tommy, too. But money won't do it, ef I had money. I am goin' to + tell what I know about that boundary, though, Hen, and it will do YOU + good! I can find another old feller, livin' down Pale Lick way, that can + corroborate my evidence. + </p> + <p> + “You can git that injunction vacated at once, Hen, if you want, and put + your axe-men right back into the Perkins Tract to work. That's what I come + 'round to tell ye.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Kate was moved to tears, an unusual expression of emotion on her + part. Being of pioneer stock, and having suffered much in the past, Nan's + aunt was not easily moved. Uncle Henry was delighted. It was a great day + for the Sherwoods. + </p> + <p> + It was another great day when, a week later, the roan ponies were brought + to the door and Nan's trunk was strapped upon the back of the buckboard. + Uncle Henry was to drive her to the train; but she would travel alone to + Chicago to meet her chum, Bess Harley. + </p> + <p> + “And go to Lakeview Hall! I never did really expect I'd get there,” Nan + sighed, as she clung to Aunt Kate's neck. “It almost makes me forget that + Momsey and Papa Sherwood are not at home yet. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear!” she added, “if such a thing could be, you and Uncle Henry + have taken the place of my own dear parents all these months I have been + at Pine Camp. I've had a dee-lightful time. I'll never forget you all. I + love you, love you, love you.” + </p> + <p> + The roan ponies started on the jump. The boys cheered her from the corner + of the house, having bashfully remained in the background. Even Margaret + Llewellen and her impish brother, Bob, appeared and shrilly bade her + goodbye. + </p> + <p> + Nan was off for school, and wonderful adventures lay before her! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp, by Annie Roe Carr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP *** + +***** This file should be named 2691-h.htm or 2691-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/9/2691/ + +Produced by Justin Philips, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp + or, The Old Lumberman's Secret + +Author: Annie Roe Carr + +Posting Date: December 27, 2008 [EBook #2691] +Release Date: July, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP *** + + + + +Produced by Justin Philips + + + + + +NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP + +or, The Old Lumberman's Secret + + +By Annie Roe Carr + + + + +Chapter I. THE YELLOW POSTER + +"Oh, look there, Nan!" cried Bess Harley suddenly, as they turned +into High Street from the avenue on which Tillbury's high school was +situated. + +"Look where?" queried Nan Sherwood promptly. "Up in the air, down on the +ground or all around?" and she carried out her speech in action, +finally spinning about on one foot in a manner to shock the more staid +Elizabeth. + +"Oh, Nan!" + +"Oh, Bess!" mocked her friend. + +She was a rosy-cheeked, brown-eyed girl, with fly-away hair, a blue +tam-o'-shanter set jauntily upon it, and a strong, plump body that she +had great difficulty in keeping still enough in school to satisfy her +teachers. + +"Do behave, Nan," begged Bess. "We're on the public street." + +"How awful!" proclaimed Nan Sherwood, making big eyes at her chum. "Why +folks know we're only high-school girls, so, of course, we're crazy! +Otherwise we wouldn't BE high-school girls." + +"Nonsense!" cried Bess, interrupting. "Do be reasonable, Nan. And look +yonder! What do you suppose that crowd is at the big gate of the Atwater +Mills?" + +Nan Sherwood's merry face instantly clouded. She was not at all a +thoughtless girl, although she was of a sanguine, cheerful temperament. + +The startled change in her face amazed Bess. + +"Oh dear!" the latter cried. "What is it? Surely, there's nobody hurt in +the mills? Your father-----" + +"I'm afraid, Bess dear, that it means there are a great many hurt in the +mills." + +"Oh, Nan! How horridly you talk," cried Bess. "That is impossible." + +"Not hurt in the machinery, not mangled by the looms," Nan went on to +say, gravely. "But dreadfully hurt nevertheless, Bess. Father has been +expecting it, I believe. Let's go and read the poster." + +"Why it is a poster, isn't it?" cried Bess. "What does it say?" + +The two school girls, both neatly dressed and carrying their bags of +text books, pushed into the group before the yellow quarter-sheet poster +pasted on the fence. + +The appearance of Nan and Bess was distinctly to their advantage when +compared with that of the women and girls who made up the most of the +crowd interested in the black print upon the poster. + +The majority of these whispering, staring people were foreigners. All +bore marks of hard work and poverty. The hands of even the girls in the +group were red and cracked. It was sharp winter weather, but none wore +gloves. + +If they wore a head-covering at all, it was a shawl gathered at the +throat by the clutch of frost-bitten fingers. There was snow on the +ground; but few wore overshoes. + +They crowded away from the two well-dressed high-school girls, looking +at them askance. Bess Harley scarcely noticed the mill-hands' wives and +daughters. She came of a family who considered these poor people little +better than cattle. Nan Sherwood was so much interested in the poster +that she saw nothing else. It read: + +NOTICE: Two weeks from date all departments of these mills will be +closed until further notice. Final payment of wages due will be made +on January 15th. Over-supply of our market and the prohibitive price +of cotton make this action a necessity. ATWATER MILLS COMPANY. December +28th. + +"Why, dear me!" murmured Bess. "I thought it might really be something +terrible. Come on, Nan. It's only a notice of a vacation. I guess most +of them will be glad to rest awhile." + +"And who is going to pay for their bread and butter while the poor +creatures are resting?" asked Nan seriously, as the two girls moved away +from the group before the yellow poster. + +"Dear me, Nan!" her chum cried. "You do always think of the most +dreadful things. It troubles me to know anything about poverty and +poor people. I can't help them, and I don't want to know anything about +them." + +"If I didn't know that you are better than your talk, Bess," said Nan, +still gravely, "I'd think you a most callous person. You just don't +understand. These poor people have been fearing this shut-down for +months. And all the time they have been expecting it they have been +helpless to avert it and unable to prepare for it." + +"They might have saved some of their wages, I suppose," said Bess. "I +heard father say the other night how much money the mills paid out in a +year to the hands, some perfectly en_or_mous sum." + +"But just think how many people that has to be divided among," urged +Nan. "Lots of the men earn only eight or nine dollars a week, and have +families to support." + +"Well, of course, they don't have to be supported as we are," objected +the easy-minded Bess. "Anyway my father says frugality should be taught +to the poor just the same as reading and writing. They ought to learn +how to save." + +"When you earn only just enough to supply your needs, and no more, how +can you divide your income so as to hoard up any part of it?" + +"Dear me! Don't ask questions in political economy out of school, Nan!" +cried Bess, forgetting that she had started the discussion herself. "I +just HATE that study, and wish we didn't have to take it! I can't answer +that question, anyway." + +"I'll answer it then," declared Nan. "If you are a mill-hand your +stomach won't let you save money. There probably won't be a dozen +families affected by this shut-down who have more than ten dollars +saved." + +"Goodness! You don't mean that that's true? Why, dad gives me that much +to spend on myself each month," Bess cried. "The poor things! Even +if they are frowsy and low, I am sorry for them. But, of course, the +shut-down doesn't trouble you, Nan. Not personally, I mean. Your father +has had a good position for so many years-----" + +"I'm not at all sure that it won't trouble us," Nan interposed gravely. +"But of course we are not in danger of starvation." + +She felt some delicacy about entirely confiding in Bess on the subject. +Nan had heard the pros and cons of the expected closing of the mills +discussed at home almost every day for weeks past; but family secrets +should never be mentioned outside the family circle, as Nan very well +knew. + +"Well," signed Bess, whose whole universe revolved around a central +sun called Self, as is the case with many girls brought up by indulgent +parents. "I hope, dear, that this trouble won't keep you from entering +Lakeview with me next fall." + +Nan laughed. "There never was a chance of my going with you, Bess, and +I've told you so often enough-----" + +"Now, don't you say that, Nan Sherwood!" cried her chum. "I've just made +up my mind that you shall go, and that's all there is to it! You've just +got to go!" + +"You mean to kidnap me and bear me off to that ogre's castle, whether or +not?" + +"It's the very nicest school that ever was," cried Bess. "And such a +romantic place." + +"Romantic?" repeated Nan curiously. + +"Yes, indeed! A great big stone castle overlooking Lake Michigan, a +regular fortress, they say. It was built years ago by Colonel Gilpatrick +French, when he came over from Europe with some adventurous Irishmen +who thought all they had to do was to sail over to Canada and the whole +country would be theirs for the taking." + +"Goodness me! I've read something about that," said Nan, interested. + +"Well, Lakeview Hall, as the school is called, was built by that rich +Colonel French. And they say there are dungeons under it." + +"Where they keep their jams and preserves, now, I suppose?" laughed Nan. + +"And secret passages down to the shore of the lake. And the great hall +where the brave Irishmen used to drill is now the assembly hall of the +school." + +"Sounds awfully interesting," admitted Nan. + +"And Dr. Beulah Prescott, who governs the hall, the preceptress, +you know, is really a very lovely lady, my mother says," went on the +enthusiastic Bess. "MY mother went to school to her at Ferncliffe." + +"Oh, Bess," Nan said warmly, "It must be a perfectly lovely place! But I +know I can never go there." + +"Don't you say that! Don't you say that!" cried the other girl. "I won't +listen to you! You've just got to go!" + +"I'm afraid you'll have to kidnap me, then," repeated Nan, with a +rueful smile. "I'm very sure that my father won't be able to afford it, +especially now that the mills will close." + +"Oh, Nan! I think you're too mean," wailed her friend. "It's my pet +project. You know, I've always said we should go to preparatory school +together, and then to college." + +Nan's eyes sparkled; but she shook her head. + +"We sat together in primary school, and we've always been in the same +grade through grammar and into high," went on Bess, who was really very +faithful in her friendships. "It would just break my heart, Nan, if we +were to be separated now." + +Nan put her arm about her. They had reached the corner by Bess's big +house where they usually separated after school. + +"Don't you cry, honey!" Nan begged her chum. "You'll find lots of nice +girls at that Lakeview school, I am sure. I'd dearly love to go with +you, but you might as well understand right now, dear, that my folks are +poor." + +"Poor!" gasped Bess. + +"Too poor to send me to Lakeview," Nan went on steadily. "And with the +mills closing as they are, we shall be poorer still. I may have to get a +certificate as Bertha Pike did, and go to work. So you mustn't think any +more about my going to that beautiful school with you." + +"Stop! I won't listen to you another moment, Nan Sherwood!" cried Bess, +and sticking her fingers in her ears, she ran angrily away and up the +walk to the front door. + +Nan walked briskly away toward Amity Street. She did not turn back to +wave her hand as usual at the top of the hill. + + + +Chapter II. THE COTTAGE ON AMITY STREET + +The little shingled cottage stood back from the street, in a deeper yard +than most of its neighbors. It was built the year Nan was born, so the +roses, the honeysuckle, and the clematis had become of stalwart growth +and quite shaded the front and side porches. + +The front steps had begun to sag a little; but Mr. Sherwood had blocked +them up. The front fence had got out of alignment, and the same able +mechanic had righted it and set the necessary new posts. + +The trim of the little cottage on Amity Street had been painted twice +within Nan's remembrance; each time her father had done the work in his +spare time. + +Now, with snow on the ground and frozen turf peeping out from under +the half-melted and yellowed drifts, the Sherwood cottage was not so +attractive as in summer. Yet it was a cozy looking house with the early +lamplight shining through the kitchen window and across the porch as Nan +approached, swinging her schoolbooks. + +Papa Sherwood called it, with that funny little quirk in the corner +of his mouth, "a dwelling in amity, more precious than jewels or fine +gold." + +And it was just that. Nan had had experience enough in the houses of her +school friends to know that none of them were homes like her own. + +All was amity, all was harmony, in the little shingled cottage on this +short by-street of Tillbury. + +It was no grave and solemn place where the natural outburst of childish +spirits was frowned upon, or one had to sit "stiff and starched" upon +stools of penitence. + +No, indeed! Nan had romped and played in and about the cottage all her +life. She had been, in fact, of rather a boisterous temperament until +lately. + +Her mother's influence was always quieting, and not only with her little +daughter. Mrs. Sherwood's voice was low, and with a dear drawl in it, so +Nan declared. + +She had come from the South to Northern Illinois, from Tennessee, to +be exact, where Mr. Sherwood had met and married her. She had grace and +gentleness without the languor that often accompanies those qualities. + +Her influence upon both her daughter and her husband was marked. They +deferred to her, made much of her, shielded her in every way possible +from all that was rude or unpleasant. + +Yet Mrs. Sherwood was a perfectly capable and practical housekeeper, and +when her health would allow it she did all the work of the little family +herself. Just now she was having what she smilingly called "one of her +lazy spells," and old Mrs. Joyce came in to do the washing and cleaning +each week. + +It was one of Mrs. Sherwood's many virtues that she bore with a smile +recurrent bodily ills that had made her a semi-invalid since Nan was a +very little girl. But in seeking medical aid for these ills, much of the +earnings of the head of the household had been spent. + +The teakettle was singing when Nan entered the "dwelling in amity", and +her mother's low rocker was drawn close to the side-table on which the +lamp stood beside the basket of mending. + +Although Mrs. Sherwood could not at present do her own laundry-work, she +insisted upon darning and patching and mending as only she could darn +and patch and mend. + +Mr. Sherwood insisted that a sock always felt more comfortable on his +foot after "Momsey" had darned it than when it was new. And surely she +was a very excellent needlewoman. + +This evening, however, her work had fallen into her lap with an idle +needle sticking in it. She had been resting her head upon her hand and +her elbow on the table when Nan came in. But she spoke in her usual +bright way to the girl as the latter first of all kissed her and then +put away her books and outer clothing. + +"What is the good word from out of doors, honey?" she asked. + +Nan's face was rather serious and she could not coax her usual +smile into being. Her last words with Bess Harley had savored of a +misunderstanding, and Nan was not of a quarrelsome disposition. + +"I'm afraid there isn't any real good word to be brought from outside +tonight, Momsey," she confessed, coming back to stand by her mother's +chair. + +"Can that be possible, Daughter!" said Mrs. Sherwood, with her low, +caressing laugh. "Has the whole world gone wrong?" + +"Well, I missed in two recitations and have extras to make up, in the +first place," rejoined Nan ruefully. + +"And what else?" + +"Well, Bess and I didn't have exactly a falling out; but I couldn't help +offending her in one thing. That's the second trouble." + +"And is there a 'thirdly,' my dear?" queried little Mrs. Sherwood +tranquilly. + +"Oh, dear, yes! The worst of all!" cried Nan. "The yellow poster is up +at the mills." + +"The yellow poster?" repeated her mother doubtfully, not at first +understanding the significance of her daughter's statement. + +"Yes. You know. When there's anything bad to announce to the hands +the Atwater Company uses yellow posters, like a small-pox, or typhoid +warning. The horrid thing! The mills shut down in two weeks, Momsey, and +no knowing when they will open again." + +"Oh, my dear!" was the little woman's involuntary tribute to the +seriousness of the announcement. + +In a moment she was again her usual bright self. She drew Nan closer +to her and her own brown eyes, the full counterpart of her daughter's, +winkled merrily. + +"I tell you what let's do, Nan," she said. + +"What shall we do, Momsey?" repeated the girl, rather lugubriously. + +"Why, let's not let Papa Sherwood know about it, it will make him feel +so bad." + +Nan began to giggle at that. She knew what her mother meant. Of course, +Mr. Sherwood, being at the head of one of the mill departments, would +know all about the announcement of the shut-down; but they would keep +up the fiction that they did not know it by being particularly cheerful +when he came home from work. + +So Nan giggled and swallowed back her sobs. Surely, if Momsey could +present a cheerful face to this family calamity, she could! + +The girl ran her slim fingers into the thick mane of her mother's coiled +hair, glossy brown hair through which only a few threads of white were +speckled. + +"Your head feels hot, Momsey," she said anxiously. "Does it ache?" + +"A wee bit, honey," confessed Mrs. Sherwood. + +"Let me take the pins out and rub your poor head, dear," said Nan. "You +know, I'm a famous 'massagist.' Come do, dear." + +"If you like, honey." + +Thus it was that, a little later, when Mr. Sherwood came home with feet +that dragged more than usual on this evening, he opened the door upon a +very beautiful picture indeed. + +His wife's hair was "a glory of womanhood," for it made a tent all about +her, falling quite to the floor as she sat in her low chair. Out of this +canopy she looked up at the brawny, serious man, roguishly. + +"Am I not a lazy, luxurious person, Papa Sherwood?" she demanded. +"Nan is becoming a practical maid, and I presume I put upon the child +dreadfully, she is good-natured, like you, Robert." + +"Aye, I know our Nan gets all her good qualities from me, Jessie," said +her husband. "If she favored you she would, of course, be a very hateful +child." + +He kissed his wife tenderly. As Nan said, he always "cleaned up" at the +mills and "came home kissable." + +"I ought to be just next door to an angel, if I absorbed the virtues of +both my parents," declared Nan briskly, beginning to braid the wonderful +hair which she had already brushed. "I often think of that." + +Her father poked her tentatively under the shoulder blades with a blunt +forefinger, making her squirm. + +"I don't feel the wings sprouting yet, Nancy," he said, in his dry way. + +"I hope not, yet!" exclaimed the girl. "I'd have to have a new winter +coat if you did, and I know we can't afford that just now." + +"You never said a truer word, Nan," replied Mr. Sherwood, his voice +dropping to a less cheerful level, as he went away to change his coat +and light the hanging lamp in the dining room where the supper table was +already set. + +Mother and daughter looked at each other rather ruefully. + +"Oh, dear me!" whispered Nan. "I never do open my mouth but I put my +foot in it!" + +"Goodness!" returned her mother, much amused. "That is an acrobatic feat +that I never believed you capable of, honey." + +"We-ell! I reminded Papa Sherwood of our hard luck instead of being +bright and cheerful like you." + +"We will give him a nice supper, honey, and make him forget his +troubles. Time enough to call to order the ways and means committee +afterward." Her husband came back into the kitchen as Nan finished +arranging the hair. "Come, Papa Sherwood!" cried the little lady. "Hot +biscuit; the last of the honey; sweet pickles; sliced cold ham; and a +beautiful big plum cake that our Nan made this morning before school +time, her own self. You MUST smile at all those dainties." + +And the husband and father smiled. They all made an effort to help each +other. But they knew that with the loss of his work would doubtless come +the loss of the home. During the years that had elapsed, Mr. Sherwood +had paid in part for the cottage; but now the property was deteriorating +instead of advancing in value. He could not increase the mortgage upon +it. Prompt payment of interest half-yearly was demanded. And how could +he meet these payments, not counting living expenses, when his income +was entirely cut off? + +Mr. Sherwood was forty-five years old, an age at which it is difficult +for a man to take up a new trade, or to obtain new employment at his old +one. + + + +Chapter III. "FISHING" + +Nan told of Bess Harley's desire to have her chum accompany her to +Lakeview Hall the following autumn, as a good joke. + +"I hope I'll be in some good situation by that time," she said to her +mother, confidentially, "helping, at least, to support myself instead of +being a burden upon father and you." + +"It's very unselfish of you to propose that, honey," replied her mother. +"But, perhaps, such a sacrifice as the curtailment of your education +will not be required of you." + +"But, my DEAR!" gasped Nan. "I couldn't go to Lakeview Hall. It would +cost, why! a pile!" + +"I don't know how much a pile is, translated into coin of the realm, +honey," responded Mrs. Sherwood with her low, sweet laugh. "But the only +thing we can give our dear daughter, your father and I, is an education. +That you MUST have to enable you to support yourself properly when your +father can do no more for you." + +"But I s'pose I've already had as much education as most girls in +Tillbury get. So many of them go into the mills and factories at my age. +If they can get along, I suppose I can." + +"Hush!" begged her mother quickly. "Don't speak of such a thing. I +couldn't bear to have you obliged to undertake your own support in any +such way. + +"Both your father and I, honey, had the benefit of more than the +ordinary common-school education. I went three years to the Tennessee +Training College; I was prepared to teach when your father and I met +and married. He obtained an excellent training for his business in a +technical college. We hoped to give our children, if we were blessed +with them, an even better start in life than we had. + +"Had your little brother lived, honey," added Mrs. Sherwood tenderly, +"we should have tried to put him through college, and you, as well. It +would have been something worthwhile for your father to work for. But I +am afraid all these years that his money has been wasted in attempts to +benefit my health." + +"Oh, Momsey! Don't say it, that way," urged Nan. "What would we ever +do without you? But I sometimes think how nice it would be had I been a +boy, my own brother, for instance. A boy can be so much more help than a +girl." + +"For shame!" cried her mother, laughing. "Do you dare admit a boy is +smarter than a girl, Nan?" + +"Not smarter. Only better able to do any kind of work, I guess. They +wouldn't let me work in the file shop, or drive a grocery wagon." + +"Goodness! Listen to the child!" gasped Mrs. Sherwood. "I should hope +not! Why, honey, is your mind running continually on such dreadful +things? I am afraid your father and I allow you to hear us talk too +frequently about family matters. You must not assume the family's +burdens at your age." + +There was that trend to Nan Sherwood's character, however. With all +her blithesomeness and high spirits she was inclined to be serious in +thought. + +This conversation occurred several days after the evening when, on their +way home from school, Nan and her school chum, Bess Harley, had read the +yellow poster at the gate of the Atwater Mills. + +The district surrounding the mills, in which most of the hands lived, +had put on an aspect of mourning. Some of the workmen and their families +had already packed up and gone. Most of the houses occupied by the hands +were owned by the Atwater Company, and if the poor people remained till +January 15th, the wages due them then would be eaten up by the rent of +the tenements. + +So they were wise to leave when they could. Many who remained would be a +burden upon the taxpayers of Tillbury before the winter was over. + +Nan and her folks were not in such a sad situation as the laborers, of +course. Mr. Sherwood had a small sum in bank. He had, too, a certain +standing in the community and a line of credit at the stores that he +might have used. + +Debt, however, save that upon their house, he had fought to keep out of +all his married life. That his equity in the Amity Street cottage was so +small was not his fault; but he owed not any man. + +"Now we must go fishing," Mrs. Sherwood said, in her sprightly way, when +the little family really discussed the unfortunate situation after the +announcement of the shut-down of the mills was made public. + +"Goodness, Momsey! What a reckless creature you are," laughed Mr. +Sherwood. "Waste our precious time in such employment, and in the dead +of winter, too?" + +"Now, Papa Sherwood, I don't mean that kind of fishing at all!" cried +the little woman gaily. "We are going to fish for employment for you, +perhaps for a new home." + +"Oh!" gasped Nan. The thought of deserting the little cottage on Amity +Street was a dreadful shock. + +"We must face that possibility," said her mother firmly. "It may be. +Tillbury will see very hard times now that the mills are closed. Other +mills and shops will follow suit." + +"Quite true, Momsey," agreed the husband and father. + +"I am a very logical person, am I not?" said the smiling little lady. + +"But the fishing?" cried Nan curiously. + +"Ah, yes. I am coming to that," said her mother. "The fishing, to be +sure! Why, we are going to write letters to just everybody we know, and +some we only know by hearsay, and find out if there isn't a niche for +Papa Sherwood somewhere outside Tillbury." + +"So we can!" cried Nan, clapping her hands. + +"I am afraid there is general depression in my line of business +everywhere," suggested Mr. Sherwood. "For some years the manufacturers +have been forcing cotton goods upon a false market. And the recent +attempt to help the cotton growers by boosting the price of raw cotton +will come near to ruining the mills and mill workers. It is always +so. In an attempt to benefit one class of the people another class is +injured." + +"Now, never mind politics, sir!" cried his little wife. "We poor, weak +women aren't supposed to understand such things. Only when Nan and I get +the vote, and all the other millions of women and girls, we will have no +class legislation. 'The greatest good for the greatest number' will be +our motto." + +Mr. Sherwood only smiled. He might have pointed out that in that very +statement was the root of all class legislation. He knew his wife's +particular ideas were good, however, her general political panacea was +rather doubtful. He listened thoughtfully as she went on: + +"Yes, we must fish for a new position for papa. We may have to go away +from here. Perhaps rent the house. You know, we have had good offers for +it." + +"True," admitted Mr. Sherwood. + +"Oh, dear!" sighed Nan, but below her breath so that Momsey and Papa +Sherwood did not hear the sigh. + +"I am going to write to Cousin Adair MacKenzie, in Memphis. He is quite +prominent in business there," pursued Mrs. Sherwood. "We might find a +footing in Memphis." + +Mr. Sherwood looked grave, but said nothing. He knew that the enervating +climate of the Southern river city would never do for his wife. Change +of climate might benefit her greatly; the doctors had all said so of +late; but not that change. + +"Then," continued Nan's mother, "there is your brother, Henry, up in +Michigan." + +"Oh! I remember Uncle Henry," cried Nan. "Such a big, big man!" + +"With a heart quite in keeping with the size of his body, honey," her +mother quickly added. "And your Aunt Kate is a very nice woman. Your +uncle has lumber interests. He might find something for your father +there." + +"I'll write to Hen, Jessie," Mr. Sherwood said decisively. "But a lumber +camp is no place for you. Let's see, his mail address is Hobart Forks, +isn't it? Right in the heart of the woods. If you weren't eaten up by +black gnats, you would be by ennui," and he chuckled. + +"Goodness!" cried Mrs. Sherwood, making big eyes at him. "Are those a +new kind of mosquito? Ennui, indeed! Am I a baby? Is Nan another?" + +"But think of Nan's education, my dear," suggested Mr. Sherwood. + +"I ought to work and help the family instead of going to school any +longer," Nan declared. + +"Not yet, Daughter, not yet," her father said quickly. "However, I will +write to Hen. He may be able to suggest something." + +"It might be fun living in the woods," Nan said. "I'm not afraid of +gnats, or mosquitoes, or, or on-wees!" + +She chanced to overhear her father and Dr. Christian talking the next +day on the porch, and heard the wise old physician say: + +"I'm not sure I could countenance that, Robert. What Jessie needs is an +invigorating, bracing atmosphere. A sea voyage would do her the greatest +possible good." + +"Perhaps a trip to Buffalo, down the lakes?" + +"No, no! That's merely an old woman's home-made plaster on the wound. +Something more drastic. Salt air. A long, slow voyage, overseas. It +often wracks the system, but it brings the patient to better and more +stable health. Jessie may yet be a strong, well woman if we take the +right course with her." + +Nevertheless, Mr. Sherwood wrote to his brother. He had to do so, it +seemed. There was no other course open to him. + +And while he fished in that direction, Momsey threw out her line toward +Memphis and Adair MacKenzie. Mr. Sherwood pulled in his line first, +without much of a nibble, it must be confessed. + +"Dear Bob," the elder Sherwood wrote: "Things are flatter than a +stepped-on pancake with me. I've got a bunch of trouble with old Ged +Raffer and may have to go into court with him. Am not cutting a stick +of timber. But you and Jessie and the little nipper,"("Consider!" +interjected Nan, "calling me 'a little nipper'! What does he consider a +big 'nipper'?") "come up to Pine Camp. Kate and I will be mighty glad to +have you here. Tom and Rafe are working for a luckier lumberman than I, +and there's plenty of room here for all hands, and a hearty welcome for +you and yours as long as there's a shot in the locker." + +"That's just like Hen," Nan's father said. "He'd divide his last crust +with me. But I don't want to go where work is scarce. I must go where it +is plentiful, where a man of even my age will be welcome." + +"Your age, Papa Sherwood! How you talk," drawled Nan's mother in her +pretty way. "You are as young as the best of 'em yet." + +"Employers don't look at me through your pretty eyes, Momsey," he +returned, laughing. + +"Well," said his wife, still cheerfully, "my fishing seems to be +resultless yet. Perhaps the bait's gone off the hook. Had I better haul +in the line and bait again? I was always doing that when I went fishing +with Adair and his brothers, years ago, when I was a little girl." + +Her husband shook his head. "Have patience, Jessie," he said. + +He had few expectations from the Memphis letter; yet there was a most +surprising result from it on the way, something which by no possibility +could the little family in the Amity Street cottage have suspected. + + + +Chapter IV. SWEEPING CLEAN + +"My goodness me!" ejaculated Bess Harley. "Talk about the 'leaden wings +of Time.' Why! Time sweeps by us on electrically-driven, ball-bearing +pinions. Here's another week gone, Nan, and tomorrow's Saturday." + +"Yes," Nan agreed. "Time flies all too quickly, for me, anyway. The +mills have been closed a week now." + +"Oh, dear! That's all I hear," complained Bess. "Those tiresome old +mills. Our Maggie's sister was crying in the kitchen last night because +her Mike couldn't get a job now the mills were closed, and was drinking +up all the money they had saved. That's what the mill-hands do; their +money goes to the saloon-keepers!" + +"The proportion of their income spent by the laboring class for +alcoholic beverages is smaller by considerable than that spent by +the well-to-do for similar poison!" quoted Nan decisively. "Mike is +desperate, I suppose, poor fellow!" + +"My goodness me!" cried Bess again. "You are most exasperating, Nan +Sherwood. Mike's case has nothing to do with political Economy, and I do +wish you'd drop that study out of school----" + +"I have!" gasped Nan, for just then her books slipped from her strap; +"and history, rhetoric, and philosophical readings along with it," and +she proceeded cheerfully to pick up the several books mentioned. + +"You can't mean," Bess said, still severely, "that you won't go to +Lakeview with me, Nan?" + +"I wish you wouldn't keep saying that, Bess," Nan Sherwood cried. "Is it +my fault? Don't you suppose I'd love to, if I could? We have no money. +Father is out of work. There is no prospect of other work for him in +Tillbury, he says, and," Nan continued desperately, "how do you suppose +I can go to a fancy boarding school under these circumstances?" + +"Why-----" + +For once Elizabeth was momentarily silenced. Suddenly her face +brightened. "I tell you!" she exclaimed. "I'll speak to my father about +it. He can fix it so that you will be able to go to the Hall with me, I +know." + +"I'd like to see myself an object of charity!" Nan cried, with heat. +"I, guess, not! What I can't earn, or my father can't give me, I'll go +without, Bess. That's all there is to that!" + +Bess stared at her with quivering lips. "You can't be so mean, Nan," she +faltered. + +"I'm not mean!" denied the other. + +"I'd like to know what you call it? Why, father'd never miss your +tuition money in the world. And I know he'd pay your way if I asked him +and told him how bad I felt about your not going." + +"You're a dear, Bess!" declared Nan, impulsively hugging her friend +again. "But you mustn't ask him, honey. It wouldn't be right, and I +couldn't accept. + +"Don't you understand, honey, that I have some pride in the matter? +So have Papa Sherwood and Momsey. What they can't do for me their own +selves I wouldn't want anybody to do." + +"Why, that sounds awfully silly to me, Nan!" said Bess. "Why not take +all you can get in this world? I'm sure I should." + +"You don't know what you are saying," Nan returned seriously. "And, +then, you are not poor, so you can afford to say it, and even do it." + +"Poor! I'm getting to hate that word," cried Bess stormily. "It never +bothered me before, much. We're not poor and none of our friends were +poor. Not until those old mills closed. And now it seems all I hear is +about folks being POOR. I hate it!" + +"I guess," said Nan ruefully, "you don't hate it half as much as those +of us who have to suffer it." + +"I'm just going to find some way of getting you to Lakeview Hall, my +dear," Bess rejoined gloomily. "Why! I won't want to go myself if you +don't go, Nan." + +Her friend thought she would better not tell Bess just then that the +prospect was that she, with her father and mother, would have to leave +Tillbury long before the autumn. Mr. Sherwood was trying to obtain +a situation in Chicago, in a machine shop. He had no hope of getting +another foreman's position. + +Nothing had been heard from Mr. Adair MacKenzie, of Memphis. Mrs. +Sherwood wanted to write again; but her husband begged her not to. He +had a proper pride. It looked to him as though his wife's cousin did not +care to be troubled by the necessities of his relations. + +"We'll get along!" was Mr. Sherwood's repeated and cheerful statement. +"Never say die! Hope is our anchor! Fate shall not balk us! And all the +other copy-book maxims." + +But it was Mrs. Sherwood and Nan who managed to save and scrimp and +be frugal in many infinitesimal ways, thus making their savings last +marvelously. + +Nan gave up her entire Saturdays to household tasks. She insisted on +that, and urged the curtailment of the weekly expense by having Mrs. +Joyce come in to help but one day. + +"I can iron, Momsey, and if I can't do it very well at first, I can +learn," declared the plucky girl. "And, of course, I can sweep. That's +good for me. Our physical instructor says so. Instead of going to the +gym on Saturday, I'll put in calisthenics and acrobatic stunts with a +broom and duster." + +She was thorough, too. She could not have been her father's daughter +without having that virtue. There was no "lick and a promise" in Nan +Sherwood's housekeeping. She did not sweep the dust under the bureau, +or behind the door, or forget to wipe the rounds of the chairs and the +baseboard all around the rooms. + +Papa Sherwood, coughing in the lower hall as the dust descended from +above, declared she went through the cottage like a whirlwind. It was +not as bad as that, but her vigorous young arms wielded the broom with +considerable skill. + +One Saturday, with every other room swept but the front hall, she closed +the doors into that, and set wide open the outer door. There was more +snow on the ground now; but the porch was cleaned and the path to the +front gate neatly dug and swept. The tinkle of sleigh bells and the +laughter of a crowd of her school friends swept by the corner of Amity +Street. Nan ran out upon the porch and waved her duster at them. + +There she stood, smiling out upon her little world for a minute. She +might not see Amity Street, and the old neighbors, many weeks longer. A +half-promise of work from the Chicago machine shop boss had reached Mr. +Sherwood that morning by post. It seemed the only opening, and it +meant that they would have to give up the "dwelling in amity" and go to +crowded Chicago to live. For Momsey was determined that Papa Sherwood +should not go without her. + +Nan came back into the hall and began to wield the broom again. She +could not leave the door open too long, for it was cold outside and the +winter chill would get into the house. They had to keep all the rooms at +an even temperature on account of Momsey's health. + +But she swept vigorously, moving each piece of furniture, and throwing +the rugs out upon the porch for a special sweeping there. The rough mat +at the door was a heavy one. As Nan stooped to pick it up and toss it +after the other small rugs, she saw the corner of a yellow envelope +sticking from under the edge of the hall carpet. + +"Wonder what that is?" murmured Nan. "Somebody has thrust a circular, +or advertisement, under our door, and it's gone under the carpet. Yes! +There's a tack out there." + +She seized the corner of the envelope with thumb and finger. She drew it +out. Its length surprised her. It was a long, official looking envelope, +not bulky but most important looking. In the upper left-hand corner was +printed: + +ADAIR MACKENZIE & CO. STOCKS AND BONDS MEMPHIS + +It was properly stamped and addressed to her mother. By the postmark on +it Nan knew it must have been tucked under the door by the postman more +than a week before. Somehow he had failed to ring their bell when he +left the letter. The missing tack in the edge of the hall carpet had +allowed the document to slide out of sight, and it might have been +hidden for weeks longer had chance not shown the small corner of +straw-colored paper to Nan. + +She felt breathless. Her knees trembled. Somehow, Nan just KNEW that the +letter from her mother's cousin must be of enormous importance. She +set her broom in the corner and closed the door. It was fated that she +should do no more sweeping that day. + + + +Chapter V. GREAT EXPECTATIONS + +Mr. Sherwood, in overalls and an old cap, had been sifting cinders out +behind the shed. They had to be careful of fuel as well as of most other +things. Momsey would not open the long envelope until he had been called +and had come in. Nan still wore the bright colored bandana wound about +her head, turban-wise, for a dust cap. Papa Sherwood beat the ashes from +his hands as he stood before the glowing kitchen range. + +"What is it?" he asked calmly. "A notice of a new tax assessment? Or a +cure-all advertisement of Somebody's Pills?" + +"It's from Cousin Adair," said Momsey, a little breathlessly. "And it's +been lying at our door all the time." + +"All what time?" asked Mr. Sherwood curiously. + +"All the time we have been so disappointed in our inquiries elsewhere," +said Momsey soberly. + +"Oh!" responded her husband doubtfully, and said no more. + +"It makes my knees shake," confessed Nan. "Do open it, Momsey!" + +"I, I feel that it is important, too," the little lady said. + +"Well, my dear," her husband finally advised, having waited in patience, +"unless it is opened we shall never know whether your feeling is +prophetic or not. 'By the itching of my thumb,' and so forth!" + +Without making any rejoinder to this, and perhaps without hearing his +gentle raillery, Mrs. Sherwood reached up to the coils of her thick hair +to secure woman's never-failing implement, a hairpin. + +There were two enclosures. Both she shook into her lap. The sealed, +foreign-looking letter she picked up first. It was addressed in a +clerkly hand to, + +"MISTRESS JESSIE ADAIR BLAKE, + +"KINDNESS OF MESSRS. ADAIR MACKENZIE & CO. + +"MEMPHIS, TENN., U.S.A." + +"From England. No! From Scotland," murmured Nan, looking over her +mother's shoulder in her eagerness. She read the neatly printed card in +the corner of the foreign envelope: + +KELLAM & BLAKE HADBORNE CHAMBERS EDINBURGH + +Mrs. Sherwood was whispering her maiden name over to herself. She looked +up suddenly at her husband with roguish eyes. + +"I'd almost forgotten there ever was such a girl as Jessie Adair Blake," +she said. + +"Oh, Momsey!" squealed Nan, with clasped hands and immense impatience. +"Don't, DON'T be so slow! Open it!" + +"No-o," her mother said, with pursed lips. "No, honey. The other comes +first, I reckon." + +It was a letter typewritten upon her cousin's letter-head; but it +was not dictated by Mr. Adair MacKenzie. Instead, it was from Mr. +MacKenzie's secretary, who stated that her employer had gone to Mexico +on business that might detain him for several weeks. + +"A letter addressed by you to Mr. MacKenzie arrived after his departure +and is being held for him with other personal communications until +his return; but being assured that you are the Jessie Adair Blake, now +Sherwood--to whom the enclosed letter from Scotland is addressed, I take +the liberty of forwarding the same. The Scotch letter reached us after +Mr. MacKenzie's departure, likewise. Will you please acknowledge the +receipt of the enclosure and oblige?" + +This much of the contents of the secretary's letter was of particular +interest to the Sherwoods. Momsey's voice shook a little as she finished +reading it. Plainly she was disappointed. + +"Cousin Adair, I am sure, would have suggested something helpful had +he been at home," she said sadly. "It, it is a great disappointment, +Robert." + +"Well, well!" replied Mr. Sherwood, perhaps not without some secret +relief. "It will all come out right. At least, your cousin hasn't +refused his assistance. We shall be established somewhere before he +returns from his Mexican trip." + +"I, I did depend so much upon Adair's good will and advice," signed +Momsey. + +"But, dear me suz!" gasped Nan impatiently. "What are you folks +bothering over that for? It isn't Cousin Adair that I want to know +about. It's this letter, Momsey," and she seized the thin yet important +envelope from Scotland and shook it before her mother's eyes. + +"Better look into it, Momsey," advised Mr. Sherwood easily, preparing to +return to the cinder sifting. "Maybe it's from some of your relatives in +the Old Country. I see 'Blake' printed in the corner. Didn't your father +have an uncle or somebody, who was steward on the estate of a Scotch +Laird of some renown?" + +"Heck, mon!" cried Momsey, with her usual gaiety, and throwing off the +cloud of gloom that had momentarily subdued her spirit. "Ye air a wise +cheil. Ma faither talked muckle o' Uncle Hughie Blake, remimberin' him +fra' a wee laddie when his ain faither took him tae Scotland, and tae +Castle Emberon, on a veesit." + +Nan and Papa Sherwood laughed at her when she assumed the Scotch burr of +her forebears. With precision she cut the flap of this smaller envelope. +She felt no excitement now. She had regained control of herself after +the keen disappointment arising from the first letter. + +She calmly opened the crackly sheet of legal looking paper in her lap. +It was not a long letter, and it was written in a stiff, legal hand, +instead of being typewritten, each character as precise as the legal +mind that dictated it: + +"Mistress Jessie Adair Blake, (Known to be a married woman, but wedded +name unknown to writer.) + +"Dear Madam: It is my duty to inform you that your father (the late +Randolph Hugh Blake) was made sole beneficiary of his late uncle, Mr. +Hugh Blake, the Laird of Emberon's steward, by a certain testament, or +will, made many years ago. Mr. Hugh Blake has recently died a bachelor, +and before his demise he added a codicil to the above testament, or +will, naming you, his great niece, his sole heir and beneficiary. + +"There are other relatives who may make some attempt to oppose your +claim; but none of near blood. Your title to the said estate is clear; +but it is quite necessary that you should appear before our Courts with +proofs of identity, and so forth. On receipt from you of acknowledgment +of this letter, with copies of identification papers (your grandfather's +naturalization papers, your father's discharge from army, your own birth +certificate and marriage lines, and so forth) I will give myself +the pleasure of forwarding any further particulars you may wish, and +likewise place at your command my own services in obtaining possession +for you of your great uncle's estate. + +"The said estate of Mr. Hugh Blake, deceased, amounts, in real and +personal property, including moneys in the bank, to about the sum, +roughly estimated, of 10,000 pounds. + +"Respectfully, your servant, + +"Andrew Blake, Solicitor and Att'y." + + +Nan had leaned over her mother's shoulder, big-eyed, scarce believing +the plainly written words she read. It was preposterous, ridiculous, +fanciful, a dream from which she must awake in a moment to the full +realization of their dreadful need of just such a godsend as this. + +It was her father's voice that roused the girl. He had not seen the +letter and Momsey had read it silently to herself. + +"Look out, Nancy! What is the matter with your mother?" + +With a cry the girl caught the frail little lady in her arms as the +letter slipped unheeded from her lap to the floor. Mrs. Sherwood's eyes +were closed. She had fainted. + + + +Chapter VI. A SPRAT FOR A HERRING + +"I don't need the doctor this time, honey; joy never killed yet." + +So said Mrs. Sherwood, opening her eyes to see the scared face of Nan +close above her. Then she saw her husband at her feet, quietly chafing +her hands in his own hard, warm palms. She pulled hers gently from his +clasp and rested them upon his head. Mr. Sherwood's hair was iron-gray, +thick, and inclined to curl. She ran her little fingers into it and +clung tightly. + +"Let, let me get my breath!" she gasped. Then, after a moment she smiled +brilliantly into the wind-bitten face of the kneeling man. "It's all +over, Robert," she said. + +"My dear!" he cried thickly; while Nan could not wholly stifle the cry +of fear that rose to her lips. + +"It's all over," repeated the little woman. "All the worry, all the +poverty, all the uncertainty, all the hard times." + +Mr. Sherwood looked startled indeed. He had no idea what the letter +from Scotland contained, and he feared that his wife, who had already +suffered so much, was for the moment quite out of her head. + +"My poor Jessie," he began, but her low, sweet laugh stopped him. + +"Not poor! Never poor again, Robert!" she cried. "God is very good to +us. At the very darkest hour He has shown us the dawn. Robert, we are +rich!" + +"Great goodness, Jessie! What do you mean? Exclaimed Mr. Sherwood, +stumbling to his feet at last. + +"It's true! It's true, Papa Sherwood!" Nan cried, clapping her hands. +"Don't you call ten thousand dollars riches?" + +"Ten, thousand, dollars?" murmured her father. He put his hand to +his head and looked confusedly about for a seat, into which he weakly +dropped. Nan had picked up the letter and now she dramatically thrust it +into his hand. + +"Read that, Papa Sherwood!" she said commandingly. + +He read the communication from the Scotch attorney, first with immense +surprise, then with profound doubt. Who but a young imaginative girl, +like Nan, or a woman with unbounded faith in the miracles of God, like +her mother, could accept such a perfectly wonderful thing as being real? + +"A hoax," thought the man who had worked so hard all his life without +the least expectation of ever seeing a penny that he did not earn +himself. "Can it be that any of those heedless relatives of my wife's in +Memphis have attempted a practical joke at this time?" + +He motioned for Nan to bring him the envelope, too. This he examined +closely, and then read the communication again. It looked all regular. +The stationery, the postmark, the date upon it, all seemed perfectly in +accord. + +Mrs. Sherwood's gay little laugh shattered the train of her husband's +thought. "I know what the matter is with you, Papa Sherwood," she said. +"You think it must be a practical joke." + +"Oh!" gasped Nan, feeling a positive pain at her heart. This awful +possibility had never entered her mind before. + +"But it isn't," went on her mother blithely. "It is real. Mr. Hugh +Blake, of Emberon, must have been very old; and he was probably as +saving and canny as any Scotchman who ever wore kilts. It is not +surprising that he should have left an estate of considerable size-----" + +"Ten thousand dollars!" breathed Nan again. She loved to repeat it. +There was white magic in the very sound of such a sum of money. But her +father threw a conversational bomb into their midst the next instant. + +"Ten thousand dollars, you goosey!" he said vigorously. "That's the main +doubt in the whole business. It isn't ten thousand dollars. It's fifty +thousand dollars! A pound, either English or Scotch, is almost five of +our dollars. Ten thousand dollars would certainly be a fortune for us; +fifty thousand is beyond the dreams of avarice." + +"Oh, dear me!" said Nan weakly. + +But Mrs. Sherwood merely laughed again. "The more the better," she said. +"Why shouldn't we be able to put fifty thousand dollars to good use?" + +"Oh, we can, Momsey," said Nan eagerly. "But, will we be let?" + +Mr. Sherwood laughed grimly at that; but his wife continued confidently: + +"I am sure nobody needs it more than we do." + +"Why!" her daughter said, just as excitedly, "we'll be as rich as Bess +Harley's folks. Oh, Momsey! Oh, Papa Sherwood! Can I go to Lakewood +Hall?" + +The earnestness of her cry showed the depths to which that desire had +plumbed during these last weeks of privation and uncertainty. It was +Nan's first practical thought in relation to the possibility of their +changed circumstances. + +The father and mother looked at each other with shocked understanding. +The surprise attending the letter had caused both parents to forget, +for the moment, the effect of this wonderful promise of fortune, whether +true or false, on imaginative, high-spirited Nan. + +"Let us be happy at first, Nan, just in the knowledge that some money is +coming to us," Mrs. Sherwood said more quietly. "Never mind how much, or +how little. Time will tell all that." + +"Now you talk like father," cried Nan, pouting. + +"And let father talk a little, too," Mr. Sherwood said, smiling, "and +to you both." His right forefinger struck the letter emphatically in his +other hand. "This is a very wonderful, a blessed, thing, if true. But it +has to be proven. We must build our hopes on no false foundation." + +"Oh, Papa Sherwood! How can we, when the man says there-----" + +"Hush!" whispered Momsey, squeezing her excited little daughter's hand. + +"In the first place," continued Mr. Sherwood quietly and gravely, "there +may be some mistake in the identification of your mother, child, as the +niece mentioned in this old man's will." + +"Oh!" Nan could not help that gasp. + +"Again, there may be stronger opposition to her claim than this lawyer +at present sees. Fifty thousand dollars is a whole lot of money, and +other people by the name of Blake will be tempted by it." + +"How mean of them!" whispered Nan. + +"And, above all," pursued Mr. Sherwood, "this may be merely a scheme by +unprincipled people to filch small sums of money from gullible people. +The 'foreign legacy swindle' is worked in many different ways. There +may be calls for money, by this man who names himself Andrew Blake, for +preliminary work on the case. We haven't much; but if he is baiting for +hundreds of Blakes in America he may secure, in the aggregate, a very +tidy sum indeed." + +"Oh, Father!" cried Nan. "That's perfectly horrid!" + +"But perfectly possible. Let us not swallow this bait, hook, line and +sinker. You see, he sends no copy of the will in question, or +that codicil relating to your mother's legacy; nor does he offer +identification or surety as to his own standing. Don't let the +possibilities of this wonderful thing carry you off your feet, my dear." + +Nan's lip was quivering and she could scarcely crowd back the tears. To +have one's hopes rise so high only to be dashed-----. + +"Don't completely crush us, Papa Sherwood, with your perfectly +unanswerable logic," said his wife lightly. "We'll remember all these +strictures, and more. We can at least put the matter to the test." + +"Quite so," agreed her husband. "We will prepare the papers requested +by this Scotch attorney. I will even inquire of a good lawyer here +something regarding the Scotch laws in such a matter as this, if it will +be necessary to make a personal appearance before the local courts +over there. And perhaps we can find out the true standing of Mr. Andrew +Blake, of Kellam & Blake, Edinburgh. It will cost us a little money, and +we can ill spare it now; but to satisfy ourselves-----" + +"We will throw a sprat to catch a herring," quoted Momsey cheerfully. + +"Quite so," repeated Mr. Sherwood. + +"But, dear, DEAR!" moaned Nan. "Is that all it is going to amount to? +Don't you really believe it's all true, Papa Sherwood?" + +"I can't say that I do, my dear," returned her father gravely. "Such +romantic things as this do not often happen outside of story books." + +"Then, I declare!" cried Nan desperately, "I wish we lived in a story +book!" + +"Your father will make inquiries at once, honey," said Momsey easily, +seemingly very little disturbed herself by her husband's doubts and +fears. To her mind this wonderful turn of fortune's wheel was in direct +answer to prayer. Nothing could shake her faith in the final result +of her husband's inquiries. Yet, she was proud of his caution and good +sense. + +"I do think it is dreadful," murmured Nan, "to believe one's self rich +for only a minute!" + +"Have patience, honey," said her mother. + +"Meanwhile," added Mr. Sherwood, rising, "I will go back to sifting +cinders." + +But Nan did no more sweeping that day. + + + +Chapter VII. A VISTA OF NEW FORTUNES + +Nan said nothing to Bess Harley, her particular chum and confidant, +about the wonderful letter that had come from Scotland. Although Momsey +and Nan talked the legacy over intimately that Saturday afternoon, and +planned what they would really do with some of the money "when their +ship came in," the young girl knew that the matter was not to be +discussed outside of the family circle. + +Not even the hope Nan now cherished of accompanying her chum to Lakeview +Hall when the next school year opened was divulged when the two girls +were together on Sunday, or on the days that immediately followed. + +Nan Sherwood went about her household and school tasks in a sort of +waking dream. Imagination was continually weaving pictures in her mind +of what might happen if the vista of new fortunes that had opened before +the little family in the Amity Street cottage really came true. + +Papa Sherwood's first reports on the matter of the Scotch legacy were +not inspiring. + +"Mr. Bludsoe says we'd better go slow," he said seriously. Mr. Bludsoe +was a lawyer of high repute in Tillbury. "This letter may be written by +an attorney in Edinburgh; but there are rascally lawyers there as well +as elsewhere. Bludsoe had correspondents in London. They may be able to +inform him regarding the firm of solicitors, Kellam & Blake, if the firm +really is entered at the Scotch bar." + +"Oh! But won't that mean delay?" murmured Nan. + +"Meanwhile," said her father, smiling at her impatience, "we will +prepare the papers identifying your dear mother so that, if this +wonderful new fortune should be a reality, we can put in a proper claim +for it. Just the same," he added to his wife, when Nan had left the +room, "I have written to that machine shop boss in Chicago that I am +ready to come to work any day he may send for me." + +"Oh, Robert!" gasped the little lady. "Won't you believe?" + +"Like the darkey who was asked if he believed the world was round, and +said, 'Ah believes it, but Ah ain't dead sho' of it.' I presume this +great fortune is possible, Jessie, but I haven't perfect and abiding +faith in its existence, FOR us," said her husband. + +But Momsey had just that quality of faith. She went singing about her +household tasks and her usual smile beamed quite beatific. So said Dr. +Christian, who stepped in to see her, as was his custom every few days. + +"What's this? What's this?" the old medical practitioner demanded of Mr. +Sherwood, on the porch, where he usually made his report, and to which +Nan often stole to listen openly to them discuss her mother's case. +"I find her in a state of happy excitement, and that is quite right, +Robert, quite right, if the hopes that are the wellspring of it are +not quenched. What does it mean? Have you arranged the sea voyage I +advised?" + +Papa Sherwood's face changed suddenly. He looked oddly, Nan thought, +at the doctor. "I don't know but that is it, Doc," he said. "That sea +voyage may be in the offing." + +"Best thing that could happen to her, best thing that could happen to +her!" declared the old physician with emphasis, as he stumped away. + +Nan wondered what that could mean. A sea voyage for Momsey? Of course, +for all of them. She could not imagine Momsey going anywhere without her +and Papa Sherwood. + +She knew she was not to say anything about what she heard pass between +her father and the doctor on the porch. Indeed, Nan was no bearer +of tales in any event. But she was very curious. The steam from the +cauldron of Mystery seldom arose in the little "dwelling in amity" +save about Christmas time or just previous to Nan's birthday. But Papa +Sherwood certainly was enigmatical and Momsey was mysteriously happy, as +Dr. Christian had said. + +"And we'll put steam heat in the little house. You know, Robert, we've +always wanted to," Nan's mother suddenly said one evening as they all +sat around the reading lamp, and quite apropos of nothing at all. Then +she laughed, flushing prettily. "There! You see what my mind runs on. I +really can't help it." + +It was only a day or two later that the second letter came from Memphis. +Mr. Adair MacKenzie had returned from Mexico and evidently one of +the first duties he performed was to write his Cousin Jessie his +congratulations. + +"A letter on quite another matter," this epistle read, "from our distant +kinsman, Andrew Blake, of Kellam & Blake, apprised me that the ancient +Hugh Blake, steward to the Lairds of Emberon for so many years, was dead +and that his property was willed to your father, whose appearance as a +lad at Emberon pleased the old man greatly. + +"You are to be congratulated. The estate is considerable, I understand. +Your husband's troubles which are mentioned in your letter that I +found awaiting my return will now be over. For, although Andrew Blake +intimates that there may be considerable opposition in the courts there, +over the money going to an American heir, you will be able in the end to +establish your rights. + +"Believe me, my dear Jessie, I know of nobody in our family to whom I +would rather see fortune come than to yourself and your dear ones. If +I can be of any assistance, financially, or otherwise, in helping you +obtain your rights in this event, believe me, I stand ready to give such +aid. Do not hesitate to call upon me. My regards to your husband and +little girl whom I have never seen; Alice and John join me in expressing +our good wishes for your happy future. I remain, with the old love I +always had for you, Your cousin, Adair MacKenzie." + +"Now, Robert, what have you to say?" cried Momsey triumphantly, while +Nan danced a fandango about the room. + +"This much," replied her husband, smiling. "Our minds are relieved on +one point, at least. Kellam & Blake are respectable attorneys. We will +send our communication to Mr. Blake at once, without waiting for Mr. +Bludsoe's enquiries to bear fruit. Your Cousin Adair knows the Scotch +firm, and of course vouches for their trustworthiness." + +"Dear me, Papa Sherwood, you are so practical!" sighed Nan. She meant +"vexing;" they were interchangeable terms to her mind at this exciting +point. "Can't you work up any enthusiasm over Momsey's wonderful +fortune?" + +"Its existence is established, it would seem, beyond peradventure," said +Mr. Sherwood drily. "But our attempt to obtain the fortune is not yet +begun." + +"Why, ee!" squealed Nan. "You don't really suppose anybody will try to +keep Momsey from getting it?" + +"Exactly that," said her father. "The Blakes are a widely scattered +clan. There are probably a number of people as close in blood-tie to the +old man who has just died as your mother, my dear. These people may all +bob up, one after another, to dispute Momsey's claim." + +"But, dear me!" gasped Nan. "The money was willed to Momsey." + +"Nevertheless, these other relatives, if there be such--can keep Momsey +out of the enjoyment of her rights for a long time. Court processes are +slow, and especially so, I should judge, among the canny and careful +Scotch. I think we would better leave it to the lawyers to settle. We +cannot hasten the courts by worrying over the fortune. + +"I think," pursued Papa Sherwood judiciously, "that instead of spending +our time discussing and dreaming of the fortune in Scotland, we would +better go right on with our tasks here as though there were really no +fortune at all." + +"Oh, my!" whispered Nan, her eyes clouding. "That's because of my last +fortnightly report. I know I fell behind in history and rhetoric." + +"Don't be too hard on us, Papa Sherwood," said Momsey brightly. +"Anticipation is more than half of every pleasure. I lie awake every +night and spend this great fortune of ours to the very last penny." + +"Of course," the little lady added, with more gravity, "I wouldn't +really spend fifty thousand dollars so recklessly as I do in my mind. +But I can found schools, and hospitals, and educate Nan, and give you, +Papa Sherwood, a great big business, and buy two automobiles, and-----" + +"Enough! Enough!" cried Mr. Sherwood, in mock seriousness. "You are a +born spendthrift, Momsey. That you have had no chance to really be one +thus far will only make your case more serious when you have this legacy +in your possession. Two automobiles, no less!" + +"But I want you both, my dears, to bear one very important fact in mind. +Roughly estimated the fortune is ten thousand pounds. To be exact, it +may be a good deal less at the start. Then, after the lawyers and the +courts get through with the will and all, the remainder that dribbles +into your pocket, Momsey, may be a very small part of ten thousand +pounds." + +"Oh, how horrid, Papa Sherwood!" cried Nan. "We won't listen to him, +will we, Momsey?" + +"Oh, yes we will," her mother said quietly, but smiling. "But we will +still believe that the world is good and that God has given us great +good fortune. Papa talks very sensibly; but I know that there is nothing +to fear. We are going to be very well off for the rest of our lives, and +I cannot be thankful enough for it." + +At that Mr. Sherwood literally threw up his hands. "Nevertheless," +he said, "I expect to go to Chicago next Monday, to begin work in the +machine shop. The boss writes me that I can come at that time." + +"I will get your clothes ready for you, Robert," said Momsey calmly. +"Perhaps you will feel better in your mind if you keep busy during this +time of waiting." + + + +Chapter VIII. TWO IMPORTANT HAPPENINGS + +It happened, however, that Mr. Sherwood did not go to Chicago to work in +the machine shop. Something happened before the week was out, that quite +put his intention aside. + +Indeed, Nan declared that two important happenings just then changed the +current of affairs at the little cottage on Amity Street and that she +had a principal part in the action of the first of these unexpected +happenings. + +It was lovely skating on Norway Pond, and both Nan and her chum, Bess +Harley, were devoted to the sport. Nan had been unable to be on the ice +Saturdays, because of her home tasks; but when her lessons were learned, +she was allowed to go after supper. + +It happened to be just at the dark of the moon this week; that kept many +off the ice, although the weather was settled and the ice was perfectly +safe. Sometimes the boys built a bonfire on Woody Point, with refuse +from the planing mill, and that lit up a good bit of the ice. + +But once out on the pond, away from the shadows cast by the high banks, +the girls could see well enough. They were both good skaters, and with +arms crossed and hands clasped, they swung up the middle of the pond in +fine style. + +"I just love to skate with you, Nan," sighed Bess ecstatically. "You +move just like my other self. We're Siamese twins. We strike out +together perfectly. Oh, my dear! I don't see whatever I am to do if you +refuse to go to Lakeview with me." + +Nan could scarcely keep from telling Bess of the wonderful new fortune +that seemed about to come to her; but she was faithful to her home +training, and only said: + +"Don't fret about it, honey. Maybe something will turn up to let me go." + +"If you'd let my father pay your way-----?" insinuated Bess. + +"Don't talk of that. It's impossible," said Nan decisively. "It's a long +time yet to fall. Maybe conditions will be different at home. A dozen +things may happen before school opens in September." + +"Yes! But they may not be the right things," sighed Bess. + +She could not be too melancholy on such a night as this, however. It was +perfectly quiet, and the arch of the sky was like black velvet pricked +out with gold and silver stars. Their soft radiance shed some light upon +the pond, enough, at least, to show the girl chums the way before them +as they skimmed on toward Powerton Landing. + +They had left a noisy crowd of boys behind them, near the stamp Factory, +mostly mill boys, and the like. Bess had been taught at home to shrink +from association with the mill people and that is why she had urged Nan +to take this long skate up the pond. Around the Tillbury end of it they +were always falling in with little groups of mill boys and girls whom +Bess did not care to meet. + +There was another reason this evening for keeping away from the stamp +factory, too. The manager of that big shop had hired a gang of ice +cutters a few days before, and had filled his own private icehouse. The +men had cut out a roughly outlined square of the thick ice, sawed it +into cakes, and poled it to shore and so to the sleds and the manager's +icehouse. + +It was not a large opening in the ice; but even if the frost continued, +it would be several days before the new ice would form thickly enough to +bear again over that spot. + +Elsewhere, however, the ice was strong, for all the cutting for the +big icehouses had been done long before near the Landing. The lights of +Powerton Landing were twinkling ahead of them as the two friends swept +on up the long lake. The wind was in their faces, such wind as there +was, and the air was keen and nippy. + +The action of skating, however, kept Nan and Bess warm. Bess in her furs +and Nan in her warm tam-o'-shanter and the muffler Momsey had knitted +with her own hands, did not mind the cold. + +The evening train shrieked out of the gap and across the long trestle +just beyond the landing, where it halted for a few seconds for +passengers to embark or to leave the cars. This train was from Chicago, +and on Monday Papa Sherwood expected to go to that big city to work. + +The thought gave Nan a feeling of depression. The little family in the +Amity street cottage had never been separated for more than a day +since she could remember. It was going to be hard on Momsey, with Papa +Sherwood away and Nan in school all day. How were they going to get +along without Papa Sherwood coming home to supper, and doing the hard +chores? + +Bess awoke her chum from these dreams. "Dear me, Nan! Have you lost your +tongue all of a sudden? Do say something, or do something." + +"Let's race the train down the pond to Tillbury," proposed Nan +instantly. + +The lights of the long coaches were just moving out of the station at +the Landing. The two girls came about in a graceful curve and struck +out for home at a pace that even the train could not equal. The rails +followed the shore of the pond on the narrow strip of lowland at the +foot of the bluffs. They could see the lights shining through the car +windows all the way. + +The fireman threw open the door of his firebox to feed the furnace and +a great glare of light, and a shower of sparks, spouted from the +smokestack. The rumble of the wheels from across the ice seemed louder +than usual. + +"Come on, Bess!" gasped Nan, quite excited. "We can do better than this! +Why, that old train will beat us!" + +For they were falling behind. The train hooted its defiance as it swept +down toward Woody Point. The girls shot in toward the shore, where the +shadow of the high bluff lay heavily upon the ice. + +They heard the boys' voices somewhere below them, but Bess and Nan could +not see them yet. They knew that the boys had divided into sides and +were playing old-fashioned hockey, "shinny-on-your-own-side" as it was +locally called. Above the rumbling of the train they heard the crack of +the shinny-stick against the wooden block, and the "z-z-z-zip!" of the +missile as it scaled over the ice. + +"Those boys will get into the ice-hole if they don't look out," Nan had +just said to her chum, when suddenly a wild yell arose from the hockey +players. + +The train was slowing down at the signal tower, and finally stopped +there. A freight had got in on the main track which had to be cleared +before the passenger train could go into Tillbury station. The coaches +stood right along the edge of the frozen pond. + +But it was nothing in connection with the evening train that caused such +a commotion among the skaters near the stamp factory. There was a crash +of breaking ice and a scrambling of skaters away from the spot. The +boys' yells communicated panic to other people ashore. + +"He's in! He's in!" Nan and Bess heard the boys yelling. Then a man's +voice took up the cry: "He'll be drowned! Help! Help!" + +"That's old Peter Newkirk," gasped Nan, squeezing Bess' gloved hands +tightly. "He's night watchman at the stamp works, and he has only one +arm. He can't help that boy." + +The youngsters who had been playing hockey so recklessly near the thin +ice, were not as old as Nan and Bess, and the accident had thrown them +into utter confusion. Some skated for the shore, screaming for ropes +and fence-rails; others only tried to get away from the danger spot +themselves. None did the first thing to help their comrade who had +broken through the ice. + +"Where are you going, Nan?" gasped Bess, pulling back. "You'll have us +both in the water, too." + +"We can save him! Quick!" returned her chum eagerly. + +She let go of Bess and unwound the long muffler from about her own neck. +"If we could only see him!" the girl said, over and over. + +And then a brilliant idea struck Nan Sherwood, and she turned to shout +to old Peter Newkirk on the shore. "Peter! Peter! Turn on the electric +light sign! Turn it on so we can see where he's gone in!" + +The watchman had all his wits about him. There was a huge electric sign +on the stamp works roof, advertising the company's output. The glare of +it could be seen for miles, and it lit up brilliantly the surroundings +of the mill. + +Peter Newkirk bounded away to the main door of the works. The switch +that controlled the huge sign was just inside that door. Before Nan +and Bess had reached the edge of the broken ice, the electricity was +suddenly shot into the sign and the whole neighborhood was alight. + +"I see him! There he is!" gasped Nan to her chum. "Hold me tight by the +skirt, Bess! We'll get him!" + +She flung herself to her knees and stopped sliding just at the edge of +the old, thick ice. With a sweep of her strong young arm she shot the +end of the long muffler right into the clutching hands of the drowning +boy. + +Involuntarily he seized it. He had been down once, and submersion in +the ice water had nearly deprived him of both consciousness and power +to help save himself. But Nan drew him quickly through the shattered +ice-cakes to the edge of the firm crystal where she knelt. + +"We have him! We have him!" she cried, in triumph. "Give me your hand, +boy! I won't let you go down again." + +But to lift him entirely out of the water would have been too much for +her strength. However, several men came running now from the stalled +passenger train. The lighting of the electric sign had revealed to them +what was going on upon the pond. + +The man who lifted the half-drowned boy out of the water was not one of +the train crew, but a passenger. He was a huge man in a bearskin coat +and felt boots. He was wrapped up so heavily, and his fur cap was pulled +down so far over his ears and face, that Nan could not see what he +really looked like. In a great, gruff voice he said: + +"Well, now! Give me a girl like you ev'ry time! I never saw the beat of +it. Here, mister!" as he put the rescued boy into the arms of a man who +had just run from a nearby house. "Get him between blankets and he'll be +all right. But he's got this smart little girl to thank that he's alive +at all." + +He swung around to look at Nan again. Bess was crying frankly, with her +gloved hands before her face. "Oh, Nan! Nan!" she sobbed. "I didn't do a +thing, not a thing. I didn't even hang to the tail of your skirt as you +told me. I, I'm an awful coward." + +The big man patted Nan's shoulder lightly. "There's a little girl that +I'm going to see here in Tillbury," he said gruffly. "I hope she turns +out to be half as smart as you are, sissy." Then he tramped back to the +train that was just then starting. + +Nan began to laugh. "Did you hear that funny man?" she asked Bess. "Do +stop your crying, Bess! You have no reason to cry. You are not hurt." + +"But, but you might have been, been drowned, too," sobbed her chum. "I +didn't help you a mite." + +"Bother!" exclaimed Nan Sherwood. "Don't let's talk about it. We'll go +home. I guess we've both had enough skating for tonight." + +Bess wiped away her tears and clung to Nan's hand all the way to their +usual corner for separating. Nan ran home from there quickly and burst +into the kitchen to find Momsey and Papa Sherwood in the midst of a very +serious conference. + +"What is the matter?" cried Nan, startled by the gravity of her father +and the exaltation upon her mother's face. "What's happened?" + +"A very great thing, Nan, honey," said Momsey, drawing her daughter to +her side. "Tell her, Papa Sherwood." + +He sighed deeply and put away the letter they had been reading. "It's +from Mr. Blake, of Edinburgh," he said. "I can no longer doubt the +existence of the fortune, my dears. But I fear we shall have to strive +for it in the Scotch courts." + +"Oh!" cried Nan, under her breath. + +"Mr. Blake tells us here that it is absolutely necessary for us to come +to Scotland, and for your mother to appear in person before the court +there. The sum of money and other property willed to Momsey by her great +uncle is so large that the greatest care will be exercised by the Scotch +judges to see that it goes to the right person." + +"As your mother once said, we must throw a sprat to catch a herring. In +this case we shall be throwing a sprat to catch a whale! For the amount +of money we may have to spend to secure the fifty thousand dollars left +by Mr. Hugh Blake, of Emberon, is small, in comparison to the fortune +itself. + +"We must go to Scotland," finished Mr. Sherwood firmly. "And we must +start as soon as possible." + + + +Chapter IX. ON THE WAY TO THE WILDERNESS + +It seemed to Nan Sherwood that night as though she never could get to +sleep. Her mind and imagination worked furiously. + +Momsey and Papa Sherwood had sent her to bed early. There had been no +time to tell them about the accident on the ice and her part in it. +Her parents had much to discuss, much to decide upon. The Scotch lawyer +urged their presence before the court having jurisdiction in the matter +of the late Mr. Hugh Blake's will, and that as soon as they could cross +the ocean. + +Transportation from the little Illinois town, across the intervening +states to the seaport, and thence, over the winter ocean to Glasgow, and +so on by rail to Edinburgh, was a journey the contemplation of which, to +such a quiet family as the Sherwoods, was nothing less than appalling. + +And there were many things to take into consideration that Nan did not +wholly understand. Mrs. Sherwood would require her husband's undivided +attention while she made the long and arduous journey. The sea voyage +was right in line with the physician's opinion of what was needed to +restore her health; but it was a venture at best. + +Had the family possessed plenty of money it is doubtful if Mr. Sherwood +would have risked more than a coasting voyage. Conditions rising out of +the legacy from the great uncle in Scotland spelled necessity in this +case. Of the little sum left in bank, most of it would be required to +pay the fares of Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood to Edinburgh, and their modest +living there for a few weeks. There was not enough money in hand to pay +a third passage and the expenses of a third person in Scotland, until +the court business should be settled. + +Mr. Sherwood had already taken Mr. Bludsoe, the lawyer, into his +confidence. He could make arrangements through him to mortgage the +cottage if it became absolutely necessary. He shrank from accepting +financial help from Mrs. Sherwood's relatives in Memphis. + +Besides, decision must be made immediately. Plans must be made almost +overnight. They must start within forty-eight hours to catch a certain +steamer bound for the Scotch port of Glasgow, as Mr. Sherwood had +already found out. And all their questions resolved finally into this +very important one: + +"WHAT SHALL WE DO ABOUT NAN?" + +Nan, in her little white bed, had no idea that she was the greatest +difficulty her parents found in this present event. It never entered her +busy mind that Papa Sherwood and Momsey would dream of going to Scotland +without her. + +"What shall we do with Nan?" Momsey said over and over again. She +realized as well as did Mr. Sherwood that to take the child was an +utter impossibility. Their financial circumstances, as well as other +considerations would not allow it. + +Yet, what should they do with her, with whom to trust her during their +uncertain absence on the other side? No answer that came to their minds +seemed the right one. They rose that wintry morning without having this +most important of all questions decided. + +This was Sunday and Mrs. Joyce always came over for breakfast; for she +lived alone and never had any too much to eat, Nan was sure. As for the +old woman's eating with the family, that was a fiction she kept up +for appearance's sake, perhaps, or to salve her own claims to former +gentility. She always set a place for herself at the family table in the +dining room and then was too busy to eat with them, taking her own meal +in the kitchen. + +Therefore it was she only who heard the commanding rap at the kitchen +door in the midst of the leisurely meal, and answered it. + +Just then Nan had dropped her knife and fork and was staring from +Momsey's pitying face to Papa Sherwood's grave one, as she cried, in a +whisper: + +"Not me? Oh, my dears! You're never going without me, all that long +journey? What, whatever shall I do without you both?" + +"Don't, honey! Don't say it that way!" begged Momsey, putting her +handkerchief to her eyes. + +"If it was not quite impossible, do you think for a moment, daughter, +that we would contemplate leaving you at home?" queried Mr. Sherwood, +his own voice trembling. + +"It, it seems impossible!" gasped Nan, "just as though it couldn't be. +I won't know what to do without you, my dears. And what will you do +without me?" + +That seemed to be unanswerable, and it quite broke Momsey down. She +sobbed openly into her handkerchief. + +"Who's going to be her little maid?" demanded Nan, of her father. "Who's +going to 'do' her beautiful hair? Who's going to wait on her when she +has her dreadful headaches? And who's going to play 'massagist' like me? +I want to know who can do all those things for Momsey if you take her +away from me, Papa Sherwood?" and she ended quite stormily. + +"My dear child!" Mr. Sherwood said urgently. "I want you to listen to +me. Our situation is such that we cannot possibly take you with us. +That is final. It is useless for us to discuss the point, for there is +nothing to be gained by discussing it from now till Doomsday." + +Nan gulped down a sob and looked at him with dry eyes. Papa Sherwood had +never seemed so stern before, and yet his own eyes were moist. She began +to see that this decision was very hard upon her parents, too. + +"Now do you understand," he asked gently, "that we cannot take our +little daughter with us, but that we are much worried by the fact, and +we do not know what to do with her while we are gone?" + +"You, you might as well put me in an orphan asylum," choked Nan. "I'll +be an orphan till you get back." + +"Oh, honey!" cried her mother. + +"There now!" said Nan, jumping up quickly and going around the table to +her mother's side. "You poor dear! I won't say anything more to hurt and +trouble you. I'm a selfish thing, that's what I am." + +Momsey wound her arms about her. Papa Sherwood still looked grave. "We +get no nearer to the proper solution of the difficulty," he said. "Of +course, Nancy, the orphan asylum is out of the question." + +"I'll stay here, of course," Nan said, with some difficulty keeping her +voice from quavering. + +"Not alone in the house, honey," Momsey said quickly. + +"With Mrs. Joyce?" suggested Nan tentatively. + +"No," Mr. Sherwood said. "She is not the person to be trusted with you." + +"There's Mrs. Grimes' boarding house around the corner?" suggested Nan. + +Momsey shuddered. "Never! Never! My little girl in a boarding house. Oh, +Papa Sherwood! We must find somebody to care for her while we are away, +who loves Nan." + +And it was just here that a surprisingly gruff voice took up the matter +and decided it in a moment. + +"That's me," said the voice, with conviction. "She's just the sort of +little girl I cotton to, sister Jessie. And Kate'll be fairly crazy +about her. If you're going anywhere for a long spell, just let me take +her up to Pine Camp. We have no little girls up there, never had any. +But I bet we know how to treat 'em." + +"Hen!" shouted Mr. Sherwood, stumbling up from the table, and putting +out both hands to the big man whom Mrs. Joyce had ushered in from the +kitchen so unexpectedly. + +"Henry Sherwood!" gasped Momsey, half rising herself in her surprise and +delight. + +"Why!" cried Nan, "it's the bear-man!" for Mr. Henry Sherwood wore the +great fur coat and cap that he had worn the evening before when he had +come to Nan's aid in rescuing the boy from Norway Pond. + +Afterward Nan confessed, naively, that she ought to have known he was +her Uncle Henry. Nobody, she was quite sure, could be so big and brawny +as the lumberman from Michigan. + +"She's the girl for me," proclaimed Uncle Henry admiringly. "Smart as a +whip and as bold as a catamount. Hasn't she told you what she did last +night? Sho! Of course not. She don't go 'round blowing about her deeds +of valor, I bet!" and the big man went off into a gale of laughter that +seemed to shake the little cottage. + +Papa Sherwood and Momsey had to learn all the particulars then, and both +glowed with pride over their little daughter's action. Gradually, after +numerous personal questions were asked and answered on both sides, the +conversation came around to the difficulty the little family was in, and +the cause of it. + +Henry Sherwood listened to the story of the Scotch legacy with wide-open +eyes, marveling greatly. The possibility of his brother's wife becoming +wealthy amazed and delighted his simple mind. The fact that they had to +take the long journey to Scotland to obtain the money troubled him but +little. Although he had never traveled far himself, save to Chicago from +the Michigan woods, Mr. Henry Sherwood had lived in the open so much +that distances did not appall him. + +"Sure you'll go," he proclaimed, reaching down into a very deep pocket +and dragging to light a long leather pouch, with a draw-string of +home-cured deer skin. "And if you are short, Bob, we'll go down into +this poke and see what there is left. + +"I came down to Chicago to see about a piece of timber that's owned by +some sharps on Jackson Street. I didn't know but I might get to cut that +timber. I've run it careless-like, and I know pretty near what there is +in it. So I said to Kate: + +"'I'll see Bob and his wife, and the little nipper-----" + +"Goodness!" ejaculated Nan, under her breath. + +Uncle Henry's eyes twinkled and the many wrinkles about them screwed +up into hard knots. "Beg pardon!" he exclaimed, for his ears were very +sharp. "This young lady, I should have said. Anyhow, I told Kate I'd see +you all and find out what you were doing. + +"Depending on mills and such for employment isn't any very safe way to +live, I think. Out in the woods you are as free as air, and there aren't +so many bosses, and you don't have to think much about 'the market' and +'supply and demand,' and all that." + +"Just the same," said Mr. Robert Sherwood, his own eyes twinkling, "you +are in some trouble right now, I believe, Hen?" + +"Sho! You've got me there," boomed his brother with a great laugh. +"But there aren't many reptiles like old Ged Raffer. And we can thank +a merciful Creator for that. I expect there are just a few miserly old +hunks like Ged as horrible examples to the rest of us." + +"What is the nature of your trouble with this old fellow?" asked Mr. +Robert Sherwood. + +"We've got hold on adjoining options. I had my lines run by one of the +best surveyors in the Peninsula of Michigan. But he up and died. Ged +claims I ran over on his tract about a mile. He got to court first, got +an injunction, and tied me all up in a hard legal knot until the state +surveyors can go over both pieces of timber. The land knows when that'll +be! Those state surveyors take a week of frog Sundays to do a job. + +"I can't cut a stick on my whole piece 'cause Ged claims he'll have a +right to replevin an equal number of sticks cut, if the surveyors back +up his contention. Nasty mess. The original line was run years and years +ago, and they're not many alive today in the Big woods that know the +rights of it. + +"I expect," added Uncle Henry, shaking his bushy head, "that old Toby +Vanderwiller knows the rights of that line business; but he won't tell. +Gedney Raffer's got a strangle hold on Toby and his little swamp farm, +and Toby doesn't dare say his soul's his own. + +"Well!" continued the lumberman, with another of his big laughs. "This +has nothing to do with your stew, Bob. I didn't want to come to the +house last night and surprise you; so I stayed at the hotel. And all the +time I was thinking of this little nip, Beg pardon! This young lady, and +how smart and plucky she was. + +"And lo and behold," pursued Uncle Henry, "she turns out to be my own +niece. I'm going to take her back with me to Pine Camp. Kate's got to +see and know her. The boys will be tickled out of their boots to have a +girl like her around. That's our one lack at Pine Camp. There never was +a girl in the family. + +"Seems that this was just foreordained. You and Jessie have got to go +'way off, over the water; can't leave this plucky girl alone. Her old +uncle and aunt are the proper folks to take care of her. What do you say +yourself, young lady?" + +Nan had liked the big man from the very beginning. She was a sensible +child, too. She saw that she must settle this matter herself, for it was +too hard a question for either Momsey or Papa Sherwood to decide. +She gained control of herself now; but nobody will ever know how much +courage it took for her to say, promptly: + +"Of course I will go home with you, Uncle Henry. It will be fun, I +think, to go into the woods in the winter. And, and I can come right +back as soon as Momsey and Papa Sherwood return from Scotland." + +So it was settled, just like that. The rush in which both parties got +under way on Monday made Nan's head whirl. Momsey was to buy a few +necessary things in New York before she boarded the steamer. Nan had a +plentiful supply of warm winter clothing, and she took a trunkful. + +Mrs. Joyce was left to take a peep at the little, locked cottage on +Amity Street, now and then. Nan could say "Goodbye" only very hastily +to Bess Harley and her other school friends. Her school had to be broken +off at a bad time in the year, but there was the prospect of a change in +Nan's method of education the next fall. + +Momsey and Papa Sherwood took the train east an hour before Nan and +Uncle Henry boarded that for Chicago. All went with a rush and clatter, +and Nan found herself at last rumbling out of Tillbury, on her way to +the northern wilderness, while a thin drive of fine snowflakes tapped on +the car windows. + + + +Chapter X. GEDNEY RAFFER + +It was fortunate for Nan Sherwood that on the day of parting with her +parents she had so much to do, and that there was so much to see, and so +many new things of which to think. + +She had never traveled to Chicago before, nor far from Tillbury at all. +Even the chair car was new to the girl's experience and she found it +vastly entertaining to sit at a broad window with her uncle in the +opposite chair, gazing out upon the snowy landscape as the train hurried +over the prairie. + +She had a certain feeling that her Uncle Henry was an anomaly in the +chair car. His huge bearskin coat and the rough clothing under it; his +felt boots, with rubber soles and feet; the fact that he wore no linen +and only a string tie under the collar of his flannel shirt; his great +bronzed hands and blunted fingers with their broken nails, all these +things set him apart from the other men who rode in the car. + +Papa Sherwood paid much attention to the niceties of dress, despite the +fact that his work at the Atwater Mills had called for overalls and, +frequently, oily hands. Uncle Henry evidently knew little about stiff +collars and laundered cuffs, or cravats, smart boots, bosomed shirts, or +other dainty wear for men. He was quite innocent of giving any offence +to the eye, however. Lying back in the comfortable chair with his coat +off and his great lumberman's boots crossed, he laughed at anything Nan +said that chanced to be the least bit amusing, until the gas-globes rang +again. + +It seemed to Nan as though there never was such a huge man before. She +doubted if Goliath could have looked so big to young David, when the +shepherd boy went out with his sling to meet the giant. Uncle Henry +was six feet, four inches in height and broad in proportion. The chair +creaked under his weight when he moved. Other people in the car gazed on +the quite unconscious giant as wonderingly as did Nan herself. + +"Uncle Henry," she asked him once, "are all the men in the Big Woods as +tall as you are?" + +"Goodness me! No, child," he chuckled. "But the woods don't breed many +runts, that's a fact. There's some bigger than I. Long Sam Dorgan is +near seven feet he isn't quite sure, for he's so ticklish that you can't +ever measure him," and Uncle Henry's chuckle burst into a full-fledged +laugh. "He's just as graceful as a length of shingle lathing, too. And +freckles and liver spots on his hands and face, well, he certain sure is +a handsome creature. + +"He went to town once and stayed over night. Wasn't any bed long enough +at the hotel, and Sam had got considerably under the weather, anyhow, +from fooling with hard cider. So he wasn't particular about where he +bedded down, and they put him to sleep in the horse trough." + +"The horse trough!" gasped Nan. + +"Yes. It was pretty dry when Sam went to bed; but right early in the +morning a sleepy hostler stumbled out to the trough and began to pump +water into it for the cattle. Maybe Long Sam needed a bath, but not just +that way. He rose up with a yell like a Choctaw Indian. Said he was +just dreaming of going through the Sault Ste. Marie in a barrel, and he +reckoned the barrel burst open." + +Nan was much amused by this story, as she was by others that the old +lumberman related. He was full of dry sayings and his speech had many +queer twists to it. His bluff, honest way delighted the girl, although +he was so different from Papa Sherwood. As Momsey had said, Uncle +Henry's body had to be big to contain his heart. One can excuse much +that is rough in a character so lovable as that of Uncle Henry's. + +The snow increased as the train sped on and the darkness gradually +thickened. Uncle Henry took his niece into the dining car where they +had supper, with a black man with shiny eyes and very white teeth, who +seemed always on the broad grin, to wait upon them. Nan made a mental +note to write Bess Harley all about the meal and the service, for Bess +was always interested in anything that seemed "aristocratic," and to the +unsophisticated girl from Tillbury the style of the dining car seemed +really luxurious. + +When the train rolled into the Chicago station it was not yet late; +but it seemed to Nan as though they had ridden miles and miles, through +lighted streets hedged on either side with brick houses. The snow was +still falling, but it looked sooty and gray here in the city. Nan began +to feel some depression, and to remember more keenly that Momsey and +Papa Sherwood were flying easterly just as fast as an express train +could take them. + +It was cold, too. A keen, penetrating wind seemed to search through +the streets. Uncle Henry said it came from the lake. He beckoned to a +taxicab driver, and Nan's trunk was found and strapped upon the roof. +Then off they went to the hotel where Uncle Henry always stopped when he +came to Chicago, and where his own bag was checked. + +Looking through the cab windows, the girl began to take an immediate +interest in life again. So many people, despite the storm! So many +vehicles tangled up at the corners and waiting for the big policemen +to let them by in front of the clanging cars! Bustle, hurry, noise, +confusion! + +"Some different from your Tillbury," drawled Uncle Henry. "And just as +different from Pine Camp as chalk is from cheese." + +"But so interesting!" breathed Nan, with a sigh. "Doesn't it ever get to +be bedtime for children in the city?" + +"Not for those kids," grumbled Uncle Henry. "Poor creatures. They sell +papers, or flowers, or matches, or what-not, all evening long. And +stores keep open, and hotel bars, and drug shops, besides theatres and +the like. There's a big motion picture place! I went there once. It +beats any show that ever came to Hobart Forks, now I tell you." + +"Oh, we have motion picture shows at Tillbury. We have had them in the +school hall, too," said Nan complacently. "But, of course, I'd like +to see all the people and the lights, and so forth. It looks very +interesting in the city. But the snow is dirty, Uncle Henry." + +"Yes. And most everything else is dirty when you get into these brick +and mortar tunnels. That's what I call the streets. The air even isn't +clean," went on the lumberman. "Give me the woods, with a fresh wind +blowing, and the world looks good to me," then his voice and face fell, +as he added, "excepting that snake-in-the-grass, Ged Raffer." + +"That man must make you a lot of trouble, Uncle Henry," said Nan +sympathetically. + +"He does," growled the lumberman. "He's a miserable, fox-faced +scoundrel, and I've no more use for him than I have for an egg-sucking +dog. That's the way I feel about it." + +They reached the hotel just then, and Uncle Henry's flare of passion was +quenched. The hostelry he patronized was not a new hotel; but it was +a very good one, and Nan's heart beat high as she followed the porter +inside, with Uncle Henry directing the taxicab driver and a second +porter how to dispose of the trunk for the night. + +Nan had her bag in which were her night clothes, toilet articles, and +other necessities. The porter carried this for her and seated her on +a comfortable lounge at one side while Uncle Henry arranged about the +rooms. + +To do honor to his pretty niece the lumberman engaged much better +quarters than he would have chosen for himself. When they went up to the +rooms Nan found a pretty little bath opening out of hers, and the maid +came and asked her if she could be of any help. The girl began to feel +quite "grown up." It was all very wonderful, and she loved Uncle Henry +for making things so pleasant for her. + +She had to run to his door and tell him this before she undressed. He +had pulled off his boots and was tramping up and down the carpeted floor +in his thick woolen socks, humming to himself. + +"Taking a constitutional, Nan," he declared. "Haven't had any exercise +for this big body of mine all day. Sitting in that car has made me as +cramped as a bear just crawling out of his den in the spring." + +He did not tell her that had he been alone he would have gone out and +tramped the snowy streets for half the night. But he would not leave +her alone in the hotel. "No, sir," said Uncle Henry. "Robert would +never forgive me if anything happened to his honey-bird. And fire, or +something, might break out here while I was gone." + +He said nothing like this to Nan, however, but kissed her good night and +told her she should always bid him good night in just that way as long +as she was at Pine Camp. + +"For Kate and I have never had a little girl," said the big lumberman, +"and boys get over the kissing stage mighty early, I find. Kate and I +always did hanker for a girl." + +"If you owned a really, truly daughter of your own, Uncle Henry, I +believe you'd spoil her to death!" cried Nan, the next morning, when she +came out of the fur shop to which he had taken her. + +He had insisted that she was not dressed warmly enough for the woods. "We +see forty and forty-five below up there, sometimes," he said. "You think +this raw wind is cold; it is nothing to a black frost in the Big Woods. +Trees burst as if there were dynamite in 'em. You've never seen the +like. + +"Of course the back of winter's about broken now. But we may have some +cold snaps yet. Anyhow, you look warmer than you did." + +And that was true, for Nan was dressed like a little Esquimau. Her coat +had a pointed hood to it; she wore high fur boots, the fur outside. Her +mittens of seal were buttoned to the sleeves of her coat, and she could +thrust her hands, with ordinary gloves on them, right into these warm +receptacles. + +Nan thought they were wonderfully served at the hotel where they +stopped, and she liked the maid on her corridor very much, and the boy +who brought the icewater, too. There really was so much to tell Bess +that she began to keep a diary in a little blank-book she bought for +that purpose. + +Then the most wonderful thing of all was the message from Papa Sherwood +which arrived just before she and Uncle Henry left the hotel for the +train. It was a "night letter" sent from Buffalo and told her that +Momsey was all right and that they both sent love and would telegraph +once more before their steamship left the dock at New York. + +Nan and Uncle Henry drove through the snowy streets to another station +and took the evening train north. They traveled at first by the +Milwaukee Division of the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad; and now +another new experience came Nan's way. Uncle Henry had secured a section +in the sleeping car and each had a berth. + +It was just like being put to sleep on a shelf, Nan declared, when the +porter made up the beds at nine o'clock. She climbed into the upper +berth a little later, sure that she would not sleep, and intending to +look out of the narrow window to watch the snowy landscape fly by all +night. + +And much to her surprise (only the surprise came in the morning) she +fell fast asleep almost immediately, lulled by the rocking of the huge +car on its springs, and did not arouse until seven o'clock and the car +stood on the siding in the big Wisconsin city. + +They hurried to get a northern bound train and were soon off on what +Uncle Henry called the "longest lap" of their journey. The train swept +them up the line of Lake Michigan, sometimes within sight of the shore, +often along the edge of estuaries, particularly following the contour +of Green By, and then into the Wilderness of upper Wisconsin and the +Michigan Peninsula. + +On the Peninsula Division of the C. & N. W. they did not travel as fast +as they had been running, and before Hobart Forks was announced on the +last local train they traveled in, Nan Sherwood certainly was tired +of riding by rail. The station was in Marquette County, near the +Schoolcraft line. Pine Camp was twenty miles deeper in the Wilderness. +It seemed to Nan that she had been traveling through forests, or the +barren stumpage where forests had been, for weeks. + +"Here's where we get off, little girl," Uncle Henry said, as he seized +his big bag and her little one and made for the door of the car. Nan +ran after him in her fur clothing. She had found before this that he was +right about the cold. It was an entirely different atmosphere up here in +the Big Woods from Tillbury, or even Chicago. + +The train creaked to a stop. They leaped down upon the snowy platform. +Only a plain station, big freight house, and a company of roughly +dressed men to meet them. Behind the station a number of sleighs and +sledges stood, their impatient horses shaking the innumerable bells they +wore. + +Nan, stumbling off the car step behind her uncle, came near to colliding +with a small man in patched coat and cowhide boots, and with a rope tied +about his waist as some teamsters affect. He mumbled something in anger +and Nan turned to look at him. + +He wore sparse, sandy whiskers, now fast turning gray. The outthrust of +the lower part of his face was as sharp as that of a fox, and he really +looked like a fox. She was sure of his identity before uncle Henry +wheeled and, seeing the man, said: + +"What's that you are saying, Ged Raffer? This is my niece, and if you +lay your tongue to her name, I'll give you something to go to law about +in a hurry. Come, Nan. Don't let that man touch so much as your coat +sleeve. He's like pitch. You can't be near him without some of his +meanness sticking to you." + + + +Chapter XI. PINE CAMP AT LAST + +It was the first shade upon Uncle Henry's character that displeased +Nan. He was evidently a passionate man, prone to give way to elemental +feelings, literally, "a man of wrath." + +Gedney Raffer, weazened, snakelike, sly, and treacherous, had doubtless +wronged Uncle Henry deeply. But this fact could not excuse the huge +lumberman's language on the platform of the Hobart Forks station. + +Nan wanted to stop her ears with her fingers and run from the spot. +The tough fellows standing around enjoyed the war of words hugely. Mr. +Sherwood was too big to strike Gedney Raffer, and of course the latter +dared not use his puny fists on the giant. + +The blunt club of the lumberman's speech was scarcely a match for the +sharp rapier of Raffer's tongue. As the crowd laughed it was evident +that the fox-faced man was getting the verbal best of the controversy. + +Nan's ears burned and tears stood in her eyes. Uncle Henry descended to +personal threats and the smaller man called out: + +"You jest put your hand on me, you big, overgrown sawney! That's all I'm +a-waitin' for. You 'tack me and I'll have you in the caboose, sure's my +name's Gedney Raffer. Try it!" + +The quarrel was most distressing. Nan pulled at her uncle's coat sleeve. +The rough men eyed her curiously. She had never felt so ashamed in her +life. + +"Do come, Uncle Henry," she whispered. "I'm cold." + +That statement started the fuming giant at once. Nan's sensitiveness +to a rude quarrel did not impress the man; but her sensitiveness to the +weather shocked him immediately. + +"My goodness, girl! We'll go right up to the hotel," he said, kindly. +"Any of you fellows seen Rafe or Tom in town this morning with the sled +and roans?" + +"Hey, Hen!" cried the station master, waving a yellow paper. "Here's a +telegraph despatch for you." + +It was really for Nan, and from Papa Sherwood filed just before the +Afton Castle sailed from New York: + +"Momsey and papa send love and kisses. Be cheerful and good. Write +often. We think of you always. Kind wishes for Henry, Kate and boys. +We look forward to fair voyage and safe landing. Will cable from other +side. Expect happy meeting in spring. R. and J. Sherwood." + +"They got a good start," commented Uncle Henry, putting all thought of +his quarrel with Ged Raffer behind him at once. "We'll hope they have a +safe voyage. Now! Where are those boys of mine?" + +The town of Hobart Forks was by no means a lumber town. Millions of feet +of timber was boomed on the river within the limits of the town every +season, and there were great mills along the banks of the stream, too. +But there were other industries, as well as churches, amusement places +and many pleasant dwellings. It was no settlement of "slab shanties" +with a few saloons and a general store. Nan had yet to see this latter +kind of settlement. + +But what she saw about the central market place of Hobart Forks opened +her eyes considerably to an appreciation of the rough country she had +come to, and the rough people to be met therein. + +The storekeepers she saw through the frosted windows were dressed like +storekeepers in Tillbury; and there were well dressed women on the +streets, a few, at least. + +But most of the men striding through the snow were as roughly dressed as +her uncle, and not many were as good looking as Mr. Sherwood. Some who +came out of the swinging doors of saloons staggered, and were very noisy +in their speech and rude in their actions. Of course nobody spoke to +Nan, or troubled her; Henry Sherwood was undoubtedly a man of standing +in the settlement and highly respected. + +Not far from the market place they came upon a sprawling old tavern, +with a fenced yard at one side. As they approached, a sled drawn by a +wild looking pair of rough, red-roan ponies, dashed out of the yard and +stopped at the broad front portico of the hotel. + +"Hey, Tom! What's the matter with you?" called Uncle Henry. "Here we +are!" + +The driver turned a broad, good-humored face to look over his burly +shoulder. Nan saw that Tom Sherwood strongly resembled his father. + +"That you, Dad?" he drawled. "I'd about given you up. I didn't want to +drive down to the depot with these crazy creatures. And if I'd left 'em +standing they'd have kicked Phil's shed to pieces, I do believe. The +train's been in half an hour and more." + +"I know," said his father. "I had a mess of words with Ged Raffer. That +delayed me." + +"You ought to give him the back of your hand, and say no more about it," +declared Tom, in a tone that showed he warmed in his bosom the family +grudge against the fox-faced man. + +"Here's your Cousin Nan, Tom," said his father, without making rejoinder +to the young man's observation. "She must go into Phil's and get warm +and have a cup of hot coffee. I'll take some in a new-fangled bottle I +bought down in Chicago, so we can all have a hot drink on the way home." + +"'Twon't keep warm twenty miles," said Tom. + +"Yes 'twill. It'll keep HOT for twenty miles and more. They call it a +thermos bottle. It'll keep coffee hot, or cold, for a day, just as you +please." + +"Jehosaphat, Dad! What kind of a swindle's that? How does the bottle +know whether you want your drink hot or cold? Huh! Those city folks +couldn't make me believe any such thing," objected the son. + +Nan had to giggle at that, and Uncle Henry demanded: "Did you ever see +such a gump? Go on down to the station and tell Abe to fling that trunk +and the bags into the back of the sled. We'll have our coffee, and get +the thermos bottle filled, too, by the time you come back." + +Nan liked tom Sherwood. He was about nineteen and almost as big as +his father. He was gentle with her, and showed himself to be an expert +driver of the roan colts. Otherwise Nan might have been much afraid +during the first mile of the journey to Pine Camp, for certainly she had +never seen horses behave so before. + +"Haven't been out of the stable for a week," explained Tom cooly as the +roans plunged and danced, and "cut up didos" generally, as Uncle Henry +remarked. + +"We had a big fall of snow," Tom went on to say. "Bunged us all up in +the woods; so Rafe and I came in. Marm's all right. So's everybody else +around the Camp, except Old Man Llewellen. He's down with rheumatism, or +tic-douloureux, or something. He's always complaining." + +"I know," said Uncle Henry, and then went on to relate for his son's +benefit the wonderful thing that had happened to his brother and his +brother's wife, and why Nan had come up into Michigan without her +parents. + +"We'll be mighty proud to have her," said Tom simply. He was only a +great boy, after all, and he blushed every time he caught Nan looking at +him. The girl began to feel very much grown up. + +They were glad of the hot coffee, and Tom was shown how and why the +mysterious bottle kept the drink hot. They only made that single halt +(and only for a few minutes for the horses to drink) before reaching +Pine Camp. They traveled through the snow-covered woods most of the way. +There were few farms and no settlements at all until they reached Pine +Camp. + +The road was not well beaten and they could not have got through some of +the drifts with less spirited ponies than the roans. When they crossed +the long bridge over the river and swept into the village street, Nan +was amazed. + +Likewise, her heart sank a little. There was not a building in the place +more than a story and a half in height. Most of them were slab cottages. +Few yards were fenced. There were two stores, facing each other on the +single street of the town, with false-fronts running up as tall as the +second story would have been had there been a second story. + +The roans dashed through the better beaten path of the street, with +everybody along the way hailing Henry Sherwood vociferously. The giant +waved his hand and shouted in reply. Nan cowered between him and Tom, +on the seat, shielding her face from the flying snow from the ponies' +hoofs, though the tears in her eyes were not brought there only by the +sting of the pelting she received. + + + +Chapter XII. "HOME WAS NEVER LIKE THIS" + +The roan ponies dashed through the slab settlement, past the blacksmith +and wheelwright shop and the ugly red building Tom told Nan was the +school, and reached a large, sprawling, unpainted dwelling on the +outskirts of the village. + +There were barns back of the Sherwood house; there was no fence between +the yard and the road, the windows of the house stared out upon the +passerby, blindless, and many of them without shades. There was such a +painful newness about the building that it seemed to Nan the carpenters +must have just packed their tools and gone, while the painters had not +yet arrived. + +"Well! Here we are," announced Mr. Henry Sherwood, as Tom held in the +still eager ponies. He stepped out and offered Nan his hand. "Home +again, little girl. I reckon Kate will be mighty glad to see you, that +she will." + +Nan leaped out and began to stamp her feet on the hard snow, while Uncle +Henry lifted out the trunk and bags. Just as the ponies sprang away +again, a door in the ugly house opened and a tall, angular woman looked +forth. + +"Bring her in, Hen!" she cried, in a high-pitched voice. "I want to see +her." + +Nan went rather timidly up the path. Her aunt was almost as tall as her +husband. She was very bony and was flat-chested and unlovely in every +way. That is, so it seemed, when the homesick girl raised her eyes to +Aunt Kate's face. + +That face was as brown as sole-leather, and the texture of the skin +seemed leathery as well. There was a hawklike nose dominating the +unfeminine face. The shallows below the cheekbones were deep, as +though she had suffered the loss of her back molars. The eyebrows were +straggly; the eyes themselves of a pale, watery blue; the mouth a thin +line when her colorless lips were closed; and her chin was as square and +determined as Uncle Henry's own. + +As Nan approached she saw something else about this unlovely woman. On +her neck was a great, livid scar, of a hand's breadth, and which looked +like a scald, or burn. No attempt was made to conceal this unsightly +blemish. + +Indeed, there was nothing about Aunt Kate Sherwood suggesting a +softening of her hard lines. Her plain, ugly print dress was cut low at +the throat, and had no collar or ruff to hide the scar. Nan's gaze was +fastened on that blemish before she was half way to the door, and she +could see nothing else at first. + +The girl fought down a physical shudder when Aunt Kate's clawlike hands +seized her by both shoulders, and she stooped to kiss the visitor. + +"Welcome, dear Nannie," her sharp voice said, and Nan thought that, with +ease, one might have heard her in the middle of the village. + +But when Aunt Kate's lips touched the girl's forehead they were +Warm, and soft as velvet. Her breath was sweet. There was a wholesome +cleanliness about her person that pleased Nan. The ugly dress was +spotless and beautifully laundered. She had a glimpse of the unplastered +kitchen and saw a row of copper pots on the shelf over the dresser that +were scoured to dazzling brightness. The boards of the floor were +white as milk. The big, patent range glistened with polish, and its +nickel-work was rubbed till it reflected like a mirror. + +"Welcome, my dear!" said Aunt Kate again. "I hope you will be happy +while you stay with us." + +Happy! With Momsey and Papa Sherwood on the ocean, and the "little +dwelling in amity" closed and deserted? Nan feared she would break down +and cry. + +Her Aunt Kate left her to herself a minute just then that she might +overcome this weakness. Uncle Henry came up the path with the bags, +smiling broadly. + +"Well, old woman!" he said heartily. + +"Well, old man!" she returned. + +And then suddenly, Nan Sherwood had a new vision. She was used to +seeing her pretty mother and her handsome father display their mutual +affection; it had not seemed possible that rough, burly Uncle Henry and +ugly Aunt Kate could feel the same degree of affection for each other. + +Uncle Henry dropped the bags. Aunt Kate seemed to be drawn toward him +when he put out his hands. Nan saw their lips meet, and then the giant +gently, almost reverently, kissed the horrid scar on Aunt Kate's neck. + +"Here's Nan!" cried the big lumberman jovially. "The pluckiest and +smartest little girl in seven states! Take her in out of the cold, Kate. +She's not used to our kind of weather, and I have been watching for the +frost flowers to bloom on her pretty face all the way from the forks." + +The woman drew Nan into the warm kitchen. Uncle Henry followed in a +minute with the trunk. + +"Where'll I put this box, Kate?" he asked. "I reckon you've fixed up +some cozy place for her?" + +"The east room, Hen," Aunt Kate replied. "The sun lies in there +mornings. I took the new spring rocker out of the parlor, and with the +white enameled bedstead you bought in Chicago, and the maple bureau +we got of that furniture pedlar, and the best drugget to lay over the +carpet I reckon Nannie has a pretty bedroom." + +Meanwhile Nan stared openly around the strange kitchen. The joists and +rafters were uncovered by laths or plaster. Muslin, that had once been +white, was tacked to the beams overhead for a ceiling. The smoke from +the cookstove had stained it to a deep brown color above the stove and +to a lighter, meerschaum shade in the corners. + +The furniture was of the rudest plainest kind much of it evidently +home-made. Uncle Henry was not unhandy with tools. She learned, later, +that he and the boys had practically built the house by themselves. They +were finishing it inside, as they had time. In some of the rooms the +inside window and door frames were not yet in place. + +There was an appetizing smell from the pots upon the stove, and the +long table was set for dinner. They would not let Nan change from her +traveling dress before sitting down to the table. Tom and Rafe came in +and all three men washed at the long, wooden sink. + +Rafe was of slighter build than his brother, and a year or more younger. +He was not so shy as Tom, either; and his eyes sparkled with mischief. +Nan found that she could not act "grown up" with her Cousin Rafe. + +The principal dish for dinner was venison stew, served with vegetables +and salt-rising bread. There was cake, too, very heavy and indigestible, +and speckled with huckleberries that had been dried the fall previous. +Aunt Kate was no fancy cook; but appetite is the best sauce, after all, +and Nan had her share of that condiment. + +During the meal there was not much conversation save about the wonderful +fortune that had fallen to Nan's mother and the voyage she and her +husband were taking to Scotland to secure it. Nan learned, too, that +Uncle Henry had telegraphed from Tillbury of Nan's coming to Pine Camp, +and consequently Aunt Kate was able to prepare for her. + +And that the good woman had done her best to make a nest for her little +niece in the ugly house, Nan was assured. After dinner she insisted upon +the girl's going to the east room to change her dress and lie down. The +comparison between this great chamber and Nan's pretty room at home was +appalling. + +The room had been plastered, but the plaster was of a gray color and +unfinished. The woodwork was painted a dusty, brick red with mineral +paint. The odd and ugly pieces of furniture horrified Nan. The drugget +on the floor only served to hide a part of the still more atrociously +patterned carpet. The rocking chair complained if one touched it. The +top of the huge maple dresser was as bald as one's palm. + +Nan sat down on the unopened trunk when her aunt had left her. She +dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. Home certainly was never like +this! She did not see how she was ever going to be able to stand it. + + + +Chapter XIII. MARGARET LLEWELLEN + +"If Momsey or Papa Sherwood knew about this they'd be awfully sorry for +me," thought Nan, still sitting on the trunk. "Such a looking place! +Nothing to see but snow and trees," for the village of Pine Camp was +quite surrounded by the forest and all the visitor could see from the +windows of her first-floor bedroom were stumps and trees, with deep snow +everywhere. + +There was a glowing wood stove in the room and a big, chintz-covered +box beside it, full of "chunks." It was warm in the room, the atmosphere +being permeated with the sweet tang of wood smoke. + +Nan dried her eyes. There really was not any use in crying. Momsey and +Papa Sherwood could not know how bad she felt, and she really was not +selfish enough to wish them to know. + +"Now, Nanny Sherwood!" she scolded herself, "there's not a particle of +use of your sniveling. It won't 'get you anywhere,' as Mrs. Joyce says. +You'll only make your eyes red, and the folks will see that you're not +happy here, and they will be hurt. + +"Mustn't make other folks feel bad just because I feel bad myself," Nan +decided. "Come on! Pluck up your courage! + +"I know what I'll do," she added, literally shaking herself as she +jumped off the trunk. "I'll unpack. I'll cover up everything ugly that I +can with something pretty from Tillbury." + +Hurried as she had been her departure from the cottage on Amity Street, +Nan had packed in her trunk many of those little possessions, dear to +her childish heart, that had graced her bedroom. These appeared from the +trunk even before she hung away her clothes in the unplastered closet +where the cold wind searched through the cracks from out-of-doors. Into +that closet, away back in the corner, went a long pasteboard box, tied +carefully with strong cord. Nan patted it gently with her hand before +she left the box, whispering: + +"You dear! I wouldn't have left you behind for anything! I won't +let them know you are here; but sometimes, when I'm sure nobody will +interrupt, you shall come out." + +She spread a fringed towel over the barren top of the dresser. It +would not cover it all, of course; but it made an island in a sea of +emptiness. + +And on the island she quickly set forth the plain little toilet-set her +mother had given her on her last birthday, the manicure set that was a +present from Papa Sherwood, and the several other knickknacks that +would help to make the big dresser look as though "there was somebody at +home," as she whispered to herself. + +She draped a scarf here, hung up a pretty silk bag there, placed +Momsey's and Papa Sherwood's portraits in their little silver filigree +easels on the mantelpiece, flanking the clock that would not run and +which was held by the ugly china shepherdess with only one foot and +a broken crook, the latter ornament evidently having been at one time +prized by the babies of her aunt's family, for the ring at the top was +dented by little teeth. + +Nothing, however, could take the curse of ugliness off the staring +gray walls of the room, or from the horrible turkey-red and white +canton-flannel quilt that bedecked the bed. Nan longed to spill the +contents of her ink bottle over that hideous coverlet, but did not dare. + +The effort to make the big east room look less like a barn made Nan feel +better in her mind. It was still dreary, it must be confessed. There +were a dozen things she wished she could do to improve it. There +were nothing but paper shades at the windows. Even a simple scrim +curtain----- + +And, in thinking of this, Nan raised her eyes to one window to see a +face pressed close against the glass, and two rolling, crablike eyes +glaring in at her. + +"Mercy!" ejaculated Nan Sherwood. "What is the matter with that child's +eyes? They'll drop out of her head!" + +She ran to the window, evidently startling the peeper quite as much as +she had been startled herself. The girl, who was about Nan's own age, +fell back from the pane, stumbled in the big, men's boots she wore, and +ungracefully sprawled in the snow upon her back. She could not get away +before Nan had the window open. + +The sash was held up by a notched stick. Nan put her head and shoulders +out into the frosty air and stared down at the prostrate girl, who +stared up at her in return. + +"What do you want?" Nan asked. + +"Nothin'," replied the stranger. + +"What were you peeping in for?" + +"To see you," was the more frank reply. + +"What for?" asked Nan. + +"Ain't you the new gal?" + +"I've newly come here, yes," admitted Nan. + +"Well!" + +"But I'm not such a sight, am I?" laughed the girl from Tillbury. "But +you are, lying there in the snow. You'll get your death of cold. Get up." + +The other did so. Beside the men's boots, which were patched and old, +she wore a woollen skirt, a blouse, and a shawl over her head and +shoulders. She shook the snow from her garments much as a dog frees +himself from water after coming out of a pond. + +"It's too cold to talk with this window open. You're a neighbor, aren't +you?" + +The girl nodded. + +"Then come in," urged Nan. "I'm sure my aunt will let you." + +The girl shook her head in a decided negative to this proposal. "Don't +want Marm Sherwood to see me," she said. + +"Why not?" + +"She told me not to come over after you come 'ithout I put on my new +dress and washed my hands and face." + +"Well!" exclaimed Nan, looking at her more closely. "You seem to have a +clean face, at least." + +"Yes. But that dress she 'gin me, my brother Bob took and put on Old +Beagle for to dress him up funny. And Beagle heard a noise he thought +was a fox barking and he started for the tamarack swamp, lickety-split. +I expect there ain't enough of that gingham left to tie around a sore +thumb." + +Nan listened to this in both amusement and surprise. The girl was a new +specimen to her. + +"Come in, anyway," she urged. "I can't keep the window open." + +"I'll climb in, then," declared the other suddenly, and, suiting the +action to the word, she swarmed over the sill; but she left one huge +boot in the snow, and Nan, laughing delightedly, ran for the poker to +fish for it, and drew it in and shut down the window. + +The strange girl was warming her hands at the fire. Nan pushed a chair +toward her and took one herself, but not the complaining spring rocking +chair. + +"Now tell me all about yourself," the girl demanded. + +"I'm Nan Sherwood, and I've come here to Pine Camp to stay while my +father and mother have gone to Scotland." + +"I've heard about Scotland," declared the girl with the very prominent +eyes. + +"Have you?" + +"Yes. Gran'ther Llewellen sings that song. You know: + +"'Scotland's burning! Scotland's burning! Where, where? Where, where? +Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! Pour on water! Pour on water! Fire's out! Fire's +out!'" + +Nan laughed. "I've heard that, too," she said. "But it was another +Scotland." Then: "So your name is Llewellen?" + +"Marg'ret Llewellen." + +"I've heard your grandfather is sick," said Nan, remembering Tom's +report of the health of the community when he had met her and her uncle +at Hobart Forks. + +"Yes. He's got the tic-del-rew," declared Margaret, rather unfeelingly. +"Aunt Matildy says he's allus creakin' round like a rusty gate-hinge." + +"Why! That doesn't sound very nice," objected Nan. "Don't you love your +grandfather?" + +"Not much," said this perfectly frank young savage. "He's so awfully +wizzled." + +"'Wizzled'?" repeated Nan, puzzled. + +"Yes. His face is all wizzled up like a dried apple." + +"But you love your aunt Matilda?" gasped Nan. + +"Well, she's wizzled some," confessed Margaret. Then she said: "I +don't like faces like hern and Marm Sherwood's. I like your face. It's +smooth." + +Nan had noticed that this half-wild girl was of beautifully fair +complexion herself, and aside from her pop eyes was quite petty. But she +was a queer little thing. + +"You've been to Chicago, ain't you?" asked Margaret suddenly. + +"We came through Chicago on our way up here from my home. We stayed one +night there," Nan replied. + +"It's bigger'n Pine Camp, ain't it?" + +"My goodness, yes!" + +"Bigger'n the Forks?" queried Margaret doubtfully. + +"Why, it is much, much bigger," said Nan, hopeless of making one +so densely ignorant understand anything of the proportions of the +metropolis of the lakes. + +"That's what I told Bob," Margaret said. "He don't believe it. Bob's my +brother, but there never was such a dunce since Adam." + +Nan had to laugh. The strange girl amused her. But Margaret said +something, too, that deeply interested the visitor at Pine Camp before +she ended her call, making her exit as she had her entrance, by the +window. + +"I reckon you never seen this house of your uncle's before, did you?" +queried Margaret at one point in the conversation. + +"Oh, no. I never visited them before." + +"Didn't you uster visit 'em when they lived at Pale Lick?" + +"No. I don't remember that they ever lived anywhere else beside here." + +"Yes, they did. I heard Gran'ther tell about it. But mebbe 'twas before +you an' me was born. It was Pale Lick, I'm sure. That's where they lost +their two other boys." + +"What two other boys?" asked Nan, amazed. + +"Didn't you ever hear tell you had two other cousins?" + +"No," said Nan. + +"Well, you did," said Margaret importantly. "And when Pale Lick burned +up, them boys was burned up, too." + +"Oh!" gasped Nan, horrified. + +"Lots of folks was burned. Injun Pete come near being burned up. He +ain't been right, I reckon, since. And I reckon that's where Marm +Sherwood got that scar on the side of her neck." + +Nan wondered. + + + +Chapter XIV. AT THE LUMBER CAMP + +Nan said nothing just then about her queer little visitor. Aunt Kate +asked her when she came out of the east room and crossed the chill +desert of the parlor to the general sitting room: + +"Did you have a nice sleep, Nannie?" + +"Goodness, Auntie!" laughed Nan. "I got over taking a nap in the daytime +a good while ago, I guess. But you come and see what I have done. I +haven't been idle." + +Aunt Kate went and peeped into the east chamber. "Good mercy, child! It +doesn't look like the same room, with all the pretty didos," she said. +"And that's your pretty mamma in the picture on the mantel? My! Your +papa looks peaked, doesn't he? Maybe that sea voyage they are taking +will do 'em both good." + +Nan had to admit that beside her uncle and cousins her father did look +"peaked." Robust health and brawn seemed to be the two essentials in the +opinion of the people of Pine Camp. Nan was plump and rosy herself and +so escaped criticism. + +Her uncle and aunt, and the two big boys as well, were as kind to her +as they knew how to be. Nan could not escape some of the depression +of homesickness during the first day or two of her visit to the woods +settlement; but the family did everything possible to help her occupy +her mind. + +The long evenings were rather amusing, although the family knew little +about any game save checkers, "fox and geese," and "hickory, dickory, +dock." Nan played draughts with her uncle and fox and geese and the +other kindergarten game with her big cousins. To see Tom, with his +eyes screwed up tight and the pencil poised in his blunt, frost-cracked +fingers over the slate, while he recited in a base sing-song: + + "Hick'ry, dick'ry, dock + The mouse ran up the clock, + The clock struck one, + An' down he come + Hick'ry, dick'ry, dock," + +was side-splitting. Nan laughed till she cried. Poor, simple Tom did +know just what amused his little cousin so. + +Rafe was by no means so slow, or so simple. Nan caught him cheating +more than once at fox and geese. Rafe was a little sly, and he was +continually making fun of his slow brother, and baiting him. Uncle Henry +warned him: + +"Now, Rafe, you're too big for your Marm or me to shingle your pants; +but Tom's likely to lick you some day for your cutting up and I sha'n't +blame him. Just because he's slow to wrath, don't you get it in your +head that he's afraid, or that he can't settle your hash in five +minutes." + +Nan was greatly disturbed to hear so many references to fistic +encounters and fighting of all sorts. These men of the woods seemed to +be possessed of wild and unruly passions. What she heard the boys say +caused her to believe that most of the spare time of the men in the +lumber camps was spent in personal encounters. + +"No, no, deary. They aren't so bad as they sound," Aunt Kate told her, +comfortably. "Lots of nice men work in the camps all their lives and +never fight. Look at your Uncle Henry." + +But Nan remembered the "mess of words" (as he called it) that Uncle +Henry had had with Gedney Raffer on the railroad station platform at the +Forks, and she was afraid that even her aunt did not look with the same +horror on a quarrel that Nan herself did. + +The girl from Tillbury had a chance to see just what a lumber camp was +like, and what the crew were like, on the fourth day after her arrival +at her Uncle Henry's house. The weather was then pronounced settled, and +word came for the two young men, Tom and Rafe, to report at Blackton's +camp the next morning, prepared to go to work. Tom drove a team which +was then at the lumber camp, being cared for by the cook and foreman; +Rafe was a chopper, for he had that sleight with an ax which, more than +mere muscle, makes the mighty woodsman. + +"Their dad'll drive 'em over to Blackton's early, and you can go, too," +said Aunt Kate. "That is, if you don't mind getting up right promptly in +the morning?" + +"Oh, I don't mind that," Nan declared. "I'm used to getting up early." + +But she thought differently when Uncle Henry's heavy hand rapped on the +door of the east chamber so early the next morning that it seemed to Nan +Sherwood that she had only been in bed long enough to close her eyes. + +"Goodness, Uncle!" she muttered, when she found out what it meant. "What +time is it?" + +"Three o'clock. Time enough for you to dress and eat a snack before we +start," replied her uncle. + +"Well!" said Nan to herself. "I thought the house was afire." + +Uncle Henry heard her through the door and whispered, shrilly: "Sh! +Don't let your aunt hear you say anything like that, child." + +"Like what?" queried Nan, in wonder. + +"About fire. Remember!" added Uncle Henry, rather sternly, Nan thought, +as he went back to the kitchen. + +Then Nan remembered what the strange little girl, Margaret Llewellen, +had said about the fire at Pale Lick that had burned her uncle's former +home. Nan had not felt like asking her uncle or aunt, or the boys, +either, about it. The latter had probably been too young to remember +much about the tragedy. + +Although Nan had seen Margaret on several fleeting occasions since her +first interview with the woods girl, there had been no opportunity of +talking privately with her. And Margaret would only come to the window. +She was afraid to tell "Marm Sherwood" how she had lost the new dress +that had been given to her. + +It was now as black outside Nan's window as it could be. She lit her oil +lamp and dressed swiftly, running at last through the cold parlor and +sitting room into the kitchen, where the fire in the range was burning +briskly and the coffee pot was on. Tom and Rafe were there comfortably +getting into thick woolen socks and big lumbermen's boots. + +There was a heaping pan of Aunt Kate's doughnuts on the table, flanked +with the thick china coffee cups and deep saucers. Her uncle and the +boys always poured their coffee into the saucers and blew on it to take +the first heat off, then gulped it in great draughts. + +Nan followed suit this morning, as far as cooling the coffee in the +saucer went. There was haste. Uncle Henry had been up some time, and now +he came stamping into the house, saying that the ponies were hitched +in and were standing in readiness upon the barn floor, attached to the +pung. + +"We've twenty-five miles to ride, you see, Nannie," he said. "The boys +have to be at Blackton's so's to get to work at seven." + +They filled the thermos bottle that had so puzzled Tom, and then sallied +forth. The ponies were just as eager as they had been the day Nan had +come over from the Forks. She was really half afraid of them. + +It was so dark that she could scarcely see the half-cleared road before +them as the ponies dashed away from Pine Camp. The sky was completely +overcast, but Uncle Henry declared it would break at sunrise. + +Where the track had been well packed by former sleighs, the ponies' +hoofs rang as though on iron. The bits of snow that were flung off by +their hoofs were like pieces of ice. The bells on the harness jingled a +very pretty tune, Nan thought. She did not mind the biting cold, indeed, +only her face was exposed. Uncle Henry had suggested a veil; but she +wanted to see what she could. + +For the first few miles it remained very dark, however. Had it not been +for the snow they could not have seen objects beside the road at all. +There was a lantern in the back of the pung and that flung a stream of +yellow light behind them; but Uncle Henry would not have the radiance of +it shot forward. + +"A light just blinds you," he said. "I'd rather trust to the roans' +sense." + +The ponies galloped for a long way, it seemed to Nan; then they came +to a hill so steep that they were glad to drop to a walk. Their bodies +steamed in a great cloud as they tugged the sleigh up the slope. Dark +woods shut the road in on either hand. Nan's eyes had got used to the +faint light so that she could see this at least. + +Suddenly she heard a mournful, long-drawn howl, seemingly at a great +distance. + +"Must be a farm somewhere near," she said to Rafe, who sat beside her on +the back seat. + +"Nope. No farms around here, Nan," he returned. + +"But I hear a dog howl," she told him. + +Rafe listened, too. Then he turned to her with a grin on his sharp face +that she did not see. "Oh, no, you don't," he chuckled. "That's no dog." + +Again the howl was repeated, and it sounded much nearer. Nan realized, +too, that it was a more savage sound than she had ever heard emitted by +a dog. + +"What is it?" she asked, speaking in a low voice to Rafe. + +"Wolves!" responded her cousin maliciously. "But you mustn't mind a +little thing like that. You don't have wolves down round where you live, +I s'pose?" + +Nan knew that he was attempting to plague her, so she said: "Not for +pets, at least, Rafe. These sound awfully savage." + +"They are," returned her cousin calmly. + +The wolf cry came nearer and nearer. The ponies had started on a trot +again at the top of the hill, and her uncle and Tom did not seem to +notice the ugly cry. Nan looked back, and was sure that some great +animal scrambled out of the woods and gave chase to them. + +"Isn't there some danger?" she asked Rafe again. + +"Not for us," he said. "Of course, if the whole pack gathers and catches +us, then we have to do something." + +"What do you do?" demanded Nan quickly. + +"Why, the last time we were chased by wolves, we happened to have a ham +and a side of bacon along. So we chucked out first the one, and then the +other, and so pacified the brutes till we got near town." + +"Oh!" cried Nan, half believing, half in doubt. + +She looked back again. There, into the flickering light of the lantern, +a gaunt, huge creature leaped. Nan could see his head and shoulders +now and then as he plunged on after the sleigh, and a wickeder looking +beast, she hoped never to see. + +"Oh!" she gasped again, and grabbed at Rafe's arm. + +"Don't you be afraid," drawled that young rascal. "I reckon he hasn't +many of his jolly companions with him. If he had, of course, we'd have +to throw you out to pacify him. That's the rule--youngest and prettiest +goes first-----" + +"Like the ham, I s'pose?" sniffed Nan, in some anger, and just then Tom +reached over the back of the front seat and seized his brother by the +shoulder with a grip that made Rafe shriek with pain. + +Nan was almost as startled as was Rafe. In the half-darkness Tom's dull +face blazed with anger, and he held his writhing brother as though he +were a child. + +"You ornery scamp!" he said, almost under his breath. "You try to scare +that little girl, and I'll break you in two!" + +Nan was horrified. She begged Tom to let his brother alone. "I was only +fooling her," snarled Rafe, rubbing his injured shoulder, for Tom had +the grip of a pipe wrench. + +Uncle Henry never turned around at all; but he said: "If I had a gun +I'd be tempted to shoot that old wolf hound of Toby Vanderwiller's. He's +always running after sleds and yelling his head off." + +Nan was glad the creature following them was not really a wolf; but she +knew she should be just as much afraid of him if she met him alone, as +though he really were a wolf. However, mostly, she was troubled by the +passionate nature of her two cousins. She had never seen Tom show any +anger before; but it was evident that he had plenty of spirit if it were +called up. And she was, secretly, proud that the slow-witted young giant +should have displayed his interest in her welfare so plainly. Rafe sat +and nursed his shoulder in silence for several miles. + +The cold was intense. As the sky lightened along the eastern horizon it +seemed to Nan as though the frost increased each moment. The bricks at +their feet were getting cool; and they had already had recourse to the +thermos bottle, which was now empty of the gratefully hot drink it had +contained. + +As the light gradually increased Nan saw Rafe watching her with sudden +attention. After his recent trick she was a little afraid of Rafe. Still +it did not seem possible that the reckless fellow would attempt any +second piece of fooling so soon after his brother's threat. + +But suddenly Rafe yelled to his father to pull down the roans, and as +the ponies stopped, he reached from the sled into a drift and secured a +big handful of snow. Seizing Nan quickly around the shoulders he began +to rub her cheek vigorously with the snow. Nan gasped and almost lost +her breath; but she realized immediately what Rafe was about. + +The frost had nipped her cheek, and her cousin had seen the white spot +appear. "The rubbing stung awfully, and the girl could not keep back the +tears; but she managed to repress the sobs. + +"There!" exclaimed Rafe. "You are a plucky girl. I'm sorry I got some of +that snow down your neck, Nan. Couldn't help it. But it's the only thing +to do when the thermometer is thirty-two degrees below zero. Why! A +fellow went outside with his ears uncovered at Droomacher's camp one +day last winter and after awhile he began to rub his ears and one of 'em +dropped off just like a cake of ice." + +"Stop your lying, boy!" commanded his father. "It isn't as bad as that, +Nan. But you want to watch out for frost bite here in the woods, just +the same as we had to watch out for the automobiles in crossing those +main streets in Chicago." + +With a red sun rising over the low ridge of wooded ground to the east, +the camp in the hollow was revealed, the smoke rising in a pillar of +blue from the sheet-iron chimney of the cookhouse; smoke rising, too, +from a dozen big horses being curried before the stables. + +Most of the men had arrived the night before. They were tumbling out +of the long, low bunkhouse now and making good use of the bright tin +washbasins on the long bench on the covered porch. Ice had been broken +to get the water that was poured into the basins, but the men laved +their faces and their hairy arms and chests in it as though it were +summer weather. + +They quickly ran in for their outer shirts and coats, however, and then +trooped in to the end of the cook shed where the meals were served. Tom +turned away to look over his horses and see that they were all ready for +the day's work. Rafe put up the roan ponies in a couple of empty stalls +and gave them a feed of oats. + +Uncle Henry took Nan by the hand, and, really she felt as though she +needed some support, she was so stiff from the cold, and led her into +the warm room where the men were gathering for the hearty meal the cook +and his helper had prepared. + +The men were boisterous in their greeting of Uncle Henry, until they saw +Nan. Than, some bashfully, some because of natural refinement, lowered +their voices and were more careful how they spoke before the girl. + +But she heard something that troubled her greatly. An old, grizzled man +in a corner of the fireplace where the brisk flames leaped high among +the logs, and who seemed to have already eaten his breakfast and was +busily stoning an axe blade, looked up as Nan and her uncle approached, +saying: + +"Seen Ged Raffer lately, Hen?" + +"I saw him at the Forks the other day, Toby," Mr. Sherwood replied. + +"Yaas. I heard about that," said the old man drawlingly. "But since +then?" + +"No." + +"Wal, he was tellin' me that he'd got you on the hip this time, Hen. If +you as much as put your hoof over on that track he's fighting you about, +he'll plop you in jail, that's what he'll do! He's got a warrant all +made out by Jedge Perkins. I seen it." + +Uncle Henry walked closer to the old man and looked down at him from +his great height. "Tobe," he said, "you know the rights of that business +well enough. You know whether I'm right in the contention, or whether +Ged's right. You know where the old line runs. Why don't you tell?" + +"Oh, mercy me!" croaked the old man, and in much haste. "I ain't goin' +to git into no land squabble, no, sir! You kin count me out right now!" +And he picked up his axe, restored the whetstone to its sheath on the +wall, and at once went out of the shack. + + + +Chapter XV. A CAT AND HER KITTENS + +That was a breakfast long to be remembered by Nan Sherwood, not +particularly because of its quality, but for the quantity served. She +had never seen men like these lumbermen eat before, save for the few +days she had been at Uncle Henry's house. + +Great platters of baked beans were placed on the table, flanked by the +lumps of pork that had seasoned them. Fried pork, too, was a "main-stay" +on the bill-of-fare. The deal table was graced by no cloth or napery of +any kind. There were heaps of potatoes and onions fried together, and +golden cornbread with bowls of white gravy to ladle over it. + +After riding twenty-five miles through such a frosty air, Nan would have +had to possess a delicate appetite indeed not to enjoy these viands. She +felt bashful because of the presence of so many rough men; but they left +her alone for the most part, and she could listen and watch. + +"Old Toby Vanderwiller tell you what Ged's been blowin' about, Henry?" +asked one of the men at the table, busy ladling beans into his mouth +with a knife, a feat that Nan thought must be rather precarious, to say +the least. + +"Says he's going to jail me if I go on to the Perkins Tract," growled +Uncle Henry, with whom the matter was doubtless a sore subject. + +"Yaas. But he says more'n that," said this tale bearer. + +"Oh, Ged says a whole lot besides his prayers," responded Uncle Henry, +good-naturedly. Perhaps he saw they were trying to bait him. + +"Wal, 'tain't nothin' prayerful he's sayin'," drawled the first speaker, +after a gulp of coffee from his thick china cup. "Some of the boys at +Beckett's, you know, they're a tough crowd, was riggin' him about what +you said to him down to the Forks, and Ged spit out that he'd give a +lump of money to see you on your back." + +"Huh!" grunted Uncle Henry. + +"And some of 'em took him up, got the old man right down to cases." + +"That so?" asked Mr. Sherwood curiously. "What's Ged going to do? +Challenge me to a game of cat's cradle? Or does he want to settle the +business at draughts, three best out o' five?" + +"Now you know dern well, Hen," said the other, as some of the listeners +laughed loudly at Mr. Sherwood's sally, "that old Ged Raffer will never +lock horns with you 'ceptin' it's in court, where he'll have the full +pertection of the law, and a grain the best of it into the bargain." + +"Well, I s'pose that's so," admitted Nan's uncle, rather gloomily, she +thought. + +"So, if Beckett's crowd are int'rested in bumping you a whole lot, you +may be sure Ged's promised 'em real money for it." + +"Pshaw!" exclaimed Uncle Henry. "You're fooling now. He hasn't hired any +half-baked chip-eaters and Canucks to try and beat me up?" + +"I ain't foolin'." + +"Pshaw!" + +"You kin 'pshaw' till the cows come home," cried the other heatedly. "I +got it straight." + +"Who from?" + +"Sim Barkis, him what's cookin' for Beckett's crew." + +"Good man, Sim. Never caught him in a lie yet. You are beginning to +sound reasonable, Josh," and Mr. Sherwood put down his knife and fork +and looked shrewdly at his informant. "Now tell me," he said, "how much +is Sim going to get for helping to pay Ged Raffer's debts?" + +"Har!" ejaculated the other man. "You know Sim ain't that kind." + +"All right, then. How much does he say the gang's going to split between +'em after they've done me up brown according to contract?" scoffed Uncle +Henry, and Nan realized that her giant relative had not the least fear +of not being able to meet any number of enemies in the open. + +"Sim come away before they got that far. Of course Ged didn't say right +out in open meetin' that he'd give so many dollars for your scalp. But +he got 'em all int'rested, and it wouldn't surprise him, so Sim said, if +on the quiet some of those plug-uglies had agreed to do the job." + +Nan shuddered, and had long since stopped eating. But nobody paid any +attention to her at the moment. + +Uncle Henry drawled: "They're going to do the hardest day's job for the +smallest pay that they ever did on this Michigan Peninsula. I'm much +obliged to you, Josh, for telling me. I never go after trouble, as you +fellows all know; but I sha'n't try to dodge it, either." + +He picked up his knife and fork and went quietly on with his breakfast. +But Nan could not eat any more at all. + +It seemed to the gently nurtured girl from Tillbury as though she had +fallen in with people from another globe. Even the mill-hands, whom Bess +Harley so scorned, were not like these great, rough fellows whose minds +seemed continually to be fixed upon battle. At least, she had never seen +or heard such talk as had just now come to her ears. + +The men began, one by one, to push back the benches and go out. There +was a great bustle of getting under way as the teams started for the +woods, and the choppers, too, went away. Tom hurried to start his big +pair of dapple grays, and Nan was glad to bundle up again and run out to +watch the exodus. + +They were a mighty crew. As Uncle Henry had said, the Big Woods did not +breed runts. + +Remembering the stunted, quick-moving, chattering French Canadians, and +the scattering of American-born employees among them, who worked in the +Tillbury mills, Nan was the more amazed by the average size of +these workmen. The woodsmen were a race of giants beside the +narrow-shouldered, flat-chested pygmies who toiled in the mills. + +Tom strode by with his timber sled. Rafe leaped on to ride and Tom +playfully snapped his whiplash at him. Nan was glad to see that the +two brothers smiled again at each other. Their recent tiff seemed to be +forgotten. + +Some of the choppers had already gone on ahead to the part of the tract +where the marked trees were being felled. Now the pluck, pluck, pluck of +the axe blows laid against the forest monarchs, reached the girl's ears. +She thought the flat stuttering sound of the axes said "pluck" very +plainly, and that that was just the word they should say. + +"For it does take lots of pluck to do work of this kind," Nan +confided to her uncle, who walked up and down on the porch smoking an +after-breakfast pipe. + +"Yes. No softies allowed on the job," said he, cheerfully. "Some of the +boys may be rough and hard nuts to crack; but it is necessary to have +just such boys or we couldn't get out the timber." + +"But they want to fight so much!" gasped Nan. + +"Sho!" said her uncle, slowly. "It's mostly talk. They feel the itch +for hard work and hard play, that's all. You take lively, full-muscled +animals, and they are always bucking and quarreling--trying to see which +one is the best. Take two young, fat steers they'll lock horns at the +drop of a hat. It's animal spirits, Nan. They feel that they've got +to let off steam. Where muscle and pluck count for what they do in the +lumber camps, there's bound to be more or less ructions." + +Perhaps this might be; but Nan was dreadfully sorry, nevertheless, that +Uncle Henry had this trouble with Mr. Gedney Raffer. The girl feared +that there had been something besides "letting off steam" in the +challenge her uncle had thrown down to his enemy, or to the men that +enemy could hire to attack him. + +The timber sledges soon began to drift back, for some of the logs had +been cut before the big storm, and had only to be broken out of the +drifts and rolled upon the sleds with the aid of the men's canthooks. It +was a mystery at first to Nan how they could get three huge logs, some +of them three feet in diameter at the butt, on to the sled; two at the +bottom and one rolled upon them, all being fastened securely with the +timber-chain and hook. + +How the horses strained in their collars to start the mighty load! But +once started, the runners slipped along easily enough, even through the +deep snow, packing the compressible stuff in one passage as hard as ice. +Nan followed in this narrow track to the very bank of the river where +the logs were heaped in long windrows, ready to be launched into the +stream when the waters should rise at the time of the spring freshet. + +Tom managed his team alone, and unloaded alone, too. It was marvelous +(so Nan thought) that her cousin could start the top log with the great +canthook, and guide it as it rolled off the sled so that it should lie +true with timbers that had been piled before. The strain of his work +made him perspire as though it were midsummer. He thrust the calks on +his bootsoles into the log and the shreds of bark and small chips flew +as he stamped to get a secure footing for his work. Then he heaved +like a giant, his shoulders humping under the blue jersey he wore, and +finally the log turned. Once started, it was soon rolled into place. + +Nan ran into the cook shed often to get warm. Her uncle was busy with +the boss of the camp, so she had nobody but the cook and his helper to +speak to for a time. Therefore it was loneliness that made her start +over the half-beaten trail for the spot where the men were at work, +without saying a word to anybody. + +None of the teams had come by for some time; but she could hear faintly +the sound of the axes and the calling of the workmen to each other and +their sharp commands to the horses. + +She went away from the camp a few hundred yards and then found that the +trail forked. One path went down a little hill, and as that seemed easy +to descend, Nan followed it into a little hollow. It seemed only one +sled had come this way and none of the men were here. The voices and +axes sounded from higher up the ridge. + +Suddenly she heard something entirely different from the noise of the +woodsmen. It was the snarling voice of a huge cat and almost instantly +Nan sighted the creature which stood upon a snow-covered rock beside the +path. It had tasseled ears, a wide, wicked "smile," bristling whiskers, +and fangs that really made Nan tremble, although she was some yards from +the bobcat. + +As she believed, from what her cousins had told her, bobcats are not +usually dangerous. They never seek trouble with man, save under certain +conditions; and that is when a mother cat has kittens to defend. + +This was a big female cat, and, although the season was early, she had +littered and her kittens, three of them, were bedded in a heap of leaves +blown by the wind into a hollow tree trunk. + +The timberman driving through the hollow had not seen the bobcat and her +three blind babies; but he had roused the mother cat and she was now all +ready to spring at intruders. + +That Nan was not the person guilty of disturbing her repose made no +difference to the big cat. She saw the girl standing, affrighted and +trembling, in the path and with a ferocious yowl and leap she crossed +the intervening space and landed in the snow within almost arm's reach +of the fear-paralyzed girl. + + + +Chapter XVI. "INJUN PETE" + +Nan Sherwood could not cry out, though she tried. She opened her lips +only to find her throat so constricted by fear that she could not utter +a sound. Perhaps her sudden and utter paralysis was of benefit at +the moment, after all; for she could not possibly have escaped the +infuriated lynx by running. + +The creature's own movements were hampered by the deep drift in which +she had landed. The soft snow impeded the cat and, snarling still, she +whirled around and around like a pinwheel to beat a firmer foundation +from which to make her final spring at her victim. + +Nan, crouching, put her mittened hands before her face. She saw no +chance for escape and could not bear to see the vicious beast leap at +her again. "Momsey! Papa Sherwood!" she thought, rather than breathed +aloud. + +Then, down the hill toward her, plunged a swift body. She rather felt +the new presence than saw it. The cat yowled again, and spit. There was +the impact of a clubbed gun upon the creature's head. + +"Sacre bleu! Take zat! And zat!" cried a sharp voice, between the blows +that fell so swiftly. The animal's cries changed instantly from rage to +pain. Nan opened her eyes in time to see the maddened cat flee swiftly. +She bounded to the big tree and scrambled up the trunk and out upon the +first limb. There she crouched, over the place where her kittens were +hidden, yowling and licking her wounds. There was blood upon her head +and she licked again and again a broken forefoot between her yowls of +rage and pain. + +But Nan was more interested just then in the person who had flown to +her rescue so opportunely. He was not one of the men from the camp, or +anybody whom she had ever seen before. + +He was not a big man, but was evidently very strong and active. His +dress was of the most nondescript character, consisting mainly of a +tattered fur cap, with a woolen muffler tied over his ears; a patched +and parti-colored coat belted at the waist with a frayed rope. His legs +disappeared into the wide tops of a pair of boots evidently too big for +him, with the feet bundled in bagging so that he could walk on top of +the snow, this in lieu of regular snowshoes. + +His back was toward Nan and he did not turn to face her as he said: + +"Be not afeared, leetle Man'zelle. Le bad chat is gone. We shall now do +famous-lee, eh? No be afeared more." + +"No, no, sir," gasped Nan, trying to be brave. "Won't, won't it come +back?" + +"Nev-air!" cried the man, with a flourish of the gun which was a +rusty-barreled old weapon, perhaps more dangerous at the butt end than +at its muzzle. "Ze chat only fear for her babies. She have zem in dat +tree. We will go past leeving zem streectly alone, eh?" + +"No!" cried Nan hastily. "I'm going back to the camp. I didn't know +there were such dangerous things as that in these woods." + +"Ah! You are de strange leetle Mam'zelle den?" responded the man. "You +do not know ze Beeg Woods?" + +"I guess I don't know anything about this wilderness," confessed Nan. +"My uncle brought me to the camp up yonder this morning, and I hope +he'll go right home again. It's awful!" + +"Eet seem terrifying to ze leetle Mam'zelle because she is unused--eh? +Me! I be terrified at ze beeg city where she come from, p'r'aps. Zey +tell Pete 'bout waggings run wizout horses, like stea'mill. Ugh! No +wanter see dem. Debbil in 'em," and he laughed, not unpleasantly, making +a small joke of the suggestion. + +Indeed his voice, now that the sharpness of excitement had gone out of +it, was a very pleasant voice. The broken words he used assured Nan that +his mother tongue must be French. He was probably one of the "Canucks" +she had heard her cousins speak of. French Canadians were not at all +strange to Nan Sherwood, for in Tillbury many of the mill hands were of +that race. + +But she thought it odd that this man kept his face studiously turned +from her. Was he watching the bobcat all the time? Was the danger much +more serious than he would own? + +"Why don't you look at me?" cried the girl, at length. "I'm awfully much +obliged to you for coming to help me as you did. And my uncle will want +to thank you I am sure. Won't you tell me your name?" + +The man was silent for a moment. Then, when he spoke, his voice was +lower and there was an indescribably sad note in it. + +"Call me 'Injun Pete', zat me. Everybody in de beeg Woods know Injun +Pete. No odder name now. Once ze good Brodders at Aramac goin' make +scholar of Pete, make heem priest, too, p'r'aps. He go teach among +he's mudder's people. Mudder Micmac, fadder wild Frinchman come to dees +lakeshore. But nev-air can Pete be Teacher, be priest. Non, non! Jes' +Injun Pete." + +Nan suddenly remembered what little Margaret Llewellen had said about +the fire at Pale Lick, and "Injun Pete." The fact that this man kept +his face turned from her all this time aroused her suspicion. She was +deeply, deeply grateful to him for what he had just done for her, and, +naturally, she enlarged in her mind the peril in which she had been +placed. + +Margaret had suggested this unfortunate half-breed was "not right in his +head" because of the fire which had disfigured him. But he spoke very +sensibly now, it seemed to Nan; very pitifully, too, about his blasted +hopes of a clerical career. She said, quietly: + +"I expect you know my uncle and his family, Pete. He is Mr. Sherwood of +Pine Camp." + +"Ah! Mis-tair Hen Sherwood! I know heem well," admitted the man. "He +nice-a man ver' kind to Injun Pete." + +"I'd like to have you look at me, please," said Nan, still softly. "You +see, I want to know you again if we meet. I am very grateful." + +Pete waved her thanks aside with a royal gesture. "Me! I be glad to be +of use, oh, oui! Leetle Man'zelle mus' not make mooch of nottin', eh?" + +He laughed again, but he did not turn to look at her. Nan reached out a +tentative hand and touched his sleeve. "Please, Mr. Pete," she said. "I, +I want to see you. I, I have heard something about your having been hurt +in a fire. I am sure you must think yourself a more hateful sight than +you really are." + +A sob seemed to rise in the man's throat, and his shoulders shook. He +turned slowly and looked at her for a moment over his shoulder. Then he +went swiftly away across the snow (for the bobcat had disappeared into +her lair) and Nan stumbled back up the trail toward the camp, the tears +blinding her own eyes. + +The disfigured face of the half-breed HAD been a shock to her. She could +never speak of it afterward. Indeed, she could not tell Uncle Henry +about her meeting with the lynx, and her rescue--she shrank so from +recalling Injun Pete's disfigured face. + + + +Chapter XVII. SPRING IN THE BIG WOODS + +That visit to the lumber camp was memorable for Nan Sherwood in more +ways than one. Her adventure with the lynx she kept secret from her +relatives, because of the reason given in the previous chapter. But +there was another incident that marked the occasion to the girl's mind, +and that was the threat of Gedney Raffer, reported to her Uncle Henry. + +Nan thought that such a bad man as Raffer appeared to be would +undoubtedly carry out his threat. He had offered money to have Mr. +Sherwood beaten up, and the ruffians he had bribed would doubtless be +only too eager to earn the reward. + +To tell the truth, for weeks thereafter, Nan never saw a rough-looking +man approach the house on the outskirts of Pine Camp, without fearing +that here was coming a ruffian bent on her uncle's injury. + +That Uncle Henry seemed quite to have forgotten the threat only made Nan +more keenly alive to his danger. She dared not discuss the matter +with Aunt Kate, for Nan feared to worry that good woman unnecessarily. +Besides, having been used to hiding from her own mother all unpleasant +things, the girl naturally displayed the same thoughtfulness for Aunt +Kate. + +For, despite Mrs. Henry Sherwood's bruskness and masculine appearance, +Nan learned that there were certain matters over which her aunt showed +extreme nervousness. + +For instance, she was very careful of the lamps used in the house--she +insisted upon cleaning and caring for them herself; she would not allow +a candle to be used, because it might be overturned; and she saw to it +herself that every fire, even the one in Nan's bedroom, was properly +banked before the family retired at night. + +Nan had always in mind what Uncle Henry said about mentioning fire +to Aunt Kate; so the curious young girl kept her lips closed upon the +subject. But she certainly was desirous of knowing about that fire, so +long ago, at Pale Lick, how it came about; if Aunt Kate had really got +her great scar there; and if it was really true that two members of her +uncle's family had met their death in the conflagration. + +She tried not to think at all of Injun Pete. That was too terrible! + +With all her heart, Nan wished she might do something that would really +help Uncle Henry solve his problem regarding the timber rights on the +Perkins Tract. The very judge who had granted the injunction forbidding +Mr. Sherwood to cut timber on the tract was related to the present +owners of the piece of timberland; and the tract had been the basis of a +feud in the Perkins family for two generations. + +Many people were more or less interested in the case and they came to +the Sherwood home and talked excitedly about it in the big kitchen. Some +advised an utter disregard of the law. Others were evidently minded +to increase the trouble between Raffer and Uncle Henry by malicious +tale-bearing. + +Often Nan thought of what Uncle Henry had said to old Toby Vanderwiller. +She learned that Toby was one of the oldest settlers in this part of the +Michigan Peninsula, and in his youth had been a timber runner, that is, +a man who by following the surveyors' lines on a piece of timber, and +weaving back and forth across it, can judge its market value so nearly +right that his employer, the prospective timber merchant, is able to bid +intelligently for the so-called "stumpage" on the tract. + +Toby was still a vigorous man save when that bane of the woodsman, +rheumatism, laid him by the heels. He had a bit of a farm in the +tamarack swamp. Once, being laid up by his arch enemy, with his joints +stiffened and muscles throbbing with pain, Toby had seen the gaunt +wolf of starvation, more terrible than any timber wolf, waiting at his +doorstone. His old wife and a crippled grandson were dependent on Toby, +too. + +Thus in desperate straits Toby Vanderwiller had accepted help from +Gedney Raffer. It was a pitifully small sum Raffer would advance upon +the little farm; but it was sufficient to put Toby in the usurer's +power. This was the story Nan learned regarding Toby. And Uncle Henry +believed that Toby, with his old-time knowledge of land-boundaries, +could tell, if he would, which was right in the present contention +between Mr. Sherwood and Gedney Raffer. + +These, and many other subjects of thought, kept the mind of Nan Sherwood +occupied during the first few weeks of her sojourn at Pine Camp. She +had, too, to keep up her diary that she had begun for Bess Harley's +particular benefit. Every week she sent off to Tillbury a bulky section +of this report of her life in the Big woods. It was quite wonderful how +much there proved to be to write about. Bess wrote back, enviously, that +never did anything interesting, by any possibility, happen, now that +Nan was away from Tillbury. The town was "as dull as ditch water." She, +Bess, lived only in hopes of meeting her chum at Lakeview Hall the next +September. + +This hope Nan shared. But it all lay with the result of Momsey's and +Papa Sherwood's visit to Scotland and Emberon Castle. And, Nan thought, +it seemed as though her parents never would even reach that far distant +goal. + +They had taken a slow ship for Momsey's benefit and the expected +re-telegraphed cablegram was looked for at the Forks for a week before +it possibly could come. + +It was a gala day marked on Nan's calendar when Uncle Henry, coming home +from the railroad station behind the roan ponies, called to her to +come out and get the message. Momsey and Papa Sherwood had sent it from +Glasgow, and were on their way to Edinburgh before Nan received the +word. Momsey had been very ill a part of the way across the ocean, but +went ashore in improved health. + +Nan was indeed happy at this juncture. Her parents were safely over +their voyage on the wintry ocean, so a part of her worry of mind was +lifted. + +Meanwhile spring was stealing upon Pine Camp without Nan's being really +aware of the fact. Uncle Henry had said, back in Chicago, that "the back +of winter was broken"; but the extreme cold weather and the deep snow +she had found in the Big Woods made Nan forget that March was passing +and timid April was treading on his heels. + +A rain lasting two days and a night washed the roads of snow and turned +the fast disappearing drifts to a dirty yellow hue. In sheltered fence +corners and nooks in the wood, the grass lifted new, green blades, and +queer little Margaret Llewellen showed Nan where the first anemones and +violets hid under last year's drifted leaves. + +The river ice went out with a rush after it had rained a few hours; +after that the "drives" of logs were soon started. Nan went down to the +long, high bridge which spanned the river and watched the flood carry +the logs through. + +At first they came scatteringly, riding the foaming waves end-on, and +sometimes colliding with the stone piers of the bridge with sufficient +force to split the unhewn timbers from end to end, some being laid open +as neatly as though done with axe and wedge. + +When the main body of the drive arrived, however, the logs were like +herded cattle, milling in the eddies, stampeded by a cross-current, +bunching under the bridge arches like frightened steers in a chute. And +the drivers herded the logs with all the skill of cowboys on the range. + +Each drive was attended by its own crew, who guarded the logs on either +bank, launching those that shoaled on the numerous sandbars or in the +shallows, keeping them from piling up in coves and in the mouths of +estuaries, or creeks, some going ahead at the bends to fend off and +break up any formation of the drifting timbers that promised to become a +jam. + +Behind the drive floated the square bowed and square sterned chuck-boat, +which carried cook and provisions for the men. A "boom", logs chained +together, end to end, was thrown out from one shore of the wide stream +at night, and anchored at its outer end. Behind this the logs were +gathered in an orderly, compact mass and the men could generally get +their sleep, save for the watchman; unless there came a sudden rise of +water in the night. + +It was a sight long to be remembered, Nan thought, when the boom was +broken in the morning. Sometimes an increasing current piled the logs up +a good bit. It was a fear-compelling view the girl had of the river +on one day when she went with Uncle Henry to see the first drive from +Blackton's camp. Tom was coming home with his team and was not engaged +in the drive. But reckless Rafe was considered, for his age, a very +smart hand on a log drive. + +The river had risen two feet at the Pine Camp bridge overnight. It was a +boiling brown flood, covered with drifting foam and debris. The roar +of the freshet awoke Nan in her bed before daybreak. So she was +not surprised to see the river in such a turmoil when, after a hasty +breakfast, she and Uncle Henry walked beside the flood. + +"They started their drive last night," Uncle Henry said, "and boomed her +just below the campsite. We'll go up to Dead Man's Bend and watch her +come down. There is no other drive betwixt us and Blackton's." + +"Why is it called by such a horrid name, Uncle?" asked Nan. + +"What, honey?" he responded. + +"That bend in the river." + +"Why, I don't know rightly, honey-bird. She's just called that. Many a +man's lost his life there since I came into this part of the country, +that's a fact. It's a dangerous place," and Nan knew by the look on her +uncle's face that he was worried. + + + +Chapter XVIII. AT DEAD MAN'S BEND + +Nan and her uncle came out on the bluff that overlooked the sharp bend +which hid the upper reaches of the river from Pine Camp. Across the +stream, almost from bank to bank, a string of gravel flats made a +barrier that all the rivermen feared. + +Blackton was no careless manager, and he had a good foreman in Tim +Turner. The big boss had ridden down to the bend in a mud-splashed +buggy, and was even prepared to take a personal hand in the work, if +need be. The foreman was coming down the river bank on the Pine +Camp side of the stream, watching the leading logs of the drive, and +directing the foreguard. Among the latter Nan spied Rafe. + +"There he is, Uncle!" she cried. "Oh! He's jumped out on that log, see?" + +"He's all right, girl, he's all right," said Uncle Henry comfortingly. +"Rafe's got good calks on his boots." + +The boy sprang from log to log, the calks making the chips fly, and with +a canthook pushed off a log that had caught and swung upon a small bank. +He did it very cleverly, and was back again, across the bucking logs, in +half a minute. + +Below, the foreman himself was making for a grounded log, one of the +first of the drive. It had caught upon some snag, and was swinging +broadside out, into the stream. Let two or three more timbers catch with +it and there would be the nucleus of a jam that might result in much +trouble for everybody. + +Tim Turner leaped spaces of eight and ten feet between the logs, landing +secure and safe upon the stranded log at last. With the heavy canthook +he tried to start it. + +"That's a good man, Tim Turner," said Mr. Sherwood, heartily. "He's +worked for me, isn't afraid of anything, Ha! But that's wrong!" he +suddenly exclaimed. + +Turner had failed to start the stranded log. Other logs were hurtling +down the foam-streaked river, aimed directly for the stranded one. They +would begin to pile up in a heap in a minute. The foreman leaped to +another log, turning as he did so to face the shore. That was when Uncle +Henry declared him wrong. + +Turner was swinging his free arm, and above the roar of the river +and the thunder of the grinding and smashing logs they could hear him +shouting for somebody to bring him an axe. One of his men leaped to +obey. Nan and Mr. Sherwood did not notice just then who this second man +was who put himself in jeopardy, for both had their gaze on the foreman +and that which menaced him. + +Shooting across on a slant was a huge log, all of three feet through at +the butt, and it was aimed for the timber on which Turner stood. He did +not see it. Smaller logs were already piling against the timber he had +left, and had he leaped back to the stranded one he would have been +comparatively safe. + +Mr. Sherwood was quick to act in such an emergency as this; but he was +too far from the spot to give practical aid in saving Turner from the +result of his own heedlessness. He made a horn of his two hands and +shouted to the foreguard at the foot of the bluff: + +"He's going into the water! Launch Fred Durgin's boat below the bend! +Get her! Quick, there!" + +Old riverman that he was, Uncle Henry was pretty sure of what was about +to happen. The huge log came tearing on, butt first, a wave of troubled +water split by its on-rush. Turner was watching the person bringing him +the axe, and never once threw a glance over his shoulder. + +Suddenly Nan cried out and seized Uncle Henry's arm. "Look! Oh, Uncle! +It's Rafe!" she gasped, pointing. + +"Aye, I know it," said her uncle, wonderfully cool, Nan thought, and +casting a single glance at the figure flying over the bucking logs +toward the endangered foreman. "He'll do what he can." + +Nan could not take her eyes from her cousin after that. It seemed to +be a race between Rafe and the charging log, to see which should first +reach the foreman. Rafe, reckless and harebrained as he was, flew over +the logs as sure-footed as a goat. Nan felt faint. Her cousin's peril +seemed far greater to her than that of the foreman. + +A step might plunge Rafe into the foaming stream! When a log rolled +under him she cried out under her breath and clamped her teeth down on +to her lower lip until the blood almost came. + +"He'll be killed! He'll be killed!" she kept repeating in her own mind. +But Uncle Henry stood like a rock and seemingly gave no more attention +to his son than he did to Turner, or to the men running down the bank to +seize upon and launch the heavy boat. + +Rafe was suddenly balked and had to stop. Too great a stretch of water +separated him from the next floating log. Turner beckoned him on. It was +difficult to make the foreman hear above the noise of the water and the +continual grinding of the logs, but Rafe yelled some warning and pointed +toward the timber now almost upon Turner's foothold. + +The man shot a glance behind him. The butt of the driving log rose +suddenly into the air as though it would crush him. + +Turner leaped to the far end of the log on which he stood. But too +great a distance separated him from the log on which Rafe had secured a +foothold. + +Crash! + +Nan heard, on top of the bluff, the impact of the great timber as it was +flung by the current across the smaller log. Turner shot into the air +as though he were flung from a catapult. But he was not flung in Rafe's +direction, and the boy could not help him. + +He plunged into the racing stream and disappeared. The huge timber rode +over the smaller log and buried it from sight. But its tail swung around +and the great log was headed straight down the river again. + +As its smaller end swung near, Rafe leaped for it and secured a footing +on the rolling, plunging log. How he kept his feet under him Nan could +not imagine. A bareback rider in a circus never had such work as this. +Rafe rode his wooden horse in masterly style. + +There, ahead of him in the boiling flood, an arm and head appeared. +Turner came to the surface with his senses unimpaired and he strove to +clutch the nearest log. But the stick slipped away from him. + +Rafe ran forward on the plunging timber he now rode the huge stick that +had made all the trouble, and tried to reach the man in the water. No +use! + +Of course, there was no way for Rafe to guide his log toward the +drowning man. Nor did he have anything to reach out for Turner to grasp. +The axe handle was not long enough, and the foreman's canthook had +disappeared. + +Below, the men were struggling to get the big boat out from under the +bank into the stream. Two of them stood up with their canthooks to fend +off the drifting logs; the others plied the heavy oars. + +But the boat was too far from the man in the river. He was menaced on +all sides by plunging logs. He barely escaped one to be grazed on the +shoulder by another. A third pressed him under the surface again; but +as he went down this second time, Rafe Sherwood threw away his axe and +leaped into the flood! + + + +Chapter XIX. OLD TOBY VANDERWILLER + +Nan was sure her Cousin Rafe would be drowned, as well as his foreman. +She covered her eyes for a moment, and could not look. + +Then a great cheer arose from the men in the boat and those still +remaining on the bank of the river. Her uncle, beside her, muttered: + +"Plucky boy! Plucky boy!" + +Her eyes flew open and she looked again. In the midst of the scattering +foam she saw a small log over which her cousin had flung his left arm; +his other arm was around the foreman, and Rafe was bearing his head +above water. Turner had been struck and rendered senseless by the blow. + +The small log slipped through a race between two shallows, ahead of the +greater timber. The latter indeed grounded for a moment and that gave +the victim of the accident and his rescuer a chance for life. + +They shot ahead with the log to which Rafe clung. The men in the boat +shouted encouragement, and rowed harder. In a minute the boat came +alongside the log and two of the rivermen grabbed the boy and the +unconscious foreman. They had them safely in the boat, and the boat was +at the shore again in three minutes. + +By that time the big boss himself, Mr. Blackton, was tearing out over +the logs from the other shore, axe in hand, to cut the key log of the +jam, the formation of which Turner had tried to prevent. A hundred logs +had piled up against the stoppage by this time and there promised to be +a bad time at the bend if every one did not work quickly. + +Before Nan and her uncle could reach the foot of the bluff, Turner had +regained consciousness and was sitting on a stranded log, holding his +head. Rafe, just as he had come out of the river, was out on the logs +again lending a hand at the work so necessary to the success of the +drive. + +"Oh, dear me!" cried Nan, referring to her cousin, "he ought to go home +and change his clothes. He'll get his death of cold." + +"He'll work hard enough for the next hour to overcome the shock of the +cold water. It's lucky if he isn't in again before they get that trouble +over," responded Uncle Henry. Then he added, proudly: "That's the kind +of boys we raise in the Big Woods, Nannie. Maybe they are rough-spoken +and aren't really parlor-broke, but you can depend on 'em to do +something when there's anything to do!" + +"Oh, Uncle!" cried the girl. "I think Rafe is just the bravest boy I +ever saw. But I should think Aunt Kate would be scared every hour he is +away from home, he is so reckless." + +She was very proud herself of Rafe and wrote Bess a lot about him. Slow +Tom did not figure much in Nan Sherwood's letters, or in her thoughts, +about this time. Thoughts and letters were filled with handsome Rafe. + +It was while the Blackton drive was near Pine Camp that Nan became +personally acquainted with old Toby Vanderwiller. It was after dinner +that day that she met Margaret and Bob Llewellen and the three went down +to the river bank, below the bridge, to watch the last of the Blackton +drive. + +The chuck-boat had pushed off into the rough current and was bobbing +about in the wake of the logs; but all the men had not departed. + +"That's old Toby," said Bob, a black-haired boy, full of mischief. "He +don't see us. Le's creep up and scare him." + +"No," said Nan, decidedly; "don't you dare!" + +"Aw, shucks! Girls ain't no fun," the boy growled. "Mag's bad enough, +but you air wuss'n she, Nan Sherwood. What's old Toby to you? He's allus +as cross as two sticks, anyway." + +"We won't make him any crosser," said Nan, laughing. "What's the good?" + +Nan saw that the old man had his coat off, and had slipped down the +right sleeve of his woolen shirt to bare his shoulder and upper right +arm. He was clumsily trying to bandage the arm. + +"He's got hurt," Nan cried to Margaret. "I wonder how?" + +"Dunno," returned the smaller girl, carelessly. Although she was +not mischievous like her brother, Margaret seldom showed traits of +tenderness or affection. Nan was in some doubt as to whether the strange +girl liked her. Margaret often patted Nan's cheeks and admired her +smooth skin; but she never expressed any real affection. She was +positively the oddest little piece of humanity Nan had ever met. + +Once Nan asked her if she had a doll. "Doll?" snarled Margaret with +surprising energy. "A'nt Matildy give me one once't an' I throwed it as +far as I could inter the river, so I did! Nasty thing! Its face was all +painted and rough." + +Nan could only gasp. Drown a doll-baby! Big girl as she considered +herself, she had a very tender spot in her heart for doll-babies. + +Margaret Llewellen only liked people with fair faces and smooth +complexions; she could not possibly be interested in old Toby +Vanderwiller, who seemed always to need a shave, and whose face, like +that of Margaret's grandfather, was "wizzled." + +Nan ran down to him and asked: "Can't I help you, Mr. Vanderwiller? Did +you get badly hurt?" + +"Hullo!" grunted Toby. "Ain't you Hen Sherwood's gal?" + +"I'm his niece," she told him. "Can I help?" + +"Well, I dunno. I got a wallop from one o' them logs when we was +breakin' that jam, and it's scraped the skin off me arm----" + +"Let me see," cried Nan, earnestly. "Oh! Mr. Vanderwiller! That must be +painful. Haven't you anything to put on it?" + +"Nothin' but this rag," grunted Toby, drily. "An' ye needn't call me +'Mister,' Sissy. I ain't useter bein' addressed that way." + +Nan laughed; but she quickly washed the scraped patch on the old man's +arm with clean water and then bound her own handkerchief over the +abrasion under the rather doubtful rag that Toby himself supplied. + +"You're sure handy, Sissy," he said, rising and allowing her to help him +into the shirt again and on with his coat. "Now I'll hafter toddle along +or Tim will give me a call-down. Much obleeged. If ye get inter the +tam'rack swamp, come dry-foot weather, stop and see me an' my old +woman." + +"Oh! I'd love to, Mr. Vanderwiller," Nan cried. "The swamp must be full +of just lovely flowers now." + +The old man's face wrinkled into a smile, the first she had seen upon +it. Really! He was not a bad looking man, after all. + +"You fond of posies, sissy?" he asked. + +"Indeed I am!" she cried. + +"There's a-plenty in the swamp," he told her. "And no end of ferns and +sich. You come see us and my old woman'll show ye. She's a master hand +at huntin' up all kind o' weeds I tell her." + +"I'll surely come, when the weather gets warmer," Nan called after Toby +as the old man dogtrotted down the bank of the river. But he did not +answer and was quickly out of sight. + + + +Chapter XX. NAN'S SECRET + +But Margaret Llewellen declared she would not go with her! + +"It's nasty in the Tam'rack swamp; and there's frogs and, and snakes. +Ketch me! And as fur goin' ter see Tobe and his old woman, huh! They're +both as ugly as sin." + +"Why, Margaret!" exclaimed Nan, in horror. "How you talk!" + +"Wal, it's so. I don't like old, wizzled-up folks, I don't, now I tell +ye!" + +"That sounds awfully cruel," said Nan, soberly. + +"Huh!" snorted Margaret, no other word would just express her manner of +showing disgust. "There ain't no reason why I should go 'round makin' +believe likin' them as I don't like. Dad useter take the hide off'n me +and Bob for lyin'; an' then he'd stand an' palaver folks that he jest +couldn't scurce abide, fur I heard him say so. That's lyin', too ain't +it?" + +"I, I don't believe it is right to criticize our parents," returned Nan, +dodging the sharp girl's question. + +"Mebbe yourn don't need criticizin'," responded Margaret, bluntly. "My +dad ain't no angel, you kin bet." + +And it was a fact that the Llewellen family was a peculiar one, from +"Gran'ther" down to Baby Bill, whom Margaret did not mind taking care +of when he was not "all broke out with the rash on his face." The girl's +dislike for any countenance that was not of the smoothest, or skin of +the softest texture, seemed strange indeed. + +Margaret's mother was dead. She had five brothers and sisters of +assorted ages, up to 'Lonzo, who was sixteen and worked in the woods +like Nan's cousins. + +Aunt Matilda kept house for the motherless brood, and for Gran'ther and +Mr. Fen Llewellen. They lived in a most haphazard fashion, for, although +they were not really poor, the children never seemed to have any decent +clothing to wear; and if, by chance, they got a new garment, something +always happened to it as, for instance, the taking of Margaret's new +gingham by Bob as a dress for old Beagle. + +As the Llewellens were close neighbors of the Sherwoods, Nan saw much +of Margaret. The local school closed soon after the visitor had come +to Pine Camp, and Nan had little opportunity of getting acquainted +with other girls, save at the church service, which was held in the +schoolhouse only every other Sunday. There was no Sunday School at Pine +Camp, even for the very youngest of the children. + +Nan talked to Aunt Kate about that. Aunt Kate was the very +kindest-hearted woman that ever lived; but she had little initiative +herself about anything outside her own house. "Goodness knows, I'd like +to see the kiddies gathered together on Sunday afternoon and taught good +things," she signed; "but lawsy, Nan! I'm not the one to do it. I'm not +good enough myself." + +"Didn't you teach Tom and Rafe, and--and--" Nan stopped. She had almost +mentioned the two older boys of her aunt's, whom she had heard were +destroyed in the Pale Lick fire. Aunt Kate did not notice, for she went +on to say: + +"Why--yes; I taught Tom and Rafe to say their prayers, and I hope they +say 'em now, big as they are. And we often read the Bible. It's a great +comfort, the main part of it. I never did take to the 'begats,' though." + +"But couldn't we," suggested Nan, "interest other people and gather the +children together on Sundays? Perhaps the old gentleman who comes here +to preach every fortnight might help." + +"Elder Posey's not here but three hours or so, any time. Just long +enough to give us the word and grab a bite at somebody's house. Poor old +man! He attends three meetings each Sunday, all different, and lives on +a farm at Wingate weekdays where he has to work and support his family. + +"He doesn't get but fifty dollars a year from each church, it's not +making him a millionaire very fast," pursued Aunt Kate, with a soft +little laugh. "Poor old man! I wish we could pay him more; but Pine +Camp's not rich." + +"You all seem to have enough and to spare, Auntie," said Nan, who was an +observant girl for her age. "Nobody here is really poor." + +"Not unless he's right down lazy," said her aunt, vigorously. + +"Then I should think they'd build a proper church and give a minister +some more money, so that he could afford to have a Sunday School as +well." + +"Lawsy me, Nan!" exclaimed her aunt. "The men here in Pine Camp haven't +been woke up to such things. They hate to spend that fifty dollars for +Elder Posey, they'd get a cheaper man if there were such. There's never +been much out of the common happen here at Pine Camp. It takes trouble +and destruction to wake folks up to their Christian duty in these woods. +Now, at Pale Lick they've got a church-----" + +She stopped suddenly, and her face paled, while the ugly scar on her +neck seemed to glow; but that may have been only in contrast. Aunt Kate +turned away her head, and finally arose and went into her own room and +closed the door. Nan dared not continue the subject when the good woman +came out again, and the talk of a Sunday School for Pine Camp, for the +time being, was ended. + +There were hours when the girl from Tillbury was very lonely indeed. +Writing to Bess and other girl friends in her old home town and penning +long letters on thin paper to Momsey and Papa Sherwood in Scotland, did +not fill all of these hours when Nan shut herself into that east room. + +Sometimes she pulled down the paper shades and opened the clothes closet +door, bringing out the long box she had hidden away there on the first +day she had come to Pine Camp. In that box, wrapped in soft tissue +paper, and dressed in the loveliest gown made by Momsey's own skillful +fingers, was the great doll that had been given to Nan on her tenth +birthday. + +When girls went to high school, of course they were supposed to put away +dolls, together with other childish things. But Nan Sherwood never could +neglect her doll-babies and had often spent whole rainy days playing +with them in secret in the attic of the little house on Amity Street. + +Her other dolls had been left, carefully wrapped and shielded from the +mice, at Tillbury; but Nan had been unable to leave Beautiful Beulah +behind. She packed her in the bottom of her trunk, unknown even to +Momsey in the hurry of departure. She had not told a soul here at Pine +Camp that she possessed a doll; she knew the boys would make fun of her +for sure. + +But she often sat behind the drawn shades nursing the big doll and +crooning softly to it as she swung back and forth in the spring +rocking-chair. Tom had oiled the springs for her so that it no longer +creaked. + +She did not confide even in Aunt Kate about the big doll. They were all +very kind to her; but Nan had a feeling that she ought to be grown up +here among her backwoods relatives. How could she ever face roguish Rafe +if he knew she liked to "play dolls?" + +Fearing that even Margaret would tell, Nan had never shown the woods +girl Beautiful Beulah. Once she was afraid Margaret had come to the +window to peep in when Nan had the doll out of her hiding place; but she +was not sure, and Nan hoped her secret was still inviolate. At least, +Margaret never said a word about it. + +Margaret's sisters had dolls made of corncobs, and rag babies with +painted faces like the one Margaret had thrown into the river and +drowned; but Margaret turned up her nose at them all. She never seemed +to want to "play house" as do most girls of her age. She preferred to +run wild, like a colt, with Bob in the woods and swamp. + +Margaret did not wish to go into the swamp with Nan, however, on her +first visit to Toby Vanderwiller's little farm. This was some weeks +after the log drives, and lumbering was over for the season. Uncle Henry +and the boys, rather than be idle, were working every acre they owned, +and Nan was more alone than she had ever been since coming to Pine Camp. + +She had learned the way to Toby's place, the main trail through the +swamp going right by the hummock on which the old man's farm was +situated. She knew there was a corduroy road most of the way--that is, a +road built of logs laid side by side directly over the miry ground. Save +in very wet weather this road was passable for most vehicles. + +The distance was but three miles, however, and Nan liked walking. +Besides, nobody who has not seen a tamarack swamp in late spring or +early summer, can ever imagine how beautiful it is. Nan never missed +human companionship when she was on the long walks she so often took in +the woods. + +She had learned now that, despite her adventure with the lynx in the +snow-drifted hollow, there was scarcely any animal to fear about Pine +Camp. Bears had not been seen for years; bobcats were very infrequently +met with and usually ran like scared rabbits; foxes were of course +shy, and the nearest approach to a wolf in all that section was Toby +Vanderwiller's wolfhound that had once frightened Nan so greatly. + +Hares, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, and many, many birds, peopled +the forest and swamp. In sunken places where the green water stood and +steamed in the sun, turtles and frogs were plentiful; and occasionally a +snake, as harmless as it was wicked looking, slid off a water-soaked log +at Nan's approach and slipped under the oily surface of the pool. + +On the day Nan walked to Toby's place the first time, she saw many +wonders of plant life along the way, exotics clinging to rotten logs +and stumps; fronds of delicate vines that she had never before heard +of; ferns of exquisite beauty. And flashing over them, and sucking honey +from every cuplike flower, were shimmering humming-birds and marvelously +marked butterflies. + +The birds screamed or sang or chattered over the girl's head as she +tripped along. Squirrels peeped at her, barked, and then whisked their +tails in rapid flight. Through the cool, dark depths where the forest +monarchs had been untouched by the woodsmen, great moths winged their +lazy flight. Nan knew not half of the creatures or the wonderful plants +she saw. + +There were sounds in the deeps of the swamplands that she did not +recognize, either. Some she supposed must be the voices of huge frogs; +other notes were bird-calls that she had never heard before. But +suddenly, as she approached a turn in the corduroy road, her ear was +smitten by a sound that she knew very well indeed. + +It was a man's voice, and it was not a pleasant one. It caused Nan to +halt and look about for some place to hide until the owner of the voice +went by. She feared him because of his harsh tones, though she did not, +at the moment, suspect who it was. + +Then suddenly she heard plainly a single phrase: "I'd give money, I tell +ye, to see Hen Sherwood git his!" + + + +Chapter XXI. IN THE TAMARACK SWAMP + +The harsh tone of the unseen man terrified Nan Sherwood; but the words +he spoke about her Uncle Henry inspired her to creep nearer that she +might see who it was, and hear more. The fact that she was eavesdropping +did not deter the girl. + +She believed her uncle's life to be in peril! + +The dampness between the logs of the roadway oozed up in little pools +and steamed in the hot blaze of the afternoon sun. Insects buzzed and +hummed, so innumerable that the chorus of their voices was like the +rumble of a great church-organ. + +Nan stepped from the road and pushed aside the thick underbrush to find +a dry spot to place her foot. The gnats danced before her and buzzed in +her ears. She brushed them aside and so pushed on until she could see +the road again. A lean, yellow horse, tackled to the shafts of a +broken top-buggy with bits of rope as well as worn straps, stood in the +roadway. The man on the seat, talking to another on the ground, was Mr. +Gedney Raffer, the timberman who was contending at law with Uncle Henry. + +It was he who had said: "I'd give money, I tell ye, to see Hen Sherwood +git his." + +There had fallen a silence, but just as Nan recognized the mean looking +old man on the carriage seat, she heard the second man speak from the +other side of the buggy. + +"I tell you like I done Hen himself, Ged; I don't wanter be mixed up in +no land squabble. I ain't for neither side." + +It was Toby. Nan knew his voice, and she remembered how he had answered +Uncle Henry at the lumber camp, the first day she had seen the old +lumberman. Nan could not doubt that the two men were discussing the +argument over the boundary of the Perkins Tract. + +Gedney Raffer snarled out an imprecation when old Toby had replied as +above. "Ef you know which side of your bread the butter's on, you'll +side with me," he said. + +"We don't often have butter on our bread, an' I ain't goin' ter side +with nobody," grumbled Toby Vanderwiller. + +"S-s!" hissed Raffer. "Come here!" + +Toby stepped closer to the rattletrap carriage. "You see your way to +goin' inter court an' talkin' right, and you won't lose nothin' by it, +Tobe." + +"Huh? Only my self-respect, I s'pose," grunted the old lumberman, and +Nan approved very much of him just then. + +"Bah!" exclaimed Raffer. + +"Bah, yourself!" Toby Vanderwiller returned with some heat. "I got some +decency left, I hope. I ain't goin' to lie for you, nor no other man, +Ged Raffer!" + +"Say! Would it be lyin' ef you witnessed on my side?" demanded the eager +Raffer. + +"That's my secret," snapped the old lumberman. "If I don't witness for +you, be glad I don't harm you." + +"You dare!" cried Raffer, shaking his fist at the other as he leaned +from the buggy seat. + +"You hearn me say I wouldn't go inter court one way or 'tother," +repeated Toby, gloomily. + +"Wal," snarled Raffer, "see't ye don't see't ye don't. 'Specially for +any man but me. Ye 'member what I told ye, Tobe. Money's tight and I +oughter call in that loan." + +Toby was silent for half a minute. Then Nan heard him sigh. + +"Well, Ged," he observed, "it's up to you. If you take the place it'll +be the poorhouse for that unforchunit boy of mine and mebbe for the ol' +woman, 'specially if I can't strike a job for next winter. These here +lumber bosses begin to think I'm too stiff in the j'ints." + +"Wal, wal!" snarled Raffer. "I can't help it. How d'ye expec' I kin help +you ef you won't help me?" + +He clucked to the old horse, which awoke out of its drowse with a start, +and moved on sluggishly. Toby stood in the road and watched him depart. +Nan thought the old lumberman's to be the most sorrowful figure she had +ever seen. + +Her young heart beat hotly against the meanness and injustice of Gedney +Raffer. He had practically threatened Toby with foreclosure on his +little farm if the old lumberman would not help him in his contention +with Mr. Sherwood. On the other hand, Uncle Henry desired his help; but +Uncle Henry, Nan knew, would not try to bribe the old lumberman. Under +these distressing circumstances, which antagonist's interests was Toby +Vanderwiller likely to serve? + +This query vastly disturbed Nan Sherwood. All along she had desired much +to help Uncle Henry solve his big problem. The courts would not allow +him to cut a stick of timber on the Perkins Tract until a resurvey of +the line was made by government-appointed surveyors, and that would be, +when? + +Uncle Henry's money was tied up in the stumpage lease, or first payment +to the owners of the land. It was a big contract and he had expected to +pay his help and further royalties on the lease, from the sale of the +timber he cut on the tract. Besides, many valuable trees had been felled +before the injunction was served, and lay rotting on the ground. Every +month they lay there decreased their value. + +And now, it appeared, Gedney Raffer was doing all in his power to +influence old Toby to serve as a witness in his, Raffer's, interests. + +Had toby been willing to go into court and swear that the line of the +Perkins Tract was as Mr. Sherwood claimed, the court would have to +vacate the injunction and Uncle Henry could risk going ahead and cutting +and hauling timber from the tract. Uncle Henry believed Toby +knew exactly where the line lay, for he had been a landloper, or +timber-runner in this vicinity when the original survey was made, +forty-odd years before. + +It was plain to Nan, hiding in the bushes and watching the old man's +face, that he was dreadfully tempted. Working as hard as he might, +summer and winter alike, Toby Vanderwiller had scarcely been able to +support his wife and grandson. His occasional attacks of rheumatism so +frequently put him back. If Raffer took away the farm and the shelter +they had, what would become of them? + +Uncle Henry was so short of ready money himself that he could not assume +the mortgage if Raffer undertook to foreclose. + +"Oh, dear me! If Momsey would only write to me that she is really rich," +thought Nan, "I'd beg her for the money. I'll tell her all about poor +Toby in my very next letter and maybe, if she gets all that money from +the courts in Scotland, she will let me give Toby enough to pay off the +mortgage." + +She never for a moment doubted that Uncle Henry's contention about the +timber tract line was right. He must be correct, and old Toby must know +it! That is the way Nan Sherwood looked at the matter. + +But now, seeing Toby turning back along the corduroy road, and slowly +shuffling toward home, she stepped out of the hovering bushes and walked +hastily after him. She overtook him not many yards beyond the spot where +he had stood talking with Raffer. He looked startled when she spoke his +name. + +"Well! You air a sight for sore eyes, Sissy," he said; but added, +nervously, "How in Joe Tunket did you git in the swamp? Along the road?" + +"Yes, sir," said Nan. + +"Come right erlong this way?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did ye meet anybody?" demanded old Toby, eyeing her sharply. + +"Mr. Raffer, driving his old buckskin horse. That's all." + +"Didn't say nothin' to ye, did he?" asked Toby, curiously. + +"Not a word," replied Nan, honestly. "I'm afraid of him and I hid in the +bushes till he had gone by." + +"Huh!" sighed Toby, as though relieved. "Jest as well. Though Ged +wouldn't ha' dared touch ye, Sissy." + +"Never mind. I'm here now," said Nan, brightly. "And I want you to show +me your house and introduce me to Mrs. Vanderwiller." + +"Sure. My ol' woman will be glad to see ye," said the man, briskly. +"'Tain't more'n a mile furder on." + +But first they came to a deserted place, a strip more than half a mile +wide, where the trees had been cut in a broad belt through the swamp. +All Nan could see was sawdust and the stumps of felled trees sticking +out of it. The sawdust, Toby said, was anywhere from two to twenty feet +deep, and there were acres of it. + +"They had their mill here, ye kin see the brick work yonder. They hauled +out the lumber by teams past my place. The stea'mill was here more'n +two years. They hauled the sawdust out of the way and dumped it in ev'ry +holler, jest as it come handy." + +"What a lot there is of it!" murmured Nan, sniffing doubtfully at the +rather unpleasant odor of the sawdust. + +"I wish't 'twas somewhere else," grunted Toby. + +"Why-so?" + +"Fire git in it and it'd burn till doomsday. Fire in sawdust is a mighty +bad thing. Ye see, even the road here is made of sawdust, four foot or +more deep and packed as solid as a brick walk. That's the way Pale Lick +went, sawdust afire. Ha'f the town was built on sawdust foundation an' +she smouldered for weeks before they knowed of it. Then come erlong a +big wind and started the blaze to the surface." + +"Oh!" murmured Nan, much interested. "Didn't my Uncle Henry live there +then?" + +"I sh'd say he did," returned Toby, emphatically. "Didn't he never tell +ye about it?" + +"No, sir. They never speak of Pale Lick." + +"Well, I won't, nuther," grunted old Toby. "'Taint pretty for a young +gal like you to hear about. Whush! Thar goes a loon!" + +A big bird had suddenly come into sight, evidently from some nearby +water-hole. It did not fly high and seemed very clumsy, like a duck or +goose. + +"Oh! Are they good to eat, Mr. Vanderwiller?" cried Nan. "Rafe brought +in a brace of summer ducks the other day, and they were awfully good, +the way Aunt Kate cooked them." + +"Well!" drawled Toby, slyly, "I've hearn tell ye c'd eat a loon, ef +'twas cooked right. But I never tried it." + +"How do you cook a loon, Mr. Vanderwiller?" asked Nan, interested in all +culinary pursuits. + +"Well, they tell me thet it's some slow process," said the old man, +his eyes twinkling. "Ye git yer loon, pluck an' draw it, let it soak +overnight in vinegar an' water, vitriol vinegar they say is the best. +Then ye put it in the pot an' let it simmer all day." + +"Yes?" queried the perfectly innocent Nan. + +"Then ye throw off that water," Toby said, soberly, "and ye put on fresh +water an' let it cook all the next day." + +"Oh!" + +"An' then ye throw in a piece of grin'stone with the loon, and set it +to bilin' again. When ye kin stick a fork in the grin'stone, the loon's +done!" + +Nan joined in Toby's loud laugh at this old joke, and pretty soon +thereafter they came to the hummock on which the Vanderwillers lived. + + + +Chapter XXII. ON THE ISLAND + +In the winter it was probably dreary enough; but now the beauty of the +swelling knoll where the little whitewashed house stood, with the tiny +fields that surrounded it, actually made Nan's heart swell and the tears +come into her eyes. + +It seemed to her as though she had never seen the grass so green as +here, and the thick wood that encircled the little farm was just a hedge +of blossoming shrubs with the tall trees shooting skyward in unbroken +ranks. A silver spring broke ground at the corner of the paddock fence. +A pool had been scooped out for the cattle to drink at; but it was not +muddied, and the stream tinkled down over the polished pebbles to the +wider, more sluggish stream that meandered away from the farm into the +depths of the swamp. + +Toby told her, before they reached the hummock, that this stream rose in +the winter and flooded all about the farm, so that the latter really was +an island. Unless the ice remained firm they sometimes could not drive +out with either wagon or sled for days at a time. + +"Then you live on an island," cried Nan. + +"Huh! Ye might say so," complained Toby. "And sometimes we feel like as +though we was cast away on one, too." + +But the girl thought it must really be great fun to live on an island. + +They went up to the house along the bank of the clear stream. On the +side porch, vine-covered to the eaves, sat an old woman rocking in a low +chair and another figure in what seemed at a distance, to be a child's +wagon of wickerwork, but with no tongue and a high back to it. + +"Here's Gran'pop!" cried a shrill voice and the little wagon moved +swiftly to the edge of the steps. Nan almost screamed in fear as it +pitched downward. But the wheels did not bump over the four steps +leading to the ground, for a wide plank had been laid slantingly at that +side, and over this the wheels ran smoothly, if rapidly. + +"You have a care there, Corson!" shrilled the old lady after the +cripple. "Some day you'll break your blessed neck." + +Nan thought he was a little boy, until they met. Then she was surprised +to see a young man's head set upon a shriveled child's body! Corson +Vanderwiller had a broad brow, a head of beautiful, brown, wavy hair, +and a fine mustache. He was probably all of twenty-five years old. + +But Nan soon learned that the poor cripple was not grown in mind, more +than in body, to that age. His voice was childish, and his speech and +manner, too. He was bashful with Nan at first; then chattered like a +six-year-old child to her when she had once gained his confidence. + +He wheeled himself about in the little express wagon very well indeed, +old Toby having rigged brakes with which he moved the wagon and steered +it. His arms and hands were quite strong, and when he wished to get back +on to the piazza, he seized a rope his grandfather had hung there, and +dragged himself, wagon and all, up the inclined plane, or gangplank, as +it might be called. + +He showed Nan all his treasures, and they included some very childish +toys, a number of them showing the mechanical skill of his grandfather's +blunt fingers. But among them, too, were treasures from the swamp and +woods that were both very wonderful and very beautiful. + +Old Toby had made Corson a neatly fitted cabinet in which were specimens +of preserved butterflies and moths, most of them of the gay and common +varieties; but some, Nan was almost sure, were rare and valuable. There +was one moth in particular, with spread wings, on the upper side of the +thorax of which was traced in white the semblance of a human skull. Nan +was almost sure that this must be the famous death's-head moth she had +read about in school; but she was not confident enough to say anything +to old Toby Vanderwiller. A few specimens of this rare insect have been +found in the swamps of America, although it was originally supposed to +be an Old World moth. + +Nan did say, however, to Toby that perhaps some of these specimens +might be bought by collectors. The pressed flowers were pretty but not +particularly valuable. In the museum at the Tillbury High School there +was a much finer collection from the Indiana swamps. + +"Sho!" said Toby, slowly; "I wouldn't wanter sell the boy's pretties. I +brung most on 'em home to him; but he mounted 'em himself." + +Nan suspected that old Mrs. Vanderwiller had much to do with the neat +appearance of the cabinet. She was a quiet, almost a speechless, old +lady. But she was very kind and she set out her best for Nan's luncheon +before the girl from Tillbury returned home. + +"We ain't got much here on the island," the old lady said; "but we do +love to have visitors. Don't we, Corson?" + +"Nice ones," admitted the cripple, munching cake. + +He had heard something of what Nan suggested to Toby about the moths +and other specimens. So when the old lady was absent from the porch he +whispered: + +"Say, girl!" + +"Well?" she asked, smiling at him. + +"Is what's in that cabinet wuth as much as a dollar?" + +"Oh! I expect so," said Nan. "More." + +"Will you give me a dollar for 'em?" he asked, eagerly. + +"Oh, I couldn't! But perhaps I can write to somebody who would be +interested in buying some of your things, and for much more than a +dollar." + +Corson looked disappointed. Nan asked, curiously: "Why do you want the +dollar?" + +"To git Gran'mom a silk dress," he said promptly. "She's admired to have +one all her life, and ain't never got to git it yet." + +"I'm sure that's nice of you," declared Nan, warmly. "I'll try to sell +some of your collection." + +"Well!" he jerked out. "It's got to be pretty soon, or she won't git to +wear it much. I heard her tell Gran'pop so." + +This impressed Nan Sherwood as being very pitiful, for she was of a +sympathetic nature. And it showed that Corson Vanderwiller, even if he +was simple-minded, possessed one of the great human virtues, gratitude. + + + +Chapter XXIII. A MYSTERY + +On this, her first visit to the island in the swamp, Nan said nothing +to old Toby Vanderwiller about the line dispute between her uncle and +Gedney Raffer, which the old lumberman was supposed to be able to settle +if he would. + +Mrs. Vanderwiller insisted upon Toby's hitching up an old, broken-kneed +pony he owned, and taking her over the corduroy road to Pine Camp, where +she arrived before dark. To tell the truth, little Margaret Llewellen +was not the only person who thought it odd that Nan should want to go +to see the Vanderwillers in the heart of the tamarack swamp. Nan's uncle +and aunt and cousins considered their guest a little odd; but they made +no open comment when the girl arrived at home after her visit. + +Nan was full of the wonders she had seen, commonplace enough to her +relatives who had lived all their lives in touch with the beautiful and +queer things of Nature as displayed in the Michigan Peninsula. Perhaps +none but Tom appreciated her ecstasy over crippled Corson Vanderwiller's +collection. + +Rafe was inclined to poke good-natured fun at his young cousin for her +enthusiasm; but Tom showed an understanding that quite surprised Nan. +Despite his simplicity regarding some of the commonest things of the +great outside world, he showed that he was very observant of the things +about him. + +"Oh, Tom was always like that," scoffed Rafe, with ready laughter at his +slow brother. "He'd rather pick up a bug any day and put it through a +cross-examination, than smash it under the sole of his boot." + +"I don't think bugs were made to smash," Tom said stoutly. + +"Whew! What in thunder were they made for?" demanded the mocking Rafe. + +"I don't think God Almighty made things alive just for us to make 'em +dead," said Tom, clumsily, and blushing a deep red. + +Rafe laughed again. Rafe had read much more in a desultory fashion than +Tom. + +"Tom ought to be one of those Brahmas," he said, chuckling. "They carry +a whisk broom to brush off any seat they may sit on before they sit +down, so's they sha'n't crush an ant, or any other crawling thing. +They're vegetarians, too, and won't take life in any form." + +"Now, Rafe!" exclaimed his mother, who was never quite sure when her +younger son was playing the fool. "You know that Brahmas are hens. +I've got some in my flock those big white and black, lazy fowls, with +feathers on their legs." + +Nan had to laugh at that as well as Rafe. "Brahma fowl, I guess, came +from Brahma, or maybe Brahmaputra, all right. But Rafe means Brahmans. +They're a religious people of India," the girl from Tillbury said. + +"And maybe they've got it right," Tom said stubbornly. "Why should we +kill unnecessarily?" + +Nan could have hugged him. At any rate, a new feeling for him was born +at that moment, and she applauded. Aunt Kate said: + +"Tom always was soft-hearted," and her big son became silent. She +might as well have called him "soft-headed"; but Nan began better to +appreciate Tom's worth from that time on. + +Rafe remained in her eyes still the reckless, heroic figure he had +seemed when running over the logs the day of the timber drive. But +she began to confide in Tom after this evening of her return from the +tamarack swamp. + +However, this is somewhat in advance of the story. The pleasant evening +passed as usual until bedtime came for Nan. She retired to her east +chamber, for the windows of which Tom had made screens to keep out the +night-flying insects. No matter how tired she was at night there was one +thing Nan Sherwood seldom forgot. + +Possibly it was silly in a girl who was almost through her freshman year +at high school, but Nan brought out Beautiful Beulah and rocked her, and +hugged her, and crooned over her before she went to bed. She was such a +comfort! + +So Nan, on this evening, went first of all to the closet and reached +down to draw out the box in which she had kept the doll hidden ever +since coming to Pine Camp. + +It was not there! + +At first Nan Sherwood could not believe this possible. She dropped on +her knees and scrambled over the floor of her closet, reaching under the +hanging skirts and frocks, her fear rising, second by second. + +The box was not in its place. She arose and looked about her room +wildly. Of course, she had not left it anywhere else, that was out of +the question. + +She could scarcely believe that any member of the family had been in her +room, much less would disturb anything that was hers. Not even Aunt Kate +came to the east chamber often. Nan had insisted upon taking care of +the room, and she swept and dusted and cleaned like the smart little +housewife she was. Aunt Kate had been content to let her have her way in +this. + +Of course Nan never locked her door. But who would touch a thing +belonging to her? And her doll! Why, she was sure the family did not +even know she had such a possession. + +Almost wildly the girl ran out of her chamber and into the sitting +room, where the family was still gathered around the evening lamp, Rafe +cleaning his shot-gun, Tom reading slowly the local paper, published at +the Forks, Aunt Kate mending, and Uncle Henry sitting at the open window +with his pipe. + +"Oh, it's gone!" gasped Nan, as she burst into the room. + +"What's gone?" asked Aunt Kate, and Uncle Henry added: "What's happened +to you, honey-bird?" + +"My Beulah!" cried Nan, almost sobbing. "My Beulah, she's been taken!" + +"My mercy, child!" cried Aunt Kate, jumping up. "Are you crazy?" + +"Who's Beulah?" demanded Rafe, looking up from his gun and, Nan thought, +showing less surprise than the others. + +"My Beulah doll," said Nan, too troubled now to care whether the family +laughed at her or not. "My Beautiful Beulah. Somebody's played a trick." + +"A doll!" shouted Rafe, and burst into a chatter of laughter. + +"Mercy me, child!" repeated Aunt Kate. "I didn't know you had a doll." + +"Got a baby rattle, too, Sissy?" chuckled Rafe. "And a ring to cut your +teeth on? My, my!" + +"Stop that, Rafe!" commanded his father, sternly, while Tom flushed and +glared angrily at his brother. + +"I didn't know you had a doll, Nannie," said Mrs. Sherwood, rather +weakly. "Where'd you have it?" + +"In my closet," choked Nan. "She's a great, big, beautiful thing! I know +somebody must be playing a joke on me." + +"Nobody here, Nannie," said Uncle Henry, with decision. "You may be sure +of that." But he looked at Rafe sternly. That young man thought it the +better part of wisdom to say no more. + +In broken sentences the girl told her innocent secret, and why she had +kept the doll hidden. Aunt Kate, after, all, seemed to understand. + +"My poor dear!" she crooned, patting Nan's hand between her hard palms. +"We'll all look for the dolly. Surely it can't have been taken out of +the house." + +"And who'd even take it out of her closet?" demanded Tom, almost as +stern as his father. + +"It surely didn't walk away of itself," said Aunt Kate. + +She took a small hand lamp and went with Nan to the east chamber. They +searched diligently, but to no good end, save to assure Nan that Beulah +had utterly disappeared. + +As far as could be seen the screens at the windows of the bedroom had +not been disturbed. But who would come in from outside to steal Nan's +doll? Indeed, who would take it out of the closet, anyway? The girl +was almost sure that nobody had known she had it. It was strange, very +strange indeed. + +Big girl that she was, Nan cried herself to sleep that night over the +mystery. The loss of Beulah seemed to snap the last bond that held her +to the little cottage in Amity street, where she had spent all her happy +childhood. + + + +Chapter XXIV. THE SMOKING TREE + +Nan awoke to a new day with the feeling that the loss of her treasured +doll must have been a bad dream. But it was not. Another search of her +room and the closet assured her that it was a horrid reality. + +She might have lost many of her personal possessions without a pang; +but not Beautiful Beulah. Nan could not tell her aunt or the rest of +the family just how she felt about it. She was sure they would not +understand. + +The doll had reminded her continually of her home life. Although the +stay of her parents in Scotland was much more extended than they or Nan +had expected, the doll was a link binding the girl to her old home life +which she missed so much. + +Her uncle and aunt had tried to make her happy here at Pine Camp. As far +as they could do so they had supplied the love and care of Momsey and +Papa Sherwood. But Nan was actually ill for her old home and her old +home associations. + +On this morning, by herself in her bedroom, she cried bitterly before +she appeared before the family. + +"I have no right to make them feel miserable just because my heart, is, +breaking," she sobbed aloud. "I won't let them see how bad I feel. But +if I don't find Beulah, I just know I shall die!" + +Could she have run to Momsey for comfort it would have helped, Oh, how +much! + +"I am a silly," Nan told herself at last, warmly. "But I cannot help it. +Oh, dear! Where can Beulah have gone?" + +She bathed her eyes well in the cold spring water brought by Tom that +she always found in the jug outside her door in the morning, and removed +such traces of tears as she could; and nobody noticed when she went out +to breakfast that her eyelids were puffy and her nose a bit red. + +The moment Rafe caught sight of her he began to squall, supposedly like +an infant, crying: + +"Ma-ma! Ma-ma! Tum an' take Too-tums. Waw! Waw! Waw!" + +After all her hurt pride and sorrow, Nan would have called up a laugh +at this. But Tom, who was drinking at the water bucket, wheeled with the +full dipper and threw the contents into Rafe's face. That broke off the +teasing cousin's voice for a moment; but Rafe came up, sputtering and +mad. + +"Say! You big oaf!" he shouted. "What you trying to do?" + +"Trying to be funny," said Tom, sharply. "And you set me the example." + +"Now, boys!" begged Aunt Kate. "Don't quarrel." + +"And, dear me, boys," gasped Nan, "please don't squabble about me." + +"That big lummox!" continued Rafe, still angry. "Because dad backs +him up and says he ought to lick me, he does this. I'm going to defend +myself. If he does a thing like that again, I'll fix him." + +Tom laughed in his slow way and lumbered out. Uncle Henry did not hear +this, and Nan was worried. She thought Aunt Kate was inclined to side +with her youngest boy. Rafe would always be "the baby" to Aunt Kate. + +At any rate Nan was very sorry the quarrel had arisen over her. And she +was careful to say nothing to fan further the flame of anger between +her cousins. Nor did she say anything more about the lost doll. So the +family had no idea how heartsore and troubled the girl really was over +the mystery. + +It hurt her the more because she could talk to nobody about Beulah. +There was not a soul in whom she could confide. Had Bess Harley been +here at Pine Camp Nan felt that she could not really expect sympathy +from her chum at this time; for Bess considered herself quite grown up +and her own dolls were relegated to the younger members of her family. + +Nan could write to her chum, however, and did. She could write to +Momsey, and did that, too; not forgetting to tell her absent parents +about old Toby Vanderwiller, and his wife and his grandson, and of their +dilemma. If only Momsey's great fortune came true, Nan was sure that +Gedney Raffer would be paid off and Toby would no longer have the threat +of dispossession held over him. + +Nan Sherwood wrote, too, to Mr. Mangel, the principal of the Tillbury +High School, and told him about the collection the crippled grandson +of the old lumberman had made, mentioning those specimens which had +impressed her most. She had some hope that the strange moth might be +very valuable. + +Nan was so busy writing letters, and helping Aunt Kate preserve some +early summer fruit, that she did not go far from the house during the +next few days, and so did not see even Margaret Llewellen. The other +girl friends she had made at Pine Camp lived too far away for her to +visit them often or have them come to call on her. + +A long letter from Papa Sherwood about this time served to take Nan's +mind off the mystery, in part, at least. It was a nice letter and most +joyfully received by the girl; but to her despair it gave promise of no +very quick return of her parents from Scotland: + +"Those relatives of your mother's whom we have met here, Mr. Andrew +Blake's family, for instance, have treated us most kindly. They are, +themselves, all well-to-do, and gentlefolk as well. The disposal by +Old Hughie Blake, as he was known hereabout, of his estate makes no +difference to the other Blakes living near Emberon," wrote Mr. Sherwood. + +"It is some kin at a distance, children of a half sister of Old Hughie, +who have made a claim against the estate. Mr. Andrew Blake, who is well +versed in the Scotch law, assures us these distant relatives have not +the shadow of a chance of winning their suit. He is so sure of this that +he has kindly offered to advance certain sums to your mother to tide us +over until the case is settled. + +"I am sending some money to your Uncle Henry for your use, if any +emergency should arise. You must not look for our return, my dear Nancy, +too soon. Momsey's health is so much improved by the sea voyage and the +wonderfully invigorating air here, that I should be loath to bring her +home at once, even if the matter of the legacy were settled. By the way, +the sum she will finally receive from Mr. Hugh Blake's estate will be +quite as much as the first letter from the lawyer led us to expect. Some +of your dearest wishes, my dear, may be realized in time." + +"Oh! I can go to Lakeview Hall with Bess, after all!" cried Nan, aloud, +at this point. + +Indeed, that possibility quite filled the girl's mind for a while. +Nothing else in Papa Sherwood's letter, aside from the good news of +Momsey's improved health, so pleased her as this thought. She hastened +to write a long letter to Bess Harley, with Lakeview Hall as the text. + +Summer seemed to stride out of the forest now, full panoplied. After the +frost and snow of her early days at Pine Camp, Nan had not expected +such heat. The pools beside the road steamed. The forest was atune from +daybreak to midnight with winged denizens, for insect and bird life +seemed unquenchable in the Big Woods. + +Especially was this true of the tamarack swamp. It was dreadfully hot +at noontide on the corduroy road which passed Toby Vanderwiller's little +farm; but often Nan Sherwood went that way in the afternoon. Mr. Mangel, +the school principal, had written Nan and encouraged her to send a full +description of some of Corson Vanderwiller's collection, especially of +the wonderful death's-head moth, to a wealthy collector in Chicago. Nan +did this at once. + +So, one day, a letter came from the man and in it was a check for +twenty-five dollars. + +"This is a retainer," the gentleman wrote. "I am much interested in your +account of the lame boy's specimens. I want the strangely marked moth +in any case, and the check pays for an option on it until I can come and +see his specimens personally." + +Nan went that very afternoon to the tamarack swamp to tell the +Vanderwillers this news and give Toby the check. She knew poor Corson +would be delighted, for now he could purchase the longed-for silk dress +for his grandmother. + +The day was so hot and the way so long that Nan was glad to sit down +when she reached the edge of the sawdust strip, to rest and cool off +before attempting this unshaded desert. A cardinal bird--one of the +sauciest and most brilliant of his saucy and brilliant race, flitted +about her as she sat upon a log. + +"You pretty thing!" crooned Nan. "If it were not wicked I'd wish to have +you at home in a cage. I wish--" + +She stopped, for in following the flight of the cardinal her gaze +fastened upon a most surprising thing off at some distance from the +sawdust road. A single dead tree, some forty feet in height and almost +limbless, stood in solemn grandeur in the midst of the sawdust waste. It +had been of no use to the woodcutters and they had allowed the shell of +the old forest monarch to stand. Now, from its broken top, Nan espied a +thin, faint column of blue haze rising. + +It was the queerest thing! It was not mist, of course and she did not +see how it could be smoke. There was no fire at the foot of the tree, +for she could see the base of the bole plainly. She even got up and ran +a little way out into the open in order to see the other side of the +dead tree. + +The sky was very blue, and the air was perfectly still. Almost Nan was +tempted to believe that her eyes played her false. The column was almost +the color of the sky itself, and it was thin as a veil. + +How could there be a fire in the top of that tall tree? + +"There just isn't! I don't believe I see straight!" declared Nan to +herself, moving on along the roadway. "But I'll speak to Toby about it." + + + +Chapter XXV. THE TEMPEST + +Nan, however, did not mention to Toby the haze rising from the dead +tree. In the first place, when she reached the little farm on the island +in the tamarack swamp, old Toby Vanderwiller was not at home. His wife +greeted the girl warmly, and Corson was glad to see her. When Nan spread +the check before him and told him what it was for, and what he could do +with so much money, the crippled boy was delighted. + +It was a secret between them that the grandmother was to have the black +silk dress that she had longed for all her married life; only Nan and +Corson knew that Nan was commissioned to get the check cashed and buy +the dress pattern at the Forks; or send to a catalogue house for it if +she could not find a suitable piece of goods at any of the local stores. + +Nan lingered, hoping that Toby would come home. It finally grew so late +that she dared not wait longer. She had been warned by Aunt Kate not to +remain after dusk in the swamp, nor had she any desire to do so. + +Moreover there was a black cloud rolling up from the west. That +was enough to make the girl hurry, for when it rained in the swamp, +sometimes the corduroy road was knee deep in water. + +The cloud had increased to such proportions when Nan was half way across +the sawdust desert that she began to run. She had forgotten all about +the smoking tree. + +Not a breath of air was stirring as yet; but there was the promise of +wind in that cloud. The still leaves on the bushes, the absence of bird +life overhead, the lazy drone of insects, portended a swift change soon. +Nan was weather-wise enough to know that. + +She panted on, stumbling through the loose sawdust, but stumbling +equally in the ruts; for the way was very rough. This road was lonely +enough at best; but it seemed more deserted than ever now. + +A red fox, his tail depressed, shot past her, and not many yards away. +It startled Nan, for it seemed as though something dreadful was about to +happen and the fox knew it and was running away from it. + +She could not run as fast as the fox; but Nan wished that she could. And +she likewise wished with all her heart that she would meet somebody. + +That somebody she hoped would be Tom. Tom was drawing logs from some +point near, she knew. A man down the river had bought some timber and +they had been cut a few weeks before. Tom was drawing them out of the +swamp for the man; and he had mentioned only that morning at breakfast +that he was working within sight of the sawdust tract and the corduroy +road. + +Nan felt that she would be safe with big, slow Tom. Even the thought of +thunder and lightning would lose some of its terrors if she could only +get to Tom. + +Suddenly she heard a voice shouting, then the rattle of chain harness. +The voice boomed out a stave of an old hymn: + +"On Jordan's stormy bank I stand, And cast a wishful eye." + +"It's Tom!" gasped Nan, and ran harder. + +She was almost across the open space now. The cooler depths of the +forest were just ahead. Beyond, a road crossed the mainly-traveled swamp +track at right angles to it, and this was the path Tom followed. + +He was now coming from the river, going deeper into the swamp for +another log. Nan continued to run, calling to him at the top of her +voice. + +She came in sight of the young timberman and his outfit. His wagon +rattled so that he could not easily hear his cousin calling to him. He +sat on the tongue of the wagon, and his big, slow-moving horses jogged +along, rattling their chains in a jingle more noisy than harmonious. + +The timber cart was a huge, lumbering affair with ordinary cartwheels in +front but a huge pair behind with an extended reach between them; and +to the axle of the rear pair of wheels the timber to be transported +was swung off the ground and fastened with chains. Nan ran after the +rumbling cart and finally Tom saw her. + +"My mercy me!" gasped the boy, using one of his mother's favorite +expressions. "What you doing here, Nan?" + +"Chasing you, Tom," laughed the girl. "Is it going to rain?" + +"I reckon. You'll get wet if it does." + +"I don't care so much for that," confessed Nan. "But I am so afraid of +thunder! Oh, there it comes." + +The tempest muttered in the distance. Tom, who had pulled in his horses +and stopped, looked worried. "I wish you weren't here, Nan," he said. + +"How gallant you are, I declare, Tommy Sherwood," cried Nan, laughing +again, and then shuddering as the growl of the thunder was repeated. + +"Swamp's no place for a girl in a storm," muttered the boy. + +"Well, I am here, Tommy; what are you going to do with me?" she asked +him, saucily. + +"If you're so scared by thunder you'd better begin by stopping your +ears," he drawled. + +Nan laughed. Slow Tom was not often good at repartee. "I'm going to +stick by you till it's over, Tom," she said, hopping up behind him on +the wagon-tongue. + +"Cracky, Nan! You'll get soaked. It's going to just smoke in a few +minutes," declared the anxious young fellow. + +And that reminded Nan again of the smoking tree. + +"Oh, Tom! Do you know I believe there is a tree afire over yonder," she +cried, pointing. + +"A tree afire?" + +"Yes. I saw it smoking." + +"My mercy me!" exclaimed Tom again. "What do you mean?" + +Nan told him about the mystery. The fact that a column of smoke arose +out of the top of the dead tree seemed to worry Tom. Nan became alarmed. + +"Oh, dear, Tom! Do you really think it was afire?" + +"I, don't know. If it was afire, it is afire now," he said. "Show me, +Nan." + +He turned the horses out of the beaten track through the brush and +brambles, to the edge of the open place which had been heaped with +sawdust from the steam-mill. + +Just as they broke cover a vivid flash of lightning cleaved the black +cloud that had almost reached the zenith by now, and the deep rumble of +thunder changed to a sharp chatter; then followed a second flash and a +deafening crash. + +"Oh, Tom!" gasped Nan, as she clung to him. + +"The flash you see'll never hit you, Nan," drawled Tom, trying to be +comforting. "Remember that." + +"It isn't so much the lightning I fear as it is the thunder," murmured +Nan, in the intermission. "It just so-o-ounds as though the whole house +was coming down." + +"Ho!" cried Tom. "No house here, Nan." + +"But-----" + +The thunder roared again. A light patter on the leaves and ground +announced the first drops of the storm. + +"Which tree was it you saw smoking?" asked the young fellow. + +Nan looked around to find the tall, broken-topped tree. A murmur that +had been rising in the distance suddenly grew to a sweeping roar. The +trees bent before the blast. Particles of sawdust stung their faces. The +horses snorted and sprang ahead. Tom had difficulty in quieting them. + +Then the tempest swooped upon them in earnest. + + + +Chapter XXVI. BUFFETED BY THE ELEMENTS + +Nan knew she had never seen it rain so hard before. The falling water +was like a drop-curtain, swept across the stage of the open tract of +sawdust. In a few minutes they were saturated to the skin. Nan could not +have been any wetter if she had gone in swimming. + +"Oh!" she gasped into Tom's ear. "It is the deluge!" + +"Never was, but one rain 't didn't clear up yet," he returned, with +difficulty, for his big body was sheltering Nan in part, and he was +facing the blast. + +"I know. That's this one," she agreed. "But, it's awful." + +"Say! Can you point out that tree that smoked?" asked Tom. + +"Goodness! It can't be smoking now," gasped Nan, stifled with rain and +laughter. "This storm would put out Vesuvius." + +"Don't know him," retorted her cousin. "But it'd put most anybody out, I +allow. Still, fire isn't so easy to quench. Where's the tree?" + +"I can't see it, Tom," declared Nan, with her eyes tightly closed. She +really thought he was too stubborn. Of course, if there had been any +fire in that tree-top, this rain would put it out in about ten seconds. +So Nan believed. + +"Look again, Nan," urged her cousin. "This is no funning. If there's +fire in this swamp." + +"Goodness, gracious!" snapped Nan. "What a fuss-budget you are to be +sure, Tom. If there was a fire, this rain would smother it. Oh! Did it +ever pelt one so before?" + +Fortunately the rain was warm, and she was not much discomforted by +being wet. Tom still clung to the idea that she had started in his slow +mind. + +"Fire's no funning, I tell you," he growled. "Sometimes it smoulders +for days and days, and weeks and weeks; then it bursts out like a +hurricane." + +"But the rain" + +"This sawdust is mighty hard-packed, and feet deep," interrupted Tom. +"The fire might be deep down." + +"Why, Tom! How ridiculously you talk!" cried the girl. "Didn't I tell +you I saw the smoke coming out of the top of a tree? Fire couldn't be +deep down in the sawdust and the smoke come out of the tree top." + +"Couldn't, heh?" returned Tom. "Dead tree, wasn't it?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"Hollow, too, of course?" + +"I don't know." + +"Might be hollow clear through its length," Tom explained seriously. +"The butt might be all rotted out. Just a tough shell of a tree standing +there, and 'twould be a fine chimney if the fire was smouldering down at +its old roots." + +"Oh, Tom! I never thought of such a thing," gasped Nan. + +"And you don't see the tree now?" + +"Let me look! Let me look!" cried Nan, conscience-stricken. + +In spite of the beating rain and wind she got to her knees, still +clinging to her big cousin, and then stood upon the broad tongue of +the wagon. The horses stood still with their heads down, bearing the +buffeting of the storm with the usual patience of dumb beasts. + +A sheer wall of water seemed to separate them from every object out +upon the open land. Behind them the bulk of the forest loomed as another +barrier. Nan had really never believed that rain could fall so hard. It +almost took her breath. + +Moreover, what Tom said about the smoking tree began to trouble the +girl. She thought of the fire at Pale Lick, of which she had received +hints from several people. That awful conflagration, in which she +believed two children belonging to her uncle and aunt had lost their +lives, had started in the sawdust. + +Suddenly she cried aloud and seized Tom more tightly. + +"Cracky! Don't choke a fellow!" he coughed. + +"Oh, Tom!" + +"Well" + +"I think I see it." + +"The tree that smoked?" asked her cousin. + +"Yes. There!" + +For the moment it seemed as though the downpour lightened. Veiled by the +still falling water a straight stick rose high in the air ahead of them. +Tom chirruped to the horses and made them, though unwilling, go forward. + +They dragged the heavy cart unevenly. Through the heavy downpour the +trail was hard to follow, and once in a while a rear wheel bumped over +a stump, and Nan was glad to drop down upon the tongue again, and cling +more tightly than ever to her cousin's collar. + +"Sure that's it?" queried Tom, craning his neck to look up into the +tall, straight tree. + +"I, I'm almost sure," stammered Nan. + +"I, don't, see, any, smoke," drawled Tom, with his head still raised. + +The rain had almost ceased, an intermission which would not be of long +duration. Nan saw that her cousin's prophecy had been true; the ground +actually smoked after the downpour. The sun-heated sawdust steamed +furiously. They seemed to be crossing a heated cauldron. Clouds of steam +rose all about the timber cart. + +"Why, Tommy!" Nan choked. "It does seem as though there must be fire +under this sawdust now." + +Tom brought his own gaze down from the empty tree-top with a jerk. +"Hoo!" he shouted, and leaned forward suddenly to flick his off horse +with the whiplash. Just then the rear wheel on that side slumped down +into what seemed a veritable volcano. + +Flame and smoke spurted out around the broad wheel. Nan screamed. +The wind suddenly swooped down upon them, and a ball of fire, flaming +sawdust was shot into the air and was tossed twenty feet by a puff of +wind. + +"We're over an oven!" gasped Tom, and laid the whip solidly across the +backs of the frightened horses. + +They plunged. Another geyser of fire and smoke spurted from the hole +into which the rear wheel had slumped. Again and again the big horses +flung themselves into the collars in an endeavor to get the wheel out. + +"Oh, Tommy!" cried Nan. "We'll be burned up!" + +"No you won't," declared her cousin, leaping down. "Get off and run, +Nan." + +"But you--" + +"Do as I say!" commanded Tom. "Run!" + +"Where, where'll I run to?" gasped the girl, leaping off the tongue, +too, and away from the horses' heels. + +"To the road. Get toward home!" cried Tom, running around to the rear of +the timber cart. + +"And leave you here?" cried Nan. "I guess not, Mr. Tom!" she murmured. + +But he did not hear that. He had seized his axe and was striding toward +the edge of the forest. For a moment Nan feared that Tom was running +away as he advised her to do. But that would not be like Tom Sherwood! + +At the edge of the forest he laid the axe to the root of a sapling about +four inches through at the butt. Three strokes, and the tree was down. +In a minute he had lopped off the branches for twenty feet, then removed +the top with a single blow. + +As he turned, dragging the pole with him, up sprang the fire again from +the hollow into which the wheel of the wagon had sunk. It was a smoking +furnace down there, and soon the felloe and spokes would be injured by +the flames and heat. Sparks flew on the wings of the wind from out of +the mouth of the hole. Some of them scattered about the horses and they +plunged again, squealing. + +It seemed to Nan impossible after the recent cloudburst that the fire +could find anything to feed upon. But underneath the packed surface of +the sawdust, the heat of summer had been drying out the moisture for +weeks. And the fire had been smouldering for a long time. Perhaps for +yards and yards around, the interior of the sawdust heap was a glowing +furnace. + +Nan would not run away and Tom did not see her. As he came plunging +back to the stalled wagon, suddenly his foot slumped into the yielding +sawdust and he fell upon his face. He cried out with surprise or pain. +Nan, horrified, saw the flames and smoke shooting out of the hole into +which her cousin had stepped. For the moment the girl felt as if her +heart had stopped beating. + +"Oh, Tom! Oh, Tom!" she shrieked, and sprang toward him. + +Tom was struggling to get up. His right leg had gone into the yielding +mass up to his hip, and despite his struggles he could not get it out. +A long yellow flame shot out of the hole and almost licked his face. It, +indeed, scorched his hair on one side of his head. + +But Nan did not scream again. She needed her breath, all that she could +get, for a more practical purpose. Her cousin waved her back feebly, and +tried to tell her to avoid the fire. + +Nan rushed in, got behind him, and seized her cousin under the arms. To +lift him seemed a giant's task; but nevertheless she tried. + + + +Chapter XXVII. OLD TOBY IN TROUBLE + +The squealing and plunging of the horses, the rattling of their chains, +the shrieking of the wind, the reverberating cracks of thunder made +a deafening chorus in Nan's ears. She could scarcely hear what the +imperiled Tom shouted to her. Finally she got it: + +"Not that way! Pull sideways!" + +He beat his hands impotently upon the crust of sawdust to the left. Nan +tugged that way. Tom pulled, too, heaving his great body upward, and +scratching and scrambling along the sawdust with fingers spread like +claws. His right leg came out of the hole, and just then the rain +descended torrentially again. + +The flames from this opening in the roof of the furnace were beaten +down. Tom got to his feet, shaking and panting. He hobbled painfully +when he walked. + +But in a moment he seized upon the pole he had dropped and made for the +smoking timber cart. The terrified horses tried again and again to break +away; but the chain harnesses were too strong; nor did the mired wheel +budge. + +"Oh, Tom! Oh, Tom!" begged Nan. "Let us make the poor horses free, and +run ourselves." + +"And lose my wagon?" returned her cousin, grimly. "Not much!" + +The rain, which continued to descend with tropical violence, almost beat +Nan to the ground; but Tom Sherwood worked furiously. + +He placed the butt of the lever he had cut under the hub of the great +wheel. There was a sound stump at hand to use as a fulcrum. Tom threw +himself upon the end of the lever. Nan ran to add her small weight to +the endeavor. The wheel creaked and began to rise slowly. + +The sawdust was not clinging, it was not like real mire. There was no +suction to hold the wheel down. Merely the crust had broken in and the +wheel had encountered an impediment of a sound tree root in front of it +so that, when the horses tugged, the tire had come against the root and +dragged back the team. + +Out poured the flames and smoke again, the flames hissing as they were +quenched by the falling water. Higher, higher rose the cart wheel. Nan, +who was behind her cousin, saw his neck and ears turn almost purple from +the strain he put in the effort to dislodge the wheel. Up, up it came, +and then----- + +"Gid-ap! 'Ap, boys! Yah! Gid-ap!" + +The horses strained. The yoke chains rattled. Tom gasped to Nan: + +"Take my whip! Quick! Let 'em have it!" + +The girl had always thought the drover's whip Tom used a very cruel +implement, and she wished he did not use it. But she knew now that it +was necessary. She leaped for the whip which Tom had thrown down and +showed that she knew its use. + +The lash hissed and cracked over the horses' backs. Tom voiced one last, +ringing shout. The cart wheel rose up, the horses leaped forward, and +the big timber cart was out of its plight. + +Flames and smoke poured out of the hole again. The rain dashing upon and +into the aperture could not entirely quell the stronger element. But the +wagon was safe, and so, too, were the two cousins. + +Tom was rather painfully burned and Nan began to cry about it. "Oh! Oh! +You poor, poor dear!" she sobbed. "It must smart you dreadfully, Tommy." + +"Don't worry about me," he answered. "Get aboard. Let's get out of +this." + +"Are you going home?" + +"Bet you!" declared Tom. "Why, after this rain stops, this whole blamed +place may be in flames. Must warn folks and get out the fire guard." + +"But the rain will put out the fire, Tom," said Nan, who could not +understand even now the fierce power of a conflagration of this kind. + +"Look there!" yelled Tom, suddenly glancing back over her head as she +sat behind him on the wagon tongue. + +With a roar like an exploding boiler, the flames leaped up the heart of +the hollow tree. The bursted crust of the sawdust heap had given free +ingress to the wind, and a draught being started, it sucked the flames +directly up the tall chimney the tree made. + +The fire burst from the broken top. The flames met the falling rain as +though they were unquenchable. Indeed the clouds were scattering, and +second by second the downfall was decreasing. The tempest of rain was +almost over; but the wind remained to fan the flames that had now broken +cover in several spots, as well as through the tall and hollow tree. + +Tom hastened his team toward the main road that passed through the +tamarack swamp. At one end of it was Pine Camp; in the other direction, +after passing the knoll on which the Vanderwillers lived, the roadway +came out upon a more traveled road to the forks and the railroad. + +Pine Camp was the nearest place where help could be secured to beat down +the fire, if, indeed, this were at all possible. There was a telephone +line there which, in a roundabout way, could be made to carry the news +of the forest fire to all the settlements in the Big Woods and along the +railroad line. + +But Nan seized Tom's arm and shook it to call his attention as the +horses neared the road. + +"Tom! For goodness' sake!" she gasped. + +"What's the matter now?" her cousin demanded, rather sharply, for his +burns were painful. + +"Toby, the Vanderwillers! What will become of them?" + +"What d'you mean?" asked Tom, aghast. + +"That poor cripple! They can't get away, he and his grandmother. Perhaps +Toby hasn't come home yet." + +"And the wind's that way," Tom interrupted. + +It was indeed. The storm had come up from the west and the wind was +still blowing almost directly into the east. A sheet of flame flew from +the top of the old dead tree even as the boy spoke, and was carried +toward the thick forest. It did not reach it, and as the blazing brand +fell it was quenched on the wet surface of the sawdust. + +Nevertheless, the fire was spreading under the crust and soon the few +other dead trees left standing on the tract would burst into flame. As +they looked, the fire burst out at the foot of the tree and began to +send long tongues of flame licking up the shredded bark. + +The effect of the drenching rain would soon be gone and the fire would +secure great headway. + +"Those poor folks are right in the track of the fire, I allow," admitted +Tom. "I wonder if he's got a good wide fire strip ploughed?" + +"Oh! I know what you mean," Nan cried. "You mean all around the edge of +his farm where it meets the woods?" + +"Yes. A ploughed strip may save his buildings. Fire can't easily cross +ploughed ground. Only, if these woods get really ablaze, the fire will +jump half a mile!" + +"Oh no, Tom! You don't mean that?" + +"Yes, I do," said her cousin, gloomily. "Tobe's in a bad place. You +don't know what a forest fire means, nor the damage it does, Nannie. I'm +right troubled by old Tobe's case." + +"But there's no danger for Pine Camp, is there?" asked the girl, +eagerly. + +"Plenty of folks there to make a fire-guard. Besides, the wind's not +that way, exactly opposite. And she's not likely to switch around so +soon, neither. I, don't, know" + +"The folks at home ought to know about it," Nan interrupted. + +"They'll know it, come dark," Tom said briefly. "They'll be looking for +you and they'll see the blaze. Why! After dark that old dead tree will +look like a lighthouse for miles 'n' miles!" + +"I suppose it will," agreed Nan. "But I do want to get home, Tom." + +"Maybe the storm's not over," said her cousin, cocking an eye towards +the clouded heavens. "If it sets in for a long rain (and one's due about +this time according to the Farmer's Almanac) it would keep the fire +down, put it out entirely, maybe. But we can't tell." + +Nan sighed and patted his shoulder. "I know it's our duty to go to the +island, Tommy. You're a conscientious old thing. Drive on." + +Tom clucked to the horses. He steered them into the roadway, but headed +away from home. Another boy with the pain he was bearing would not have +thought of the old lumberman and his family. They were the only people +likely to be in immediate danger from the fire if it spread. The cousins +might easily reach the Vanderwiller's island, warn them of the fire, and +return to town before it got very late, or before the fire crossed the +wood-road. + +They rumbled along, soon striking the corduroy road, having the thick +forest on either hand again. The ditches were running bank full. Over +a quagmire the logs, held down by cross timbers spiked to the sleepers, +shook under the wheels, and the water spurted up through the interstices +as the horses put down their heavy feet. + +"An awful lot of water fell," Tom said soberly. + +"Goodness! The swamp is full," agreed Nan. + +"We may have some trouble in reaching Toby's place," the boy added. "But +maybe--" + +He halted in his speech, and the next instant pulled the horses down to +a willing stop. "Hark-a-that!" whispered Tom. + +"Can it be anybody crying? Maybe it's a wildcat," said Nan, with a vivid +remembrance of her adventure in the snow that she had never yet told to +any member of the family. + +"It's somebody shouting, all right," observed Tom. "Up ahead a way. +Gid-ap!" + +He hurried the horses on, and they slopped through the water which, in +places, flowed over the road, while in others it actually lifted the +logs from their foundation and threatened to spoil the roadway entirely. + +Again and again they heard the faint cry, a man's voice. Tom stood up +and sent a loud cry across the swamp in answer: + +"We're coming! Hold on! + +"Don't know what's the matter with him," he remarked, dropping down +beside Nan again, and stirring the horses to a faster pace. "S'pose he's +got into a mud-hold, team and all, maybe." + +"Oh, Tom! Maybe he'll be sucked right down into this awful mud." + +"Not likely. There aren't many quicksands, or the like, hereabout. Never +heard tell of 'em, if there are. Old Tobe lost a cow once in some +slough." + +They came to a small opening in the forest just then. Here a great tree +had been uprooted by the wind and leaned precariously over a quagmire +beside the roadway. Fortunately only some of the lower branches touched +the road line and Tom could get his team around them. + +Then the person in trouble came into sight. Nan and her cousin saw him +immediately. He was in the middle of the shaking morass waist deep in +the mire, and clinging to one of the small hanging limbs of the uprooted +tree. + +"Hickory splits!" ejaculated Tom, stopping the team. "It's old Tobe +himself! Did you ever see the like!" + + + +Chapter XXVIII. THE GIRL IN THE HOLLOW TREE + +Just why old Toby Vanderwiller was clinging to that branch and did not +try to wade ashore, neither Nan nor Tom could understand. But one thing +was plain: the old lumberman thought himself in danger, and every once +in a while he gave out a shout for help. But his voice was growing weak. + +"Hey, Tobe!" yelled Tom. "Why don't you wade ashore?" + +"There ye be, at last, hey?" snarled the old man, who was evidently just +as angry as he could be. "Thought ye'd never come. Hearn them horses +rattling their chains, must ha' been for an hour." + +"That's stretching it some," laughed Tom. "That tree hasn't been toppled +over an hour." + +"Huh! Ye can't tell me nothin' 'beout that!" declared Toby. "I was right +here when it happened." + +"Goodness!" gasped Nan. + +"Yep. And lemme tell ye, I only jest 'scaped being knocked down when she +fell." + +"My!" murmured Nan again. + +"That's how I got inter this muck hole," growled the old lumberman. "I +jumped ter dodge the tree, and landed here." + +"Why don't you wade ashore?" demanded Tom again, preparing in a +leisurely manner to cast the old man the end of a line he had coiled on +the timber cart. + +"Yah!" snarled Toby. "Why don't Miz' Smith keep pigs? Don't ax fool +questions, Tommy, but gimme holt on that rope. I'm afraid ter let go the +branch, for I'll sink, and if I try ter pull myself up by it, the whole +blamed tree'll come down onter me. Ye see how it's toppling?" + +It was true that the fallen tree was in a very precarious position. When +Toby stirred at all, the small weight he rested on the branch made the +head of the tree dip perilously. And if it did fall the old man would +be thrust into the quagmire by the weight of the branches which overhung +his body. + +"Let go of it, Toby!" called Tom, accelerating his motions. "Catch +this!" + +He flung the coil with skill and Toby seized it. The rocking tree +groaned and slipped forward a little. Toby gave a yell that could have +been heard much farther than his previous cries. + +But Tom sank back on the taut rope and fairly jerked the old man out +of the miry hole. Scrambling on hands and knees, Toby reached firmer +ground, and then the road itself. + +Nan uttered a startled exclamation and cowered behind the cart. The +huge tree, groaning and its roots splintering, sagged down and, in +an instant, the spot there the old lumberman had been, was completely +covered by the interlacing branches of the uprooted tree. + +"Close squeal, that," remarked Tom, helping the old man to his feet. + +Toby stared at them both, wiping the mire from his face as he did so. +He was certainly a scarecrow figure after his submersion in the mud; gut +Nan did not feel like laughing at him. The escape had been too narrow. + +"Guess the Almighty sent you just in time, Tom, my boy," said Toby +Vanderwiller. "He must have suthin' more for the old man to do yet, +before he cashes in. And little Sissy, too. Har! Henry Sherwood's son +and Henry Sherwood's niece. Reckon I owe him a good turn," he muttered. + +Nan heard this, though Tom did not, and her heart leaped. She hoped that +Toby would feel sufficient gratitude to help Uncle Henry win his case +against Gedney Raffer. But, of course, this was not the time to speak of +it. + +When the old lumberman heard about the fire in the sawdust he was quite +as excited as the young folk had been. It was fast growing dark now, but +it was impossible from the narrow road to see even the glow of the fire +against the clouded sky. + +"I believe it's goin' to open up and rain ag'in," Toby said. "But if you +want to go on and plow me a fire-strip, Tommy, I'll be a thousand times +obleeged to you." + +"That's what I came this way for," said the young fellow briefly. "Hop +on and we'll go to the island as quickly as possible." + +They found Mrs. Vanderwiller and the crippled boy anxiously watching the +flames in the tree top from the porch of the little house on the island. +Nan ran to them to relate their adventures, while Toby got out the plow +and Tom hitched his big horses to it. + +The farm was not fenced, for the road and forest bounded it completely. +Tom put the plow in at the edge of the wood and turned his furrows +toward it, urging the horses into a trot. It was not that the fire was +near; but the hour was growing late and Tom knew that his mother and +father would be vastly anxious about Nan. + +The young fellow made twelve laps, turning twelve broad furrows that +surely would guard the farm against any ordinary fire. But by the time +he was done it did not look as though the fire in the sawdust would +spread far. The clouds were closing up once more and it was again +raining, gently but with an insistence that promised a night of +downpour, at least. + +Old Mrs. Vanderwiller had made supper, and insisted upon their eating +before starting for Pine Camp. And Tom, at least, did his share with +knife and fork, while his horses ate their measure of corn in the +paddock. It was dark as pitch when they started for home, but Tom was +cheerful and sure of his way, so Nan was ashamed to admit that she was +frightened. + +"Tell yer dad I'll be over ter Pine Camp ter see him 'fore many days," +Old Toby jerked out, as they were starting. "I got suthin' to say to +him, I have!" + +Tom did not pay much attention to this; but Nan did. Her heart leaped +for joy. She believed that Toby Vanderwiller's words promised help for +Uncle Henry. + +But she said nothing to Tom about it. She only clung to his shoulder as +the heavy timber cart rattled away from the island. + +A misty glow hung over the sawdust strip as they advanced; but now that +the wind had died down the fire could not spread. Beside the road the +glow worms did their feeble best to light the way; and now and then an +old stump in the swamp displayed a ghostly gleam of phosphorus. + +Nan had never been in the swamp before at night. The rain had driven +most of the frogs and other croaking creatures to cover. But now and +then a sudden rumble "Better-go-roun'!" or "Knee-deep! Knee-deep!" +proclaimed the presence of the green-jacketed gentlemen with the yellow +vests. + +"Goodness me! I'd be scared to death to travel this road by myself," Nan +said, as they rode on. "The frogs make such awful noises." + +"But frogs won't hurt you," drawled Tom. + +"I know all that," sighed Nan. "But they sound as if they would. There! +That one says, just as plain as plain can be, 'Throw 'im in! Throw 'im +in!" + +"Good!" chuckled Tom. "And there's a drunken old rascal calling: +'Jug-er-rum! Jug-er-rum!'!" + +A nighthawk, wheeling overhead through the rain, sent down her +discordant cry. Deep in a thicket a whip-poor-will complained. It was +indeed a ghostly chorus that attended their slow progress through the +swamp at Pine Camp. + +When they crossed the sawdust tract there was little sign of the fire. +The dead tree had fallen and was just a glowing pile of coals, fast +being quenched by the gently falling rain. For the time, at least, the +danger of a great conflagration was past. + +"Oh! I am so glad," announced Nan, impetuously. "I was afraid it was +going to be like that Pale Lick fire." + +"What Pale Lick fire?" demanded Tom, quickly. "What do you know about +that?" + +"Not much, I guess," admitted his cousin, slowly. "But you used to live +there, didn't you?" + +"Rafe and I don't remember anything about it," said Tom, in his quiet +way. "Rafe was a baby and I wasn't much better. Marm saved us both, so +we've been told. She and dad never speak about it." + +"Oh! And Indian Pete?" whispered Nan. + +"He saved the whole of us--dad and all. He knew a way out through a +slough and across a lake. He had a dug-out. He got badly burned dragging +dad to the boat when he was almost suffocated with smoke," Tom said +soberly. + +"'Tisn't anything we talk about much, Nan. Who told you?" + +"Oh, it's been hinted to me by various people," said Nan, slowly. "But I +saw Injun Pete, Tom." + +"When? He hasn't been to Pine Camp since you came." + +Nan told her cousin of her adventure in the hollow near Blackton's +lumber camp. Tom was much excited by that. + +"Gracious me, Nan! But you are a plucky girl. Wait till Rafe hears about +it. And marm and dad will praise you for being so level-headed today. +Aren't many girls like you, Nan, I bet!" + +"Nor boys like you, Tom," returned the girl, shyly. "How brave you were, +staying to pull that old wagon-wheel out of the fire." + +"Ugh!" growled Tom. "A fat time I'd have had there if it hadn't been for +you helping me out of the oven. Cracky! I thought I was going to have my +leg burned to a cinder. + +"That would have been terrible!" shuddered Nan. "What would poor Aunt +Kate have said?" + +"We can't tell her anything about it," Tom hastened to say. "You see, my +two older brothers, Jimmy and Alfred, were asleep in the garret of our +house at Pale Lick, and marm thought they'd got out. It wasn't until +afterward that she learned they'd been burned up with the house. She's +never got over it." + +"I shouldn't think she would," sighed Nan. + +"And you see she's awfully afraid of fire, even now," said Tom. + +They rattled on over the logs of the road; here and there they came to +bad places, where the water had not gone down; and the horses were very +careful in putting their hoofs down upon the shaking logs. However, it +was not much over an hour after leaving the island that they spied the +lights of Pine Camp from the top of the easy rise leading out of the +tamarack swamp. + +They met Rafe with a lantern half way down the hill. Uncle Henry was +away and Aunt Kate had sent Rafe out to look for Nan, although she +supposed that the girl had remained at the Vanderwillers' until the rain +was over, and that Toby would bring her home. + +There was but one other incident of note before the three of them +reached the rambling house Uncle Henry had built on the outskirts of +Pine Camp. As they turned off the swamp road through the lane that ran +past the Llewellen cottage, Rafe suddenly threw the ray of his lantern +into a hollow tree beside the roadway. A small figure was there, and it +darted back out of sight. + +"There!" shouted Rafe. "I knew you were there, you little nuisance. What +did you run out of the house and follow me for, Mar'gret Llewellen?" + +He jumped in and seized the child, dragging her forth from the hollow of +the big tree. He held her, while she squirmed and screamed. + +"You lemme alone, Rafe Sherwood! Lemme alone!" she commanded. "I ain't +doin' nothin' to you." + +"Well, I bet you are up to some monkey-shines, out this time of night," +said Rafe, giving her a little shake. "You come on back home, Mag." + +"I won't!" declared the girl. + +"Yes, do, Margaret," begged Nan. "It's going to rain harder. Don't hurt +her, Rafe." + +"Yah! You couldn't hurt her," said Rafe. "She's as tough as a little +pine-knot, and don't you forget it! Aren't you, Mag?" + +"Lemme go!" repeated Margaret, angrily. + +"What did you chase down here after me for?" asked Rafe, the curious. + +"I, I thought mebbe you was comin' to hunt for something," stammered the +girl. + +"So I was. For Nancy here," laughed Rafe. + +"Thought 'twas somethin' of mine," said the girl. "Lemme go now!" + +She jerked away her hand and scuttled into the house that they were then +just passing. + +"Wonder what the little imp came out to watch me for?" queried Rafe. + +After they had arrived at home and the excitement o the return was over; +after she and Tom had told as much of their adventures as they thought +wise, and Nan had retired to the east chamber, she thought again about +Margaret and her queer actions by the roadside. + +"Why, that tree is where Margaret hides her most precious possessions," +said Nan, suddenly, sitting up in bed. "Why, what could it be she was +afraid Rafe would find there? Why can that child have hidden something +there that she doesn't want any of us to see?" + +Late as it was, and dark as it was, and stormy as the night was, she +felt that she must know immediately what Margaret Llewellen had hidden +in the hollow tree. + + + +Chapter XXIX. GREAT NEWS FROM SCOTLAND + +Nan put two and two together, and the answer came right. + +She got out of bed, lit her lamp again and began to dress. She turned +her light down to a dim glimmer, however, for she did not want her aunt +to look out of the window of her bedroom on the other side of the parlor +and catch a glimpse of her light. + +In the half darkness Nan made a quick toilet; and then, with her +raincoat on and hood over her head, she hesitated with her hand upon the +knob of the door. + +"If I go through the parlor and out the side door, Aunt Kate will hear +me," thought Nan. "That won't do at all." + +She looked at the further window. Outside the rain was pattering and +there was absolutely no light. In the pocket of her raincoat Nan had +slipped the electric torch she had brought from home, something of which +Aunt Kate cordially approved, and was always begging Uncle Henry to buy +one like it. + +The pocket lamp showed her the fastenings of the screen. Tom had made +it to slide up out of the way when she wanted to open or close the sash. +And, as far as she could see, any one could open it from the outside as +easily as from the room itself. + +"And that's just what she did," decided Nan. "How foolish of me not to +think of it before." + +With this enigmatical observation Nan prepared to leave the room by this +very means. She was agile, and the sill of the window was only three +feet from the ground. It was through this opening that she had helped +Margaret Llewellen into her room on the first occasion that odd child +had visited her. + +Nan jumped out, let the screen down softly, and hurried across the +unfenced yard to the road. She knew well enough when she reached the +public track, despite the darkness for the mirey clay stuck to her shoes +and made the walking difficult. + +She flashed her lamp once, to get her bearings, and then set off down +the lane toward the swamp road. There was not a light in any house she +passed, not even in Mr. Fen Llewellen's cottage. "I guess Margaret's +fast asleep," murmured Nan, as she passed swiftly on. + +The rain beat down upon the girl steadily, and Nan found it shivery +out here in the dark and storm. However, her reason for coming, Nan +conceived, was a very serious one. This was no foolish escapade. + +By showing her light now and then she managed to follow the dark lane +without stepping off into any of the deep puddles which lay beside the +path. She came, finally, to the spot where Rafe had met her and Tom with +his lantern that evening. Here stood the great tree with a big hollow in +it, Margaret Llewellen's favorite playhouse. + +For a moment Nan hesitated. The place looked so dark and there might be +something alive in the hollow. + +But she plucked up courage and flashed her lamp into it. The white ray +played about the floor of the hollow. The other Llewellen children dared +not come here, for Margaret punished them if they disturbed anything +belonging to her. + +What Nan was looking for was not in sight. She stepped inside, and +raised the torch. The rotting wood had been neatly scooped out, and +where the aperture grew smaller at the top a wide shelf had been made by +the ingenious Margaret. Nan had never been in this hide-out before. + +"It must be here! It must be here!" she kept telling herself, and stood +on her tiptoes to feel along the shelf, which was above her head. + +Nan discovered nothing at first. She felt along the entire length of the +shelf again. Nothing! + +"I know better!" she almost sobbed. "My dear, beautiful." + +She jumped up, feeling back on the shelf with her right hand. Her +fingers touched something, and it was not the rotting wood of the tree! + +"It's there!" breathed the excited girl. She flashed her lamp around, +searching for something to stand upon. There in the corner was a roughly +made footstool. + +In a moment Nan had the footstool set in position, and had stepped upon +it. Her hand darted to the back of the shelf. There was a long box, a +pasteboard box. + +Nan dropped her lamp with a little scream of ecstasy, and of course the +light went out. But she had the long box clasped in her arms. She could +not wait to get home with it, but tumbled off the stool and sat down +upon it, picked up the torch, held it so the round spot-light gave her +illumination, and untied the string. + +Off came the cover. She peeped within. The pink and white loveliness of +Beulah's wax features peered up at her. + +In fifteen minutes Nan was back in her room, without being discovered by +anybody, and with the doll safely clasped in her arms. Indeed, she went +to bed a second time that night with her beloved playmate lying on the +pillow beside her, just as she had done when a little girl. + +"I suppose I'm foolish," she confessed to Aunt Kate the next morning +when she told her about it. "But I loved Beulah so much when I was +little that I can't forget her now. If I go to Lakeview Hall I'm going +to take her with me. I don't care what the other girls say!" + +"You are faithful in your likes, child," said Aunt Kate nodding. "'Tis a +good trait. But I'd like to lay that Marg'ret Llewellen across my knee, +for her capers." + +"And I didn't think she cared for dolls," murmured Nan. + +But it was young Bob who betrayed the mysterious reason for his sister's +act. + +"Huh!" he said, with a boy's disgust for such things. "Mag's crazy about +pretty faces, if they're smooth, an' pink. She peeked into that Sherwood +gal's room and seed her playin' doll; then she had ter have it for +herself 'cause it was so pretty and had a smooth face, not like the +kids' dolls that Aunt Matildy buyed." + +Poor little Margaret was greatly chagrined at the discovery of her +secret. She ran away into the woods whenever she saw Nan coming, for a +long time thereafter. It took weeks for the girl from Tillbury to regain +the half-wild girl's confidence again. + +Nan was just as busy and happy as she could be, considering the +uncertain news from Scotland and Uncle Henry's unfortunate affair with +Gedney Raffer. She helped Aunt Kate with the housework early every +morning so that they might both hurry into the woods to pick berries. + +Pine Camp was in the midst of a vast huckleberry country, and at the +Forks a cannery had been established. Beside, the Forks was a big +shipping centre for the fresh berries. + +Uncle Henry bought crates and berry "cups," and sometimes the whole +family picked all day long in the berry pasture, taking with them a cold +luncheon, and eating it picnic fashion. + +It was great fun, Nan thought, despite the fact that she often came home +so wearied that her only desire was to drop into bed. But the best part +of it, the saving grace of all this toil, was the fact that she was +earning money for herself! Account was faithfully kept of every cup of +berries she picked, and, when Uncle Henry received his check from the +produce merchant to whom he shipped the berries, Nan was paid her share. + +These welcome earnings she saved for a particular purpose, and for no +selfish one, you may be sure. Little Margaret Llewellen still ran from +her and Nan wished to win the child back; so she schemed to do this. + +After all, there was something rather pitiful in the nature of the child +who so disliked any face that was "wizzled," but loved those faces that +were fair and smooth. + +Margaret only possessed a feeling that is quite common to humanity; she +being such a little savage, she openly expressed an emotion that many of +us have, but try to hide. + +The Llewellen children picked berries, of course, as did most of the +other neighbors. Pine Camp was almost a "deserted village" during the +season when the sweet, blue fruit hung heavy on the bushes. + +Sometimes the Sherwood party, and the Llewellens, would cross each +others' paths in the woods, or pastures; but little Margaret always +shrank into the background. If Nan tried to surprise her, the half wild +little thing would slip away into the deeper woods like one of its own +denizens. + +Near the river one day Margaret had an experience that should have +taught her a lesson, however, regarding wandering alone in the forest. +And the adventure should, too, have taught the child not to shrink so +from an ugly face. + +Nan had something very important to tell Margaret. Her savings had +amounted to quite a goodly sum and in the catalog of a mail-order +house she had found something of which she wished to secure Margaret's +opinion. The child, as usual, ran away when they met, and even Bob could +not bring her back. + +"She's as obstinate as dad's old mu-el," grunted the disgusted boy. +"Can't do a thing with her, Nan Sherwood." + +"I'll just get her myself!" declared Nan, laughing, and she started into +the thicker woods to circumvent Margaret. She did not follow the river +as the smaller girl had, but struck into the bush, intending to circle +around and head Margaret off. + +She had not pushed her way through the clinging vines and brush for ten +minutes before she heard somebody else in the jungle. She thought it was +the little girl, at first; then she caught sight of a man's hat and knew +that Margaret did not wear a hat at all. + +"Goodness! Who can that be?" thought Nan. She was a little nervous about +approaching strange people in the wood; although at this season there +was nothing to apprehend from stragglers, there were so many berry +pickers within call. + +Nan did not seek to overtake the man, however, and would have kept on +in her original direction, had she not heard a cry and a splitting crash +toward the river bank. Some accident had happened, and when Nan heard +the scream repeated, she was sure that the voice was that of Margaret. + +So she set off directly, on a run, tearing her dress and scratching her +hands and face, but paying no attention to either misfortune. She only +wanted to get to the scene of the accident and lend her aid, if it was +needed. + +And it would have been needed if it had not been for the man whose hat +she had seen a few moments before. He made his passage through the bush +much quicker than could Nan, and when the latter reached an opening +where she could see the river, the stranger was just leaping into the +deep pool under the high bank. + +It was plain to be seen what had happened. A sycamore overhung the +river and somebody had climbed out upon a small branch to reach a few +half-ripened grapes growing on a vine that ran up the tree. + +The branch had split, drooping downward, and the adventurous +grape-gatherer had been cast into the water. + +"Oh, Margaret!" screamed Nan, confident that it was the reckless child +that was in peril. + +She hurried to the brink of the low bluff, from which the rescuer had +plunged. He had already seized the child (there was an eddy here under +the bank) and was striking out for the shore. Nan saw his wet face, with +the bedraggled hair clinging about it. + +It was the awfully scarred face of Injun Pete; but to the excited Nan, +at that moment, it seemed one of the most beautiful faces she had ever +seen! + +The Indian reached the bank, clung to a tough root, and lifted up the +gasping Margaret for Nan to reach. The girl took the child and scrambled +up the bank again; by the time she was at the top, Injun Pete was beside +her. + +"She not hurt, Little missy," said the man, in his soft voice, and +turning his face so that Nan should not see it. "She just scared." + +Margaret would not even cry. She was too plucky for that. When she got +her breath she croaked: + +"Put me down, Nan Sherwood. I ain't no baby." + +"But you're a very wet child," said Nan, laughing, yet on the verge of +tears herself. "You might have been drowned, you WOULD have been had it +not been for Mr. Indian Pete." + +"Ugh!" whispered Margaret. "I seen him when I come up out o' that nasty +water. I wanted to go down again." + +"Hush, Margaret!" cried Nan, sternly. "You must thank him." + +The man was just then moving away. He shook himself like a dog coming +out of the stream, and paid no further attention to his own wet +condition. + +"Wait, please!" Nan called after him. + +"She all right now," said the Indian. + +"But Margaret wants to thank you, don't you, Margaret?" + +"Much obleeged," said the little girl, bashfully. "You air all right, +you air." + +"That all right, that all right," said the man, hurriedly. "No need to +thank me." + +"Yes, there is," said Nan, insistently. "Come here, please. Margaret +wants to kiss you for saving her life." + +"Oh!" The word came out of Margaret's lips like an explosion. Nan stared +very sternly at her. "If you don't," she said in a low tone, "I'll tell +your father all about how you came to fall into the river." + +Under this threat Margaret became amenable. She puckered up her lips +and stretched her arms out toward Indian Pete. The man stumbled back and +fell on his knees beside the two girls. Nan heard the hoarse sob in his +throat as he took little Margaret in his arms. + +"Bless you! Bless you!" he murmured, receiving the kiss right upon his +scarred cheek. But Nan saw that Margaret's eyes were tightly closed as +she delivered the caress, per order! + +The next moment the man with the scarred face had slipped away and +disappeared in the forest. They saw him no more. + +However, just as soon as the catalog house could send it, Margaret +received a beautiful, pink-cheeked, and flaxen-haired Doll, not as fine +as Beulah, but beautiful enough to delight any reasonable child. + +Nan had won back Margaret's confidence and affection. + +Meanwhile the hot summer was fast passing. Nan heard from her chum, Bess +Harley, with commendable regularity; and no time did Bess write without +many references to Lakeview Hall. + +Nan, advised by her former teacher in Tillbury, had brought her books to +Pine Camp, and had studied faithfully along the lines of the high school +work. She was sure she could pass quite as good an entrance examination +for Lakeview Hall as Bess could. + +And at last good news came from Scotland: + +"I am not quite ready to bring Momsey home," Papa Sherwood wrote. "But +the matter of her fortune is at least partially settled. The claims of +the other relatives have been disallowed. Mr. Andrew Blake is prepared +to turn over to your Momsey a part of her wonderful fortune. The rest +will come later. She will tell you all about it herself. + +"What I wish to say to you particularly in this letter," pursued Mr. +Sherwood, "is, that arrangements have been made for you to attend +Lakeview Hall this coming semester. You will meet your friend, Elizabeth +Harley, in Chicago, and will go with her to the school. I am writing by +this mail to the principal of the Hall. Mr. Harley has made all other +necessary arrangements for you." + +"Oh!" cried Nan, clasping her hands. "It's too good to be true! It can't +be possible! I just know I'll wake up in a minute and find all this an +exciting dream, and that's all!" + +But Nan was wrong on that point, as the reader will see if her further +adventures are followed in the next volume of the series, entitled, "Nan +Sherwood at Lakeview Hall, or, The Mystery of the Haunted Boathouse." + +While Nan was still intensely excited over this letter from Scotland, +Toby Vanderwiller drove up to the Sherwood house behind his broken-kneed +pony. This was the first time any of the Sherwoods had seen him since +the day of the big storm and the fire in the sawdust. + + + +Chapter XXX. OFF FOR LAKEVIEW HALL + +Nan ran out immediately to speak to the old lumberman; but Toby was +calling for Uncle Henry: + +"Hey, Hen! Hen Sherwood! Come out yere," he cried. + +Uncle Henry halloaed from the stables, and came striding at the call. +Nan reached the old rattletrap wagon first. + +"Oh, Mr. Vanderwiller!" she said. "I am glad to see you! And how is your +wife and Corson?" + +He looked down at her reflectively, and for a moment did not say a word. +Then he swallowed something and said, jerkily: + +"An' you're the one that done it all, Sissy! The ol' woman an' the boy +air as chipper as bluejays. An' they air a honin' for a sight on you." + +"Yes. I haven't been over lately. But that man from Chicago came, didn't +he?" + +"I sh'd say 'yes'! He come," said Toby, in awe. "An' what d'ye s'pose? +He done buyed a heap of Corson's spec'mens an' paid him more'n a hundred +dollars for 'em. And that ain't countin' that there dead-head butterfly +ye made sech a time about. + +"I reckoned," pursued Toby, "that you was right crazy about that there +bug. One bug's as bad as another to my way of thinkin'. But it seems +that Chicago feller thinked dif'rent." + +"It really was one of the very rare death's-head moths?" cried Nan, +delighted. + +"So he said. And he was willin' ter back up his belief with cold cash," +declared Toby, smiting his leg for emphasis. "He paid us harnsome for +it; and he said he'd take a lot more spec'mens if-- + +"Har! Here ye be, Hen," he added, breaking off to greet Nan's uncle. "I +got suthin' to say to you. I kin say it now, for I ain't beholden ter +nobody. With what me and the ol' woman had scrimped and saved, an' what +this feller from Chicago give Corson, I done paid off my debt to ol' Ged +Raffer, an' the little farm's free and clear." + +"I'm glad to hear it, Tobe," Uncle Henry declared, shaking hands with +the old lumberman again. "I certain sure am glad to hear it! I'm pleased +that you shouldn't have that worry on your mind any longer." + +"And it has been a worry," said Old Toby, shaking his head. "More'n you +think for. Ye see, it snarled me all up so's I warn't my own master." + +"I see." + +"Ye see, Ged was allus after me to go inter court an' back up his claim +ag'in you on that Perkins Tract." + +"I see," said Henry Sherwood again, nodding. + +"On the other hand, you wanted me, if I knowed which was right, to +witness, too. If I'd witnessed for Ged, ev'rybody wuld ha' thought I +done it because he had a mortgage on the farm." + +"I s'pose so," admitted Uncle Henry. + +"Or, if I helped you, they'd ha' thought you'd bribed me--mebbe helped +me git square with Ged." + +"I couldn't. Too poor just now," said Uncle Henry, grimly. "But I'd the +mind for it, Toby." + +"Well, there ye be. Whichever way the cat jumped, I'd lost the respect +of the community," said the old lumberman. "But now I am independent, I +don't give a dern!" + +Mr. Sherwood looked at him expectantly. Toby's "wizzled" face shone. + +"I got a debt owin' to that leetle gal you got here, and somethin' to +pay off to Tommy, too. But money won't do it, ef I had money. I am goin' +to tell what I know about that boundary, though, Hen, and it will do YOU +good! I can find another old feller, livin' down Pale Lick way, that can +corroborate my evidence. + +"You can git that injunction vacated at once, Hen, if you want, and put +your axe-men right back into the Perkins Tract to work. That's what I +come 'round to tell ye." + +Aunt Kate was moved to tears, an unusual expression of emotion on her +part. Being of pioneer stock, and having suffered much in the past, +Nan's aunt was not easily moved. Uncle Henry was delighted. It was a +great day for the Sherwoods. + +It was another great day when, a week later, the roan ponies were +brought to the door and Nan's trunk was strapped upon the back of the +buckboard. Uncle Henry was to drive her to the train; but she would +travel alone to Chicago to meet her chum, Bess Harley. + +"And go to Lakeview Hall! I never did really expect I'd get there," Nan +sighed, as she clung to Aunt Kate's neck. "It almost makes me forget +that Momsey and Papa Sherwood are not at home yet. + +"But, my dear!" she added, "if such a thing could be, you and Uncle +Henry have taken the place of my own dear parents all these months I +have been at Pine Camp. I've had a dee-lightful time. I'll never forget +you all. I love you, love you, love you." + +The roan ponies started on the jump. The boys cheered her from the +corner of the house, having bashfully remained in the background. Even +Margaret Llewellen and her impish brother, Bob, appeared and shrilly +bade her goodbye. + +Nan was off for school, and wonderful adventures lay before her! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp, by Annie Roe Carr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP *** + +***** This file should be named 2691.txt or 2691.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/9/2691/ + +Produced by Justin Philips + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This Project Gutenberg Etext presented by Justin Philips <j_p@vsnl.com> + + + + + +Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp + +or The Old Lumberman's Secret + + +by Annie Roe Carr + + + + +Chapter I +THE YELLOW POSTER + +"Oh, look there, Nan!" cried Bess Harley suddenly, as they turned +into High Street from the avenue on which Tillbury's high school +was situated. + +"Look where?" queried Nan Sherwood promptly. "Up in the air, +down on the ground or all around?" and she carried out her +speech in action, finally spinning about on one foot in a manner +to shock the more staid Elizabeth. + +"Oh, Nan!" + +"Oh, Bess!" mocked her friend. + +She was a rosy-cheeked, brown-eyed girl, with fly-away hair, a +blue tam-o'-shanter set jauntily upon it, and a strong, plump +body that she had great difficulty in keeping still enough in +school to satisfy her teachers. + +"Do behave, Nan," begged Bess. "We're on the public street." + +"How awful!" proclaimed Nan Sherwood, making big eyes at her +chum. "Why folks know we're only high-school girls. so, of +course, we're crazy! Otherwise we wouldn't BE high-school +girls." + +"Nonsense!" cried Bess, interrupting. Do be reasonable, Nan. +And look yonder! What do you suppose that crowd is at the big +gate of the Atwater Mills?" + +Nan Sherwood's merry face instantly clouded. She was not at all +a thoughtless girl, although she was of a sanguine, cheerful +temperament. + +The startled change in her face amazed Bess. + +"Oh dear!" the latter cried. "What is it? Surely, there's nobody +hurt in the mills? Your father-----" + +"I'm afraid, Bess dear, that it means there are a great many hurt +in the mills." + +"Oh, Nan! How horridly you talk," cried Bess. "That is +impossible." + +"Not hurt in the machinery, not mangled by the looms," Nan went +on to say, gravely. "But dreadfully hurt nevertheless, Bess. +Father has been expecting it, I believe. Let's go and read the +poster." + +"Why it is a poster, isn't it?" cried Bess. "What does it say?" + +The two school girls, both neatly dressed and carrying their +bags of text books, pushed into the group before the yellow +quarter-sheet poster pasted on the fence. + +The appearance of Nan and Bess was distinctly to their advantage +when compared with that of the women and girls who made up the +most of the crowd interested in the black print upon the poster. + +The majority of these whispering, staring people were foreigners. +All bore marks of hard work and poverty. The hands of even the +girls in the group were red and cracked. It was sharp winter +weather, but none wore gloves. + +If they wore a head-covering at all, it was a shawl gathered at +the throat by the clutch of frost-bitten fingers. There was snow +on the ground; but few wore overshoes. + +They crowded away from the two well-dressed high-school girls, +looking at them askance. Bess Harley scarcely noticed the mill- +hands' wives and daughters. She came of a family who considered +these poor people little better than cattle. Nan Sherwood was so +much interested in the poster that she saw nothing else. It +read: + +NOTICE: Two weeks from date all departments of these mills will +be closed until further notice. Final payment of wages due will +be made on January 15th. Over-supply of our market and the +prohibitive price of cotton make this action a necessity. +ATWATER MILLS COMPANY. December 28th. + +"Why, dear me!" murmured Bess. "I thought it might really be +something terrible. Come on, Nan. It's only a notice of a +vacation. I guess most of them will be glad to rest awhile." + +"And who is going to pay for their bread and butter while the +poor creatures are resting?" asked Nan seriously, as the two +girls moved away from the group before the yellow poster. + +"Dear me, Nan!" her chum cried. "You do always think of the most +dreadful things. It troubles me to know anything about poverty +and poor people. I can't help them, and I don't want to know +anything about them." + +"If I didn't know that you are better than your talk, Bess," said +Nan, still gravely, "I'd think you a most callous person. You +just don't understand. These poor people have been fearing this +shut-down for months. And all the time they have been expecting +it they have been helpless to avert it and unable to prepare for +it." + +"They might have saved some of their wages, I suppose," said +Bess. "I heard father say the other night how much money the +mills paid out in a year to the hands, some perfectly enORmous +sum." + +"But just think how many people that has to be divided among," +urged Nan. "Lots of the men earn only eight or nine dollars a +week, and have families to support." + +"Well, of course, they don't have to be supported as we are," +objected the easy-minded Bess. "Anyway my father says frugality +should be taught to the poor just the same as reading and +writing. +They ought to learn how to save." + +"When you earn only just enough to supply your needs, and no +more, how can you divide your income so as to hoard up any part +of it?" + +"Dear me! Don't ask questions in political economy out of +school, Nan!" cried Bess, forgetting that she had started the +discussion herself. "I just HATE that study, and wish we didn't +have to take it! I can't answer that question, anyway." + +"I'll answer it then," declared Nan. "If you are a mill-hand +your stomach won't let you save money. There probably won't be a +dozen families affected by this shut-down who have more than ten +dollars saved." + +"Goodness! You don't mean that that's true? Why, dad gives me +that much to spend on myself each month," Bess cried. "The poor +things! Even if they are frowsy and low, I am sorry for them. +But, of course, the shut-down doesn't trouble you, Nan. Not +personally, I mean. Your father has had a good position for so +many years-----" + +"I'm not at all sure that it won't trouble us," Nan interposed +gravely. "But of course we are not in danger of starvation." + +She felt some delicacy about entirely confiding in Bess on the +subject. Nan had heard the pros and cons of the expected closing +of the mills discussed at home almost every day for weeks past; +but family secrets should never be mentioned outside the family +circle, as Nan very well knew. + +"Well," signed Bess, whose whole universe revolved around a +central sun called Self, as is the case with many girls brought +up by indulgent parents. "I hope, dear, that this trouble won't +keep you from entering Lakeview with me next fall." + +Nan laughed. "There never was a chance of my going with you, +Bess, and I've told you so often enough-----" + +"Now, don't you say that, Nan Sherwood!" cried her chum. "I've +just made up my mind that you shall go, and that's all there is +to it! You've just got to go!" + +"You mean to kidnap me and bear me off to that ogre's castle, +whether or not?" + +"It's the very nicest school that ever was," cried Bess. "And +such a romantic place." + +"Romantic?" repeated Nan curiously. + +"Yes, indeed! A great big stone castle overlooking Lake +Michigan, a regular fortress, they say. It was built years ago +by Colonel Gilpatrick French, when he came over from Europe with +some adventurous Irishmen who thought all they had to do was to +sail over to Canada and the whole country would be theirs for the +taking." + +"Goodness me! I've read something about that," said Nan, +interested. + +"Well, Lakeview Hall, as the school is called, was built by that +rich Colonel French. And they say there are dungeons under it " + +"Where they keep their jams and preserves, now, I suppose?" +laughed Nan. + +"And secret passages down to the shore of the lake. And the +great hall where the brave Irishmen used to drill is now the +assembly hall of the school." + +"Sounds awfully interesting," admitted Nan. + +"And Dr. Beulah Prescott, who governs the hall, the preceptress, +you know, is really a very lovely lady, my mother says," went on +the enthusiastic Bess. "MY mother went to school to her at +Ferncliffe." + +"Oh, Bess," Nan said warmly, "It must be a perfectly lovely +place! But I know I can never go there." + +"Don't you say that! Don't you say that!" cried the other girl. +"I won't listen to you! You've just got to go!" + +"I'm afraid you'll have to kidnap me, then," repeated Nan, with a +rueful smile. "I'm very sure that my father won't be able to +afford it, especially now that the mills will close." + +"Oh, Nan! I think you're too mean," wailed her friend. "It's my +pet project. You know, I've always said we should go to +preparatory school together, and then to college." + +Nan's eyes sparkled; but she shook her head. + +"We sat together in primary school, and we've always been in the +same grade through grammar and into high," went on Bess, who was +really very faithful in her friendships. "It would just break my +heart, Nan, if we were to be separated now." + +Nan put her arm about her. They had reached the corner by Bess's +big house where they usually separated after school. + +"Don't you cry, honey!" Nan begged her chum. "You'll find lots +of nice girls at that Lakeview school, I am sure. I'd dearly +love to go with you, but you might as well understand right now, +dear, that my folks are poor." + +"Poor!" gasped Bess. + +"Too poor to send me to Lakeview," Nan went on steadily. "And +with the mills closing as they are, we shall be poorer still. I +may have to get a certificate as Bertha Pike did, and go to work. +So you mustn't think any more about my going to that beautiful +school with you." + +"Stop! I won't listen to you another moment, Nan Sherwood!" +cried Bess, and sticking her fingers in her ears, she ran angrily +away and up the walk to the front door. + +Nan walked briskly away toward Amity Street. She did not turn +back to wave her hand as usual at the top of the hill. + +Chapter II +THE COTTAGE ON AMITY STREET + +The little shingled cottage stood back from the street, in a +deeper yard than most of its neighbors. It was built the year +Nan was born, so the roses, the honeysuckle, and the clematis had +become of stalwart growth and quite shaded the front and side +porches. + +The front steps had begun to sag a little; but Mr. Sherwood had +blocked them up. The front fence had got out of alignment, and +the same able mechanic had righted it and set the necessary new +posts. + +The trim of the little cottage on Amity Street had been painted +twice within Nan's remembrance; each time her father had done the +work in his spare time. + +Now, with snow on the ground and frozen turf peeping out from +under the half-melted and yellowed drifts, the Sherwood cottage +was not so attractive as in summer. Yet it was a cozy looking +house with the early lamplight shining through the kitchen window +and across the porch as Nan approached, swinging her schoolbooks. + +Papa Sherwood called it, with that funny little quirk in the +corner of his mouth, "a dwelling in amity, more precious than +jewels or fine gold." + +And it was just that. Nan had had experience enough in the +houses of her school friends to know that none of them were homes +like her own. + +All was amity, all was harmony, in the little shingled cottage on +this short by-street of Tillbury. + +It was no grave and solemn place where the natural outburst of +childish spirits was frowned upon, or one had to sit "stiff and +starched" upon stools of penitence. + +No, indeed! Nan had romped and played in and about the cottage +all her life. She had been, in fact, of rather a boisterous +temperament until lately. + +Her mother's influence was always quieting, and not only with her +little daughter. Mrs. Sherwood's voice was low, and with a dear +drawl in it, so Nan declared. + +She had come from the South to Northern Illinois, from +Tennessee, to be exact, where Mr. Sherwood had met and married +her. She had grace and gentleness without the languor that often +accompanies those qualities. + +Her influence upon both her daughter and her husband was marked. +They deferred to her, made much of her, shielded her in every way +possible from all that was rude or unpleasant. + +Yet Mrs. Sherwood was a perfectly capable and practical +housekeeper, and when her health would allow it she did all the +work of the little family herself. Just now she was having what +she smilingly called "one of her lazy spells," and old Mrs. Joyce +came in to do the washing and cleaning each week. + +It was one of Mrs. Sherwood's many virtues that she bore with a +smile recurrent bodily ills that had made her a semi-invalid +since Nan was a very little girl. But in seeking medical aid for +these ills, much of the earnings of the head of the household had +been spent. + +The teakettle was singing when Nan entered the "dwelling in +amity", and her mother's low rocker was drawn close to the side- +table on which the lamp stood beside the basket of mending. + +Although Mrs. Sherwood could not at present do her own laundry- +work, she insisted upon darning and patching and mending as only +she could darn and patch and mend. + +Mr. Sherwood insisted that a sock always felt more comfortable on +his foot after "Momsey" had darned it than when it was new. And +surely she was a very excellent needlewoman. + +This evening, however, her work had fallen into her lap with an +idle needle sticking in it. She had been resting her head upon +her hand and her elbow on the table when Nan came in. But she +spoke in her usual bright way to the girl as the latter first of +all kissed her and then put away her books and outer clothing. + +"What is the good word from out of doors, honey?" she asked. + +Nan's face was rather serious and she could not coax her usual +smile into being. Her last words with Bess Harley had savored of +a misunderstanding, and Nan was not of a quarrelsome disposition. + +"I'm afraid there isn't any real good word to be brought from +outside tonight, Momsey," she confessed, coming back to stand by +her mother's chair. + +"Can that be possible, Daughter!" said Mrs. Sherwood, with her +low, caressing laugh. "Has the whole world gone wrong?" + +"Well, I missed in two recitations and have extras to make up, in +the first place," rejoined Nan ruefully. + +"And what else?" + +"Well, Bess and I didn't have exactly a falling out; but I +couldn't help offending her in one thing. That's the second +trouble." + +"And is there a 'thirdly,' my dear?" queried little Mrs. Sherwood +tranquilly. + +"Oh, dear, yes! The worst of all!" cried Nan. "The yellow +poster is up at the mills." + +"The yellow poster?" repeated her mother doubtfully, not at first +understanding the significance of her daughter's statement. + +"Yes. You know. When there's anything bad to announce to the +hands the Atwater Company uses yellow posters, like a small-pox, +or typhoid warning. The horrid thing! The mills shut down in +two weeks, Momsey, and no knowing when they will open again." + +"Oh, my dear!" was the little woman's involuntary tribute to the +seriousness of the announcement. + +In a moment she was again her usual bright self. She drew Nan +closer to her and her own brown eyes, the full counterpart of +her daughter's, winkled merrily. + +"I tell you what let's do, Nan," she said. + +"What shall we do, Momsey?" repeated the girl, rather +lugubriously. + +"Why, let's not let Papa Sherwood know about it, it will make +him feel so bad." + +Nan began to giggle at that. She knew what her mother meant. Of +course, Mr. Sherwood, being at the head of one of the mill +departments, would know all about the announcement of the shut- +down; but they would keep up the fiction that they did not know +it by being particularly cheerful when he came home from work. + +So Nan giggled and swallowed back her sobs. Surely, if Momsey +could present a cheerful face to this family calamity, she could! + +The girl ran her slim fingers into the thick mane of her mother's +coiled hair, glossy brown hair through which only a few threads +of white were speckled. + +"Your head feels hot, Momsey," she said anxiously. "Does it +ache?" + +"A wee bit, honey," confessed Mrs. Sherwood. + +"Let me take the pins out and rub your poor head, dear," said +Nan. "You know, I'm a famous 'massagist.' Come do, dear." + +"If you like, honey." + +Thus it was that, a little later, when Mr. Sherwood came home +with feet that dragged more than usual on this evening, he opened +the door upon a very beautiful picture indeed. + +His wife's hair was "a glory of womanhood," for it made a tent +all about her, falling quite to the floor as she sat in her low +chair. Out of this canopy she looked up at the brawny, serious +man, roguishly. + +"Am I not a lazy, luxurious person, Papa Sherwood?" she demanded. +"Nan is becoming a practical maid, and I presume I put upon the +child dreadfully, she is good-natured, like you, Robert." + +"Aye, I know our Nan gets all her good qualities from me, +Jessie," said her husband. "If she favored you she would, of +course, be a very hateful child." + +He kissed his wife tenderly. As Nan said, he always "cleaned up" +at the mills and "came home kissable." + +"I ought to be just next door to an angel, if I absorbed the +virtues of both my parents," declared Nan briskly, beginning to +braid the wonderful hair which she had already brushed. "I often +think of that." + +Her father poked her tentatively under the shoulder blades with a +blunt forefinger, making her squirm. + +"I don't feel the wings sprouting yet, Nancy," he said, in his +dry way. + +"I hope not, yet!" exclaimed the girl. "I'd have to have a new +winter coat if you did, and I know we can't afford that just +now." + +"You never said a truer word, Nan," replied Mr. Sherwood, his +voice dropping to a less cheerful level, as he went away to +change his coat and light the hanging lamp in the dining room +where the supper table was already set. + +Mother and daughter looked at each other rather ruefully. + +"Oh, dear me!" whispered Nan. "I never do open my mouth but I +put my foot in it!" + +"Goodness!" returned her mother, much amused. "That is an +acrobatic feat that I never believed you capable of, honey." + +"We-ell! I reminded Papa Sherwood of our hard luck instead of +being bright and cheerful like you." + +"We will give him a nice supper, honey, and make him forget his +troubles. Time enough to call to order the ways and means +committee afterward." Her husband came back into the kitchen as +Nan finished arranging the hair. "Come, Papa Sherwood!" cried +the little lady. "Hot biscuit; the last of the honey; sweet +pickles; sliced cold ham; and a beautiful big plum cake that our +Nan made this morning before school time, her own self. You MUST +smile at all those dainties." + +And the husband and father smiled. They all made an effort to +help each other. But they knew that with the loss of his work +would doubtless come the loss of the home. During the years that +had elapsed, Mr. Sherwood had paid in part for the cottage; but +now the property was deteriorating instead of advancing in value. +He could not increase the mortgage upon it. Prompt payment of +interest half-yearly was demanded. And how could he meet these +payments, not counting living expenses, when his income was +entirely cut off? + +Mr. Sherwood was forty-five years old, an age at which it is +difficult for a man to take up a new trade, or to obtain new +employment at his old one. + +Chapter III +"FISHING" + +Nan told of Bess Harley's desire to have her chum accompany her +to Lakeview Hall the following autumn, as a good joke. + +"I hope I'll be in some good situation by that time," she said to +her mother, confidentially, "helping, at least, to support myself +instead of being a burden upon father and you." + +"It's very unselfish of you to propose that, honey," replied her +mother. "But, perhaps, such a sacrifice as the curtailment of +your education will not be required of you." + +"But, my DEAR!" gasped Nan. "I couldn't go to Lakeview Hall. It +would cost, why! a pile!" + +"I don't know how much a pile is, translated into coin of the +realm, honey," responded Mrs. Sherwood with her low, sweet laugh. +"But the only thing we can give our dear daughter, your father +and I, is an education. That you MUST have to enable you to +support yourself properly when your father can do no more for +you." + +"But I s'pose I've already had as much education as most girls in +Tillbury get. So many of them go into the mills and factories at +my age. If they can get along, I suppose I can." + +"Hush!" begged her mother quickly. "Don't speak of such a thing. +I couldn't bear to have you obliged to undertake your own support +in any such way. + +"Both your father and I, honey, had the benefit of more than the +ordinary common-school education. I went three years to the +Tennessee Training College; I was prepared to teach when your +father and I met and married. He obtained an excellent training +for his business in a technical college. We hoped to give our +children, if we were blessed with them, an even better start in +life than we had. + +"Had your little brother lived, honey," added Mrs. Sherwood +tenderly, "we should have tried to put him through college, and +you, as well. It would have been something worthwhile for your +father to work for. But I am afraid all these years that his +money has been wasted in attempts to benefit my health." + +"Oh, Momsey! Don't say it, that way," urged Nan. "What would we +ever do without you? But I sometimes think how nice it would be +had I been a boy, my own brother, for instance. A boy can be so +much more help than a girl." + +"For shame!" cried her mother, laughing. "Do you dare admit a +boy is smarter than a girl, Nan?" + +"Not smarter. Only better able to do any kind of work, I guess. +They wouldn't let me work in the file shop, or drive a grocery +wagon." + +"Goodness! Listen to the child!" gasped Mrs. Sherwood. "I +should hope not! Why, honey, is your mind running continually on +such dreadful things? I am afraid your father and I allow you to +hear us talk too frequently about family matters. You must not +assume the family's burdens at your age." + +There was that trend to Nan Sherwood's character, however. With +all her blithesomeness and high spirits she was inclined to be +serious in thought. + +This conversation occurred several days after the evening when, +on their way home from school, Nan and her school chum, Bess +Harley, had read the yellow poster at the gate of the Atwater +Mills. + +The district surrounding the mills, in which most of the hands +lived, had put on an aspect of mourning. Some of the workmen and +their families had already packed up and gone. Most of the +houses occupied by the hands were owned by the Atwater Company, +and if the poor people remained till January 15th, the wages due +them then would be eaten up by the rent of the tenements. + +So they were wise to leave when they could. Many who remained +would be a burden upon the taxpayers of Tillbury before the +winter was over. + +Nan and her folks were not in such a sad situation as the +laborers, of course. Mr. Sherwood had a small sum in bank. He +had, too, a certain standing in the community and a line of +credit at the stores that he might have used. + +Debt, however, save that upon their house, he had fought to keep +out of all his married life. That his equity in the Amity Street +cottage was so small was not his fault; but he owed not any man. + +"Now we must go fishing," Mrs. Sherwood said, in her sprightly +way, when the little family really discussed the unfortunate +situation after the announcement of the shut-down of the mills +was made public. + +"Goodness, Momsey! What a reckless creature you are," laughed +Mr. Sherwood. "Waste our precious time in such employment, and +in the dead of winter, too?" + +"Now, Papa Sherwood, I don't mean that kind of fishing at all!" +cried the little woman gaily. "We are going to fish for +employment for you, perhaps for a new home." + +"Oh!" gasped Nan. The thought of deserting the little cottage on +Amity Street was a dreadful shock. + +"We must face that possibility," said her mother firmly. "It may +be. Tillbury will see very hard times now that the mills are +closed. Other mills and shops will follow suit." + +"Quite true, Momsey," agreed the husband and father. + +"I am a very logical person, am I not?" said the smiling little +lady. + +"But the fishing?" cried Nan curiously. + +"Ah, yes. I am coming to that," said her mother. "The fishing, +to be sure! Why, we are going to write letters to just everybody +we know, and some we only know by hearsay, and find out if there +isn't a niche for Papa Sherwood somewhere outside Tillbury." + +"So we can!" cried Nan, clapping her hands. + +"I am afraid there is general depression in my line of business +everywhere," suggested Mr. Sherwood. "For some years the +manufacturers have been forcing cotton goods upon a false market. +And the recent attempt to help the cotton growers by boosting the +price of raw cotton will come near to ruining the mills and mill +workers. It is always so. In an attempt to benefit one class of +the people another class is injured." + +"Now, never mind politics, sir!" cried his little wife. "We +poor, weak women aren't supposed to understand such things. Only +when Nan and I get the vote, and all the other millions of women +and girls, we will have no class legislation. 'The greatest good +for the greatest number' will be our motto." + +Mr. Sherwood only smiled. He might have pointed out that in that +very statement was the root of all class legislation. He knew +his wife's particular ideas were good, however, her general +political panacea was rather doubtful. He listened thoughtfully +as she went on: + +"Yes, we must fish for a new position for papa. We may have to +go away from here. Perhaps rent the house. You know, we have +had good offers for it." + +"True," admitted Mr. Sherwood. + +"Oh, dear!" sighed Nan, but below her breath so that Momsey and +Papa Sherwood did not hear the sigh. + +"I am going to write to Cousin Adair MacKenzie, in Memphis. He +is quite prominent in business there," pursued Mrs. Sherwood. +"We might find a footing in Memphis." + +Mr. Sherwood looked grave, but said nothing. He knew that the +enervating climate of the Southern river city would never do for +his wife. Change of climate might benefit her greatly; the +doctors had all said so of late; but not that change. + +"Then," continued Nan's mother, "there is your brother, Henry, up +in Michigan." + +"Oh! I remember Uncle Henry," cried Nan. "Such a big, big man!" + +"With a heart quite in keeping with the size of his body, honey," +her mother quickly added. "And your Aunt Kate is a very nice +woman. Your uncle has lumber interests. He might find something +for your father there." + +"I'll write to Hen, Jessie," Mr. Sherwood said decisively. "But +a +lumber camp is no place for you. Let's see, his mail address is +Hobart Forks, isn't it? Right in the heart of the woods. If you +weren't eaten up by black gnats, you would be by ennui," and he +chuckled. + +"Goodness!" cried Mrs. Sherwood, making big eyes at him. "Are +those a new kind of mosquito? Ennui, indeed! Am I a baby? Is +Nan another?" + +"But think of Nan's education, my dear," suggested Mr. Sherwood. + +"I ought to work and help the family instead of going to school +any longer," Nan declared. + +"Not yet, Daughter, not yet," her father said quickly. "However, +I will write to Hen. He may be able to suggest something." + +"It might be fun living in the woods," Nan said. "I'm not afraid +of gnats, or mosquitoes, or, or on-wees!" + +She chanced to overhear her father and Dr. Christian talking the +next day on the porch, and heard the wise old physician say: + +"I'm not sure I could countenance that, Robert. What Jessie +needs is an invigorating, bracing atmosphere. A sea voyage would +do her the greatest possible good." + +"Perhaps a trip to Buffalo, down the lakes?" + +"No, no! That's merely an old woman's home-made plaster on the +wound. Something more drastic. Salt air. A long, slow voyage, +overseas. It often wracks the system, but it brings the patient +to better and more stable health. Jessie may yet be a strong, +well woman if we take the right course with her." + +Nevertheless, Mr. Sherwood wrote to his brother. He had to do +so, it seemed. There was no other course open to him. + +And while he fished in that direction, Momsey threw out her line +toward Memphis and Adair MacKenzie. Mr. Sherwood pulled in his +line first, without much of a nibble, it must be confessed. + +"Dear Bob," the elder Sherwood wrote: "Things are flatter than a +stepped-on pancake with me. I've got a bunch of trouble with old +Ged Raffer and may have to go into court with him. Am not +cutting a stick of timber. But you and Jessie and the little +nipper "("Consider!" interjected Nan, "calling me 'a little +nipper'! What does he consider a big 'nipper'?") "come up to +Pine Camp. Kate and I will be mighty glad to have you here. Tom +and Rafe are working for a luckier lumberman than I, and there's +plenty of room here for all hands, and a hearty welcome for you +and yours as long as there's a shot in the locker." + +"That's just like Hen," Nan's father said. "He'd divide his last +crust with me. But I don't want to go where work is scarce. I +must go where it is plentiful, where a man of even my age will be +welcome." + +"Your age, Papa Sherwood! How you talk," drawled Nan's mother in +her pretty way. "You are as young as the best of 'em yet." + +"Employers don't look at me through your pretty eyes, Momsey," he +returned, laughing. + +"Well," said his wife, still cheerfully, "my fishing seems to be +resultless yet. Perhaps the bait's gone off the hook. Had I +better haul in the line and bait again? I was always doing that +when I went fishing with Adair and his brothers, years ago, when +I was a little girl." + +Her husband shook his head. "Have patience, Jessie," he said. + +He had few expectations from the Memphis letter; yet there was a +most surprising result from it on the way, something which by no +possibility could the little family in the Amity Street cottage +have suspected. + +Chapter IV +SWEEPING CLEAN + +"My goodness me!" ejaculated Bess Harley. "Talk about the +'leaden wings of Time.' Why! Time sweeps by us on electrically- +driven, ball-bearing pinions. Here's another week gone, Nan, and +tomorrow's Saturday." + +"Yes," Nan agreed. "Time flies all too quickly, for me, anyway. +The mills have been closed a week now." + +"Oh, dear! That's all I hear," complained Bess. "Those tiresome +old mills. Our Maggie's sister was crying in the kitchen last +night because her Mike couldn't get a job now the mills were +closed, and was drinking up all the money they had saved. That's +what the mill-hands do; their money goes to the saloon-keepers!" + +"The proportion of their income spent by the laboring class for +alcoholic beverages is smaller by considerable than that spent by +the well-to-do for similar poison!" quoted Nan decisively. "Mike +is desperate, I suppose, poor fellow!" + +"My goodness me!" cried Bess again. "You are most exasperating, +Nan Sherwood. Mike's case has nothing to do with political +Economy, and I do wish you'd drop that study out of school----" + +"I have!" gasped Nan, for just then her books slipped from her +strap; "and history, rhetoric, and philosophical readings along +with it," and she proceeded cheerfully to pick up the several +books mentioned. + +"You can't mean," Bess said, still severely, "that you won't go +to Lakeview with me, Nan?" + +"I wish you wouldn't keep saying that, Bess," Nan Sherwood cried. +"Is it my fault? Don't you suppose I'd love to, if I could? We +have no money. Father is out of work. There is no prospect of +other work for him in Tillbury, he says, and," Nan continued +desperately, "how do you suppose I can go to a fancy boarding +school under these circumstances?" + +"Why-----" + +For once Elizabeth was momentarily silenced. Suddenly her face +brightened. "I tell you!" she exclaimed. "I'll speak to my +father about it. He can fix it so that you will be able to go to +the Hall with me, I know." + +"I'd like to see myself an object of charity!" Nan cried, with +heat. "I, guess, not! What I can't earn, or my father can't +give me, I'll go without, Bess. That's all there is to that!" + +Bess stared at her with quivering lips. "You can't be so mean, +Nan," she faltered. + +"I'm not mean!" denied the other. + +"I'd like to know what you call it? Why, father'd never miss +your tuition money in the world. And I know he'd pay your way if +I asked him and told him how bad I felt about your not going." + +"You're a dear, Bess!" declared Nan, impulsively hugging her +friend again. "But you mustn't ask him, honey. It wouldn't be +right, and I couldn't accept. + +"Don't you understand, honey, that I have some pride in the +matter? So have Papa Sherwood and Momsey. What they can't do +for me their own selves I wouldn't want anybody to do." + +"Why, that sounds awfully silly to me, Nan!" said Bess. "Why not +take all you can get in this world? I'm sure I should." + +"You don't know what you are saying," Nan returned seriously. +"And, then, you are not poor, so you can afford to say it, and +even do it." + +"Poor! I'm getting to hate that word," cried Bess stormily. "It +never bothered me before, much. We're not poor and none of our +friends were poor. Not until those old mills closed. And now it +seems all I hear is about folks being POOR. I hate it!" + +"I guess," said Nan ruefully, "you don't hate it half as much as +those of us who have to suffer it." + +"I'm just going to find some way of getting you to Lakeview Hall, +my dear," Bess rejoined gloomily. "Why! I won't want to go +myself if you don't go, Nan." + +Her friend thought she would better not tell Bess just then that +the prospect was that she, with her father and mother, would have +to leave Tillbury long before the autumn. Mr. Sherwood was +trying to obtain a situation in Chicago, in a machine shop. He +had no hope of getting another foreman's position. + +Nothing had been heard from Mr. Adair MacKenzie, of Memphis. +Mrs. Sherwood wanted to write again; but her husband begged her +not to. He had a proper pride. It looked to him as though his +wife's cousin did not care to be troubled by the necessities of +his relations. + +"We'll get along!" was Mr. Sherwood's repeated and cheerful +statement. "Never say die! Hope is our anchor! Fate shall not +balk us! And all the other copy-book maxims." + +But it was Mrs. Sherwood and Nan who managed to save and scrimp +and be frugal in many infinitesimal ways, thus making their +savings last marvelously. + +Nan gave up her entire Saturdays to household tasks. She +insisted on that, and urged the curtailment of the weekly expense +by having Mrs. Joyce come in to help but one day. + +"I can iron, Momsey, and if I can't do it very well at first, I +can learn," declared the plucky girl. "And, of course, I can +sweep. That's good for me. Our physical instructor says so. +Instead of going to the gym on Saturday, I'll put in calisthenics +and acrobatic stunts with a broom and duster. + +She was thorough, too. She could not have been her father's +daughter without having that virtue. There was no "lick and a +promise" in Nan Sherwood's housekeeping. She did not sweep the +dust under the bureau, or behind the door, or forget to wipe the +rounds of the chairs and the baseboard all around the rooms. + +Papa Sherwood, coughing in the lower hall as the dust descended +from above, declared she went through the cottage like a +whirlwind. It was not as bad as that, but her vigorous young +arms wielded the broom with considerable skill. + +One Saturday, with every other room swept but the front hall, she +closed the doors into that, and set wide open the outer door. +There was more snow on the ground now; but the porch was cleaned +and the path to the front gate neatly dug and swept. The tinkle +of sleigh bells and the laughter of a crowd of her school friends +swept by the corner of Amity Street. Nan ran out upon the porch +and waved her duster at them. + +There she stood, smiling out upon her little world for a minute. +She might not see Amity Street, and the old neighbors, many weeks +longer. A half-promise of work from the Chicago machine shop +boss had reached Mr. Sherwood that morning by post. It seemed +the only opening, and it meant that they would have to give up +the "dwelling in amity" and go to crowded Chicago to live. For +Momsey was determined that Papa Sherwood should not go without +her. + +Nan came back into the hall and began to wield the broom again. +She could not leave the door open too long, for it was cold +outside and the winter chill would get into the house. They had +to keep all the rooms at an even temperature on account of +Momsey's health. + +But she swept vigorously, moving each piece of furniture, and +throwing the rugs out upon the porch for a special sweeping +there. The rough mat at the door was a heavy one. As Nan +stooped to pick it up and toss it after the other small rugs, she +saw the corner of a yellow envelope sticking from under the edge +of the hall carpet. + +"Wonder what that is?" murmured Nan. "Somebody has thrust a +circular, or advertisement, under our door, and it's gone under +the carpet. Yes! There's a tack out there." + +She seized the corner of the envelope with thumb and finger. She +drew it out. Its length surprised her. It was a long, official +looking envelope, not bulky but most important looking. In the +upper left-hand corner was printed: + +ADAIR MACKENZIE & CO. +STOCKS AND BONDS +MEMPHIS + +It was properly stamped and addressed to her mother. By the +postmark on it Nan knew it must have been tucked under the door +by the postman more than a week before. Somehow he had failed to +ring their bell when he left the letter. The missing tack in the +edge of the hall carpet had allowed the document to slide out of +sight, and it might have been hidden for weeks longer had chance +not shown the small corner of straw-colored paper to Nan. + +She felt breathless. Her knees trembled. Somehow, Nan just KNEW +that the letter from her mother's cousin must be of enormous +importance. She set her broom in the corner and closed the door. +It was fated that she should do no more sweeping that day. + +Chapter V +GREAT EXPECTATIONS + +Mr. Sherwood, in overalls and an old cap, had been sifting +cinders out behind the shed. They had to be careful of fuel as +well as of most other things. Momsey would not open the long +envelope until he had been called and had come in. Nan still +wore the bright colored bandana wound about her head, turban- +wise, for a dust cap. Papa Sherwood beat the ashes from his +hands as he stood before the glowing kitchen range. + +"What is it?" he asked calmly. "A notice of a new tax +assessment? Or a cure-all advertisement of Somebody's Pills?" + +"It's from Cousin Adair," said Momsey, a little breathlessly. +"And it's been lying at our door all the time." + +"All what time?" asked Mr. Sherwood curiously. + +"All the time we have been so disappointed in our inquiries +elsewhere," said Momsey soberly. + +"Oh!" responded her husband doubtfully, and said no more. + +"It makes my knees shake," confessed Nan. "Do open it, Momsey!" + +"I, I feel that it is important, too," the little lady said. + +"Well, my dear," her husband finally advised, having waited in +patience, "unless it is opened we shall never know whether your +feeling is prophetic or not. 'By the itching of my thumb,' and +so forth!" + +Without making any rejoinder to this, and perhaps without hearing +his gentle raillery, Mrs. Sherwood reached up to the coils of her +thick hair to secure woman's never-failing implement, a hairpin. + +There were two enclosures. Both she shook into her lap. The +sealed, foreign-looking letter she picked up first. It was +addressed in a clerkly hand to, + +"MISTRESS JESSIE ADAIR BLAKE, +"KINDNESS OF MESSRS. ADAIR MACKENZIE & CO. +"MEMPHIS, TENN., U.S.A." + +"From England. No! From Scotland," murmured Nan, looking over +her mother's shoulder in her eagerness. She read the neatly +printed card in the corner of the foreign envelope: + +KELLAM & BLAKE +HADBORNE CHAMBERS +EDINBURGH + +Mrs. Sherwood was whispering her maiden name over to herself. +She looked up suddenly at her husband with roguish eyes. + +"I'd almost forgotten there ever was such a girl as Jessie Adair +Blake," she said. + +"Oh, Momsey!" squealed Nan, with clasped hands and immense +impatience. "Don't, DON'T be so slow! Open it!" + +"No-o," her mother said, with pursed lips. "No, honey. The +other comes first, I reckon." + +It was a letter typewritten upon her cousin's letter-head; but it +was not dictated by Mr. Adair MacKenzie. Instead, it was from +Mr. MacKenzie's secretary, who stated that her employer had gone +to Mexico on business that might detain him for several weeks. + +"A letter addressed by you to Mr. MacKenzie arrived after his +departure and is being held for him with other personal +communications until his return; but being assured that you are +the Jessie Adair Blake, now Sherwood -- to whom the enclosed +letter from Scotland is addressed, I take the liberty of +forwarding the same. The Scotch letter reached us after Mr. +MacKenzie's departure, likewise. Will you please acknowledge the +receipt of the enclosure and oblige?" + +This much of the contents of the secretary's letter was of +particular interest to the Sherwoods. Momsey's voice shook a +little as she finished reading it. Plainly she was disappointed. + +"Cousin Adair, I am sure, would have suggested something helpful +had he been at home," she said sadly. "It, it is a great +disappointment, Robert." + +"Well, well!" replied Mr. Sherwood, perhaps not without some +secret relief. "It will all come out right. At least, your +cousin hasn't refused his assistance. We shall be established +somewhere before he returns from his Mexican trip." + +"I, I did depend so much upon Adair's good will and advice," +signed Momsey. + +"But, dear me suz!" gasped Nan impatiently. "What are you folks +bothering over that for? It isn't Cousin Adair that I want to +know about. It's this letter, Momsey," and she seized the thin +yet important envelope from Scotland and shook it before her +mother's eyes. + +"Better look into it, Momsey," advised Mr. Sherwood easily, +preparing to return to the cinder sifting. "Maybe it's from some +of your relatives in the Old Country. I see 'Blake' printed in +the corner. Didn't your father have an uncle or somebody, who +was steward on the estate of a Scotch Laird of some renown?" + +"Heck, mon!" cried Momsey, with her usual gaiety, and throwing +off the cloud of gloom that had momentarily subdued her spirit. +"Ye air a wise cheil. Ma faither talked muckle o' Uncle Hughie +Blake, remimberin' him fra' a wee laddie when his ain faither +took him tae Scotland, and tae Castle Emberon, on a veesit." + +Nan and Papa Sherwood laughed at her when she assumed the Scotch +burr of her forebears. With precision she cut the flap of this +smaller envelope. She felt no excitement now. She had regained +control of herself after the keen disappointment arising from the +first letter. + +She calmly opened the crackly sheet of legal looking paper in her +lap. It was not a long letter, and it was written in a stiff, +legal hand, instead of being typewritten, each character as +precise as the legal mind that dictated it: + +"Mistress Jessie Adair Blake, (Known to be a married woman, but +wedded name unknown to writer.) + +"Dear Madam: It is my duty to inform you that your father (the +late Randolph Hugh Blake) was made sole beneficiary of his late +uncle, Mr. Hugh Blake, the Laird of Emberon's steward, by a +certain testament, or will, made many years ago. Mr. Hugh Blake +has recently died a bachelor, and before his demise he added a +codicil to the above testament, or will, naming you, his great +niece, his sole heir and beneficiary. + +"There are other relatives who may make some attempt to oppose +your claim; but none of near blood. Your title to the said +estate is clear; but it is quite necessary that you should appear +before our Courts with proofs of identity, and so forth. On +receipt from you of acknowledgment of this letter, with copies of +identification papers (your grandfather's naturalization papers, +your father's discharge from army, your own birth certificate and +marriage lines, and so forth) I will give myself the pleasure of +forwarding any further particulars you may wish, and likewise +place at your command my own services in obtaining possession for +you of your great uncle's estate. + +"The said estate of Mr. Hugh Blake, deceased, amounts, in real +and personal property, including moneys in the bank, to about the +sum, roughly estimated, of 10,000 pounds. + +"Respectfully, your servant, +"Andrew Blake, Solicitor and Att'y." + +Nan had leaned over her mother's shoulder, big-eyed, scarce +believing the plainly written words she read. It was +preposterous, ridiculous, fanciful, a dream from which she +must awake in a moment to the full realization of their dreadful +need of just such a godsend as this. + +It was her father's voice that roused the girl. He had not seen +the letter and Momsey had read it silently to herself. + +"Look out, Nancy! What is the matter with your mother?" + +With a cry the girl caught the frail little lady in her arms as +the letter slipped unheeded from her lap to the floor. Mrs. +Sherwood's eyes were closed. She had fainted. + +Chapter VI +A SPRAT FOR A HERRING + +"I don't need the doctor this time, honey; joy never killed yet." + +So said Mrs. Sherwood, opening her eyes to see the scared face of +Nan close above her. Then she saw her husband at her feet, +quietly chafing her hands in his own hard, warm palms. She +pulled hers gently from his clasp and rested them upon his head. +Mr. Sherwood's hair was iron-gray, thick, and inclined to curl. +She ran her little fingers into it and clung tightly. + +"Let, let me get my breath!" she gasped. Then, after a moment +she smiled brilliantly into the wind-bitten face of the kneeling +man. "It's all over, Robert," she said. + +"My dear!" he cried thickly; while Nan could not wholly stifle +the cry of fear that rose to her lips. + +"It's all over," repeated the little woman. "All the worry, all +the poverty, all the uncertainty, all the hard times." + +Mr. Sherwood looked startled indeed. He had no idea what the +letter from Scotland contained, and he feared that his wife, who +had already suffered so much, was for the moment quite out of her +head. + +"My poor Jessie," he began, but her low, sweet laugh stopped him. + +"Not poor! Never poor again, Robert!" she cried. "God is very +good to us. At the very darkest hour He has shown us the dawn. +Robert, we are rich!" + +"Great goodness, Jessie! What do you mean? Exclaimed Mr. +Sherwood, stumbling to his feet at last. + +"It's true! It's true, Papa Sherwood!" Nan cried, clapping her +hands. "Don't you call ten thousand dollars riches?" + +"Ten, thousand, dollars?" murmured her father. He put his hand +to his head and looked confusedly about for a seat, into which he +weakly dropped. Nan had picked up the letter and now she +dramatically thrust it into his hand. + +"Read that, Papa Sherwood!" she said commandingly. + +He read the communication from the Scotch attorney, first with +immense surprise, then with profound doubt. Who but a young +imaginative girl, like Nan, or a woman with unbounded faith in +the miracles of God, like her mother, could accept such a +perfectly wonderful thing as being real? + +"A hoax," thought the man who had worked so hard all his life +without the least expectation of ever seeing a penny that he did +not earn himself. "Can it be that any of those heedless +relatives of my wife's in Memphis have attempted a practical joke +at this time?" + +He motioned for Nan to bring him the envelope, too. This he +examined closely, and then read the communication again. It +looked all regular. The stationery, the postmark, the date +upon it, all seemed perfectly in accord. + +Mrs. Sherwood's gay little laugh shattered the train of her +husband's thought. "I know what the matter is with you, Papa +Sherwood," she said. "You think it must be a practical joke." + +"Oh!" gasped Nan, feeling a positive pain at her heart. This +awful possibility had never entered her mind before. + +"But it isn't," went on her mother blithely. "It is real. Mr. +Hugh Blake, of Emberon, must have been very old; and he was +probably as saving and canny as any Scotchman who ever wore +kilts. It is not surprising that he should have left an estate +of considerable size-----" + +"Ten thousand dollars!" breathed Nan again. She loved to repeat +it. There was white magic in the very sound of such a sum of +money. But her father threw a conversational bomb into their +midst the next instant. + +"Ten thousand dollars, you goosey!" he said vigorously. "That's +the main doubt in the whole business. It isn't ten thousand +dollars. It's fifty thousand dollars! A pound, either English +or Scotch, is almost five of our dollars. Ten thousand dollars +would certainly be a fortune for us; fifty thousand is beyond the +dreams of avarice." + +"Oh, dear me!" said Nan weakly. + +But Mrs. Sherwood merely laughed again. "The more the better," +she said. "Why shouldn't we be able to put fifty thousand +dollars to good use?" + +"Oh, we can, Momsey," said Nan eagerly. "But, will we be let?" + +Mr. Sherwood laughed grimly at that; but his wife continued +confidently: + +"I am sure nobody needs it more than we do." + +"Why!" her daughter said, just as excitedly, "we'll be as rich as +Bess Harley's folks. Oh, Momsey! Oh, Papa Sherwood! Can I go +to Lakewood Hall?" + +The earnestness of her cry showed the depths to which that desire +had plumbed during these last weeks of privation and uncertainty. +It was Nan's first practical thought in relation to the +possibility of their changed circumstances. + +The father and mother looked at each other with shocked +understanding. The surprise attending the letter had caused both +parents to forget, for the moment, the effect of this wonderful +promise of fortune, whether true or false, on imaginative, +high-spirited Nan. + +"Let us be happy at first, Nan, just in the knowledge that some +money is coming to us," Mrs. Sherwood said more quietly. "Never +mind how much, or how little. Time will tell all that." + +"Now you talk like father," cried Nan, pouting. + +"And let father talk a little, too," Mr. Sherwood said, smiling, +"and to you both." His right forefinger struck the letter +emphatically in his other hand. "This is a very wonderful, a +blessed, thing, if true. But it has to be proven. We must +build our hopes on no false foundation." + +"Oh, Papa Sherwood! How can we, when the man says there-----" + +"Hush!" whispered Momsey, squeezing her excited little daughter's +hand. + +"In the first place," continued Mr. Sherwood quietly and gravely, +"there may be some mistake in the identification of your mother, +child, as the niece mentioned in this old man's will." + +"Oh!" Nan could not help that gasp. + +"Again, there may be stronger opposition to her claim than this +lawyer at present sees. Fifty thousand dollars is a whole lot of +money, and other people by the name of Blake will be tempted by +it." + +"How mean of them!" whispered Nan. + +"And, above all," pursued Mr. Sherwood, "this may be merely a +scheme by unprincipled people to filch small sums of money from +gullible people. The 'foreign legacy swindle' is worked in many +different ways. There may be calls for money, by this man who +names himself Andrew Blake, for preliminary work on the case. We +haven't much; but if he is baiting for hundreds of Blakes in +America he may secure, in the aggregate, a very tidy sum indeed." + +"Oh, Father!" cried Nan. "That's perfectly horrid!" + +"But perfectly possible. Let us not swallow this bait, hook, +line and sinker. You see, he sends no copy of the will in +question, or that codicil relating to your mother's legacy; nor +does he offer identification or surety as to his own standing. +Don't let the possibilities of this wonderful thing carry you off +your feet, my dear." + +Nan's lip was quivering and she could scarcely crowd back the +tears. To have one's hopes rise so high only to be dashed-----. + +"Don't completely crush us, Papa Sherwood, with your perfectly +unanswerable logic," said his wife lightly. "We'll remember all +these strictures, and more. We can at least put the matter to +the test." + +"Quite so," agreed her husband. " We will prepare the papers +requested by this Scotch attorney. I will even inquire of a good +lawyer here something regarding the Scotch laws in such a matter +as this, if it will be necessary to make a personal appearance +before the local courts over there. And perhaps we can find out +the true standing of Mr. Andrew Blake, of Kellam & Blake, +Edinburgh. It will cost us a little money, and we can ill spare +it now; but to satisfy ourselves-----" + +"We will throw a sprat to catch a herring," quoted Momsey +cheerfully. + +"Quite so," repeated Mr. Sherwood. + +"But, dear, DEAR!" moaned Nan. "Is that all it is going to +amount to? Don't you really believe it's all true, Papa +Sherwood?" + +"I can't say that I do, my dear," returned her father gravely. +"Such romantic things as this do not often happen outside of +story books." + +"Then, I declare!" cried Nan desperately, "I wish we lived in a +story book!" + +"Your father will make inquiries at once, honey," said Momsey +easily, seemingly very little disturbed herself by her husband's +doubts and fears. To her mind this wonderful turn of fortune's +wheel was in direct answer to prayer. Nothing could shake her +faith in the final result of her husband's inquiries. Yet, she +was proud of his caution and good sense. + +"I do think it is dreadful," murmured Nan, "to believe one's self +rich for only a minute!" + +"Have patience, honey," said her mother. + +"Meanwhile," added Mr. Sherwood, rising, "I will go back to +sifting cinders." + +But Nan did no more sweeping that day. + +Chapter VII +A VISTA OF NEW FORTUNES + +Nan said nothing to Bess Harley, her particular chum and +confidant, about the wonderful letter that had come from +Scotland. Although Momsey and Nan talked the legacy over +intimately that Saturday afternoon, and planned what they would +really do with some of the money "when their ship came in," the +young girl knew that the matter was not to be discussed outside +of the family circle. + +Not even the hope Nan now cherished of accompanying her chum to +Lakeview Hall when the next school year opened was divulged when +the two girls were together on Sunday, or on the days that +immediately followed. + +Nan Sherwood went about her household and school tasks in a sort +of waking dream. Imagination was continually weaving pictures in +her mind of what might happen if the vista of new fortunes that +had opened before the little family in the Amity Street cottage +really came true. + +Papa Sherwood's first reports on the matter of the Scotch legacy +were not inspiring. + +"Mr. Bludsoe says we'd better go slow," he said seriously. Mr. +Bludsoe was a lawyer of high repute in Tillbury. "This letter may +be written by an attorney in Edinburgh; but there are rascally +lawyers there as well as elsewhere. Bludsoe had correspondents +in London. They may be able to inform him regarding the firm of +solicitors, Kellam & Blake, if the firm really is entered at the +Scotch bar." + +"Oh! But won't that mean delay?" murmured Nan. + +"Meanwhile," said her father, smiling at her impatience, "we will +prepare the papers identifying your dear mother so that, if this +wonderful new fortune should be a reality, we can put in a proper +claim for it. Just the same," he added to his wife, when Nan had +left the room, "I have written to that machine shop boss in +Chicago that I am ready to come to work any day he may send for +me." + +"Oh, Robert!" gasped the little lady. "Won't you believe?" + +"Like the darkey who was asked if he believed the world was +round, and said, 'Ah believes it, but Ah ain't dead sho' of it.' +I presume this great fortune is possible, Jessie, but I haven't +perfect and abiding faith in its existence, FOR us," said her +husband. + +But Momsey had just that quality of faith. She went singing +about her household tasks and her usual smile beamed quite +beatific. So said Dr. Christian, who stepped in to see her, as +was his custom every few days. + +"What's this? What's this?" the old medical practitioner +demanded of Mr. Sherwood, on the porch, where he usually made his +report, and to which Nan often stole to listen openly to them +discuss her mother's case. "I find her in a state of happy +excitement, and that is quite right, Robert, quite right, if the +hopes that are the wellspring of it are not quenched. What does +it mean? Have you arranged the sea voyage I advised?" + +Papa Sherwood's face changed suddenly. He looked oddly, Nan +thought, at the doctor. "I don't know but that is it, Doc," he +said. "That sea voyage may be in the offing." + +"Best thing that could happen to her, best thing that could +happen to her!" declared the old physician with emphasis, as he +stumped away. + +Nan wondered what that could mean. A sea voyage for Momsey? Of +course, for all of them. She could not imagine Momsey going +anywhere without her and Papa Sherwood. + +She knew she was not to say anything about what she heard pass +between her father and the doctor on the porch. Indeed, Nan was +no bearer of tales in any event. But she was very curious. The +steam from the cauldron of Mystery seldom arose in the little +"dwelling in amity" save about Christmas time or just previous to +Nan's birthday. But Papa Sherwood certainly was enigmatical and +Momsey was mysteriously happy, as Dr. Christian had said. + +"And we'll put steam heat in the little house. You know, Robert, +we've always wanted to," Nan's mother suddenly said one evening +as they all sat around the reading lamp, and quite apropos of +nothing at all. Then she laughed, flushing prettily. "There! +You see what my mind runs on. I really can't help it." + +It was only a day or two later that the second letter came from +Memphis. Mr. Adair MacKenzie had returned from Mexico and +evidently one of the first duties he performed was to write his +Cousin Jessie his congratulations. + +"A letter on quite another matter," this epistle read, "from our +distant kinsman, Andrew Blake, of Kellam & Blake, apprised me +that the ancient Hugh Blake, steward to the Lairds of Emberon for +so many years, was dead and that his property was willed to your +father, whose appearance as a lad at Emberon pleased the old man +greatly. + +"You are to be congratulated. The estate is considerable, I +understand. Your husband's troubles which are mentioned in your +letter that I found awaiting my return will now be over. For, +although Andrew Blake intimates that there may be considerable +opposition in the courts there, over the money going to an +American heir, you will be able in the end to establish your +rights. + +"Believe me, my dear Jessie, I know of nobody in our family to +whom I would rather see fortune come than to yourself and your +dear ones. If I can be of any assistance, financially, or +otherwise, in helping you obtain your rights in this event, +believe me, I stand ready to give such aid. Do not hesitate to +call upon me. My regards to your husband and little girl whom I +have never seen; Alice and John join me in expressing our good +wishes for your happy future. I remain, with the old love I +always had for you, Your cousin, Adair MacKenzie." + +"Now, Robert, what have you to say?" cried Momsey triumphantly, +while Nan danced a fandango about the room. + +"This much," replied her husband, smiling. "Our minds are +relieved on one point, at least. Kellam & Blake are respectable +attorneys. We will send our communication to Mr. Blake at once, +without waiting for Mr. Bludsoe's enquiries to bear fruit. Your +Cousin Adair knows the Scotch firm, and of course vouches for +their trustworthiness." + +"Dear me, Papa Sherwood, you are so practical!" sighed Nan. She +meant "vexing;" they were interchangeable terms to her mind at +this exciting point. "Can't you work up any enthusiasm over +Momsey's wonderful fortune?" + +"Its existence is established, it would seem, beyond +peradventure," said Mr. Sherwood drily. "But our attempt to +obtain the fortune is not yet begun." + +"Why, ee!" squealed Nan. "You don't really suppose anybody will +try to keep Momsey from getting it?" + +"Exactly that," said her father. "The Blakes are a widely +scattered clan. There are probably a number of people as close +in blood-tie to the old man who has just died as your mother, my +dear. These people may all bob up, one after another, to dispute +Momsey's claim." + +"But, dear me!" gasped Nan. "The money was willed to Momsey." + +"Nevertheless, these other relatives, if there be such--can +keep Momsey out of the enjoyment of her rights for a long time. +Court processes are slow, and especially so, I should judge, +among the canny and careful Scotch. I think we would better +leave it to the lawyers to settle. We cannot hasten the courts +by worrying over the fortune. + +"I think," pursued Papa Sherwood judiciously, "that instead of +spending our time discussing and dreaming of the fortune in +Scotland, we would better go right on with our tasks here as +though there were really no fortune at all." + +"Oh, my!" whispered Nan, her eyes clouding. "That's because of +my last fortnightly report. I know I fell behind in history and +rhetoric." + +"Don't be too hard on us, Papa Sherwood," said Momsey brightly. +"Anticipation is more than half of every pleasure. I lie awake +every night and spend this great fortune of ours to the very last +penny. + +"Of course," the little lady added, with more gravity, "I +wouldn't really spend fifty thousand dollars so recklessly as I +do in my mind. But I can found schools, and hospitals, and +educate Nan, and give you, Papa Sherwood, a great big business, +and buy two automobiles, and-----" + +"Enough! Enough!" cried Mr. Sherwood, in mock seriousness. "You +are a born spendthrift, Momsey. That you have had no chance to +really be one thus far will only make your case more serious when +you have this legacy in your possession. Two automobiles, no +less! + +"But I want you both, my dears, to bear one very important fact +in mind. Roughly estimated the fortune is ten thousand pounds. +To be exact, it may be a good deal less at the start. Then, +after the lawyers and the courts get through with the will and +all, the remainder that dribbles into your pocket, Momsey, may be +a very small part of ten thousand pounds." + +"Oh, how horrid, Papa Sherwood!" cried Nan. "We won't listen to +him, will we, Momsey?" + +"Oh, yes we will," her mother said quietly, but smiling. "But we +will still believe that the world is good and that God has given +us great good fortune. Papa talks very sensibly; but I know that +there is nothing to fear. We are going to be very well off for +the rest of our lives, and I cannot be thankful enough for it." + +At that Mr. Sherwood literally threw up his hands. +"Nevertheless," he said, "I expect to go to Chicago next Monday, +to begin work in the machine shop. The boss writes me that I can +come at that time." + +"I will get your clothes ready for you, Robert," said Momsey +calmly. "Perhaps you will feel better in your mind if you keep +busy during this time of waiting." + +Chapter VIII +TWO IMPORTANT HAPPENINGS + +It happened, however, that Mr. Sherwood did not go to Chicago to +work in the machine shop. Something happened before the week was +out, that quite put his intention aside. + +Indeed, Nan declared that two important happenings just then +changed the current of affairs at the little cottage on Amity +Street and that she had a principal part in the action of the +first of these unexpected happenings. + +It was lovely skating on Norway Pond, and both Nan and her chum, +Bess Harley, were devoted to the sport. Nan had been unable to +be on the ice Saturdays, because of her home tasks; but when her +lessons were learned, she was allowed to go after supper. + +It happened to be just at the dark of the moon this week; that +kept many off the ice, although the weather was settled and the +ice was perfectly safe. Sometimes the boys built a bonfire on +Woody Point, with refuse from the planing mill, and that lit up a +good bit of the ice. + +But once out on the pond, away from the shadows cast by the high +banks, the girls could see well enough. They were both good +skaters, and with arms crossed and hands clasped, they swung up +the middle of the pond in fine style. + +"I just love to skate with you, Nan," sighed Bess ecstatically. +"You move just like my other self. We're Siamese twins. We +strike out together perfectly. Oh, my dear! I don't see +whatever I am to do if you refuse to go to Lakeview with me." + +Nan could scarcely keep from telling Bess of the wonderful new +fortune that seemed about to come to her; but she was faithful to +her home training, and only said: + +"Don't fret about it, honey. Maybe something will turn up to let +me go." + +"If you'd let my father pay your way-----?" insinuated Bess. + +"Don't talk of that. It's impossible," said Nan decisively. +"It's a long time yet to fall. Maybe conditions will be +different at home. A dozen things may happen before school opens +in September." + +"Yes! But they may not be the right things," sighed Bess. + +She could not be too melancholy on such a night as this, however. +It was perfectly quiet, and the arch of the sky was like black +velvet pricked out with gold and silver stars. Their soft +radiance shed some light upon the pond, enough, at least, to +show the girl chums the way before them as they skimmed on toward +Powerton Landing. + +They had left a noisy crowd of boys behind them, near the stamp +Factory, mostly mill boys, and the like. Bess had been taught +at home to shrink from association with the mill people and that +is why she had urged Nan to take this long skate up the pond. +Around the Tillbury end of it they were always falling in with +little groups of mill boys and girls whom Bess did not care to +meet. + +There was another reason this evening for keeping away from the +stamp factory, too. The manager of that big shop had hired a +gang of ice cutters a few days before, and had filled his own +private icehouse. The men had cut out a roughly outlined square +of the thick ice, sawed it into cakes, and poled it to shore and +so to the sleds and the manager's icehouse. + +It was not a large opening in the ice; but even if the frost +continued, it would be several days before the new ice would form +thickly enough to bear again over that spot. + +Elsewhere, however, the ice was strong, for all the cutting for +the big icehouses had been done long before near the Landing. +The lights of Powerton Landing were twinkling ahead of them as +the two friends swept on up the long lake. The wind was in their +faces, such wind as there was, and the air was keen and nippy. + +The action of skating, however, kept Nan and Bess warm. Bess in +her furs and Nan in her warm tam-o'-shanter and the muffler +Momsey had knitted with her own hands, did not mind the cold. + +The evening train shrieked out of the gap and across the long +trestle just beyond the landing, where it halted for a few +seconds for passengers to embark or to leave the cars. This +train was from Chicago, and on Monday Papa Sherwood expected to +go to that big city to work. + +The thought gave Nan a feeling of depression. The little family +in the Amity street cottage had never been separated for more +than a day since she could remember. It was going to be hard on +Momsey, with Papa Sherwood away and Nan in school all day. How +were they going to get along without Papa Sherwood coming home to +supper, and doing the hard chores? + +Bess awoke her chum from these dreams. "Dear me, Nan! Have you +lost your tongue all of a sudden? Do say something, or do +something." + +"Let's race the train down the pond to Tillbury," proposed Nan +instantly. + +The lights of the long coaches were just moving out of the +station at the Landing. The two girls came about in a graceful +curve and struck out for home at a pace that even the train could +not equal. The rails followed the shore of the pond on the +narrow strip of lowland at the foot of the bluffs. They could +see the lights shining through the car windows all the way. + +The fireman threw open the door of his firebox to feed the +furnace and a great glare of light, and a shower of sparks, +spouted from the smokestack. The rumble of the wheels from +across the ice seemed louder than usual. + +"Come on, Bess!" gasped Nan, quite excited. "We can do better +than this! Why, that old train will beat us!" + +For they were falling behind. The train hooted its defiance as +it swept down toward Woody Point. The girls shot in toward the +shore, where the shadow of the high bluff lay heavily upon the +ice. + +They heard the boys' voices somewhere below them, but Bess and +Nan could not see them yet. They knew that the boys had divided +into sides and were playing old-fashioned hockey, "shinny-on- +your-own-side" as it was locally called. Above the rumbling of +the train they heard the crack of the shinny-stick against the +wooden block, and the "z-z-z-zip!" of the missile as it scaled +over the ice. + +"Those boys will get into the ice-hole if they don't look out," +Nan had just said to her chum, when suddenly a wild yell arose +from the hockey players. + +The train was slowing down at the signal tower, and finally +stopped there. A freight had got in on the main track which had +to be cleared before the passenger train could go into Tillbury +station. The coaches stood right along the edge of the frozen +pond. + +But it was nothing in connection with the evening train that +caused such a commotion among the skaters near the stamp factory. +There was a crash of breaking ice and a scrambling of skaters +away from the spot. The boys' yells communicated panic to other +people ashore. + +"He's in! He's in!" Nan and Bess heard the boys yelling. Then a +man's voice took up the cry: "He'll be drowned! Help! Help!" + +"That's old Peter Newkirk," gasped Nan, squeezing Bess' gloved +hands tightly. "He's night watchman at the stamp works, and he +has only one arm. He can't help that boy." + +The youngsters who had been playing hockey so recklessly near the +thin ice, were not as old as Nan and Bess, and the accident had +thrown them into utter confusion. Some skated for the shore, +screaming for ropes and fence-rails; others only tried to get +away from the danger spot themselves. None did the first thing +to help their comrade who had broken through the ice. + +"Where are you going, Nan?" gasped Bess, pulling back. "You'll +have us both in the water, too." + +"We can save him! Quick!" returned her chum eagerly. + +She let go of Bess and unwound the long muffler from about her +own neck. "If we could only see him!" the girl said, over and +over. + +And then a brilliant idea struck Nan Sherwood, and she turned to +shout to old Peter Newkirk on the shore. "Peter! Peter! Turn on +the electric light sign! Turn it on so we can see where he's +gone in!" + +The watchman had all his wits about him. There was a huge +electric sign on the stamp works roof, advertising the company's +output. The glare of it could be seen for miles, and it lit up +brilliantly the surroundings of the mill. + +Peter Newkirk bounded away to the main door of the works. The +switch that controlled the huge sign was just inside that door. +Before Nan and Bess had reached the edge of the broken ice, the +electricity was suddenly shot into the sign and the whole +neighborhood was alight. + +"I see him! There he is!" gasped Nan to her chum. "Hold me tight +by the skirt, Bess! We'll get him!" + +She flung herself to her knees and stopped sliding just at the +edge of the old, thick ice. With a sweep of her strong young arm +she shot the end of the long muffler right into the clutching +hands of the drowning boy. + +Involuntarily he seized it. He had been down once, and +submersion in the ice water had nearly deprived him of both +consciousness and power to help save himself. But Nan drew him +quickly through the shattered ice-cakes to the edge of the firm +crystal where she knelt. + +"We have him! We have him!" she cried, in triumph. "Give me +your hand, boy! I won't let you go down again." + +But to lift him entirely out of the water would have been too +much for her strength. However, several men came running now +from the stalled passenger train. The lighting of the electric +sign had revealed to them what was going on upon the pond. + +The man who lifted the half-drowned boy out of the water was not +one of the train crew, but a passenger. He was a huge man in a +bearskin coat and felt boots. He was wrapped up so heavily, and +his fur cap was pulled down so far over his ears and face, that +Nan could not see what he really looked like. In a great, gruff +voice he said: + +"Well, now! Give me a girl like you ev'ry time! I never saw the +beat of it. Here, mister!" as he put the rescued boy into the +arms of a man who had just run from a nearby house. "Get him +between blankets and he'll be all right. But he's got this smart +little girl to thank that he's alive at all." + +He swung around to look at Nan again. Bess was crying frankly, +with her gloved hands before her face. "Oh, Nan! Nan!" she +sobbed. "I didn't do a thing, not a thing. I didn't even hang +to the tail of your skirt as you told me. I, I'm an awful +coward." + +The big man patted Nan's shoulder lightly. "There's a little +girl that I'm going to see here in Tillbury," he said gruffly. +"I hope she turns out to be half as smart as you are, sissy." +Then he tramped back to the train that was just then starting. + +Nan began to laugh. "Did you hear that funny man?" she asked +Bess. "Do stop your crying, Bess! You have no reason to cry. +You are not hurt." + +"But, but you might have been, been drowned, too," sobbed her +chum. "I didn't help you a mite." + +"Bother!" exclaimed Nan Sherwood. "Don't let's talk about it. +We'll go home. I guess we've both had enough skating for +tonight." + +Bess wiped away her tears and clung to Nan's hand all the way to +their usual corner for separating. Nan ran home from there +quickly and burst into the kitchen to find Momsey and Papa +Sherwood in the midst of a very serious conference. + +"What is the matter?" cried Nan, startled by the gravity of her +father and the exaltation upon her mother's face. "What's +happened?" + +"A very great thing, Nan, honey," said Momsey, drawing her +daughter to her side. "Tell her, Papa Sherwood." + +He sighed deeply and put away the letter they had been reading. +"It's from Mr. Blake, of Edinburgh," he said. "I can no longer +doubt the existence of the fortune, my dears. But I fear we +shall have to strive for it in the Scotch courts." + +"Oh!" cried Nan, under her breath. + +"Mr. Blake tells us here that it is absolutely necessary for us +to come to Scotland, and for your mother to appear in person +before the court there. The sum of money and other property +willed to Momsey by her great uncle is so large that the greatest +care will be exercised by the Scotch judges to see that it goes +to the right person. + +"As your mother once said, we must throw a sprat to catch a +herring. In this case we shall be throwing a sprat to catch a +whale! For the amount of money we may have to spend to secure +the fifty thousand dollars left by Mr. Hugh Blake, of Emberon, is +small, in comparison to the fortune itself. + +"We must go to Scotland," finished Mr. Sherwood firmly. "And we +must start as soon as possible." + +Chapter IX +ON THE WAY TO THE WILDERNESS + +It seemed to Nan Sherwood that night as though she never could +get to sleep. Her mind and imagination worked furiously. + +Momsey and Papa Sherwood had sent her to bed early. There had +been no time to tell them about the accident on the ice and her +part in it. Her parents had much to discuss, much to decide +upon. The Scotch lawyer urged their presence before the court +having jurisdiction in the matter of the late Mr. Hugh Blake's +will, and that as soon as they could cross the ocean. + +Transportation from the little Illinois town, across the +intervening states to the seaport, and thence, over the winter +ocean to Glasgow, and so on by rail to Edinburgh, was a journey +the contemplation of which, to such a quiet family as the +Sherwoods, was nothing less than appalling. + +And there were many things to take into consideration that Nan +did not wholly understand. Mrs. Sherwood would require her +husband's undivided attention while she made the long and arduous +journey. The sea voyage was right in line with the physician's +opinion of what was needed to restore her health; but it was a +venture at best. + +Had the family possessed plenty of money it is doubtful if Mr. +Sherwood would have risked more than a coasting voyage. +Conditions rising out of the legacy from the great uncle in +Scotland spelled necessity in this case. Of the little sum left +in bank, most of it would be required to pay the fares of Mr. and +Mrs. Sherwood to Edinburgh, and their modest living there for a +few weeks. There was not enough money in hand to pay a third +passage and the expenses of a third person in Scotland, until the +court business should be settled. + +Mr. Sherwood had already taken Mr. Bludsoe, the lawyer, into his +confidence. He could make arrangements through him to mortgage +the cottage if it became absolutely necessary. He shrank from +accepting financial help from Mrs. Sherwood's relatives in +Memphis. + +Besides, decision must be made immediately. Plans must be made +almost overnight. They must start within forty-eight hours to +catch a certain steamer bound for the Scotch port of Glasgow, as +Mr. Sherwood had already found out. And all their questions +resolved finally into this very important one: + +"WHAT SHALL WE DO ABOUT NAN?" + +Nan, in her little white bed, had no idea that she was the +greatest difficulty her parents found in this present event. It +never entered her busy mind that Papa Sherwood and Momsey would +dream of going to Scotland without her. + +"What shall we do with Nan?" Momsey said over and over again. +She realized as well as did Mr. Sherwood that to take the child +was an utter impossibility. Their financial circumstances, as +well as other considerations would not allow it. + +Yet, what should they do with her, with whom to trust her during +their uncertain absence on the other side? No answer that came +to their minds seemed the right one. They rose that wintry +morning without having this most important of all questions +decided. + +This was Sunday and Mrs. Joyce always came over for breakfast; +for she lived alone and never had any too much to eat, Nan was +sure. As for the old woman's eating with the family, that was a +fiction she kept up for appearance's sake, perhaps, or to salve +her own claims to former gentility. She always set a place for +herself at the family table in the dining room and then was too +busy to eat with them, taking her own meal in the kitchen. + +Therefore it was she only who heard the commanding rap at the +kitchen door in the midst of the leisurely meal, and answered it. + +Just then Nan had dropped her knife and fork and was staring from +Momsey's pitying face to Papa Sherwood's grave one, as she cried, +in a whisper: + +"Not me? Oh, my dears! You're never going without me, all that +long journey? What, whatever shall I do without you both?" + +"Don't, honey! Don't say it that way!" begged Momsey, putting +her handkerchief to her eyes. + +"If it was not quite impossible, do you think for a moment, +daughter, that we would contemplate leaving you at home?" queried +Mr. Sherwood, his own voice trembling. + +"It, it seems impossible!" gasped Nan, "just as though it +couldn't be. I won't know what to do without you, my dears. And +what will you do without me?" + +That seemed to be unanswerable, and it quite broke Momsey down. +She sobbed openly into her handkerchief. + +"Who's going to be her little maid?" demanded Nan, of her father. +"Who's going to 'do' her beautiful hair? Who's going to wait on +her when she has her dreadful headaches? And who's going to play +'massagist' like me? I want to know who can do all those things +for Momsey if you take her away from me, Papa Sherwood?" and she +ended quite stormily. + +"My dear child!" Mr. Sherwood said urgently. "I want you to +listen to me. Our situation is such that we cannot possibly take +you with us. That is final. It is useless for us to discuss the +point, for there is nothing to be gained by discussing it from +now till Doomsday." + +Nan gulped down a sob and looked at him with dry eyes. Papa +Sherwood had never seemed so stern before, and yet his own eyes +were moist. She began to see that this decision was very hard +upon her parents, too. + +"Now do you understand," he asked gently, "that we cannot take +our little daughter with us, but that we are much worried by the +fact, and we do not know what to do with her while we are gone?" + +"You, you might as well put me in an orphan asylum," choked Nan. +"I'll be an orphan till you get back." + +"Oh, honey!" cried her mother. + +"There now!" said Nan, jumping up quickly and going around the +table to her mother's side. "You poor dear! I won't say +anything more to hurt and trouble you. I'm a selfish thing, +that's what I am." + +Momsey wound her arms about her. Papa Sherwood still looked +grave. " We get no nearer to the proper solution of the +difficulty," he said. "Of course, Nancy, the orphan asylum is +out of the question." + +"I'll stay here, of course," Nan said, with some difficulty +keeping her voice from quavering. + +"Not alone in the house, honey," Momsey said quickly. + +"With Mrs. Joyce?" suggested Nan tentatively. + +"No," Mr. Sherwood said. "She is not the person to be trusted +with you." + +"There's Mrs. Grimes' boarding house around the corner?" +suggested Nan. + +Momsey shuddered. "Never! Never! My little girl in a boarding +house. Oh, Papa Sherwood! We must find somebody to care for her +while we are away, who loves Nan." + +And it was just here that a surprisingly gruff voice took up the +matter and decided it in a moment. + +"That's me," said the voice, with conviction. "She's just the +sort of little girl I cotton to, sister Jessie. And Kate'll be +fairly crazy about her. If you're going anywhere for a long +spell, just let me take her up to Pine Camp. We have no little +girls up there, never had any. But I bet we know how to treat +'em." + +"Hen!" shouted Mr. Sherwood, stumbling up from the table, and +putting out both hands to the big man whom Mrs. Joyce had ushered +in from the kitchen so unexpectedly. + +"Henry Sherwood!" gasped Momsey, half rising herself in her +surprise and delight. + +"Why!" cried Nan, "it's the bear-man!" for Mr. Henry Sherwood +wore the great fur coat and cap that he had worn the evening +before when he had come to Nan's aid in rescuing the boy from +Norway Pond. + +Afterward Nan confessed, naively, that she ought to have known he +was her Uncle Henry. Nobody, she was quite sure, could be so big +and brawny as the lumberman from Michigan. + +"She's the girl for me," proclaimed Uncle Henry admiringly. +"Smart as a whip and as bold as a catamount. Hasn't she told you +what she did last night? Sho! Of course not. She don't go +'round blowing about her deeds of valor, I bet!" and the big man +went off into a gale of laughter that seemed to shake the little +cottage. + +Papa Sherwood and Momsey had to learn all the particulars then, +and both glowed with pride over their little daughter's action. +Gradually, after numerous personal questions were asked and +answered on both sides, the conversation came around to the +difficulty the little family was in, and the cause of it. + +Henry Sherwood listened to the story of the Scotch legacy with +wide-open eyes, marveling greatly. The possibility of his +brother's wife becoming wealthy amazed and delighted his simple +mind. The fact that they had to take the long journey to +Scotland to obtain the money troubled him but little. Although +he had never traveled far himself, save to Chicago from the +Michigan woods, Mr. Henry Sherwood had lived in the open so much +that distances did not appall him. + +"Sure you'll go," he proclaimed, reaching down into a very deep +pocket and dragging to light a long leather pouch, with a draw- +string of home-cured deer skin. "And if you are short, Bob, +we'll go down into this poke and see what there is left. + +"I came down to Chicago to see about a piece of timber that's +owned by some sharps on Jackson Street. I didn't know but I +might get to cut that timber. I've run it careless-like, and I +know pretty near what there is in it. So I said to Kate: + +"'I'll see Bob and his wife, and the little nipper-----" + +"Goodness!" ejaculated Nan, under her breath. + +Uncle Henry's eyes twinkled and the many wrinkles about them +screwed up into hard knots. "Beg pardon!" he exclaimed, for his +ears were very sharp. "This young lady, I should have said. +Anyhow, I told Kate I'd see you all and find out what you were +doing. + +"Depending on mills and such for employment isn't any very safe +way to live, I think. Out in the woods you are as free as air, +and there aren't so many bosses, and you don't have to think much +about 'the market' and 'supply and demand,' and all that." + +"Just the same," said Mr. Robert Sherwood, his own eyes +twinkling, "you are in some trouble right now, I believe, Hen?" + +"Sho! You've got me there," boomed his brother with a great +laugh. "But there aren't many reptiles like old Ged Raffer. And +we can thank a merciful Creator for that. I expect there are +just a few miserly old hunks like Ged as horrible examples to the +rest of us." + +"What is the nature of your trouble with this old fellow?" asked +Mr. Robert Sherwood. + +"We've got hold on adjoining options. I had my lines run by one +of the best surveyors in the Peninsula of Michigan. But he up +and died. Ged claims I ran over on his tract about a mile. He +got to court first, got an injunction, and tied me all up in a +hard legal knot until the state surveyors can go over both pieces +of timber. The land knows when that'll be! Those state +surveyors take a week of frog Sundays to do a job. + +"I can't cut a stick on my whole piece 'cause Ged claims he'll +have a right to replevin an equal number of sticks cut, if the +surveyors back up his contention. Nasty mess. The original line +was run years and years ago, and they're not many alive today in +the Big woods that know the rights of it. + +"I expect," added Uncle Henry, shaking his bushy head, "that old +Toby Vanderwiller knows the rights of that line business; but he +won't tell. + +Gedney Raffer's got a strangle hold on Toby and his little swamp +farm, and Toby doesn't dare say his soul's his own. + +"Well!" continued the lumberman, with another of his big laughs. +"This has nothing to do with your stew, Bob. I didn't want to +come to the house last night and surprise you; so I stayed at the +hotel. And all the time I was thinking of this little nip, Beg +pardon! This young lady, and how smart and plucky she was. + +"And lo and behold," pursued Uncle Henry, "she turns out to be my +own niece. I'm going to take her back with me to Pine Camp. +Kate's got to see and know her. The boys will be tickled out of +their boots to have a girl like her around. That's our one lack +at Pine Camp. There never was a girl in the family. + +"Seems that this was just foreordained. You and Jessie have got +to go 'way off, over the water; can't leave this plucky girl +alone. Her old uncle and aunt are the proper folks to take care +of her. What do you say yourself, young lady?" + +Nan had liked the big man from the very beginning. She was a +sensible child, too. She saw that she must settle this matter +herself, for it was too hard a question for either Momsey or Papa +Sherwood to decide. She gained control of herself now; but +nobody will ever know how much courage it took for her to say, +promptly: + +"Of course I will go home with you, Uncle Henry. It will be fun, +I think, to go into the woods in the winter. And, and I can +come right back as soon as Momsey and Papa Sherwood return from +Scotland." + +So it was settled, just like that. The rush in which both +parties got under way on Monday made Nan's head whirl. Momsey +was to buy a few necessary things in New York before she boarded +the steamer. Nan had a plentiful supply of warm winter clothing, +and she took a trunkful. + +Mrs. Joyce was left to take a peep at the little, locked cottage +on Amity Street, now and then. Nan could say "Goodbye" only very +hastily to Bess Harley and her other school friends. Her school +had to be broken off at a bad time in the year, but there was the +prospect of a change in Nan's method of education the next fall. + +Momsey and Papa Sherwood took the train east an hour before Nan +and Uncle Henry boarded that for Chicago. All went with a rush +and clatter, and Nan found herself at last rumbling out of +Tillbury, on her way to the northern wilderness, while a thin +drive of fine snowflakes tapped on the car windows. + +Chapter X +GEDNEY RAFFER + +It was fortunate for Nan Sherwood that on the day of parting with +her parents she had so much to do, and that there was so much to +see, and so many new things of which to think. + +She had never traveled to Chicago before, nor far from Tillbury +at all. Even the chair car was new to the girl's experience and +she found it vastly entertaining to sit at a broad window with +her uncle in the opposite chair, gazing out upon the snowy +landscape as the train hurried over the prairie. + +She had a certain feeling that her Uncle Henry was an anomaly in +the chair car. His huge bearskin coat and the rough clothing +under it; his felt boots, with rubber soles and feet; the fact +that he wore no linen and only a string tie under the collar of +his flannel shirt; his great bronzed hands and blunted fingers +with their broken nails, all these things set him apart from the +other men who rode in the car. + +Papa Sherwood paid much attention to the niceties of dress, +despite the fact that his work at the Atwater Mills had called +for overalls and, frequently, oily hands. Uncle Henry evidently +knew little about stiff collars and laundered cuffs, or cravats, +smart boots, bosomed shirts, or other dainty wear for men. He +was quite innocent of giving any offence to the eye, however. +Lying back in the comfortable chair with his coat off and his +great lumberman's boots crossed, he laughed at anything Nan said +that chanced to be the least bit amusing, until the gas-globes +rang again. + +It seemed to Nan as though there never was such a huge man +before. She doubted if Goliath could have looked so big to young +David, when the shepherd boy went out with his sling to meet the +giant. Uncle Henry was six feet, four inches in height and broad +in proportion. The chair creaked under his weight when he moved. +Other people in the car gazed on the quite unconscious giant as +wonderingly as did Nan herself. + +"Uncle Henry," she asked him once, "are all the men in the Big +Woods as tall as you are?" + +"Goodness me! No, child," he chuckled. "But the woods don't +breed many runts, that's a fact. There's some bigger than I. +Long Sam Dorgan is near seven feet he isn't quite sure, for +he's so ticklish that you can't ever measure him," and Uncle +Henry's chuckle burst into a full-fledged laugh. "He's just as +graceful as a length of shingle lathing, too. And freckles and +liver spots on his hands and face, well, he certain sure is a +handsome creature. + +"He went to town once and stayed over night. Wasn't any bed long +enough at the hotel, and Sam had got considerably under the +weather, anyhow, from fooling with hard cider. So he wasn't +particular about where he bedded down, and they put him to sleep +in the horse trough." + +"The horse trough!" gasped Nan. + +"Yes. It was pretty dry when Sam went to bed; but right early in +the morning a sleepy hostler stumbled out to the trough and began +to pump water into it for the cattle. Maybe Long Sam needed a +bath, but not just that way. He rose up with a yell like a +Choctaw Indian. Said he was just dreaming of going through the +Sault Ste. Marie in a barrel, and he reckoned the barrel burst +open." + +Nan was much amused by this story, as she was by others that the +old lumberman related. He was full of dry sayings and his speech +had many queer twists to it. His bluff, honest way delighted the +girl, although he was so different from Papa Sherwood. As Momsey +had said, Uncle Henry's body had to be big to contain his heart. +One can excuse much that is rough in a character so lovable as +that of Uncle Henry's. + +The snow increased as the train sped on and the darkness +gradually thickened. Uncle Henry took his niece into the dining +car where they had supper, with a black man with shiny eyes and +very white teeth, who seemed always on the broad grin, to wait +upon them. Nan made a mental note to write Bess Harley all about +the meal and the service, for Bess was always interested in +anything that seemed "aristocratic," and to the unsophisticated +girl from Tillbury the style of the dining car seemed really +luxurious. + +When the train rolled into the Chicago station it was not yet +late; but it seemed to Nan as though they had ridden miles and +miles, through lighted streets hedged on either side with brick +houses. The snow was still falling, but it looked sooty and gray +here in the city. Nan began to feel some depression, and to +remember more keenly that Momsey and Papa Sherwood were flying +easterly just as fast as an express train could take them. + +It was cold, too. A keen, penetrating wind seemed to search +through the streets. Uncle Henry said it came from the lake. He +beckoned to a taxicab driver, and Nan's trunk was found and +strapped upon the roof. Then off they went to the hotel where +Uncle Henry always stopped when he came to Chicago, and where his +own bag was checked. + +Looking through the cab windows, the girl began to take an +immediate interest in life again. So many people, despite the +storm! So many vehicles tangled up at the corners and waiting for +the big policemen to let them by in front of the clanging cars! +Bustle, hurry, noise, confusion! + +"Some different from your Tillbury," drawled Uncle Henry. "And +just as different from Pine Camp as chalk is from cheese." + +"But so interesting!" breathed Nan, with a sigh. "Doesn't it +ever get to be bedtime for children in the city?" + +"Not for those kids," grumbled Uncle Henry. "Poor creatures. +They sell papers, or flowers, or matches, or what-not, all +evening long. And stores keep open, and hotel bars, and drug +shops, besides theatres and the like. There's a big motion +picture place! I went there once. It beats any show that ever +came to Hobart Forks, now I tell you." + +"Oh, we have motion picture shows at Tillbury. We have had them +in the school hall, too," said Nan complacently. "But, of +course, I'd like to see all the people and the lights, and so +forth. It looks very interesting in the city. But the snow is +dirty, Uncle Henry." + +"Yes. And most everything else is dirty when you get into these +brick and mortar tunnels. That's what I call the streets. The +air even isn't clean," went on the lumberman. "Give me the +woods, with a fresh wind blowing, and the world looks good to +me," then his voice and face fell, as he added, "excepting that +snake-in-the-grass, Ged Raffer." + +"That man must make you a lot of trouble, Uncle Henry," said Nan +sympathetically. + +"He does," growled the lumberman. "He's a miserable, fox-faced +scoundrel, and I've no more use for him than I have for an egg- +sucking dog. That's the way I feel about it." + +They reached the hotel just then, and Uncle Henry's flare of +passion was quenched. The hostelry he patronized was not a new +hotel; but it was a very good one, and Nan's heart beat high as +she followed the porter inside, with Uncle Henry directing the +taxicab driver and a second porter how to dispose of the trunk +for the night. + +Nan had her bag in which were her night clothes, toilet articles, +and other necessities. The porter carried this for her and +seated her on a comfortable lounge at one side while Uncle Henry +arranged about the rooms. + +To do honor to his pretty niece the lumberman engaged much better +quarters than he would have chosen for himself. When they went +up to the rooms Nan found a pretty little bath opening out of +hers, and the maid came and asked her if she could be of any +help. The girl began to feel quite "grown up." It was all very +wonderful, and she loved Uncle Henry for making things so +pleasant for her. + +She had to run to his door and tell him this before she +undressed. He had pulled off his boots and was tramping up and +down the carpeted floor in his thick woolen socks, humming to +himself. + +"Taking a constitutional, Nan," he declared. "Haven't had any +exercise for this big body of mine all day. Sitting in that car +has made me as cramped as a bear just crawling out of his den in +the spring." + +He did not tell her that had he been alone he would have gone out +and tramped the snowy streets for half the night. But he would +not leave her alone in the hotel. "No, sir," said Uncle Henry. +"Robert would never forgive me if anything happened to his honey- +bird. And fire, or something, might break out here while I was +gone." + +He said nothing like this to Nan, however, but kissed her good +night and told her she should always bid him good night in just +that way as long as she was at Pine Camp. + +"For Kate and I have never had a little girl," said the big +lumberman, "and boys get over the kissing stage mighty early, I +find. Kate and I always did hanker for a girl." + +"If you owned a really, truly daughter of your own, Uncle Henry, +I believe you'd spoil her to death!" cried Nan, the next morning, +when she came out of the fur shop to which he had taken her. + +He had insisted that she was not dressed warmly enough for the +woods. We see forty and forty-five below up there, sometimes," +he said. "You think this raw wind is cold; it is nothing to a +black frost in the Big Woods. Trees burst as if there were +dynamite in 'em. You've never seen the like. + +"Of course the back of winter's about broken now. But we may +have some cold snaps yet. Anyhow, you look warmer than you did." + +And that was true, for Nan was dressed like a little Esquimau. +Her coat had a pointed hood to it; she wore high fur boots, the +fur outside. Her mittens of seal were buttoned to the sleeves of +her coat, and she could thrust her hands, with ordinary gloves on +them, right into these warm receptacles. + +Nan thought they were wonderfully served at the hotel where they +stopped, and she liked the maid on her corridor very much, and +the boy who brought the icewater, too. There really was so much +to tell Bess that she began to keep a diary in a little blank- +book she bought for that purpose. + +Then the most wonderful thing of all was the message from Papa +Sherwood which arrived just before she and Uncle Henry left the +hotel for the train. It was a "night letter" sent from Buffalo +and told her that Momsey was all right and that they both sent +love and would telegraph once more before their steamship left +the dock at New York. + +Nan and Uncle Henry drove through the snowy streets to another +station and took the evening train north. They traveled at first +by the Milwaukee Division of the Chicago and Northwestern +Railroad; and now another new experience came Nan's way. Uncle +Henry had secured a section in the sleeping car and each had a +berth. + +It was just like being put to sleep on a shelf, Nan declared, +when the porter made up the beds at nine o'clock. She climbed +into the upper berth a little later, sure that she would not +sleep, and intending to look out of the narrow window to watch +the snowy landscape fly by all night. + +And much to her surprise (only the surprise came in the morning) +she fell fast asleep almost immediately, lulled by the rocking of +the huge car on its springs, and did not arouse until seven +o'clock and the car stood on the siding in the big Wisconsin +city. + +They hurried to get a northern bound train and were soon off on +what Uncle Henry called the "longest lap" of their journey. The +train swept them up the line of Lake Michigan, sometimes within +sight of the shore, often along the edge of estuaries, +particularly following the contour of Green By, and then into the +Wilderness of upper Wisconsin and the Michigan Peninsula. + +On the Peninsula Division of the C. & N. W. they did not travel +as fast as they had been running, and before Hobart Forks was +announced on the last local train they traveled in, Nan Sherwood +certainly was tired of riding by rail. The station was in +Marquette County, near the Schoolcraft line. Pine Camp was +twenty miles deeper in the Wilderness. It seemed to Nan that she +had been traveling through forests, or the barren stumpage where +forests had been, for weeks. + +"Here's where we get off, little girl," Uncle Henry said, as he +seized his big bag and her little one and made for the door of +the car. Nan ran after him in her fur clothing. She had found +before this that he was right about the cold. It was an entirely +different atmosphere up here in the Big Woods from Tillbury, or +even Chicago. + +The train creaked to a stop. They leaped down upon the snowy +platform. Only a plain station, big freight house, and a company +of roughly dressed men to meet them. Behind the station a number +of sleighs and sledges stood, their impatient horses shaking the +innumerable bells they wore. + +Nan, stumbling off the car step behind her uncle, came near to +colliding with a small man in patched coat and cowhide boots, and +with a rope tied about his waist as some teamsters affect. He +mumbled something in anger and Nan turned to look at him. + +He wore sparse, sandy whiskers, now fast turning gray. The +outthrust of the lower part of his face was as sharp as that of a +fox, and he really looked like a fox. She was sure of his +identity before uncle Henry wheeled and, seeing the man, said: + +"What's that you are saying, Ged Raffer? This is my niece, and +if you lay your tongue to her name, I'll give you something to go +to law about in a hurry. Come, Nan. Don't let that man touch so +much as your coat sleeve. He's like pitch. You can't be near +him without some of his meanness sticking to you." + +Chapter XI +PINE CAMP AT LAST + +It was the first shade upon Uncle Henry's character that +displeased Nan. He was evidently a passionate man, prone to give +way to elemental feelings, literally, "a man of wrath." + +Gedney Raffer, weazened, snakelike, sly, and treacherous, had +doubtless wronged Uncle Henry deeply., But this fact could not +excuse the huge lumberman's language on the platform of the +Hobart Forks station. + +Nan wanted to stop her ears with her fingers and run from the +spot. The tough fellows standing around enjoyed the war of words +hugely. Mr. Sherwood was too big to strike Gedney Raffer, and of +course the latter dared not use his puny fists on the giant. + +The blunt club of the lumberman's speech was scarcely a match for +the sharp rapier of Raffer's tongue. As the crowd laughed it was +evident that the fox-faced man was getting the verbal best of the +controversy. + +Nan's ears burned and tears stood in her eyes. Uncle Henry +descended to personal threats and the smaller man called out: + +"You jest put your hand on me, you big, overgrown sawney! That's +all I'm a-waitin' for. You 'tack me and I'll have you in the +caboose, sure's my name's Gedney Raffer. Try it!" + +The quarrel was most distressing. Nan pulled at her uncle's coat +sleeve. The rough men eyed her curiously. She had never felt so +ashamed in her life. + +"Do come, Uncle Henry," she whispered. "I'm cold." + +That statement started the fuming giant at once. Nan's +sensitiveness to a rude quarrel did not impress the man; but her +sensitiveness to the weather shocked him immediately. + +"My goodness, girl! We'll go right up to the hotel," he said, +kindly. "Any of you fellows seen Rafe or Tom in town this +morning with the sled and roans?" + +"Hey, Hen!" cried the station master, waving a yellow paper. +"Here's a telegraph despatch for you." + +It was really for Nan, and from Papa Sherwood filed just before +the Afton Castle sailed from New York: + +"Momsey and papa send love and kisses. Be cheerful and good. +Write often. We think of you always. Kind wishes for Henry, +Kate and boys. We look forward to fair voyage and safe landing. +Will cable from other side. Expect happy meeting in spring. R. +and J. Sherwood." + +"They got a good start," commented Uncle Henry, putting all +thought of his quarrel with Ged Raffer behind him at once. +"We'll hope they have a safe voyage. Now! Where are those boys +of mine?" + +The town of Hobart Forks was by no means a lumber town. Millions +of feet of timber was boomed on the river within the limits of +the town every season, and there were great mills along the banks +of the stream, too. But there were other industries, as well as +churches, amusement places and many pleasant dwellings. It was +no settlement of "slab shanties" with a few saloons and a general +store. Nan had yet to see this latter kind of settlement. + +But what she saw about the central market place of Hobart Forks +opened her eyes considerably to an appreciation of the rough +country she had come to, and the rough people to be met therein. + +The storekeepers she saw through the frosted windows were dressed +like storekeepers in Tillbury; and there were well dressed women +on the streets, a few, at least. + +But most of the men striding through the snow were as roughly +dressed as her uncle, and not many were as good looking as Mr. +Sherwood. Some who came out of the swinging doors of saloons +staggered, and were very noisy in their speech and rude in their +actions. Of course nobody spoke to Nan, or troubled her; Henry +Sherwood was undoubtedly a man of standing in the settlement and +highly respected. + +Not far from the market place they came upon a sprawling old +tavern, with a fenced yard at one side. As they approached, a +sled drawn by a wild looking pair of rough, red-roan ponies, +dashed out of the yard and stopped at the broad front portico of +the hotel. + +"Hey, Tom! What's the matter with you?" called Uncle Henry. +"Here we are!" + +The driver turned a broad, good-humored face to look over his +burly shoulder. Nan saw that Tom Sherwood strongly resembled his +father. + +"That you, Dad?" he drawled. "I'd about given you up. I didn't +want to drive down to the depot with these crazy creatures. And +if I'd left 'em standing they'd have kicked Phil's shed to +pieces, I do believe. The train's been in half an hour and +more." + +"I know," said his father. "I had a mess of words with Ged +Raffer. That delayed me." + +"You ought to give him the back of your hand, and say no more +about it," declared Tom, in a tone that showed he warmed in his +bosom the family grudge against the fox-faced man. + +"Here's your Cousin Nan, Tom," said his father, without making +rejoinder to the young man's observation. "She must go into +Phil's and get warm and have a cup of hot coffee. I'll take some +in a new-fangled bottle I bought down in Chicago, so we can all +have a hot drink on the way home." + +"'Twon't keep warm twenty miles," said Tom. + +"Yes 'twill. It'll keep HOT for twenty miles and more. They +call it a thermos bottle. It'll keep coffee hot, or cold, for a +day, just as you please." + +"Jehosaphat, Dad! What kind of a swindle's that? How does the +bottle know whether you want your drink hot or cold? Huh! Those +city folks couldn't make me believe any such thing," objected the +son. + +Nan had to giggle at that, and Uncle Henry demanded: "Did you +ever see such a gump? Go on down to the station and tell Abe to +fling that trunk and the bags into the back of the sled. We'll +have our coffee, and get the thermos bottle filled, too, by the +time you come back." + +Nan liked tom Sherwood. He was about nineteen and almost as big +as his father. He was gentle with her, and showed himself to be +an expert driver of the roan colts. Otherwise Nan might have +been much afraid during the first mile of the journey to Pine +Camp, for certainly she had never seen horses behave so before. + +"Haven't been out of the stable for a week," explained Tom cooly +as the roans plunged and danced, and "cut up didos" generally, as +Uncle Henry remarked. + +"We had a big fall of snow," Tom went on to say. "Bunged us all +up in the woods; so Rafe and I came in. Marm's all right. So's +everybody else around the Camp, except Old Man Llewellen. He's +down with rheumatism, or tic-douloureux, or something. He's +always complaining." + +"I know," said Uncle Henry, and then went on to relate for his +son's benefit the wonderful thing that had happened to his +brother and his brother's wife, and why Nan had come up into +Michigan without her parents. + +"We'll be mighty proud to have her," said Tom simply. He was +only a great boy, after all, and he blushed every time he caught +Nan looking at him. The girl began to feel very much grown up. + +They were glad of the hot coffee, and Tom was shown how and why +the mysterious bottle kept the drink hot. They only made that +single halt (and only for a few minutes for the horses to drink) +before reaching Pine Camp. They traveled through the snow- +covered woods most of the way. There were few farms and no +settlements at all until they reached Pine Camp. + +The road was not well beaten and they could not have got through +some of the drifts with less spirited ponies than the roans. +When they crossed the long bridge over the river and swept into +the village street, Nan was amazed. + +Likewise, her heart sank a little. There was not a building in +the place more than a story and a half in height. Most of them +were slab cottages. Few yards were fenced. There were two +stores, facing each other on the single street of the town, with +false-fronts running up as tall as the second story would have +been had there been a second story. + +The roans dashed through the better beaten path of the street, +with everybody along the way hailing Henry Sherwood vociferously. +The giant waved his hand and shouted in reply. Nan cowered +between him and Tom, on the seat, shielding her face from the +flying snow from the ponies' hoofs, though the tears in her eyes +were not brought there only by the sting of the pelting she +received. + +Chapter XII +"HOME WAS NEVER LIKE THIS" + +The roan ponies dashed through the slab settlement, past the +blacksmith and wheelwright shop and the ugly red building Tom +told Nan was the school, and reached a large, sprawling, +unpainted dwelling on the outskirts of the village. + +There were barns back of the Sherwood house; there was no fence +between the yard and the road, the windows of the house stared +out upon the passerby, blindless, and many of them without +shades. There was such a painful newness about the building that +it seemed to Nan the carpenters must have just packed their tools +and gone, while the painters had not yet arrived. + +"Well! Here we are," announced Mr. Henry Sherwood, as Tom held +in the still eager ponies. He stepped out and offered Nan his +hand. "Home again, little girl. I reckon Kate will be mighty +glad to see you, that she will." + +Nan leaped out and began to stamp her feet on the hard snow, +while Uncle Henry lifted out the trunk and bags. Just as the +ponies sprang away again, a door in the ugly house opened and a +tall, angular woman looked forth. + +"Bring her in, Hen!" she cried, in a high-pitched voice. "I want +to see her." + +Nan went rather timidly up the path. Her aunt was almost as tall +as her husband. She was very bony and was flat-chested and +unlovely in every way. That is, so it seemed, when the homesick +girl raised her eyes to Aunt Kate's face. + +That face was as brown as sole-leather, and the texture of the +skin seemed leathery as well. There was a hawklike nose +dominating the unfeminine face. The shallows below the +cheekbones were deep, as though she had suffered the loss of her +back molars. The eyebrows were straggly; the eyes themselves of +a pale, watery blue; the mouth a thin line when her colorless +lips were closed; and her chin was as square and determined as +Uncle Henry's own. + +As Nan approached she saw something else about this unlovely +woman. On her neck was a great, livid scar, of a hand's breadth, +and which looked like a scald, or burn. No attempt was made to +conceal this unsightly blemish. + +Indeed, there was nothing about Aunt Kate Sherwood suggesting a +softening of her hard lines. Her plain, ugly print dress was cut +low at the throat, and had no collar or ruff to hide the scar. +Nan's gaze was fastened on that blemish before she was half way +to the door, and she could see nothing else at first. + +The girl fought down a physical shudder when Aunt Kate's clawlike +hands seized her by both shoulders, and she stooped to kiss the +visitor. + +"Welcome, dear Nannie," her sharp voice said, and Nan thought +that, with ease, one might have heard her in the middle of the +village. + +But when Aunt Kate's lips touched the girl's forehead they were +Warm, and soft as velvet. Her breath was sweet. There was a +wholesome cleanliness about her person that pleased Nan. The +ugly dress was spotless and beautifully laundered. She had a +glimpse of the unplastered kitchen and saw a row of copper pots +on the shelf over the dresser that were scoured to dazzling +brightness. The boards of the floor were white as milk,. The +big, patent range glistened with polish, and its nickel-work was +rubbed till it reflected like a mirror. + +"Welcome, my dear!" said Aunt Kate again. "I hope you will be +happy while you stay with us." + +Happy! With Momsey and Papa Sherwood on the ocean, and the +"little dwelling in amity" closed and deserted? Nan feared she +would break down and cry. + +Her Aunt Kate left her to herself a minute just then that she +might overcome this weakness. Uncle Henry came up the path with +the bags, smiling broadly. + +"Well, old woman!" he said heartily. + +"Well, old man!" she returned. + +And then suddenly, Nan Sherwood had a new vision. She was used +to seeing her pretty mother and her handsome father display their +mutual affection; it had not seemed possible that rough, burly +Uncle Henry and ugly Aunt Kate could feel the same degree of +affection for each other. + +Uncle Henry dropped the bags. Aunt Kate seemed to be drawn +toward him when he put out his hands. Nan saw their lips meet, +and then the giant gently, almost reverently, kissed the horrid +scar on Aunt Kate's neck. + +"Here's Nan!" cried the big lumberman jovially. "The pluckiest +and smartest little girl in seven states! Take her in out of the +cold, Kate. She's not used to our kind of weather, and I have +been watching for the frost flowers to bloom on her pretty face +all the way from the forks." + +The woman drew Nan into the warm kitchen. Uncle Henry followed +in a minute with the trunk. + +"Where'll I put this box, Kate?" he asked. "I reckon you've +fixed up some cozy place for her?" + +"The east room, Hen," Aunt Kate replied. "The sun lies in there +mornings. I took the new spring rocker out of the parlor, and +with the white enameled bedstead you bought in Chicago, and the +maple bureau we got of that furniture pedlar, and the best +drugget to lay over the carpet I reckon Nannie has a pretty +bedroom." + +Meanwhile Nan stared openly around the strange kitchen. The +joists and rafters were uncovered by laths or plaster. Muslin, +that had once been white, was tacked to the beams overhead for a +ceiling. The smoke from the cookstove had stained it to a deep +brown color above the stove and to a lighter, meerschaum shade in +the corners. + +The furniture was of the rudest plainest kind much of it +evidently home-made. Uncle Henry was not unhandy with tools. +She learned, later, that he and the boys had practically built +the house by themselves. They were finishing it inside, as they +had time. In some of the rooms the inside window and door frames +were not yet in place. + +There was an appetizing smell from the pots upon the stove, and +the long table was set for dinner. They would not let Nan change +from her traveling dress before sitting down to the table. Tom +and Rafe came in and all three men washed at the long, wooden +sink. + +Rafe was of slighter build than his brother, and a year or more +younger. He was not so shy as Tom, either; and his eyes sparkled +with mischief. Nan found that she could not act "grown up" with +her Cousin Rafe. + +The principal dish for dinner was venison stew, served with +vegetables and salt-rising bread. There was cake, too, very +heavy and indigestible, and speckled with huckleberries that had +been dried the fall previous. Aunt Kate was no fancy cook; but +appetite is the best sauce, after all, and Nan had her share of +that condiment. + +During the meal there was not much conversation save about the +wonderful fortune that had fallen to Nan's mother and the voyage +she and her husband were taking to Scotland to secure it. Nan +learned, too, that Uncle Henry had telegraphed from Tillbury of +Nan's coming to Pine Camp, and consequently Aunt Kate was able to +prepare for her. + +And that the good woman had done her best to make a nest for her +little niece in the ugly house, Nan was assured. After dinner +she insisted upon the girl's going to the east room to change her +dress and lie down. The comparison between this great chamber +and Nan's pretty room at home was appalling. + +The room had been plastered, but the plaster was of a gray color +and unfinished. The woodwork was painted a dusty, brick red with +mineral paint. The odd and ugly pieces of furniture horrified +Nan. The drugget on the floor only served to hide a part of the +still more atrociously patterned carpet. The rocking chair +complained if one touched it. The top of the huge maple dresser +was as bald as one's palm. + +Nan sat down on the unopened trunk when her aunt had left her. +She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. Home certainly was +never like this! She did not see how she was ever going to be +able to stand it. + +Chapter XIII +MARGARET LLEWELLEN + +"If Momsey or Papa Sherwood knew about this they'd be awfully +sorry for me," thought Nan, still sitting on the trunk. "Such a +looking place! Nothing to see but snow and trees," for the +village of Pine Camp was quite surrounded by the forest and all +the visitor could see from the windows of her first-floor bedroom +were stumps and trees, with deep snow everywhere. + +There was a glowing wood stove in the room and a big, chintz- +covered box beside it, full of "chunks." It was warm in the +room, the atmosphere being permeated with the sweet tang of wood +smoke. + +Nan dried her eyes. There really was not any use in crying. +Momsey and Papa Sherwood could not know how bad she felt, and +she really was not selfish enough to wish them to know. + +"Now, Nanny Sherwood!" she scolded herself, "there's not a +particle of use of your sniveling. It won't 'get you anywhere,' +as Mrs. Joyce says. You'll only make your eyes red, and the +folks will see that you're not happy here, and they will be hurt. + +"Mustn't make other folks feel bad just because I feel bad +myself," Nan decided. "Come on! Pluck up your courage! + +"I know what I'll do," she added, literally shaking herself as +she jumped off the trunk. "I'll unpack. I'll cover up +everything ugly that I can with something pretty from Tillbury." + +Hurried as she had been her departure from the cottage on Amity +Street, Nan had packed in her trunk many of those little +possessions, dear to her childish heart, that had graced her +bedroom. These appeared from the trunk even before she hung away +her clothes in the unplastered closet where the cold wind +searched through the cracks from out-of-doors. Into that closet, +away back in the corner, went a long pasteboard box, tied +carefully with strong cord. Nan patted it gently with her hand +before she left the box, whispering: + +"You dear! I wouldn't have left you behind for anything! I +won't let them know you are here; but sometimes, when I'm sure +nobody will interrupt, you shall come out." + +She spread a fringed towel over the barren top of the dresser. +It would not cover it all, of course; but it made an island in a +sea of emptiness. + +And on the island she quickly set forth the plain little toilet- +set her mother had given her on her last birthday, the manicure +set that was a present from Papa Sherwood, and the several other +knickknacks that would help to make the big dresser look as +though "there was somebody at home," as she whispered to herself. + +She draped a scarf here, hung up a pretty silk bag there, placed +Momsey's and Papa Sherwood's portraits in their little silver +filigree easels on the mantelpiece, flanking the clock that would +not run and which was held by the ugly china shepherdess with +only one foot and a broken crook, the latter ornament evidently +having been at one time prized by the babies of her aunt's +family, for the ring at the top was dented by little teeth. + +Nothing, however, could take the curse of ugliness off the +staring gray walls of the room, or from the horrible turkey-red +and white canton-flannel quilt that bedecked the bed. Nan longed +to spill the contents of her ink bottle over that hideous +coverlet, but did not dare. + +The effort to make the big east room look less like a barn made +Nan feel better in her mind. It was still dreary, it must be +confessed. There were a dozen things she wished she could do to +improve it. There were nothing but paper shades at the windows. +Even a simple scrim curtain----- + +And, in thinking of this, Nan raised her eyes to one window to +see a face pressed close against the glass, and two rolling, +crablike eyes glaring in at her. + +"Mercy!" ejaculated Nan Sherwood. "What is the matter with that +child's eyes? They'll drop out of her head!" + +She ran to the window, evidently startling the peeper quite as +much as she had been startled herself. The girl, who was about +Nan's own age, fell back from the pane, stumbled in the big, +men's boots she wore, and ungracefully sprawled in the snow upon +her back. She could not get away before Nan had the window open. + +The sash was held up by a notched stick. Nan put her head and +shoulders out into the frosty air and stared down at the +prostrate girl, who stared up at her in return. + +"What do you want?" Nan asked. + +"Nothin'," replied the stranger. + +"What were you peeping in for?" + +"To see you," was the more frank reply. + +"What for?" asked Nan. + +"Ain't you the new gal?" + +"I've newly come here, yes," admitted Nan. + +"Well!" + +"But I'm not such a sight, am I?" laughed the girl from Tillbury. +"But you are, lying there in the snow. You'll get your death of +cold. Get up" + +The other did so. Beside the men's boots, which were patched and +old, she wore a woollen skirt, a blouse, and a shawl over her +head and shoulders. She shook the snow from her garments much as +a dog frees himself from water after coming out of a pond. + +"It's too cold to talk with this window open. You're a neighbor, +aren't you?" + +The girl nodded. + +"Then come in," urged Nan. "I'm sure my aunt will let you." + +The girl shook her head in a decided negative to this proposal. +"Don't want Marm Sherwood to see me," she said. + +"Why not?" + +"She told me not to come over after you come 'ithout I put on my +new dress and washed my hands and face." + +"Well!" exclaimed Nan, looking at her more closely. "You seem to +have a clean face, at least." + +"Yes. But that dress she 'gin me, my brother Bob took and put on +Old Beagle for to dress him up funny. And Beagle heard a noise +he thought was a fox barking and he started for the tamarack +swamp, lickety-split. I expect there ain't enough of that +gingham left to tie around a sore thumb." + +Nan listened to this in both amusement and surprise. The girl +was a new specimen to her. + +"Come in, anyway," she urged. "I can't keep the window open." + +"I'll climb in, then," declared the other suddenly, and, suiting +the action to the word, she swarmed over the sill; but she left +one huge boot in the snow, and Nan, laughing delightedly, ran for +the poker to fish for it, and drew it in and shut down the +window. + +The strange girl was warming her hands at the fire. Nan pushed a +chair toward her and took one herself, but not the complaining +spring rocking chair. + +"Now tell me all about yourself," the girl demanded. + +"I'm Nan Sherwood, and I've come here to Pine Camp to stay while +my father and mother have gone to Scotland." + +"I've heard about Scotland," declared the girl with the very +prominent eyes. + +"Have you?" + +"Yes. Gran'ther Llewellen sings that song. You know: + +"'Scotland's burning! Scotland's burning! +Where, where? Where, where? +Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! +Pour on water! Pour on water! +Fire's out! Fire's out!'" + +Nan laughed. "I've heard that, too," she said. "But it was +another Scotland." Then: "So your name is Llewellen?" + +"Marg'ret Llewellen." + +"I've heard your grandfather is sick," said Nan, remembering +Tom's report of the health of the community when he had met her +and her uncle at Hobart Forks. + +"Yes. He's got the tic-del-rew," declared Margaret, rather +unfeelingly. "Aunt Matildy says he's allus creakin' round like a +rusty gate-hinge." + +"Why! That doesn't sound very nice," objected Nan. Don't you +love your grandfather?" + +"Not much," said this perfectly frank young savage. "He's so +awfully wizzled." + +"'Wizzled'?" repeated Nan, puzzled. + +"Yes. His face is all wizzled up like a dried apple." + +"But you love your aunt Matilda?" gasped Nan. + +"Well, she's wizzled some," confessed Margaret. Then she said: +"I don't like faces like hern and Marm Sherwood's. I like your +face. It's smooth." + +Nan had noticed that this half-wild girl was of beautifully fair +complexion herself, and aside from her pop eyes was quite petty. +But she was a queer little thing. + +"You've been to Chicago, ain't you?" asked Margaret suddenly. + +"We came through Chicago on our way up here from my home. We +stayed one night there," Nan replied. + +"It's bigger'n Pine Camp, ain't it?" + +"My goodness, yes!" + +"Bigger'n the Forks?" queried Margaret doubtfully. + +"Why, it is much, much bigger," said Nan, hopeless of making one +so densely ignorant understand anything of the proportions of the +metropolis of the lakes. + +That's what I told Bob," Margaret said. "He don't believe it. +Bob's my brother, but there never was such a dunce since Adam." + +Nan had to laugh. The strange girl amused her. But Margaret +said something, too, that deeply interested the visitor at Pine +Camp before she ended her call, making her exit as she had her +entrance, by the window. + +"I reckon you never seen this house of your uncle's before, did +you?" queried Margaret at one point in the conversation. + +"Oh, no. I never visited them before." + +"Didn't you uster visit 'em when they lived at Pale Lick?" + +"No. I don't remember that they ever lived anywhere else beside +here." + +"Yes, they did. I heard Gran'ther tell about it. But mebbe +'twas before you an' me was born. It was Pale Lick., I'm sure. +That's where they lost their two other boys." + +"What two other boys?" asked Nan, amazed. + +"Didn't you ever hear tell you had two other cousins?" + +"No," said Nan. + +"Well, you did," said Margaret importantly. "And when Pale Lick +burned up, them boys was burned up, too." + +"Oh!" gasped Nan, horrified. + +"Lots of folks was burned. Injun Pete come near being burned up. +He ain't been right, I reckon, since. And I reckon that's where +Marm Sherwood got that scar on the side of her neck." + +Nan wondered. + +Chapter XIV +AT THE LUMBER CAMP + +Nan said nothing just then about her queer little visitor. Aunt +Kate asked her when she came out of the east room and crossed the +chill desert of the parlor to the general sitting room: + +"Did you have a nice sleep, Nannie?" + +"Goodness, Auntie!" laughed Nan. "I got over taking a nap in the +daytime a good while ago, I guess. But you come and see what I +have done. I haven't been idle." + +Aunt Kate went and peeped into the east chamber. "Good mercy, +child! It doesn't look like the same room, with all the pretty +didos," she said. "And that's your pretty mamma in the picture +on the mantel? My! Your papa looks peaked, doesn't he? Maybe +that sea voyage they are taking will do 'em both good." + +Nan had to admit that beside her uncle and cousins her father did +look "peaked." Robust health and brawn seemed to be the two +essentials in the opinion of the people of Pine Camp. Nan was +plump and rosy herself and so escaped criticism. + +Her uncle and aunt, and the two big boys as well, were as kind to +her as they knew how to be. Nan could not escape some of the +depression of homesickness during the first day or two of her +visit to the woods settlement; but the family did everything +possible to help her occupy her mind. + +The long evenings were rather amusing, although the family knew +little about any game save checkers, "fox and geese," and +"hickory, dickory, dock." Nan played draughts with her uncle and +fox and geese and the other kindergarten game with her big +cousins. To see Tom, with his eyes screwed up tight and the +pencil poised in his blunt, frost-cracked fingers over the slate, +while he recited in a base sing-song: + +"Hick'ry, dick'ry, dock +The mouse ran up the clock, +The clock struck one, +An' down he come +Hick'ry, dick'ry, dock," + +was side-splitting. Nan laughed till she cried. Poor, simple +Tom did know just what amused his little cousin so. + +Rafe was by no means so slow, or so simple. Nan caught him +cheating more than once at fox and geese. Rafe was a little sly, +and he was continually making fun of his slow brother, and +baiting him. Uncle Henry warned him: + +"Now, Rafe, you're too big for your Marm or me to shingle your +pants; but Tom's likely to lick you some day for your cutting up + and I sha'n't blame him. Just because he's slow to wrath, +don't you get it in your head that he's afraid, or that he can't +settle your hash in five minutes." + +Nan was greatly disturbed to hear so many references to fistic +encounters and fighting of all sorts. These men of the woods +seemed to be possessed of wild and unruly passions. What she +heard the boys say caused her to believe that most of the spare +time of the men in the lumber camps was spent in personal +encounters. + +"No, no, deary. They aren't so bad as they sound," Aunt Kate +told her, comfortably. "Lots of nice men work in the camps all +their lives and never fight. Look at your Uncle Henry." + +But Nan remembered the "mess of words" (as he called it) that +Uncle Henry had had with Gedney Raffer on the railroad station +platform at the Forks, and she was afraid that even her aunt did +not look with the same horror on a quarrel that Nan herself did. + +The girl from Tillbury had a chance to see just what a lumber +camp was like, and what the crew were like, on the fourth day +after her arrival at her Uncle Henry's house. The weather was +then pronounced settled, and word came for the two young men, Tom +and Rafe, to report at Blackton's camp the next morning, prepared +to go to work. Tom drove a team which was then at the lumber +camp, being cared for by the cook and foreman; Rafe was a +chopper, for he had that sleight with an ax which, more than mere +muscle, makes the mighty woodsman. + +"Their dad'll drive 'em over to Blackton's early, and you can go, +too," said Aunt Kate. "That is, if you don't mind getting up +right promptly in the morning?" + +"Oh, I don't mind that," Nan declared. "I'm used to getting up +early." + +But she thought differently when Uncle Henry's heavy hand rapped +on the door of the east chamber so early the next morning that it +seemed to Nan Sherwood that she had only been in bed long enough +to close her eyes. + +"Goodness, Uncle!" she muttered, when she found out what it +meant. "What time is it?" + +"Three o'clock. Time enough for you to dress and eat a snack +before we start," replied her uncle. + +"Well!" said Nan to herself. "I thought the house was afire." + +Uncle Henry heard her through the door and whispered, shrilly: +"Sh! Don't let your aunt hear you say anything like that, +child." + +"Like what?" queried Nan, in wonder. + +"About fire. Remember!" added Uncle Henry, rather sternly, Nan +thought, as he went back to the kitchen. + +Then Nan remembered what the strange little girl, Margaret +Llewellen, had said about the fire at Pale Lick that had burned +her uncle's former home. Nan had not felt like asking her uncle +or aunt, or the boys, either, about it. The latter had probably +been too young to remember much about the tragedy. + +Although Nan had seen Margaret on several fleeting occasions +since her first interview with the woods girl, there had been no +opportunity of talking privately with her. And Margaret would +only come to the window. She was afraid to tell "Marm Sherwood" +how she had lost the new dress that had been given to her. + +It was now as black outside Nan's window as it could be. She lit +her oil lamp and dressed swiftly, running at last through the +cold parlor and sitting room into the kitchen, where the fire in +the range was burning briskly and the coffee pot was on. Tom and +Rafe were there comfortably getting into thick woolen socks and +big lumbermen's boots. + +There was a heaping pan of Aunt Kate's doughnuts on the table, +flanked with the thick china coffee cups and deep saucers. Her +uncle and the boys always poured their coffee into the saucers +and blew on it to take the first heat off, then gulped it in +great draughts. + +Nan followed suit this morning, as far as cooling the coffee in +the saucer went. There was haste. Uncle Henry had been up some +time, and now he came stamping into the house, saying that the +ponies were hitched in and were standing in readiness upon the +barn floor, attached to the pung. + +"We've twenty-five miles to ride, you see, Nannie," he said. +"The boys have to be at Blackton's so's to get to work at seven." + +They filled the thermos bottle that had so puzzled Tom, and then +sallied forth. The ponies were just as eager as they had been +the day Nan had come over from the Forks. She was really half +afraid of them. + +It was so dark that she could scarcely see the half-cleared road +before them as the ponies dashed away from Pine Camp. The sky +was completely overcast, but Uncle Henry declared it would break +at sunrise. + +Where the track had been well packed by former sleighs, the +ponies' hoofs rang as though on iron. The bits of snow that were +flung off by their hoofs were like pieces of ice. The bells on +the harness jingled a very pretty tune, Nan thought. She did not +mind the biting cold, indeed, only her face was exposed. Uncle +Henry had suggested a veil; but she wanted to see what she could. + +For the first few miles it remained very dark, however. Had it +not been for the snow they could not have seen objects beside the +road at all. There was a lantern in the back of the pung and +that flung a stream of yellow light behind them; but Uncle Henry +would not have the radiance of it shot forward. + +"A light just blinds you," he said. "I'd rather trust to the +roans' sense." + +The ponies galloped for a long way, it seemed to Nan; then they +came to a hill so steep that they were glad to drop to a walk. +Their bodies steamed in a great cloud as they tugged the sleigh +up the slope. Dark woods shut the road in on either hand. Nan's +eyes had got used to the faint light so that she could see this +at least. + +Suddenly she heard a mournful, long-drawn howl, seemingly at a +great distance. + +"Must be a farm somewhere near," she said to Rafe, who sat beside +her on the back seat. + +"Nope. No farms around here, Nan," he returned. + +"But I hear a dog howl," she told him. + +Rafe listened, too. Then he turned to her with a grin on his +sharp face that she did not see. "Oh, no, you don't," he +chuckled. "That's no dog." + +Again the howl was repeated, and it sounded much nearer. Nan +realized, too, that it was a more savage sound than she had ever +heard emitted by a dog. + +"What is it?" she asked, speaking in a low voice to Rafe. + +"Wolves!" responded her cousin maliciously. "But you mustn't +mind a little thing like that. You don't have wolves down round +where you live, I s'pose?" + +Nan knew that he was attempting to plague her, so she said: "Not +for pets, at least, Rafe. These sound awfully savage." + +"They are," returned her cousin calmly. + +The wolf cry came nearer and nearer. The ponies had started on a +trot again at the top of the hill, and her uncle and Tom did not +seem to notice the ugly cry. Nan looked back, and was sure that +some great animal scrambled out of the woods and gave chase to +them. + +"Isn't there some danger?" she asked Rafe again. + +"Not for us," he said. "Of course, if the whole pack gathers and +catches us, then we have to do something." + +"What do you do?" demanded Nan quickly. + +"Why, the last time we were chased by wolves, we happened to have +a ham and a side of bacon along. So we chucked out first the +one, and then the other, and so pacified the brutes till we got +near town." + +"Oh!" cried Nan, half believing, half in doubt. + +She looked back again. There, into the flickering light of the +lantern, a gaunt, huge creature leaped. Nan could see his head +and shoulders now and then as he plunged on after the sleigh, +and a wickeder looking beast, she hoped never to see. + +"Oh!" she gasped again, and grabbed at Rafe's arm. + +"Don't you be afraid," drawled that young rascal. "I reckon he +hasn't many of his jolly companions with him. If he had, of +course, we'd have to throw you out to pacify him. That's the +rule + youngest and prettiest goes first-----" + +"Like the ham, I s'pose?" sniffed Nan, in some anger, and just +then Tom reached over the back of the front seat and seized his +brother by the shoulder with a grip that made Rafe shriek with +pain. + +Nan was almost as startled as was Rafe. In the half-darkness +Tom's dull face blazed with anger, and he held his writhing +brother as though he were a child. + +"You ornery scamp!" he said, almost under his breath. "You try +to scare that little girl, and I'll break you in two!" + +Nan was horrified. She begged Tom to let his brother alone. "I +was only fooling her," snarled Rafe, rubbing his injured +shoulder, for Tom had the grip of a pipe wrench. + +Uncle Henry never turned around at all; but he said: "If I had a +gun I'd be tempted to shoot that old wolf hound of Toby +Vanderwiller's. He's always running after sleds and yelling his +head off." + +Nan was glad the creature following them was not really a wolf; +but she knew she should be just as much afraid of him if she met +him alone, as though he really were a wolf. However, mostly, she +was troubled by the passionate nature of her two cousins. She +had never seen Tom show any anger before; but it was evident that +he had plenty of spirit if it were called up. And she was, +secretly, proud that the slow-witted young giant should have +displayed his interest in her welfare so plainly. Rafe sat and +nursed his shoulder in silence for several miles. + +The cold was intense. As the sky lightened along the eastern +horizon it seemed to Nan as though the frost increased each +moment. The bricks at their feet were getting cool; and they had +already had recourse to the thermos bottle, which was now empty +of the gratefully hot drink it had contained. + +As the light gradually increased Nan saw Rafe watching her with +sudden attention. After his recent trick she was a little afraid +of Rafe. Still it did not seem possible that the reckless fellow +would attempt any second piece of fooling so soon after his +brother's threat. + +But suddenly Rafe yelled to his father to pull down the roans, +and as the ponies stopped, he reached from the sled into a drift +and secured a big handful of snow. Seizing Nan quickly around +the shoulders he began to rub her cheek vigorously with the snow. +Nan gasped and almost lost her breath; but she realized +immediately what Rafe was about. + +The frost had nipped her cheek, and her cousin had seen the white +spot appear. "The rubbing stung awfully, and the girl could not +keep back the tears; but she managed to repress the sobs. + +"There!" exclaimed Rafe. "You are a plucky girl. I'm sorry I +got some of that snow down your neck, Nan. Couldn't help it. +But it's the only thing to do when the thermometer is thirty-two +degrees below zero. Why! A fellow went outside with his ears +uncovered at Droomacher's camp one day last winter and after +awhile he began to rub his ears and one of 'em dropped off just +like a cake of ice." + +"Stop your lying, boy!" commanded his father. "It isn't as bad +as that, Nan. But you want to watch out for frost bite here in +the woods, just the same as we had to watch out for the +automobiles in crossing those main streets in Chicago." + +With a red sun rising over the low ridge of wooded ground to the +east, the camp in the hollow was revealed, the smoke rising in a +pillar of blue from the sheet-iron chimney of the cookhouse; +smoke rising, too, from a dozen big horses being curried before +the stables. + +Most of the men had arrived the night before. They were tumbling +out of the long, low bunkhouse now and making good use of the +bright tin washbasins on the long bench on the covered porch. +Ice had been broken to get the water that was poured into the +basins, but the men laved their faces and their hairy arms and +chests in it as though it were summer weather. + +They quickly ran in for their outer shirts and coats, however, +and then trooped in to the end of the cook shed where the meals +were served. Tom turned away to look over his horses and see +that they were all ready for the day's work. Rafe put up the +roan ponies in a couple of empty stalls and gave them a feed of +oats. + +Uncle Henry took Nan by the hand, and, really she felt as though +she needed some support, she was so stiff from the cold, and led +her into the warm room where the men were gathering for the +hearty meal the cook and his helper had prepared. + +The men were boisterous in their greeting of Uncle Henry, until +they saw Nan. Than, some bashfully, some because of natural +refinement, lowered their voices and were more careful how they +spoke before the girl. + +But she heard something that troubled her greatly. An old, +grizzled man in a corner of the fireplace where the brisk flames +leaped high among the logs, and who seemed to have already eaten +his breakfast and was busily stoning an axe blade, looked up as +Nan and her uncle approached, saying: + +"Seen Ged Raffer lately, Hen?" + +"I saw him at the Forks the other day, Toby," Mr. Sherwood +replied. + +"Yaas. I heard about that," said the old man drawlingly. "But +since then?" + +"No." + +"Wal, he was tellin' me that he'd got you on the hip this time, +Hen. If you as much as put your hoof over on that track he's +fighting you about, he'll plop you in jail, that's what he'll +do! He's got a warrant all made out by Jedge Perkins. I seen +it." + +Uncle Henry walked closer to the old man and looked down at him +from his great height. "Tobe," he said, "you know the rights of +that business well enough. You know whether I'm right in the +contention, or whether Ged's right. You know where the old line +runs. Why don't you tell?" + +"Oh, mercy me!" croaked the old man, and in much haste. "I ain't +goin' to git into no land squabble, no, sir! You kin count me +out right now!" And he picked up his axe, restored the whetstone +to its sheath on the wall, and at once went out of the shack. + +Chapter XV +A CAT AND HER KITTENS + +That was a breakfast long to be remembered by Nan Sherwood, not +particularly because of its quality, but for the quantity served. +She had never seen men like these lumbermen eat before, save for +the few days she had been at Uncle Henry's house. + +Great platters of baked beans were placed on the table, flanked +by the lumps of pork that had seasoned them. Fried pork, too, +was a "main-stay" on the bill-of-fare. The deal table was graced +by no cloth or napery of any kind. There were heaps of potatoes +and onions fried together, and golden cornbread with bowls of +white gravy to ladle over it. + +After riding twenty-five miles through such a frosty air, Nan +would have had to possess a delicate appetite indeed not to enjoy +these viands. She felt bashful because of the presence of so +many rough men; but they left her alone for the most part, and +she could listen and watch. + +"Old Toby Vanderwiller tell you what Ged's been blowin' about, +Henry?" asked one of the men at the table, busy ladling beans +into his mouth with a knife, a feat that Nan thought must be +rather precarious, to say the least. + +"Says he's going to jail me if I go on to the Perkins Tract," +growled Uncle Henry, with whom the matter was doubtless a sore +subject. + +"Yaas. But he says more'n that," said this tale bearer. + +"Oh, Ged says a whole lot besides his prayers," responded Uncle +Henry, good-naturedly. Perhaps he saw they were trying to bait +him. + +"Wal, 'tain't nothin' prayerful he's sayin'," drawled the first +speaker, after a gulp of coffee from his thick china cup. "Some +of the boys at Beckett's, you know, they're a tough crowd, was +riggin' him about what you said to him down to the Forks, and Ged +spit out that he'd give a lump of money to see you on your back." + +"Huh!" grunted Uncle Henry. + +"And some of 'em took him up, got the old man right down to +cases." + +"That so?" asked Mr. Sherwood curiously. "What's Ged going to +do? Challenge me to a game of cat's cradle? Or does he want to +settle the business at draughts, three best out o' five?" + +"Now you know dern well, Hen," said the other, as some of the +listeners laughed loudly at Mr. Sherwood's sally, "that old Ged +Raffer will never lock horns with you 'ceptin' it's in court, +where he'll have the full pertection of the law, and a grain the +best of it into the bargain." + +"Well, I s'pose that's so," admitted Nan's uncle, rather +gloomily, she thought. + +"So, if Beckett's crowd are int'rested in bumping you a whole +lot, you may be sure Ged's promised 'em real money for it." + +"Pshaw!" exclaimed Uncle Henry. "You're fooling now. He hasn't +hired any half-baked chip-eaters and Canucks to try and beat me +up?" + +"I ain't foolin'." + +"Pshaw!" + +"You kin 'pshaw' till the cows come home," cried the other +heatedly. "I got it straight." + +"Who from?" + +"Sim Barkis, him what's cookin' for Beckett's crew." + +"Good man, Sim. Never caught him in a lie yet. You are +beginning to sound reasonable, Josh," and Mr. Sherwood put down +his knife and fork and looked shrewdly at his informant. "Now +tell me," he said, "how much is Sim going to get for helping to +pay Ged Raffer's debts?" + +"Har!" ejaculated the other man. "You know Sim ain't that kind." + +"All right, then. How much does he say the gang's going to split +between 'em after they've done me up brown according to +contract?" scoffed Uncle Henry, and Nan realized that her giant +relative had not the least fear of not being able to meet any +number of enemies in the open. + +"Sim come away before they got that far. Of course Ged didn't +say right out in open meetin' that he'd give so many dollars for +your scalp. But he got 'em all int'rested, and it wouldn't +surprise him, so Sim said, if on the quiet some of those plug- +uglies had agreed to do the job." + +Nan shuddered, and had long since stopped eating. But nobody +paid any attention to her at the moment. + +Uncle Henry drawled: "They're going to do the hardest day's job +for the smallest pay that they ever did on this Michigan +Peninsula. I'm much obliged to you, Josh, for telling me. I +never go after trouble, as you fellows all know; but I sha'n't +try to dodge it, either." + +He picked up his knife and fork and went quietly on with his +breakfast. But Nan could not eat any more at all. + +It seemed to the gently nurtured girl from Tillbury as though she +had fallen in with people from another globe. Even the mill- +hands, whom Bess Harley so scorned, were not like these great, +rough fellows whose minds seemed continually to be fixed upon +battle. At least, she had never seen or heard such talk as had +just now come to her ears. + +The men began, one by one, to push back the benches and go out. +There was a great bustle of getting under way as the teams +started for the woods, and the choppers, too, went away. Tom +hurried to start his big pair of dapple grays, and Nan was glad +to bundle up again and run out to watch the exodus. + +They were a mighty crew. As Uncle Henry had said, the Big Woods +did not breed runts. + +Remembering the stunted, quick-moving, chattering French +Canadians, and the scattering of American-born employees among +them, who worked in the Tillbury mills, Nan was the more amazed +by the average size of these workmen. The woodsmen were a race +of giants beside the narrow-shouldered, flat-chested pygmies who +toiled in the mills. + +Tom strode by with his timber sled. Rafe leaped on to ride and +Tom playfully snapped his whiplash at him. Nan was glad to see +that the two brothers smiled again at each other. Their recent +tiff seemed to be forgotten. + +Some of the choppers had already gone on ahead to the part of the +tract where the marked trees were being felled. Now the pluck, +pluck, pluck of the axe blows laid against the forest monarchs, +reached the girl's ears. She thought the flat stuttering sound +of the axes said "pluck" very plainly, and that that was just the +word they should say. + +"For it does take lots of pluck to do work of this kind," Nan +confided to her uncle, who walked up and down on the porch +smoking an after-breakfast pipe. + +"Yes. No softies allowed on the job," said he, cheerfully. +"Some of the boys may be rough and hard nuts to crack; but it is +necessary to have just such boys or we couldn't get out the +timber." + +"But they want to fight so much!" gasped Nan. + +"Sho!" said her uncle, slowly. "It's mostly talk. They feel the +itch for hard work and hard play, that's all. You take lively, +full-muscled animals, and they are always bucking and quarreling + trying to see which one is the best. Take two young, fat +steers they'll lock horns at the drop of a hat. It's animal +spirits, Nan. They feel that they've got to let off steam. +Where muscle and pluck count for what they do in the lumber +camps, there's bound to be more or less ructions." + +Perhaps this might be; but Nan was dreadfully sorry, +nevertheless, that Uncle Henry had this trouble with Mr. Gedney +Raffer. The girl feared that there had been something besides +"letting off steam" in the challenge her uncle had thrown down to +his enemy, or to the men that enemy could hire to attack him. + +The timber sledges soon began to drift back, for some of the logs +had been cut before the big storm, and had only to be broken out +of the drifts and rolled upon the sleds with the aid of the men's +canthooks. It was a mystery at first to Nan how they could get +three huge logs, some of them three feet in diameter at the butt, +on to the sled; two at the bottom and one rolled upon them, all +being fastened securely with the timber-chain and hook. + +How the horses strained in their collars to start the mighty +load! But once started, the runners slipped along easily enough, +even through the deep snow, packing the compressible stuff in one +passage as hard as ice. Nan followed in this narrow track to the +very bank of the river where the logs were heaped in long +windrows, ready to be launched into the stream when the waters +should rise at the time of the spring freshet. + +Tom managed his team alone, and unloaded alone, too. It was +marvelous (so Nan thought) that her cousin could start the top +log with the great canthook, and guide it as it rolled off the +sled so that it should lie true with timbers that had been piled +before. The strain of his work made him perspire as though it +were midsummer. He thrust the calks on his bootsoles into the +log and the shreds of bark and small chips flew as he stamped to +get a secure footing for his work. Then he heaved like a giant, +his shoulders humping under the blue jersey he wore, and finally +the log turned. Once started, it was soon rolled into place. + +Nan ran into the cook shed often to get warm. Her uncle was busy +with the boss of the camp, so she had nobody but the cook and his +helper to speak to for a time. Therefore it was loneliness that +made her start over the half-beaten trail for the spot where the +men were at work, without saying a word to anybody. + +None of the teams had come by for some time; but she could hear +faintly the sound of the axes and the calling of the workmen to +each other and their sharp commands to the horses. + +She went away from the camp a few hundred yards and then found +that the trail forked. One path went down a little hill, and as +that seemed easy to descend, Nan followed it into a little +hollow. It seemed only one sled had come this way and none of +the men were here. The voices and axes sounded from higher up +the ridge. + +Suddenly she heard something entirely different from the noise of +the woodsmen. It was the snarling voice of a huge cat and +almost instantly Nan sighted the creature which stood upon a +snow-covered rock beside the path. It had tasseled ears, a wide, +wicked "smile," bristling whiskers, and fangs that really made +Nan tremble, although she was some yards from the bobcat. + +As she believed, from what her cousins had told her, bobcats are +not usually dangerous. They never seek trouble with man, save +under certain conditions; and that is when a mother cat has +kittens to defend. + +This was a big female cat, and, although the season was early, +she had littered and her kittens, three of them, were bedded in a +heap of leaves blown by the wind into a hollow tree trunk. + +The timberman driving through the hollow had not seen the bobcat +and her three blind babies; but he had roused the mother cat and +she was now all ready to spring at intruders. + +That Nan was not the person guilty of disturbing her repose made +no difference to the big cat. She saw the girl standing, +affrighted and trembling, in the path and with a ferocious yowl +and leap she crossed the intervening space and landed in the snow +within almost arm's reach of the fear-paralyzed girl. + +Chapter XVI +"INJUN PETE" + +Nan Sherwood could not cry out, though she tried. She opened her +lips only to find her throat so constricted by fear that she +could not utter a sound. Perhaps her sudden and utter paralysis +was of benefit at the moment, after all; for she could not +possibly have escaped the infuriated lynx by running. + +The creature's own movements were hampered by the deep drift in +which she had landed. The soft snow impeded the cat and, +snarling still, she whirled around and around like a pinwheel to +beat a firmer foundation from which to make her final spring at +her victim. + +Nan, crouching, put her mittened hands before her face. She saw +no chance for escape and could not bear to see the vicious beast +leap at her again. "Momsey! Papa Sherwood!" she thought, rather +than breathed aloud. + +Then, down the hill toward her, plunged a swift body. She rather +felt the new presence than saw it. The cat yowled again, and +spit. There was the impact of a clubbed gun upon the creature's +head. + +"Sacre bleu! Take zat! And zat!" cried a sharp voice, between +the blows that fell so swiftly. The animal's cries changed +instantly from rage to pain. Nan opened her eyes in time to see +the maddened cat flee swiftly. She bounded to the big tree and +scrambled up the trunk and out upon the first limb. There she +crouched, over the place where her kittens were hidden, yowling +and licking her wounds. There was blood upon her head and she +licked again and again a broken forefoot between her yowls of +rage and pain. + +But Nan was more interested just then in the person who had flown +to her rescue so opportunely. He was not one of the men from the +camp, or anybody whom she had ever seen before. + +He was not a big man, but was evidently very strong and active. +His dress was of the most nondescript character, consisting +mainly of a tattered fur cap, with a woolen muffler tied over his +ears; a patched and parti-colored coat belted at the waist with a +frayed rope. His legs disappeared into the wide tops of a pair +of boots evidently too big for him, with the feet bundled in +bagging so that he could walk on top of the snow, this in lieu +of regular snowshoes. + +His back was toward Nan and he did not turn to face her as he +said: + +"Be not afeared, leetle Man'zelle. Le bad chat is gone. We +shall now do famous-lee, eh? No be afeared more." + +"No, no, sir," gasped Nan, trying to be brave. "Won't, won't +it come back?" + +"Nev-air!" cried the man, with a flourish of the gun which was +a rusty-barreled old weapon, perhaps more dangerous at the butt +end than at its muzzle. "Ze chat only fear for her babies. She +have zem in dat tree. We will go past leeving zem streectly +alone, eh?" + +"No!" cried Nan hastily. "I'm going back to the camp. I didn't +know there were such dangerous things as that in these woods." + +"Ah! You are de strange leetle Mam'zelle den?" responded the +man. "You do not know ze Beeg Woods?" + +"I guess I don't know anything about this wilderness," confessed +Nan. "My uncle brought me to the camp up yonder this morning, +and I hope he'll go right home again. It's awful!" + +"Eet seem terrifying to ze leetle Mam'zelle because she is unused + eh? Me! I be terrified at ze beeg city where she come from, +p'r'aps. Zey tell Pete 'bout waggings run wizout horses, like +stea'mill. Ugh! No wanter see dem. Debbil in 'em," and he +laughed, not unpleasantly, making a small joke of the suggestion. + +Indeed his voice, now that the sharpness of excitement had gone +out of it, was a very pleasant voice. The broken words he used +assured Nan that his mother tongue must be French. He was +probably one of the "Canucks" she had heard her cousins speak of. +French Canadians were not at all strange to Nan Sherwood, for in +Tillbury many of the mill hands were of that race. + +But she thought it odd that this man kept his face studiously +turned from her. Was he watching the bobcat all the time? Was +the danger much more serious than he would own? + +"Why don't you look at me?" cried the girl, at length. "I'm +awfully much obliged to you for coming to help me as you did. +And my uncle will want to thank you I am sure. Won't you tell me +your name?" + +The man was silent for a moment. Then, when he spoke, his voice +was lower and there was an indescribably sad note in it. + +"Call me 'Injun Pete', zat me. Everybody in de beeg Woods know +Injun Pete. No odder name now. Once ze good Brodders at Aramac +goin' make scholar of Pete, make heem priest, too, p'r'aps. He +go teach among he's mudder's people. Mudder Micmac, fadder wild +Frinchman come to dees lakeshore. But nev-air can Pete be +Teacher, be priest. Non, non! Jes' Injun Pete." + +Nan suddenly remembered what little Margaret Llewellen had said +about the fire at Pale Lick, and "Injun Pete." The fact that +this man kept his face turned from her all this time aroused her +suspicion. She was deeply, deeply grateful to him for what he +had just done for her, and, naturally, she enlarged in her mind +the peril in which she had been placed. + +Margaret had suggested this unfortunate half-breed was "not right +in his head" because of the fire which had disfigured him. But +he spoke very sensibly now, it seemed to Nan; very pitifully, +too, about his blasted hopes of a clerical career. She said, +quietly: + +"I expect you know my uncle and his family, Pete. He is Mr. +Sherwood of Pine Camp." + +"Ah! Mis-tair Hen Sherwood! I know heem well," admitted the +man. "He nice-a man ver' kind to Injun Pete." + +"I'd like to have you look at me, please," said Nan, still +softly. "You see, I want to know you again if we meet. I am +very grateful." + +Pete waved her thanks aside with a royal gesture. "Me! I be +glad to be of use, oh, oui! Leetle Man'zelle mus' not make +mooch of nottin', eh?" + +He laughed again, but he did not turn to look at her. Nan +reached out a tentative hand and touched his sleeve. "Please, +Mr. Pete," she said. "I, I want to see you. I, I have heard +something about your having been hurt in a fire. I am sure you +must think yourself a more hateful sight than you really are." + +A sob seemed to rise in the man's throat, and his shoulders +shook. He turned slowly and looked at her for a moment over his +shoulder. Then he went swiftly away across the snow (for the +bobcat had disappeared into her lair) and Nan stumbled back up +the trail toward the camp, the tears blinding her own eyes. + +The disfigured face of the half-breed HAD been a shock to her. +She could never speak of it afterward. Indeed, she could not +tell Uncle Henry about her meeting with the lynx, and her rescue + she shrank so from recalling Injun Pete's disfigured face. + +Chapter XVII +SPRING IN THE BIG WOODS + +That visit to the lumber camp was memorable for Nan Sherwood in +more ways than one. Her adventure with the lynx she kept secret +from her relatives, because of the reason given in the previous +chapter. But there was another incident that marked the occasion +to the girl's mind, and that was the threat of Gedney Raffer, +reported to her Uncle Henry. + +Nan thought that such a bad man as Raffer appeared to be would +undoubtedly carry out his threat. He had offered money to have +Mr. Sherwood beaten up, and the ruffians he had bribed would +doubtless be only too eager to earn the reward. + +To tell the truth, for weeks thereafter, Nan never saw a rough- +looking man approach the house on the outskirts of Pine Camp, +without fearing that here was coming a ruffian bent on her +uncle's injury. + +That Uncle Henry seemed quite to have forgotten the threat only +made Nan more keenly alive to his danger. She dared not discuss +the matter with Aunt Kate, for Nan feared to worry that good +woman unnecessarily. Besides, having been used to hiding from +her own mother all unpleasant things, the girl naturally +displayed the same thoughtfulness for Aunt Kate. + +For, despite Mrs. Henry Sherwood's bruskness and masculine +appearance, Nan learned that there were certain matters over +which her aunt showed extreme nervousness. + +For instance, she was very careful of the lamps used in the house + she insisted upon cleaning and caring for them herself; she +would not allow a candle to be used, because it might be +overturned; and she saw to it herself that every fire, even the +one in Nan's bedroom, was properly banked before the family +retired at night. + +Nan had always in mind what Uncle Henry said about mentioning +fire to Aunt Kate; so the curious young girl kept her lips closed +upon the subject. But she certainly was desirous of knowing +about that fire, so long ago, at Pale Lick, how it came about; +if Aunt Kate had really got her great scar there; and if it was +really true that two members of her uncle's family had met their +death in the conflagration. + +She tried not to think at all of Injun Pete. That was too +terrible! + +With all her heart, Nan wished she might do something that would +really help Uncle Henry solve his problem regarding the timber +rights on the Perkins Tract. The very judge who had granted the +injunction forbidding Mr. Sherwood to cut timber on the tract was +related to the present owners of the piece of timberland; and the +tract had been the basis of a feud in the Perkins family for two +generations. + +Many people were more or less interested in the case and they +came to the Sherwood home and talked excitedly about it in the +big kitchen. Some advised an utter disregard of the law. Others +were evidently minded to increase the trouble between Raffer and +Uncle Henry by malicious tale-bearing. + +Often Nan thought of what Uncle Henry had said to old Toby +Vanderwiller. She learned that Toby was one of the oldest +settlers in this part of the Michigan Peninsula, and in his youth +had been a timber runner, that is, a man who by following the +surveyors' lines on a piece of timber, and weaving back and forth +across it, can judge its market value so nearly right that his +employer, the prospective timber merchant, is able to bid +intelligently for the so-called "stumpage" on the tract. + +Toby was still a vigorous man save when that bane of the +woodsman, rheumatism, laid him by the heels. He had a bit of a +farm in the tamarack swamp. Once, being laid up by his arch +enemy, with his joints stiffened and muscles throbbing with pain, +Toby had seen the gaunt wolf of starvation, more terrible than +any timber wolf, waiting at his doorstone. His old wife and a +crippled grandson were dependent on Toby, too. + +Thus in desperate straits Toby Vanderwiller had accepted help +from Gedney Raffer. It was a pitifully small sum Raffer would +advance upon the little farm; but it was sufficient to put Toby +in the usurer's power. This was the story Nan learned regarding +Toby. And Uncle Henry believed that Toby, with his old-time +knowledge of land-boundaries, could tell, if he would, which was +right in the present contention between Mr. Sherwood and Gedney +Raffer. + +These, and many other subjects of thought, kept the mind of Nan +Sherwood occupied during the first few weeks of her sojourn at +Pine Camp. She had, too, to keep up her diary that she had begun +for Bess Harley's particular benefit. Every week she sent off to +Tillbury a bulky section of this report of her life in the Big +woods. It was quite wonderful how much there proved to be to +write about. Bess wrote back, enviously, that never did anything +interesting, by any possibility, happen, now that Nan was away +from Tillbury. The town was "as dull as ditch water." She, +Bess, lived only in hopes of meeting her chum at Lakeview Hall +the next September. + +This hope Nan shared. But it all lay with the result of Momsey's +and Papa Sherwood's visit to Scotland and Emberon Castle. And, +Nan thought, it seemed as though her parents never would even +reach that far distant goal. + +They had taken a slow ship for Momsey's benefit and the expected +re-telegraphed cablegram was looked for at the Forks for a week +before it possibly could come. + +It was a gala day marked on Nan's calendar when Uncle Henry, +coming home from the railroad station behind the roan ponies, +called to her to come out and get the message. Momsey and Papa +Sherwood had sent it from Glasgow, and were on their way to +Edinburgh before Nan received the word. Momsey had been very ill +a part of the way across the ocean, but went ashore in improved +health. + +Nan was indeed happy at this juncture. Her parents were safely +over their voyage on the wintry ocean, so a part of her worry of +mind was lifted. + +Meanwhile spring was stealing upon Pine Camp without Nan's being +really aware of the fact. Uncle Henry had said, back in Chicago, +that "the back of winter was broken"; but the extreme cold +weather and the deep snow she had found in the Big Woods made Nan +forget that March was passing and timid April was treading on his +heels. + +A rain lasting two days and a night washed the roads of snow and +turned the fast disappearing drifts to a dirty yellow hue. In +sheltered fence corners and nooks in the wood, the grass lifted +new, green blades, and queer little Margaret Llewellen showed Nan +where the first anemones and violets hid under last year's +drifted leaves. + +The river ice went out with a rush after it had rained a few +hours; after that the "drives" of logs were soon started. Nan +went down to the long, high bridge which spanned the river and +watched the flood carry the logs through. + +At first they came scatteringly, riding the foaming waves end-on, +and sometimes colliding with the stone piers of the bridge with +sufficient force to split the unhewn timbers from end to end, +some being laid open as neatly as though done with axe and wedge. + +When the main body of the drive arrived, however, the logs were +like herded cattle, milling in the eddies, stampeded by a cross- +current, bunching under the bridge arches like frightened steers +in a chute. And the drivers herded the logs with all the skill +of cowboys on the range. + +Each drive was attended by its own crew, who guarded the logs on +either bank, launching those that shoaled on the numerous +sandbars or in the shallows, keeping them from piling up in coves +and in the mouths of estuaries, or creeks, some going ahead at +the bends to fend off and break up any formation of the drifting +timbers that promised to become a jam. + +Behind the drive floated the square bowed and square sterned +chuck-boat, which carried cook and provisions for the men. A +"boom", logs chained together, end to end, was thrown out from +one shore of the wide stream at night, and anchored at its outer +end. Behind this the logs were gathered in an orderly, compact +mass and the men could generally get their sleep, save for the +watchman; unless there came a sudden rise of water in the night. + +It was a sight long to be remembered, Nan thought, when the boom +was broken in the morning. Sometimes an increasing current piled +the logs up a good bit. It was a fear-compelling view the girl +had of the river on one day when she went with Uncle Henry to see +the first drive from Blackton's camp. Tom was coming home with +his team and was not engaged in the drive. But reckless Rafe was +considered, for his age, a very smart hand on a log drive. + +The river had risen two feet at the Pine Camp bridge overnight. +It was a boiling brown flood, covered with drifting foam and +debris. The roar of the freshet awoke Nan in her bed before +daybreak. So she was not surprised to see the river in such a +turmoil when, afer a hasty breakfast, she and Uncle Henry walked +beside the flood. + +"They started their drive last night," Uncle Henry said, "and +boomed her just below the campsite. We'll go up to Dead Man's +Bend and watch her come down. There is no other drive betwixt us +and Blackton's." + +"Why is it called by such a horrid name, Uncle?" asked Nan. + +"What, honey?" he responded. + +"That bend in the river." + +"Why, I don't know rightly, honey-bird. She's just called that. +Many a man's lost his life there since I came into this part of +the country, that's a fact. It's a dangerous place," and Nan +knew by the look on her uncle's face that he was worried. + +Chapter XVIII +AT DEAD MAN'S BEND + +Nan and her uncle came out on the bluff that overlooked the sharp +bend which hid the upper reaches of the river from Pine Camp. +Across the stream, almost from bank to bank, a string of gravel +flats made a barrier that all the rivermen feared. + +Blackton was no careless manager, and he had a good foreman in +Tim Turner. The big boss had ridden down to the bend in a mud- +splashed buggy, and was even prepared to take a personal hand in +the work, if need be. The foreman was coming down the river bank +on the Pine Camp side of the stream, watching the leading logs of +the drive, and directing the foreguard. Among the latter Nan +spied Rafe. + +"There he is, Uncle!" she cried. "Oh! He's jumped out on that +log, see?" + +"He's all right, girl, he's all right," said Uncle Henry +comfortingly. "Rafe's got good calks on his boots." + +The boy sprang from log to log, the calks making the chips fly, +and with a canthook pushed off a log that had caught and swung +upon a small bank. He did it very cleverly, and was back again, +across the bucking logs, in half a minute. + +Below, the foreman himself was making for a grounded log, one of +the first of the drive. It had caught upon some snag, and was +swinging broadside out, into the stream. Let two or three more +timbers catch with it and there would be the nucleus of a jam +that might result in much trouble for everybody. + +Tim Turner leaped spaces of eight and ten feet between the logs, +landing secure and safe upon the stranded log at last. With the +heavy canthook he tried to start it. + +"That's a good man, Tim Turner," said Mr. "Sherwood, heartily. +"He's worked for me, isn't afraid of anything, Ha! But that's +wrong!" he suddenly exclaimed. + +Turner had failed to start the stranded log. Other logs were +hurtling down the foam-streaked river, aimed directly for the +stranded one. They would begin to pile up in a heap in a minute. +The foreman leaped to another log, turning as he did so to face +the shore. That was when Uncle Henry declared him wrong. + +Turner was swinging his free arm, and above the roar of the river +and the thunder of the grinding and smashing logs they could hear +him shouting for somebody to bring him an axe. One of his men +leaped to obey. Nan and Mr. Sherwood did not notice just then +who this second man was who put himself in jeopardy, for both had +their gaze on the foreman and that which menaced him. + +Shooting across on a slant was a huge log, all of three feet +through at the butt, and it was aimed for the timber on which +Turner stood. He did not see it. Smaller logs were already +piling against the timber he had left, and had he leaped back to +the stranded one he would have been comparatively safe. + +Mr. Sherwood was quick to act in such an emergency as this; but +he was too far from the spot to give practical aid in saving +Turner from the result of his own heedlessness. He made a horn +of his two hands and shouted to the foreguard at the foot of the +bluff: + +"He's going into the water! Launch Fred Durgin's boat below the +bend! Get her! Quick, there!" + +Old riverman that he was, Uncle Henry was pretty sure of what was +about to happen. The huge log came tearing on, butt first, a +wave of troubled water split by its on-rush. Turner was watching +the person bringing him the axe, and never once threw a glance +over his shoulder. + +Suddenly Nan cried out and seized Uncle Henry's arm. "Look! Oh, +Uncle! It's Rafe!" she gasped, pointing. + +"Aye, I know it," said her uncle, wonderfully cool, Nan thought, +and casting a single glance at the figure flying over the bucking +logs toward the endangered foreman. "He'll do what he can." + +Nan could not take her eyes from her cousin after that. It +seemed to be a race between Rafe and the charging log, to see +which should first reach the foreman. Rafe, reckless and +harebrained as he was, flew over the logs as sure-footed as a +goat. Nan felt faint. Her cousin's peril seemed far greater to +her than that of the foreman. + +A step might plunge Rafe into the foaming stream! When a log +rolled under him she cried out under her breath and clamped her +teeth down on to her lower lip until the blood almost came. + +"He'll be killed! He'll be killed!" she kept repeating in her +own mind. But Uncle Henry stood like a rock and seemingly gave +no more attention to his son than he did to Turner, or to the men +running down the bank to seize upon and launch the heavy boat. + +Rafe was suddenly balked and had to stop. Too great a stretch of +water separated him from the next floating log. Turner beckoned +him on. It was difficult to make the foreman hear above the +noise of the water and the continual grinding of the logs, but +Rafe yelled some warning and pointed toward the timber now almost +upon Turner's foothold. + +The man shot a glance behind him. The butt of the driving log +rose suddenly into the air as though it would crush him. + +Turner leaped to the far end of the log on which he stood. But +too great a distance separated him from the log on which Rafe had +secured a foothold. + +Crash! + +Nan heard, on top of the bluff, the impact of the great timber as +it was flung by the current across the smaller log. Turner shot +into the air as though he were flung from a catapult. But he was +not flung in Rafe's direction, and the boy could not help him. + +He plunged into the racing stream and disappeared. The huge +timber rode over the smaller log and buried it from sight. But +its tail swung around and the great log was headed straight down +the river again. + +As its smaller end swung near, Rafe leaped for it and secured a +footing on the rolling, plunging log. How he kept his feet under +him Nan could not imagine. A bareback rider in a circus never +had such work as this. Rafe rode his wooden horse in masterly +style. + +There, ahead of him in the boiling flood, an arm and head +appeared. Turner came to the surface with his senses unimpaired +and he strove to clutch the nearest log. But the stick slipped +away from him. + +Rafe ran forward on the plunging timber he now rode the huge +stick that had made all the trouble, and tried to reach the man +in the water. No use! + +Of course, there was no way for Rafe to guide his log toward the +drowning man. Nor did he have anything to reach out for Turner +to grasp. The axe handle was not long enough, and the foreman's +canthook had disappeared. + +Below, the men were struggling to get the big boat out from under +the bank into the stream. Two of them stood up with their +canthooks to fend off the drifting logs; the others plied the +heavy oars. + +But the boat was too far from the man in the river. He was +menaced on all sides by plunging logs. He barely escaped one to +be grazed on the shoulder by another. A third pressed him under +the surface again; but as he went down this second time, Rafe +Sherwood threw away his axe and leaped into the flood! + +Chapter XIX +OLD TOBY VANDERWILLER + +Nan was sure her Cousin Rafe would be drowned, as well as his +foreman. She covered her eyes for a moment, and could not look. + +Then a great cheer arose from the men in the boat and those still +remaining on the bank of the river. Her uncle, beside her, +muttered: + +"Plucky boy! Plucky boy!" + +Her eyes flew open and she looked again. In the midst of the +scattering foam she saw a small log over which her cousin had +flung his left arm; his other arm was around the foreman, and +Rafe was bearing his head above water. Turner had been struck +and rendered senseless by the blow. + +The small log slipped through a race between two shallows, ahead +of the greater timber. The latter indeed grounded for a moment +and that gave the victim of the accident and his rescuer a chance +for life. + +They shot ahead with the log to which Rafe clung. The men in the +boat shouted encouragement, and rowed harder. In a minute the +boat came alongside the log and two of the rivermen grabbed the +boy and the unconscious foreman. They had them safely in the +boat, and the boat was at the shore again in three minutes. + +By that time the big boss himself, Mr. Blackton, was tearing out +over the logs from the other shore, axe in hand, to cut the key +log of the jam, the formation of which Turner had tried to +prevent. A hundred logs had piled up against the stoppage by +this time and there promised to be a bad time at the bend if +every one did not work quickly. + +Before Nan and her uncle could reach the foot of the bluff, +Turner had regained consciousness and was sitting on a stranded +log, holding his head. Rafe, just as he had come out of the +river, was out on the logs again lending a hand at the work so +necessary to the success of the drive. + +"Oh, dear me!" cried Nan, referring to her cousin, "he ought to +go home and change his clothes. He'll get his death of cold." + +"He'll work hard enough for the next hour to overcome the shock +of the cold water. It's lucky if he isn't in again before they +get that trouble over," responded Uncle Henry. Then he added, +proudly: "That's the kind of boys we raise in the Big Woods, +Nannie. Maybe they are rough-spoken and aren't really parlor- +broke, but you can depend on 'em to do something when there's +anything to do!" + +"Oh, Uncle!" cried the girl. "I think Rafe is just the bravest +boy I ever saw. But I should think Aunt Kate would be scared +every hour he is away from home, he is so reckless." + +She was very proud herself of Rafe and wrote Bess a lot about +him. Slow Tom did not figure much in Nan Sherwood's letters, or +in her thoughts, about this time. Thoughts and letters were +filled with handsome Rafe. + +It was while the Blackton drive was near Pine Camp that Nan +became personally acquainted with old Toby Vanderwiller. It was +after dinner that day that she met Margaret and Bob Llewellen and +the three went down to the river bank, below the bridge, to watch +the last of the Blackton drive. + +The chuck-boat had pushed off into the rough current and was +bobbing about in the wake of the logs; but all the men had not +departed. + +"That's old Toby," said Bob, a black-haired boy, full of +mischief. "He don't see us. Le's creep up and scare him." + +"No," said Nan, decidedly; "don't you dare!" + +"Aw, shucks! Girls ain't no fun," the boy growled. "Mag's bad +enough, but you air wuss'n she, Nan Sherwood. What's old Toby to +you? He's allus as cross as two sticks, anyway." + +"We won't make him any crosser," said Nan, laughing. "What's the +good?" + +Nan saw that the old man had his coat off, and had slipped down +the right sleeve of his woolen shirt to bare his shoulder and +upper right arm. He was clumsily trying to bandage the arm. + +"He's got hurt," Nan cried to Margaret. "I wonder how?" + +"Dunno," returned the smaller girl, carelessly. Although she was +not mischievous like her brother, Margaret seldom showed traits +of tenderness or affection. Nan was in some doubt as to whether +the strange girl liked her. Margaret often patted Nan's cheeks +and admired her smooth skin; but she never expressed any real +affection. She was positively the oddest little piece of +humanity Nan had ever met. + +Once Nan asked her if she had a doll. "Doll?" snarled Margaret +with surprising energy. "A'nt Matildy give me one once't an' I +throwed it as far as I could inter the river, so I did! Nasty +thing! Its face was all painted and rough." + +Nan could only gasp. Drown a doll-baby! Big girl as she +considered herself, she had a very tender spot in her heart for +doll-babies. + +Margaret Llewellen only liked people with fair faces and smooth +complexions; she could not possibly be interested in old Toby +Vanderwiller, who seemed always to need a shave, and whose face, +like that of Margaret's grandfather, was "wizzled." + +Nan ran down to him and asked: "Can't I help you, Mr. +Vanderwiller? Did you get badly hurt?" + +"Hullo!" grunted Toby. "Ain't you Hen Sherwood's gal?" + +"I'm his niece," she told him. "Can I help?" + +"Well, I dunno. "I got a wallop from one o' them logs when we +was breakin' that jam, and it's scraped the skin off me arm----" + +"Let me see," cried Nan, earnestly. "Oh! Mr. Vanderwiller! +That must be painful. Haven't you anything to put on it?" + +"Nothin' but this rag," grunted Toby, drily. "An' ye needn't +call me 'Mister,' Sissy. I ain't useter bein' addressed that +way." + +Nan laughed; but she quickly washed the scraped patch on the old +man's arm with clean water and then bound her own handkerchief +over the abrasion under the rather doubtful rag that Toby himself +supplied. + +"You're sure handy, Sissy," he said, rising and allowing her to +help him into the shirt again and on with his coat. "Now I'll +hafter toddle along or Tim will give me a call-down. Much +obleeged. If ye get inter the tam'rack swamp, come dry-foot +weather, stop and see me an' my old woman." + +"Oh! I'd love to, Mr. Vanderwiller," Nan cried. "The swamp must +be full of just lovely flowers now." + +The old man's face wrinkled into a smile, the first she had seen +upon it. Really! He was not a bad looking man, after all. + +"You fond of posies, sissy?" he asked. + +"Indeed I am!" she cried. + +"There's a-plenty in the swamp," he told her. "And no end of +ferns and sich. You come see us and my old woman'll show ye. +She's a master hand at huntin' up all kind o' weeds I tell her." + +"I'll surely come, when the weather gets warmer," Nan called +after Toby as the old man dogtrotted down the bank of the river. +But he did not answer and was quickly out of sight. + +Chapter XX +NAN'S SECRET + +But Margaret Llewellen declared she would not go with her! + +"It's nasty in the Tam'rack swamp; and there's frogs and, and +snakes. Ketch me! And as fur goin' ter see Tobe and his old +woman, huh! They're both as ugly as sin." + +"Why, Margaret!" exclaimed Nan, in horror. "How you talk!" + +"Wal, it's so. I don't like old, wizzled-up folks, I don't, now +I tell ye!" + +"That sounds awfully cruel," said Nan, soberly. + +"Huh!" snorted Margaret, no other word would just express her +manner of showing disgust. "There ain't no reason why I should +go 'round makin' believe likin' them as I don't like. Dad useter +take the hide off'n me and Bob for lyin'; an' then he'd stand an' +palaver folks that he jest couldn't scurce abide, fur I heard +him say so. That's lyin', too ain't it?" + +"I, I don't believe it is right to criticize our parents," +returned Nan, dodging the sharp girl's question. + +"Mebbe yourn don't need criticizin', responded Margaret, bluntly. +"My dad ain't no angel, you kin bet." + +And it was a fact that the Llewellen family was a peculiar one, +from "Gran'ther" down to Baby Bill, whom Margaret did not mind +taking care of when he was not "all broke out with the rash on +his face." The girl's dislike for any countenance that was not +of the smoothest, or skin of the softest texture, seemed strange +indeed. + +Margaret's mother was dead. She had five brothers and sisters of +assorted ages, up to 'Lonzo, who was sixteen and worked in the +woods like Nan's cousins. + +Aunt Matilda kept house for the motherless brood, and for +Gran'ther and Mr. Fen Llewellen. They lived in a most haphazard +fashion, for, although they were not really poor, the children +never seemed to have any decent clothing to wear; and if, by +chance, they got a new garment, something always happened to it +as, for instance, the taking of Margaret's new gingham by Bob as +a dress for old Beagle. + +As the Llewellens were close neighbors of the Sherwoods, Nan saw +much of Margaret. The local school closed soon after the visitor +had come to Pine Camp, and Nan had little opportunity of getting +acquainted with other girls, save at the church service, which +was held in the schoolhouse only every other Sunday. There was +no Sunday School at Pine Camp, even for the very youngest of the +children. + +Nan talked to Aunt Kate about that. Aunt Kate was the very +kindest-hearted woman that ever lived; but she had little +initiative herself about anything outside her own house. +"Goodness knows, I'd like to see the kiddies gathered together on +Sunday afternoon and taught good things," she signed; "but lawsy, +Nan! I'm not the one to do it. I'm not good enough myself." + +"Didn't you teach Tom and Rafe, and and " Nan stopped. She +had almost mentioned the two older boys of her aunt's, whom she +had heard were destroyed in the Pale Lick fire. Aunt Kate did +not notice, for she went on to say: + +"Why - yes; I taught Tom and Rafe to say their prayers, and I +hope they say 'em now, big as they are. And we often read the +Bible. It's a great comfort, the main part of it. I never did +take to the 'begats,' though." + +"But couldn't we," suggested Nan, "interest other people and +gather the children together on Sundays? Perhaps the old +gentleman who comes here to preach every fortnight might help." + +"Elder Posey's not here but three hours or so, any time. Just +long enough to give us the word and grab a bite at somebody's +house. Poor old man! He attends three meetings each Sunday, +all different, and lives on a farm at Wingate weekdays where he +has to work and support his family. + +"He doesn't get but fifty dollars a year from each church, it's +not making him a millionaire very fast," pursued Aunt Kate, with +a soft little laugh. "Poor old man! I wish we could pay him +more; but Pine Camp's not rich." + +"You all seem to have enough and to spare, Auntie," said Nan, who +was an observant girl for her age. "Nobody here is really poor." + +"Not unless he's right down lazy," said her aunt, vigorously. + +"Then I should think they'd build a proper church and give a +minister some more money, so that he could afford to have a +Sunday School as well." + +"Lawsy me, Nan!" exclaimed her aunt. "The men here in Pine Camp +haven't been woke up to such things. They hate to spend that +fifty dollars for Elder Posey, they'd get a cheaper man if there +were such. There's never been much out of the common happen here +at Pine Camp. It takes trouble and destruction to wake folks up +to their Christian duty in these woods. Now, at Pale Lick +they've got a church-----" + +She stopped suddenly, and her face paled, while the ugly scar on +her neck seemed to glow; but that may have been only in contrast. +Aunt Kate turned away her head, and finally arose and went into +her own room and closed the door. Nan dared not continue the +subject when the good woman came out again, and the talk of a +Sunday School for Pine Camp, for the time being, was ended. + +There were hours when the girl from Tillbury was very lonely +indeed. Writing to Bess and other girl friends in her old home +town and penning long letters on thin paper to Momsey and Papa +Sherwood in Scotland, did not fill all of these hours when Nan +shut herself into that east room. + +Sometimes she pulled down the paper shades and opened the clothes +closet door, bringing out the long box she had hidden away there +on the first day she had come to Pine Camp. In that box, wrapped +in soft tissue paper, and dressed in the loveliest gown made by +Momsey's own skillful fingers, was the great doll that had been +given to Nan on her tenth birthday. + +When girls went to high school, of course they were supposed to +put away dolls, together with other childish things. But Nan +Sherwood never could neglect her doll-babies and had often spent +whole rainy days playing with them in secret in the attic of the +little house on Amity Street. + +Her other dolls had been left, carefully wrapped and shielded +from the mice, at Tillbury; but Nan had been unable to leave +Beautiful Beulah behind. She packed her in the bottom of her +trunk, unknown even to Momsey in the hurry of departure. She had +not told a soul here at Pine Camp that she possessed a doll; she +knew the boys would make fun of her for sure. + +But she often sat behind the drawn shades nursing the big doll +and crooning softly to it as she swung back and forth in the +spring rocking-chair. Tom had oiled the springs for her so that +it no longer creaked. + +She did not confide even in Aunt Kate about the big doll. They +were all very kind to her; but Nan had a feeling that she ought +to be grown up here among her backwoods relatives. How could she +ever face roguish Rafe if he knew she liked to "play dolls?" + +Fearing that even Margaret would tell, Nan had never shown the +woods girl Beautiful Beulah. Once she was afraid Margaret had +come to the window to peep in when Nan had the doll out of her +hiding place; but she was not sure, and Nan hoped her secret was +still inviolate. At least, Margaret never said a word about it. + +Margaret's sisters had dolls made of corncobs, and rag babies +with painted faces like the one Margaret had thrown into the +river and drowned; but Margaret turned up her nose at them all. +She never seemed to want to "play house" as do most girls of her +age. She preferred to run wild, like a colt, with Bob in the +woods and swamp. + +Margaret did not wish to go into the swamp with Nan, however, on +her first visit to Toby Vanderwiller's little farm. This was +some weeks after the log drives, and lumbering was over for the +season. Uncle Henry and the boys, rather than be idle, were +working every acre they owned, and Nan was more alone than she +had ever been since coming to Pine Camp. + +She had learned the way to Toby's place, the main trail through +the swamp going right by the hummock on which the old man's farm +was situated. She knew there was a corduroy road most of the way + that is, a road built of logs laid side by side directly over +the miry ground. Save in very wet weather this road was passable +for most vehicles. + +The distance was but three miles, however, and Nan liked walking. +Besides, nobody who has not seen a tamarack swamp in late spring +or early summer, can ever imagine how beautiful it is. Nan never +missed human companionship when she was on the long walks she so +often took in the woods. + +She had learned now that, despite her adventure with the lynx in +the snow-drifted hollow, there was scarcely any animal to fear +about Pine Camp. Bears had not been seen for years; bobcats were +very infrequently met with and usually ran like scared rabbits; +foxes were of course shy, and the nearest approach to a wolf in +all that section was Toby Vanderwiller's wolfhound that had once +frightened Nan so greatly. + +Hares, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, and many, many birds, +peopled the forest and swamp. In sunken places where the green +water stood and steamed in the sun, turtles and frogs were +plentiful; and occasionally a snake, as harmless as it was +wicked looking, slid off a water-soaked log at Nan's approach +and slipped under the oily surface of the pool. + +On the day Nan walked to Toby's place the first time, she saw +many wonders of plant life along the way, exotics clinging to +rotten logs and stumps; fronds of delicate vines that she had +never before heard of; ferns of exquisite beauty. And flashing +over them, and sucking honey from every cuplike flower, were +shimmering humming-birds and marvelously marked butterflies. + +The birds screamed or sang or chattered over the girl's head as +she tripped along. Squirrels peeped at her, barked, and then +whisked their tails in rapid flight. Through the cool, dark +depths where the forest monarchs had been untouched by the +woodsmen, great moths winged their lazy flight. Nan knew not +half of the creatures or the wonderful plants she saw. + +There were sounds in the deeps of the swamplands that she did not +recognize, either. Some she supposed must be the voices of huge +frogs; other notes were bird-calls that she had never heard +before. But suddenly, as she approached a turn in the corduroy +road, her ear was smitten by a sound that she knew very well +indeed. + +It was a man's voice, and it was not a pleasant one. It caused +Nan to halt and look about for some place to hide until the owner +of the voice went by. She feared him because of his harsh tones, +though she did not, at the moment, suspect who it was. + +Then suddenly she heard plainly a single phrase: "I'd give money, +I tell ye, to see Hen Sherwood git his!" + +Chapter XXI +IN THE TAMARACK SWAMP + +The harsh tone of the unseen man terrified Nan Sherwood; but the +words he spoke about her Uncle Henry inspired her to creep nearer +that she might see who it was, and hear more. The fact that she +was eavesdropping did not deter the girl. + +She believed her uncle's life to be in peril! + +The dampness between the logs of the roadway oozed up in little +pools and steamed in the hot blaze of the afternoon sun. Insects +buzzed and hummed, so innumerable that the chorus of their voices +was like the rumble of a great church-organ. + +Nan stepped from the road and pushed aside the thick underbrush +to find a dry spot to place her foot. The gnats danced before +her and buzzed in her ears. She brushed them aside and so pushed +on until she could see the road again. A lean, yellow horse, +tackled to the shafts of a broken top-buggy with bits of rope as +well as worn straps, stood in the roadway. The man on the seat, +talking to another on the ground, was Mr. Gedney Raffer, the +timberman who was contending at law with Uncle Henry. + +It was he who had said: "I'd give money, I tell ye, to see Hen +Sherwood git his." + +There had fallen a silence, but just as Nan recognized the mean +looking old man on the carriage seat, she heard the second man +speak from the other side of the buggy. + +"I tell you like I done Hen himself, Ged; I don't wanter be mixed +up in no land squabble. I ain't for neither side." + +It was Toby. Nan knew his voice, and she remembered how he had +answered Uncle Henry at the lumber camp, the first day she had +seen the old lumberman. Nan could not doubt that the two men +were discussing the argument over the boundary of the Perkins +Tract. + +Gedney Raffer snarled out an imprecation when old Toby had +replied as above. "Ef you know which side of your bread the +butter's on, you'll side with me," he said. + +"We don't often have butter on our bread, an' I ain't goin' ter +side with nobody," grumbled Toby Vanderwiller. + +"S-s!" hissed Raffer. "Come here!" + +Toby stepped closer to the rattletrap carriage. "You see your +way to goin' inter court an' talkin' right, and you won't lose +nothin' by it, Tobe." + +"Huh? Only my self-respect, I s'pose," grunted the old +lumberman, and Nan approved very much of him just then. + +"Bah!" exclaimed Raffer. + +"Bah, yourself!" Toby Vanderwiller returned with some heat. "I +got some decency left, I hope. I ain't goin' to lie for you, nor +no other man, Ged Raffer!" + +"Say! Would it be lyin' ef you witnessed on my side?" demanded +the eager Raffer. + +"That's my secret," snapped the old lumberman. "If I don't +witness for you, be glad I don't harm you." + +"You dare!" cried Raffer, shaking his fist at the other as he +leaned from the buggy seat. + +"You hearn me say I wouldn't go inter court one way or 'tother," +repeated Toby, gloomily. + +"Wal," snarled Raffer, "see't ye don't see't ye don't. +'Specially for any man but me. Ye 'member what I told ye, Tobe. +Money's tight and I oughter call in that loan." + +Toby was silent for half a minute. Then Nan heard him sigh. + +"Well, Ged," he observed, "it's up to you. If you take the place +it'll be the poorhouse for that unforchunit boy of mine and mebbe +for the ol' woman, 'specially if I can't strike a job for next +winter. These here lumber bosses begin to think I'm too stiff in +the j'ints." + +"Wal, wal!" snarled Raffer. "I can't help it. How d'ye expec' I +kin help you ef you won't help me?" + +He clucked to the old horse, which awoke out of its drowse with a +start, and moved on sluggishly. Toby stood in the road and +watched him depart. Nan thought the old lumberman's to be the +most sorrowful figure she had ever seen. + +Her young heart beat hotly against the meanness and injustice of +Gedney Raffer. He had practically threatened Toby with +foreclosure on his little farm if the old lumberman would not +help him in his contention with Mr. Sherwood. On the other hand, +Uncle Henry desired his help; but Uncle Henry, Nan knew, would +not try to bribe the old lumberman. Under these distressing +circumstances, which antagonist's interests was Toby Vanderwiller +likely to serve? + +This query vastly disturbed Nan Sherwood. All along she had +desired much to help Uncle Henry solve his big problem. The +courts would not allow him to cut a stick of timber on the +Perkins Tract until a resurvey of the line was made by +government-appointed surveyors, and that would be, when? + +Uncle Henry's money was tied up in the stumpage lease, or first +payment to the owners of the land. It was a big contract and he +had expected to pay his help and further royalties on the lease, +from the sale of the timber he cut on the tract. Besides, many +valuable trees had been felled before the injunction was served, +and lay rotting on the ground. Every month they lay there +decreased their value. + +And now, it appeared, Gedney Raffer was doing all in his power to +influence old Toby to serve as a witness in his, Raffer's, +interests. + +Had toby been willing to go into court and swear that the line of +the Perkins Tract was as Mr. Sherwood claimed, the court would +have to vacate the injunction and Uncle Henry could risk going +ahead and cutting and hauling timber from the tract. Uncle Henry +believed Toby knew exactly where the line lay, for he had been a +landloper, or timber-runner in this vicinity when the original +survey was made, forty-odd years before. + +It was plain to Nan, hiding in the bushes and watching the old +man's face, that he was dreadfully tempted. Working as hard as +he might, summer and winter alike, Toby Vanderwiller had scarcely +been able to support his wife and grandson. His occasional +attacks of rheumatism so frequently put him back. If Raffer took +away the farm and the shelter they had, what would become of +them? + +Uncle Henry was so short of ready money himself that he could not +assume the mortgage if Raffer undertook to foreclose. + +"Oh, dear me! If Momsey would only write to me that she is +really rich," thought Nan, "I'd beg her for the money. I'll tell +her all about poor Toby in my very next letter and maybe, if she +gets all that money from the courts in Scotland, she will let me +give Toby enough to pay off the mortgage." + +She never for a moment doubted that Uncle Henry's contention +about the timber tract line was right. He must be correct, and +old Toby must know it! That is the way Nan Sherwood looked at +the matter. + +But now, seeing Toby turning back along the corduroy road, and +slowly shuffling toward home, she stepped out of the hovering +bushes and walked hastily after him. She overtook him not many +yards beyond the spot where he had stood talking with Raffer. He +looked startled when she spoke his name. + +"Well! You air a sight for sore eyes, Sissy," he said; but +added, nervously, "How in Joe Tunket did you git in the swamp? +Along the road?" + +"Yes, sir," said Nan. + +"Come right erlong this way?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did ye meet anybody?" demanded old Toby, eyeing her sharply. + +"Mr. Raffer, driving his old buckskin horse. That's all." + +"Didn't say nothin' to ye, did he?" asked Toby, curiously. + +"Not a word," replied Nan, honestly. "I'm afraid of him and I +hid in the bushes till he had gone by." + +"Huh!" sighed Toby, as though relieved. "Jest as well. Though +Ged wouldn't ha' dared touch ye, Sissy." + +"Never mind. I'm here now," said Nan, brightly. "And I want you +to show me your house and introduce me to Mrs. Vanderwiller." + +"Sure. My ol' woman will be glad to see ye," said the man, +briskly. "'Tain't more'n a mile furder on." + +But first they came to a deserted place, a strip more than half +a mile wide, where the trees had been cut in a broad belt +through the swamp. All Nan could see was sawdust and the stumps +of felled trees sticking out of it. The sawdust, Toby said, was +anywhere from two to twenty feet deep, and there were acres of +it. + +"They had their mill here, ye kin see the brick work yonder. +They hauled out the lumber by teams past my place. The stea'mill +was here more'n two years. They hauled the sawdust out of the +way and dumped it in ev'ry holler, jest as it come handy." + +"What a lot there is of it!" murmured Nan, sniffing doubtfully at +the rather unpleasant odor of the sawdust. + +"I wish't 'twas somewhere else," grunted Toby. + +"Why-so?" + +"Fire git in it and it'd burn till doomsday. Fire in sawdust is +a mighty bad thing. Ye see, even the road here is made of +sawdust, four foot or more deep and packed as solid as a brick +walk. That's the way Pale Lick went, sawdust afire. Ha'f the +town was built on sawdust foundation an' she smouldered for weeks +before they knowed of it. Then come erlong a big wind and +started the blaze to the surface." + +"Oh!" murmured Nan, much interested. "Didn't my Uncle Henry live +there then?" + +"I sh'd say he did," returned Toby, emphatically. "Didn't he +never tell ye about it?" + +"No, sir. They never speak of Pale Lick." + +"Well, I won't, nuther," grunted old Toby. "'Taint pretty for a +young gal like you to hear about. Whush! Thar goes a loon!" + +A big bird had suddenly come into sight, evidently from some +nearby water-hole. It did not fly high and seemed very clumsy, +like a duck or goose. + +"Oh! Are they good to eat, Mr. Vanderwiller?" cried Nan. "Rafe +brought in a brace of summer ducks the other day, and they were +awfully good, the way Aunt Kate cooked them." + +"Well!" drawled Toby, slyly, "I've hearn tell ye c'd eat a loon, +ef 'twas cooked right. But I never tried it." + +"How do you cook a loon, Mr. Vanderwiller?" asked Nan, interested +in all culinary pursuits. + +"Well, they tell me thet it's some slow process," said the old +man, his eyes twinkling. "Ye git yer loon, pluck an' draw it, +let it soak overnight in vinegar an' water, vitriol vinegar they +say is the best. Then ye put it in the pot an' let it simmer all +day." + +"Yes?" queried the perfectly innocent Nan. + +"Then ye throw off that water," Toby said, soberly, "and ye put +on fresh water an' let it cook all the next day." + +"Oh!" + +"An' then ye throw in a piece of grin'stone with the loon, and +set it to bilin' again. When ye kin stick a fork in the +grin'stone, the loon's done!" + +Nan joined in Toby's loud laugh at this old joke, and pretty soon +thereafter they came to the hummock on which the Vanderwillers +lived. + +Chapter XXII +ON THE ISLAND + +In the winter it was probably dreary enough; but now the beauty +of the swelling knoll where the little whitewashed house stood, +with the tiny fields that surrounded it, actually made Nan's +heart swell and the tears come into her eyes. + +It seemed to her as though she had never seen the grass so green +as here, and the thick wood that encircled the little farm was +just a hedge of blossoming shrubs with the tall trees shooting +skyward in unbroken ranks. A silver spring broke ground at the +corner of the paddock fence. A pool had been scooped out for the +cattle to drink at; but it was not muddied, and the stream +tinkled down over the polished pebbles to the wider, more +sluggish stream that meandered away from the farm into the depths +of the swamp. + +Toby told her, before they reached the hummock, that this stream +rose in the winter and flooded all about the farm, so that the +latter really was an island. Unless the ice remained firm they +sometimes could not drive out with either wagon or sled for days +at a time. + +"Then you live on an island," cried Nan. + +"Huh! Ye might say so," complained Toby. "And sometimes we feel +like as though we was cast away on one, too." + +But the girl thought it must really be great fun to live on an +island. + +They went up to the house along the bank of the clear stream. On +the side porch, vine-covered to the eaves, sat an old woman +rocking in a low chair and another figure in what seemed at a +distance, to be a child's wagon of wickerwork, but with no tongue +and a high back to it. + +"Here's Gran'pop!" cried a shrill voice and the little wagon +moved swiftly to the edge of the steps. Nan almost screamed in +fear as it pitched downward. But the wheels did not bump over +the four steps leading to the ground, for a wide plank had been +laid slantingly at that side, and over this the wheels ran +smoothly, if rapidly. + +"You have a care there, Corson!" shrilled the old lady after the +cripple. "Some day you'll break your blessed neck." + +Nan thought he was a little boy, until they met. Then she was +surprised to see a young man's head set upon a shriveled child's +body! Corson Vanderwiller had a broad brow, a head of beautiful, +brown, wavy hair, and a fine mustache. He was probably all of +twenty-five years old. + +But Nan soon learned that the poor cripple was not grown in mind, +more than in body, to that age. His voice was childish, and his +speech and manner, too. He was bashful with Nan at first; then +chattered like a six-year-old child to her when she had once +gained his confidence. + +He wheeled himself about in the little express wagon very well +indeed, old Toby having rigged brakes with which he moved the +wagon and steered it. His arms and hands were quite strong, and +when he wished to get back on to the piazza, he seized a rope his +grandfather had hung there, and dragged himself, wagon and all, +up the inclined plane, or gangplank, as it might be called. + +He showed Nan all his treasures, and they included some very +childish toys, a number of them showing the mechanical skill of +his grandfather's blunt fingers. But among them, too, were +treasures from the swamp and woods that were both very wonderful +and very beautiful. + +Old Toby had made Corson a neatly fitted cabinet in which were +specimens of preserved butterflies and moths, most of them of +the gay and common varieties; but some, Nan was almost sure, were +rare and valuable. There was one moth in particular, with spread +wings, on the upper side of the thorax of which was traced in +white the semblance of a human skull. Nan was almost sure that +this must be the famous death's-head moth she had read about in +school; but she was not confident enough to say anything to old +Toby Vanderwiller. A few specimens of this rare insect have been +found in the swamps of America, although it was originally +supposed to be an Old World moth. + +Nan did say, however, to Toby that perhaps some of these +specimens might be bought by collectors. The pressed flowers +were pretty but not particularly valuable. In the museum at the +Tillbury High School there was a much finer collection from the +Indiana swamps. + +"Sho!" said Toby, slowly; "I wouldn't wanter sell the boy's +pretties. I brung most on 'em home to him; but he mounted 'em +himself." + +Nan suspected that old Mrs. Vanderwiller had much to do with the +neat appearance of the cabinet. She was a quiet, almost a +speechless, old lady. But she was very kind and she set out her +best for Nan's luncheon before the girl from Tillbury returned +home. + +"We ain't got much here on the island," the old lady said; "but +we do love to have visitors. Don't we, Corson?" + +"Nice ones," admitted the cripple, munching cake. + +He had heard something of what Nan suggested to Toby about the +moths and other specimens. So when the old lady was absent from +the porch he whispered: + +"Say, girl!" + +"Well?" she asked, smiling at him. + +"Is what's in that cabinet wuth as much as a dollar?" + +"Oh! I expect so," said Nan. "More." + +"Will you give me a dollar for 'em?" he asked, eagerly. + +"Oh, I couldn't! But perhaps I can write to somebody who would +be interested in buying some of your things, and for much more +than a dollar." + +Corson looked disappointed. Nan asked, curiously: "Why do you +want the dollar?" + +"To git Gran'mom a silk dress," he said promptly. "She's admired +to have one all her life, and ain't never got to git it yet." + +"I'm sure that's nice of you," declared Nan, warmly. "I'll try +to sell some of your collection." + +"Well!" he jerked out. "It's got to be pretty soon, or she won't +git to wear it much. I heard her tell Gran'pop so." + +This impressed Nan Sherwood as being very pitiful, for she was of +a sympathetic nature. And it showed that Corson Vanderwiller, +even if he was simple-minded, possessed one of the great human +virtues, gratitude. + +Chapter XXIII +A MYSTERY + +On this, her first visit to the island in the swamp, Nan said +nothing to old Toby Vanderwiller about the line dispute between +her uncle and Gedney Raffer, which the old lumberman was supposed +to be able to settle if he would. + +Mrs. Vanderwiller insisted upon Toby's hitching up an old, +broken-kneed pony he owned, and taking her over the corduroy road +to Pine Camp, where she arrived before dark. To tell the truth, +little Margaret Llewellen was not the only person who thought it +odd that Nan should want to go to see the Vanderwillers in the +heart of the tamarack swamp. Nan's uncle and aunt and cousins +considered their guest a little odd; but they made no open +comment when the girl arrived at home after her visit. + +Nan was full of the wonders she had seen, commonplace enough to +her relatives who had lived all their lives in touch with the +beautiful and queer things of Nature as displayed in the Michigan +Peninsula. Perhaps none but Tom appreciated her ecstasy over +crippled Corson Vanderwiller's collection. + +Rafe was inclined to poke good-natured fun at his young cousin +for her enthusiasm; but Tom showed an understanding that quite +surprised Nan. Despite his simplicity regarding some of the +commonest things of the great outside world, he showed that he +was very observant of the things about him. + +"Oh, Tom was always like that," scoffed Rafe, with ready laughter +at his slow brother. "He'd rather pick up a bug any day and put +it through a cross-examination, than smash it under the sole of +his boot." + +"I don't think bugs were made to smash," Tom said stoutly. + +"Whew! What in thunder were they made for?" demanded the mocking +Rafe. + +"I don't think God Almighty made things alive just for us to make +'em dead," said Tom, clumsily, and blushing a deep red. + +Rafe laughed again. Rafe had read much more in a desultory +fashion than Tom. + +"Tom ought to be one of those Brahmas," he said, chuckling. +"They carry a whisk broom to brush off any seat they may sit on +before they sit down, so's they sha'n't crush an ant, or any +other crawling thing. They're vegetarians, too, and won't take +life in any form." + +"Now, Rafe!" exclaimed his mother, who was never quite sure when +her younger son was playing the fool. "You know that Brahmas are +hens. I've got some in my flock those big white and black, +lazy fowls, with feathers on their legs." + +Nan had to laugh at that as well as Rafe. "Brahma fowl, I guess, +came from Brahma, or maybe Brahmaputra, all right. But Rafe +means Brahmans. They're a religious people of India," the girl +from Tillbury said. + +"And maybe they've got it right," Tom said stubbornly. "Why +should we kill unnecessarily?" + +Nan could have hugged him. At any rate, a new feeling for him +was born at that moment, and she applauded. Aunt Kate said: + +"Tom always was soft-hearted," and her big son became silent. +She might as well have called him "soft-headed"; but Nan began +better to appreciate Tom's worth from that time on. + +Rafe remained in her eyes still the reckless, heroic figure he +had seemed when running over the logs the day of the timber +drive. But she began to confide in Tom after this evening of her +return from the tamarack swamp. + +However, this is somewhat in advance of the story. The pleasant +evening passed as usual until bedtime came for Nan. She retired +to her east chamber, for the windows of which Tom had made +screens to keep out the night-flying insects. No matter how +tired she was at night there was one thing Nan Sherwood seldom +forgot. + +Possibly it was silly in a girl who was almost through her +freshman year at high school, but Nan brought out Beautiful +Beulah and rocked her, and hugged her, and crooned over her +before she went to bed. She was such a comfort! + +So Nan, on this evening, went first of all to the closet and +reached down to draw out the box in which she had kept the doll +hidden ever since coming to Pine Camp. + +It was not there! + +At first Nan Sherwood could not believe this possible. She +dropped on her knees and scrambled over the floor of her closet, +reaching under the hanging skirts and frocks, her fear rising, +second by second. + +The box was not in its place. She arose and looked about her +room wildly. Of course, she had not left it anywhere else, that +was out of the question. + +She could scarcely believe that any member of the family had been +in her room, much less would disturb anything that was hers. +Not even Aunt Kate came to the east chamber often. Nan had +insisted upon taking care of the room, and she swept and dusted +and cleaned like the smart little housewife she was. Aunt Kate +had been content to let her have her way in this. + +Of course Nan never locked her door. But who would touch a thing +belonging to her? And her doll! Why, she was sure the family +did not even know she had such a possession. + +Almost wildly the girl ran out of her chamber and into the +sitting room, where the family was still gathered around the +evening lamp, Rafe cleaning his shot-gun, Tom reading slowly the +local paper, published at the Forks, Aunt Kate mending, and Uncle +Henry sitting at the open window with his pipe. + +"Oh, it's gone!" gasped Nan, as she burst into the room. + +"What's gone?" asked Aunt Kate, and Uncle Henry added: "What's +happened to you, honey-bird?" + +"My Beulah!" cried Nan, almost sobbing. "My Beulah, she's been +taken!" + +"My mercy, child!" cried Aunt Kate, jumping up. "Are you crazy?" + +"Who's Beulah?" demanded Rafe, looking up from his gun and, Nan +thought, showing less surprise than the others. + +"My Beulah doll," said Nan, too troubled now to care whether the +family laughed at her or not. "My Beautiful Beulah. Somebody's +played a trick " + +"A doll!" shouted Rafe, and burst into a chatter of laughter. + +"Mercy me, child!" repeated Aunt Kate. "I didn't know you had a +doll." + +"Got a baby rattle, too, Sissy?" chuckled Rafe. "And a ring to +cut your teeth on? My, my!" + +"Stop that, Rafe!"commanded his father, sternly, while Tom +flushed and glared angrily at his brother. + +"I didn't know you had a doll, Nannie," said Mrs. Sherwood, +rather weakly. "Where'd you have it?" + +"In my closet," choked Nan. "She's a great, big, beautiful +thing! I know somebody must be playing a joke on me " + +"Nobody here, Nannie," said Uncle Henry, with decision. "You may +be sure of that." But he looked at Rafe sternly. That young man +thought it the better part of wisdom to say no more. + +In broken sentences the girl told her innocent secret, and why +she had kept the doll hidden. Aunt Kate, after, all, seemed to +understand. + +"My poor dear!" she crooned, patting Nan's hand between her hard +palms. "We'll all look for the dolly. Surely it can't have been +taken out of the house." + +"And who'd even take it out of her closet?" demanded Tom, almost +as stern as his father. + +"It surely didn't walk away of itself," said Aunt Kate. + +She took a small hand lamp and went with Nan to the east chamber. +They searched diligently, but to no good end, save to assure Nan +that Beulah had utterly disappeared. + +As far as could be seen the screens at the windows of the bedroom +had not been disturbed. But who would come in from outside to +steal Nan's doll? Indeed, who would take it out of the closet, +anyway? The girl was almost sure that nobody had known she had +it. It was strange, very strange indeed. + +Big girl that she was, Nan cried herself to sleep that night over +the mystery. The loss of Beulah seemed to snap the last bond +that held her to the little cottage in Amity street, where she +had spent all her happy childhood. + +Chapter XXIV +THE SMOKING TREE + +Nan awoke to a new day with the feeling that the loss of her +treasured doll must have been a bad dream. But it was not. +Another search of her room and the closet assured her that it was +a horrid reality. + +She might have lost many of her personal possessions without a +pang; but not Beautiful Beulah. Nan could not tell her aunt or +the rest of the family just how she felt about it. She was sure +they would not understand. + +The doll had reminded her continually of her home life. Although +the stay of her parents in Scotland was much more extended than +they or Nan had expected, the doll was a link binding the girl to +her old home life which she missed so much. + +Her uncle and aunt had tried to make her happy here at Pine Camp. +As far as they could do so they had supplied the love and care of +Momsey and Papa Sherwood. But Nan was actually ill for her old +home and her old home associations. + +On this morning, by herself in her bedroom, she cried bitterly +before she appeared before the family. + +"I have no right to make them feel miserable just because my, +heart, is, breaking," she sobbed aloud. "I won't let them see +how bad I feel. But if I don't find Beulah, I just know I shall +die!" + +Could she have run to Momsey for comfort it would have helped, +Oh, how much! + +"I am a silly," Nan told herself at last, warmly. "But I cannot +help it. Oh, dear! Where can Beulah have gone?" + +She bathed her eyes well in the cold spring water brought by Tom +that she always found in the jug outside her door in the morning, +and removed such traces of tears as she could; and nobody noticed +when she went out to breakfast that her eyelids were puffy and +her nose a bit red. + +The moment Rafe caught sight of her he began to squall, +supposedly like an infant, crying: + +"Ma-ma! Ma-ma! Tum an' take Too-tums. Waw! Waw! Waw!" + +After all her hurt pride and sorrow, Nan would have called up a +laugh at this. But Tom, who was drinking at the water bucket, +wheeled with the full dipper and threw the contents into Rafe's +face. That broke off the teasing cousin's voice for a moment; +but Rafe came up, sputtering and mad. + +"Say! You big oaf!" he shouted. "What you trying to do?" + +"Trying to be funny," said Tom, sharply. "And you set me the +example." + +"Now, boys!" begged Aunt Kate. "Don't quarrel." + +"And, dear me, boys," gasped Nan, "please don't squabble about +me." + +"That big lummox!" continued Rafe, still angry. "Because dad +backs him up and says he ought to lick me, he does this. I'm +going to defend myself. If he does a thing like that again, I'll +fix him." + +Tom laughed in his slow way and lumbered out. Uncle Henry did +not hear this, and Nan was worried. She thought Aunt Kate was +inclined to side with her youngest boy. Rafe would always be +"the baby" to Aunt Kate. + +At any rate Nan was very sorry the quarrel had arisen over her. +And she was careful to say nothing to fan further the flame of +anger between her cousins. Nor did she say anything more about +the lost doll. So the family had no idea how heartsore and +troubled the girl really was over the mystery. + +It hurt her the more because she could talk to nobody about +Beulah. There was not a soul in whom she could confide. Had +Bess Harley been here at Pine Camp Nan felt that she could not +really expect sympathy from her chum at this time; for Bess +considered herself quite grown up and her own dolls were +relegated to the younger members of her family. + +Nan could write to her chum, however, and did. She could write +to Momsey, and did that, too; not forgetting to tell her absent +parents about old Toby Vanderwiller, and his wife and his +grandson, and of their dilemma. If only Momsey's great fortune +came true, Nan was sure that Gedney Raffer would be paid off and +Toby would no longer have the threat of dispossession held over +him. + +Nan Sherwood wrote, too, to Mr. Mangel, the principal of the +Tillbury High School, and told him about the collection the +crippled grandson of the old lumberman had made, mentioning those +specimens which had impressed her most. She had some hope that +the strange moth might be very valuable. + +Nan was so busy writing letters, and helping Aunt Kate preserve +some early summer fruit, that she did not go far from the house +during the next few days, and so did not see even Margaret +Llewellen. The other girl friends she had made at Pine Camp +lived too far away for her to visit them often or have them come +to call on her. + +A long letter from Papa Sherwood about this time served to take +Nan's mind off the mystery, in part, at least. It was a nice +letter and most joyfully received by the girl; but to her despair +it gave promise of no very quick return of her parents from +Scotland: + +"Those relatives of your mother's whom we have met here, Mr. +Andrew Blake's family, for instance, have treated us most +kindly. They are, themselves, all well-to-do, and gentlefolk as +well. The disposal by Old Hughie Blake, as he was known +hereabout, of his estate makes no difference to the other Blakes +living near Emberon," wrote Mr. Sherwood. + +"It is some kin at a distance, children of a half sister of Old +Hughie, who have made a claim against the estate. Mr. Andrew +Blake, who is well versed in the Scotch law, assures us these +distant relatives have not the shadow of a chance of winning +their suit. He is so sure of this that he has kindly offered to +advance certain sums to your mother to tide us over until the +case is settled. + +"I am sending some money to your Uncle Henry for your use, if any +emergency should arise. You must not look for our return, my +dear Nancy, too soon. Momsey's health is so much improved by the +sea voyage and the wonderfully invigorating air here, that I +should be loath to bring her home at once, even if the matter of +the legacy were settled. By the way, the sum she will finally +receive from Mr. Hugh Blake's estate will be quite as much as the +first letter from the lawyer led us to expect. Some of your +dearest wishes, my dear, may be realized in time." + +"Oh! I can go to Lakeview Hall with Bess, after all!" cried Nan, +aloud, at this point. + +Indeed, that possibility quite filled the girl's mind for a +while. Nothing else in Papa Sherwood's letter, aside from the +good news of Momsey's improved health, so pleased her as this +thought. She hastened to write a long letter to Bess Harley, with +Lakeview Hall as the text. + +Summer seemed to stride out of the forest now, full panoplied. +After the frost and snow of her early days at Pine Camp, Nan had +not expected such heat. The pools beside the road steamed. The +forest was atune from daybreak to midnight with winged denizens, +for insect and bird life seemed unquenchable in the Big Woods. + +Especially was this true of the tamarack swamp. It was +dreadfully hot at noontide on the corduroy road which passed Toby +Vanderwiller's little farm; but often Nan Sherwood went that way +in the afternoon. Mr. Mangel, the school principal, had written +Nan and encouraged her to send a full description of some of +Corson Vanderwiller's collection, especially of the wonderful +death's-head moth, to a wealthy collector in Chicago. Nan did +this at once. + +So, one day, a letter came from the man and in it was a check for +twenty-five dollars. + +"This is a retainer," the gentleman wrote. "I am much interested +in your account of the lame boy's specimens. I want the +strangely marked moth in any case, and the check pays for an +option on it until I can come and see his specimens personally." + +Nan went that very afternoon to the tamarack swamp to tell the +Vanderwillers this news and give Toby the check. She knew poor +Corson would be delighted, for now he could purchase the longed- +for silk dress for his grandmother. + +The day was so hot and the way so long that Nan was glad to sit +down when she reached the edge of the sawdust strip, to rest and +cool off before attempting this unshaded desert. A cardinal bird + one of the sauciest and most brilliant of his saucy and +brilliant race, flitted about her as she sat upon a log. + +"You pretty thing!" crooned Nan. "If it were not wicked I'd wish +to have you at home in a cage. I wish" + +She stopped, for in following the flight of the cardinal her gaze +fastened upon a most surprising thing off at some distance from +the sawdust road. A single dead tree, some forty feet in height +and almost limbless, stood in solemn grandeur in the midst of the +sawdust waste. It had been of no use to the woodcutters and they +had allowed the shell of the old forest monarch to stand. Now, +from its broken top, Nan espied a thin, faint column of blue haze +rising. + +It was the queerest thing! It was not mist, of course and she +did not see how it could be smoke. There was no fire at the foot +of the tree, for she could see the base of the bole plainly. She +even got up and ran a little way out into the open in order to +see the other side of the dead tree. + +The sky was very blue, and the air was perfectly still. Almost +Nan was tempted to believe that her eyes played her false. The +column was almost the color of the sky itself, and it was thin as +a veil. + +How could there be a fire in the top of that tall tree? + +"There just isn't! I don't believe I see straight!" declared Nan +to herself, moving on along the roadway. "But I'll speak to Toby +about it." + +Chapter XXV +THE TEMPEST + +Nan, however, did not mention to Toby the haze rising from the +dead tree. In the first place, when she reached the little farm +on the island in the tamarack swamp, old Toby Vanderwiller was +not at home. His wife greeted the girl warmly, and Corson was +glad to see her. When Nan spread the check before him and told +him what it was for, and what he could do with so much money, the +crippled boy was delighted. + +It was a secret between them that the grandmother was to have the +black silk dress that she had longed for all her married life; +only Nan and Corson knew that Nan was commissioned to get the +check cashed and buy the dress pattern at the Forks; or send to a +catalogue house for it if she could not find a suitable piece of +goods at any of the local stores. + +Nan lingered, hoping that Toby would come home. It finally grew +so late that she dared not wait longer. She had been warned by +Aunt Kate not to remain after dusk in the swamp, nor had she any +desire to do so. + +Moreover there was a black cloud rolling up from the west. That +was enough to make the girl hurry, for when it rained in the +swamp, sometimes the corduroy road was knee deep in water. + +The cloud had increased to such proportions when Nan was half way +across the sawdust desert that she began to run. She had +forgotten all about the smoking tree. + +Not a breath of air was stirring as yet; but there was the +promise of wind in that cloud. The still leaves on the bushes, +the absence of bird life overhead, the lazy drone of insects, +portended a swift change soon. Nan was weather-wise enough to +know that. + +She panted on, stumbling through the loose sawdust, but stumbling +equally in the ruts; for the way was very rough. This road was +lonely enough at best; but it seemed more deserted than ever now. + +A red fox, his tail depressed, shot past her, and not many yards +away. It startled Nan, for it seemed as though something +dreadful was about to happen and the fox knew it and was running +away from it. + +She could not run as fast as the fox; but Nan wished that she +could. And she likewise wished with all her heart that she would +meet somebody. + +That somebody she hoped would be Tom. Tom was drawing logs from +some point near, she knew. A man down the river had bought some +timber and they had been cut a few weeks before. Tom was drawing +them out of the swamp for the man; and he had mentioned only that +morning at breakfast that he was working within sight of the +sawdust tract and the corduroy road. + +Nan felt that she would be safe with big, slow Tom. Even the +thought of thunder and lightning would lose some of its terrors +if she could only get to Tom. + +Suddenly she heard a voice shouting, then the rattle of chain +harness. The voice boomed out a stave of an old hymn: + +"On Jordan's stormy bank I stand, +And cast a wishful eye." + +"It's Tom!" gasped Nan, and ran harder. + +She was almost across the open space now. The cooler depths of +the forest were just ahead. Beyond, a road crossed the mainly- +traveled swamp track at right angles to it, and this was the path +Tom followed. + +He was now coming from the river, going deeper into the swamp for +another log. Nan continued to run, calling to him at the top of +her voice. + +She came in sight of the young timberman and his outfit. His +wagon rattled so that he could not easily hear his cousin calling +to him. He sat on the tongue of the wagon, and his big, slow- +moving horses jogged along, rattling their chains in a jingle +more noisy than harmonious. + +The timber cart was a huge, lumbering affair with ordinary +cartwheels in front but a huge pair behind with an extended reach +between them; and to the axle of the rear pair of wheels the +timber to be transported was swung off the ground and fastened +with chains. Nan ran after the rumbling cart and finally Tom saw +her. + +"My mercy me!" gasped the boy, using one of his mother's favorite +expressions. "What you doing here, Nan?" + +"Chasing you, Tom," laughed the girl. "Is it going to rain?" + +"I reckon. You'll get wet if it does." + +"I don't care so much for that," confessed Nan. "But I am so +afraid of thunder! Oh, there it comes." + +The tempest muttered in the distance. Tom, who had pulled in his +horses and stopped, looked worried. "I wish you weren't here, +Nan," he said. + +"How gallant you are, I declare, Tommy Sherwood," cried Nan, +laughing again, and then shuddering as the growl of the thunder +was repeated. + +"Swamp's no place for a girl in a storm," muttered the boy. + +"Well, I am here, Tommy; what are you going to do with me?" she +asked him, saucily. + +"If you're so scared by thunder you'd better begin by stopping +your ears," he drawled. + +Nan laughed. Slow Tom was not often good at repartee. "I'm +going to stick by you till it's over, Tom," she said, hopping up +behind him on the wagon-tongue. + +"Cracky, Nan! You'll get soaked. It's going to just smoke in a +few minutes," declared the anxious young fellow. + +And that reminded Nan again of the smoking tree. + +"Oh, Tom! Do you know I believe there is a tree afire over +yonder," she cried, pointing. + +"A tree afire?" + +"Yes. I saw it smoking." + +"My mercy me!" exclaimed Tom again. "What do you mean?" + +Nan told him about the mystery. The fact that a column of smoke +arose out of the top of the dead tree seemed to worry Tom. Nan +became alarmed. + +"Oh, dear, Tom! Do you really think it was afire?" + +"I, don't know. If it was afire, it is afire now," he said. +"Show me, Nan." + +He turned the horses out of the beaten track through the brush +and brambles, to the edge of the open place which had been heaped +with sawdust from the steam-mill. + +Just as they broke cover a vivid flash of lightning cleaved the +black cloud that had almost reached the zenith by now, and the +deep rumble of thunder changed to a sharp chatter; then followed +a second flash and a deafening crash. + +"Oh, Tom!" gasped Nan, as she clung to him. + +"The flash you see'll never hit you, Nan," drawled Tom, trying to +be comforting. "Remember that." + +"It isn't so much the lightning I fear as it is the thunder," +murmured Nan, in the intermission. "It just so-o-ounds as though +the whole house was coming down." + +"Ho!" cried Tom. "No house here, Nan." + +"But-----" + +The thunder roared again. A light patter on the leaves and +ground announced the first drops of the storm. + +"Which tree was it you saw smoking?" asked the young fellow. + +Nan looked around to find the tall, broken-topped tree. A murmur +that had been rising in the distance suddenly grew to a sweeping +roar. The trees bent before the blast. Particles of sawdust +stung their faces. The horses snorted and sprang ahead. Tom had +difficulty in quieting them. + +Then the tempest swooped upon them in earnest. + +Chapter XXVI +BUFFETED BY THE ELEMENTS + +Nan knew she had never seen it rain so hard before. The falling +water was like a drop-curtain, swept across the stage of the open +tract of sawdust. In a few minutes they were saturated to the +skin. Nan could not have been any wetter if she had gone in +swimming. + +"Oh!" she gasped into Tom's ear. "It is the deluge!" + +"Never was, but one rain 't didn't clear up yet," he returned, +with difficulty, for his big body was sheltering Nan in part, and +he was facing the blast. + +"I know. That's this one," she agreed. "But, it's awful." + +"Say! Can you point out that tree that smoked?" asked Tom. + +"Goodness! It can't be smoking now," gasped Nan, stifled with +rain and laughter. "This storm would put out Vesuvius." + +"Don't know him," retorted her cousin. "But it'd put most +anybody out, I allow. Still, fire isn't so easy to quench. +Where's the tree?" + +"I can't see it, Tom," declared Nan, with her eyes tightly +closed. She really thought he was too stubborn. Of course, if +there had been any fire in that tree-top, this rain would put it +out in about ten seconds. So Nan believed. + +"Look again, Nan," urged her cousin. "This is no funning. If +there's fire in this swamp " + +"Goodness, gracious!" snapped Nan. "What a fuss-budget you are +to be sure, Tom. If there was a fire, this rain would smother +it. Oh! Did it ever pelt one so before?" + +Fortunately the rain was warm, and she was not much discomforted +by being wet. Tom still clung to the idea that she had started +in his slow mind. + +"Fire's no funning, I tell you," he growled. "Sometimes it +smoulders for days and days, and weeks and weeks; then it bursts +out like a hurricane." + +"But the rain" + +This sawdust is mighty hard-packed, and feet deep," interrupted +Tom. "The fire might be deep down " + +"Why, Tom! How ridiculously you talk!" cried the girl. "Didn't +I tell you I saw the smoke coming out of the top of a tree? Fire +couldn't be deep down in the sawdust and the smoke come out of +the tree top." + +"Couldn't, heh?" returned Tom. "Dead tree, wasn't it?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"Hollow, too, of course?" + +"I don't know." + +"Might be hollow clear through its length," Tom explained +seriously. "The butt might be all rotted out. Just a tough +shell of a tree standing there, and 'twould be a fine chimney if +the fire was smouldering down at its old roots." + +"Oh, Tom! I never thought of such a thing," gasped Nan. + +"And you don't see the tree now?" + +"Let me look! Let me look!" cried Nan, conscience-stricken. + +In spite of the beating rain and wind she got to her knees, still +clinging to her big cousin, and then stood upon the broad tongue +of the wagon. The horses stood still with their heads down, +bearing the buffeting of the storm with the usual patience of +dumb beasts. + +A sheer wall of water seemed to separate them from every object +out upon the open land. Behind them the bulk of the forest +loomed as another barrier. Nan had really never believed that +rain could fall so hard. It almost took her breath. + +Moreover, what Tom said about the smoking tree began to trouble +the girl. She thought of the fire at Pale Lick, of which she had +received hints from several people. That awful conflagration, in +which she believed two children belonging to her uncle and aunt +had lost their lives, had started in the sawdust. + +Suddenly she cried aloud and seized Tom more tightly. + +"Cracky! Don't choke a fellow!" he coughed. + +"Oh, Tom!" + +"Well" + +"I think I see it." + +"The tree that smoked?" asked her cousin. + +"Yes. There!" + +For the moment it seemed as though the downpour lightened. +Veiled by the still falling water a straight stick rose high in +the air ahead of them. Tom chirruped to the horses and made +them, though unwilling, go forward. + +They dragged the heavy cart unevenly. Through the heavy downpour +the trail was hard to follow, and once in a while a rear wheel +bumped over a stump, and Nan was glad to drop down upon the +tongue again, and cling more tightly than ever to her cousin's +collar. + +"Sure that's it?" queried Tom, craning his neck to look up into +the tall, straight tree. + +"I, I'm almost sure," stammered Nan. + +"I, don't, see, any, smoke," drawled Tom, with his head still +raised. + +The rain had almost ceased, an intermission which would not be +of long duration. Nan saw that her cousin's prophecy had been +true; the ground actually smoked after the downpour. The sun- +heated sawdust steamed furiously. They seemed to be crossing a +heated cauldron. Clouds of steam rose all about the timber cart. + +"Why, Tommy!" Nan choked. "It does seem as though there must be +fire under this sawdust now." + +Tom brought his own gaze down from the empty tree-top with a +jerk. "Hoo!" he shouted, and leaned forward suddenly to flick +his off horse with the whiplash. Just then the rear wheel on +that side slumped down into what seemed a veritable volcano. + +Flame and smoke spurted out around the broad wheel. Nan +screamed. The wind suddenly swooped down upon them, and a ball +of fire, flaming sawdust was shot into the air and was +tossed twenty feet by a puff of wind. + +"We're over an oven!" gasped Tom, and laid the whip solidly +across the backs of the frightened horses. + +They plunged. Another geyser of fire and smoke spurted from the +hole into which the rear wheel had slumped. Again and again the +big horses flung themselves into the collars in an endeavor to +get the wheel out. + +"Oh, Tommy!" cried Nan. "We'll be burned up!" + +"No you won't," declared her cousin, leaping down. "Get off and +run, Nan." + +"But you," + +"Do as I say!" commanded Tom. "Run!" + +"Where, where'll I run to?" gasped the girl, leaping off the +tongue, too, and away from the horses' heels. + +"To the road. Get toward home!" cried Tom, running around to the +rear of the timber cart. + +"And leave you here?" cried Nan. "I guess not, Mr. Tom!" she +murmured. + +But he did not hear that. He had seized his axe and was striding +toward the edge of the forest. For a moment Nan feared that Tom +was running away as he advised her to do. But that would not be +like Tom Sherwood! + +At the edge of the forest he laid the axe to the root of a +sapling about four inches through at the butt. Three strokes, +and the tree was down. In a minute he had lopped off the +branches for twenty feet, then removed the top with a single +blow. + +As he turned, dragging the pole with him, up sprang the fire +again from the hollow into which the wheel of the wagon had sunk. +It was a smoking furnace down there, and soon the felloe and +spokes would be injured by the flames and heat. Sparks flew on +the wings of the wind from out of the mouth of the hole. Some of +them scattered about the horses and they plunged again, +squealing. + +It seemed to Nan impossible after the recent cloudburst that the +fire could find anything to feed upon. But underneath the packed +surface of the sawdust, the heat of summer had been drying out +the moisture for weeks. And the fire had been smouldering for a +long time. Perhaps for yards and yards around, the interior of +the sawdust heap was a glowing furnace. + +Nan would not run away and Tom did not see her. As he came +plunging back to the stalled wagon, suddenly his foot slumped +into the yielding sawdust and he fell upon his face. He cried +out with surprise or pain. Nan, horrified, saw the flames and +smoke shooting out of the hole into which her cousin had stepped. +For the moment the girl felt as if her heart had stopped beating. + +"Oh, Tom! Oh, Tom!" she shrieked, and sprang toward him. + +Tom was struggling to get up. His right leg had gone into the +yielding mass up to his hip, and despite his struggles he could +not get it out. A long yellow flame shot out of the hole and +almost licked his face. It, indeed, scorched his hair on one +side of his head. + +But Nan did not scream again. She needed her breath, all that +she could get, for a more practical purpose. Her cousin waved +her back feebly, and tried to tell her to avoid the fire. + +Nan rushed in, got behind him, and seized her cousin under the +arms. To lift him seemed a giant's task; but nevertheless she +tried. + +Chapter XXVII +OLD TOBY IN TROUBLE + +The squealing and plunging of the horses, the rattling of their +chains, the shrieking of the wind, the reverberating cracks of +thunder made a deafening chorus in Nan's ears. She could +scarcely hear what the imperiled Tom shouted to her. Finally she +got it: + +"Not that way! Pull sideways!" + +He beat his hands impotently upon the crust of sawdust to the +left. Nan tugged that way. Tom pulled, too, heaving his great +body upward, and scratching and scrambling along the sawdust with +fingers spread like claws. His right leg came out of the hole, +and just then the rain descended torrentially again. + +The flames from this opening in the roof of the furnace were +beaten down. Tom got to his feet, shaking and panting. He +hobbled painfully when he walked. + +But in a moment he seized upon the pole he had dropped and made +for the smoking timber cart. The terrified horses tried again +and again to break away; but the chain harnesses were too strong; +nor did the mired wheel budge. + +"Oh, Tom! Oh, Tom!" begged Nan. "Let us make the poor horses +free, and run ourselves." + +"And lose my wagon?" returned her cousin, grimly. "Not much!" + +The rain, which continued to descend with tropical violence, +almost beat Nan to the ground; but Tom Sherwood worked furiously. + +He placed the butt of the lever he had cut under the hub of the +great wheel. There was a sound stump at hand to use as a +fulcrum. Tom threw himself upon the end of the lever. Nan ran +to add her small weight to the endeavor. The wheel creaked and +began to rise slowly. + +The sawdust was not clinging, it was not like real mire. There +was no suction to hold the wheel down. Merely the crust had +broken in and the wheel had encountered an impediment of a sound +tree root in front of it so that, when the horses tugged, the +tire had come against the root and dragged back the team. + +Out poured the flames and smoke again, the flames hissing as they +were quenched by the falling water. Higher, higher rose the cart +wheel. Nan, who was behind her cousin, saw his neck and ears +turn almost purple from the strain he put in the effort to +dislodge the wheel. Up, up it came, and then----- + +"Gid-ap! 'Ap, boys! Yah! Gid-ap!" + +The horses strained. The yoke chains rattled. Tom gasped to +Nan: + +"Take my whip! Quick! Let 'em have it!" + +The girl had always thought the drover's whip Tom used a very +cruel implement, and she wished he did not use it. But she knew +now that it was necessary. She leaped for the whip which Tom had +thrown down and showed that she knew its use. + +The lash hissed and cracked over the horses' backs. Tom voiced +one last, ringing shout. The cart wheel rose up, the horses +leaped forward, and the big timber cart was out of its plight. + +Flames and smoke poured out of the hole again. The rain dashing +upon and into the aperture could not entirely quell the stronger +element. But the wagon was safe, and so, too, were the two +cousins. + +Tom was rather painfully burned and Nan began to cry about it. +"Oh! Oh! You poor, poor dear!" she sobbed. "It must smart you +dreadfully, Tommy." + +"Don't worry about me," he answered. "Get aboard. Let's get out +of this." + +"Are you going home?" + +"Bet you!" declared Tom. "Why, after this rain stops, this whole +blamed place may be in flames. Must warn folks and get out the +fire guard." + +"But the rain will put out the fire, Tom," said Nan, who could +not understand even now the fierce power of a conflagration of +this kind. + +"Look there!" yelled Tom, suddenly glancing back over her head as +she sat behind him on the wagon tongue. + +With a roar like an exploding boiler, the flames leaped up the +heart of the hollow tree. The bursted crust of the sawdust heap +had given free ingress to the wind, and a draught being started, +it sucked the flames directly up the tall chimney the tree made. + +The fire burst from the broken top. The flames met the falling +rain as though they were unquenchable. Indeed the clouds were +scattering, and second by second the downfall was decreasing. +The tempest of rain was almost over; but the wind remained to fan +the flames that had now broken cover in several spots, as well as +through the tall and hollow tree. + +Tom hastened his team toward the main road that passed through +the tamarack swamp. At one end of it was Pine Camp; in the other +direction, after passing the knoll on which the Vanderwillers +lived, the roadway came out upon a more traveled road to the +forks and the railroad. + +Pine Camp was the nearest place where help could be secured to +beat down the fire, if, indeed, this were at all possible. +There was a telephone line there which, in a roundabout way, +could be made to carry the news of the forest fire to all the +settlements in the Big Woods and along the railroad line. + +But Nan seized Tom's arm and shook it to call his attention as +the horses neared the road. + +"Tom! For goodness' sake!" she gasped. + +"What's the matter now?" her cousin demanded, rather sharply, for +his burns were painful. + +"Toby, the Vanderwillers! What will become of them?" + +"What d'you mean?" asked Tom, aghast. + +"That poor cripple! They can't get away, he and his +grandmother. Perhaps Toby hasn't come home yet " + +"And the wind's that way," Tom interrupted. + +It was indeed. The storm had come up from the west and the wind +was still blowing almost directly into the east. A sheet of +flame flew from the top of the old dead tree even as the boy +spoke, and was carried toward the thick forest. It did not reach +it, and as the blazing brand fell it was quenched on the wet +surface of the sawdust. + +Nevertheless, the fire was spreading under the crust and soon the +few other dead trees left standing on the tract would burst into +flame. As they looked, the fire burst out at the foot of the +tree and began to send long tongues of flame licking up the +shredded bark. + +The effect of the drenching rain would soon be gone and the fire +would secure great headway. + +"Those poor folks are right in the track of the fire, I allow," +admitted Tom. "I wonder if he's got a good wide fire strip +ploughed?" + +"Oh! I know what you mean," Nan cried. "You mean all around the +edge of his farm where it meets the woods?" + +"Yes. A ploughed strip may save his buildings. Fire can't +easily cross ploughed ground. Only, if these woods get really +ablaze, the fire will jump half a mile!" + +"Oh no, Tom! You don't mean that?" + +"Yes, I do," said her cousin, gloomily. "Tobe's in a bad place. +You don't know what a forest fire means, nor the damage it does, +Nannie. I'm right troubled by old Tobe's case." + +"But there's no danger for Pine Camp, is there?" asked the girl, +eagerly. + +"Plenty of folks there to make a fire-guard. Besides, the wind's +not that way, exactly opposite. And she's not likely to switch +around so soon, neither. I, don't, know" + +"The folks at home ought to know about it," Nan interrupted. + +"They'll know it, come dark," Tom said briefly. "They'll be +looking for you and they'll see the blaze. Why! After dark that +old dead tree will look like a lighthouse for miles 'n' miles!" + +"I suppose it will," agreed Nan. "But I do want to get home, +Tom." + +"Maybe the storm's not over," said her cousin, cocking an eye +towards the clouded heavens. "If it sets in for a long rain (and +one's due about this time according to the Farmer's Almanac) it +would keep the fire down, put it out entirely, maybe. But we +can't tell." + +Nan sighed and patted his shoulder. "I know it's our duty to go +to the island, Tommy. You're a conscientious old thing. Drive +on." + +Tom clucked to the horses. He steered them into the roadway, but +headed away from home. Another boy with the pain he was bearing +would not have thought of the old lumberman and his family. They +were the only people likely to be in immediate danger from the +fire if it spread. The cousins might easily reach the +Vanderwiller's island, warn them of the fire, and return to town +before it got very late, or before the fire crossed the wood- +road. + +They rumbled along, soon striking the corduroy road, having the +thick forest on either hand again. The ditches were running bank +full. Over a quagmire the logs, held down by cross timbers +spiked to the sleepers, shook under the wheels, and the water +spurted up through the interstices as the horses put down their +heavy feet. + +"An awful lot of water fell," Tom said soberly. + +"Goodness! The swamp is full," agreed Nan. + +"We may have some trouble in reaching Toby's place," the boy +added. "But maybe," + +He halted in his speech, and the next instant pulled the horses +down to a willing stop. "Hark-a-that!" whispered Tom. + +"Can it be anybody crying? Maybe it's a wildcat," said Nan, with +a vivid remembrance of her adventure in the snow that she had +never yet told to any member of the family. + +"It's somebody shouting, all right," observed Tom. "Up ahead a +way. Gid-ap!" + +He hurried the horses on, and they slopped through the water +which, in places, flowed over the road, while in others it +actually lifted the logs from their foundation and threatened to +spoil the roadway entirely. + +Again and again they heard the faint cry, a man's voice. Tom +stood up and sent a loud cry across the swamp in answer: + +"We're coming! Hold on! + +"Don't know what's the matter with him," he remarked, dropping +down beside Nan again, and stirring the horses to a faster pace. +"S'pose he's got into a mud-hold, team and all, maybe." + +"Oh, Tom! Maybe he'll be sucked right down into this awful mud." + +"Not likely. There aren't many quicksands, or the like, +hereabout. Never heard tell of 'em, if there are. Old Tobe lost +a cow once in some slough " + +They came to a small opening in the forest just then. Here a +great tree had been uprooted by the wind and leaned precariously +over a quagmire beside the roadway. Fortunately only some of the +lower branches touched the road line and Tom could get his team +around them. + +Then the person in trouble came into sight. Nan and her cousin +saw him immediately. He was in the middle of the shaking morass +waist deep in the mire, and clinging to one of the small hanging +limbs of the uprooted tree. + +"Hickory splits!" ejaculated Tom, stopping the team. "It's old +Tobe himself! Did you ever see the like!" + +Chapter XXVIII +THE GIRL IN THE HOLLOW TREE + +Just why old Toby Vanderwiller was clinging to that branch and +did not try to wade ashore, neither Nan nor Tom could understand. +But one thing was plain: the old lumberman thought himself in +danger, and every once in a while he gave out a shout for help. +But his voice was growing weak. + +"Hey, Tobe!" yelled Tom. "Why don't you wade ashore?" + +"There ye be, at last, hey?" snarled the old man, who was +evidently just as angry as he could be. "Thought ye'd never +come. Hearn them horses rattling their chains, must ha' been for +an hour." + +"That's stretching it some," laughed Tom. "That tree hasn't been +toppled over an hour." + +"Huh! Ye can't tell me nothin' 'beout that!" declared Toby. "I +was right here when it happened." + +"Goodness1" gasped Nan. + +"Yep. And lemme tell ye, I only jest 'scaped being knocked down +when she fell." + +"My!" murmured Nan again. + +"That's how I got inter this muck hole," growled the old +lumberman. "I jumped ter dodge the tree, and landed here." + +"Why don't you wade ashore?" demanded Tom again, preparing in a +leisurely manner to cast the old man the end of a line he had +coiled on the timber cart. + +"Yah!" snarled Toby. "Why don't Miz' Smith keep pigs? Don't ax +fool questions, Tommy, but gimme holt on that rope. I'm afraid +ter let go the branch, for I'll sink, and if I try ter pull +myself up by it, the whole blamed tree'll come down onter me. Ye +see how it's toppling?" + +It was true that the fallen tree was in a very precarious +position. When Toby stirred at all, the small weight he rested +on the branch made the head of the tree dip perilously. And if +it did fall the old man would be thrust into the quagmire by the +weight of the branches which overhung his body. + +"Let go of it, Toby!" called Tom, accelerating his motions. +"Catch this!" + +He flung the coil with skill and Toby seized it. The rocking +tree groaned and slipped forward a little. Toby gave a yell that +could have been heard much farther than his previous cries. + +But Tom sank back on the taut rope and fairly jerked the old man +out of the miry hole. Scrambling on hands and knees, Toby +reached firmer ground, and then the road itself. + +Nan uttered a startled exclamation and cowered behind the cart. +The huge tree, groaning and its roots splintering, sagged down +and, in an instant, the spot there the old lumberman had been, +was completely covered by the interlacing branches of the +uprooted tree. + +"Close squeal, that," remarked Tom, helping the old man to his +feet. + +Toby stared at them both, wiping the mire from his face as he did +so. He was certainly a scarecrow figure after his submersion in +the mud; gut Nan did not feel like laughing at him. The escape +had been too narrow. + +"Guess the Almighty sent you just in time, Tom, my boy," said +Toby Vanderwiller. "He must have suthin' more for the old man to +do yet, before he cashes in. And little Sissy, too. Har! Henry +Sherwood's son and Henry Sherwood's niece. Reckon I owe him a +good turn," he muttered. + +Nan heard this, though Tom did not, and her heart leaped. She +hoped that Toby would feel sufficient gratitude to help Uncle +Henry win his case against Gedney Raffer. But, of course, this +was not the time to speak of it. + +When the old lumberman heard about the fire in the sawdust he was +quite as excited as the young folk had been. It was fast growing +dark now, but it was impossible from the narrow road to see even +the glow of the fire against the clouded sky. + +"I believe it's goin' to open up and rain ag'in," Toby said. +"But if you want to go on and plow me a fire-strip, Tommy, I'll +be a thousand times obleeged to you." + +"That's what I came this way for," said the young fellow briefly. +"Hop on and we'll go to the island as quickly as possible." + +They found Mrs. Vanderwiller and the crippled boy anxiously +watching the flames in the tree top from the porch of the little +house on the island. Nan ran to them to relate their adventures, +while Toby got out the plow and Tom hitched his big horses to it. + +The farm was not fenced, for the road and forest bounded it +completely. Tom put the plow in at the edge of the wood and +turned his furrows toward it, urging the horses into a trot. It +was not that the fire was near; but the hour was growing late and +Tom knew that his mother and father would be vastly anxious about +Nan. + +The young fellow made twelve laps, turning twelve broad furrows +that surely would guard the farm against any ordinary fire. But +by the time he was done it did not look as though the fire in the +sawdust would spread far. The clouds were closing up once more +and it was again raining, gently but with an insistence that +promised a night of downpour, at least. + +Old Mrs. Vanderwiller had made supper, and insisted upon their +eating before starting for Pine Camp. And Tom, at least, did his +share with knife and fork, while his horses ate their measure of +corn in the paddock. It was dark as pitch when they started for +home, but Tom was cheerful and sure of his way, so Nan was +ashamed to admit that she was frightened. + +"Tell yer dad I'll be over ter Pine Camp ter see him 'fore many +days," Old Toby jerked out, as they were starting. "I got +suthin' to say to him, I have!" + +Tom did not pay much attention to this; but Nan did. Her heart +leaped for joy. She believed that Toby Vanderwiller's words +promised help for Uncle Henry. + +But she said nothing to Tom about it. She only clung to his +shoulder as the heavy timber cart rattled away from the island. + +A misty glow hung over the sawdust strip as they advanced; but +now that the wind had died down the fire could not spread. +Beside the road the glow worms did their feeble best to light the +way; and now and then an old stump in the swamp displayed a +ghostly gleam of phosphorus. + +Nan had never been in the swamp before at night. The rain had +driven most of the frogs and other croaking creatures to cover. +But now and then a sudden rumble "Better-go-roun'!" or "Knee- +deep! Knee-deep!" proclaimed the presence of the green- +jacketed gentlemen with the yellow vests. + +"Goodness me! I'd be scared to death to travel this road by +myself," Nan said, as they rode on. "The frogs make such awful +noises." + +"But frogs won't hurt you," drawled Tom. + +"I know all that," sighed Nan. "But they sound as if they would. +There! That one says, just as plain as plain can be, 'Throw 'im +in! Throw 'im in!" + +"Good!" chuckled Tom. "And there's a drunken old rascal calling: +'Jug-er-rum! Jug-er-rum!'!" + +A nighthawk, wheeling overhead through the rain, sent down her +discordant cry. Deep in a thicket a whip-poor-will complained. +It was indeed a ghostly chorus that attended their slow progress +through the swamp at Pine Camp. + +When they crossed the sawdust tract there was little sign of the +fire. The dead tree had fallen and was just a glowing pile of +coals, fast being quenched by the gently falling rain. For the +time, at least, the danger of a great conflagration was past. + +"Oh! I am so glad," announced Nan, impetuously. "I was afraid +it was going to be like that Pale Lick fire." + +"What Pale Lick fire?" demanded Tom, quickly. "What do you know +about that?" + +"Not much, I guess," admitted his cousin, slowly. "But you used +to live there, didn't you?" + +"Rafe and I don't remember anything about it," said Tom, in his +quiet way. "Rafe was a baby and I wasn't much better. Marm +saved us both, so we've been told. She and dad never speak +about it." + +"Oh! And Indian Pete?" whispered Nan. + +"He saved the whole of us - dad and all. He knew a way out +through a slough and across a lake. He had a dug-out. He got +badly burned dragging dad to the boat when he was almost +suffocated with smoke," Tom said soberly. + +"'Tisn't anything we talk about much, Nan. "Who told you?" + +"Oh, it's been hinted to me by various people," said Nan, slowly. +"But I saw Injun Pete, Tom." + +"When? He hasn't been to Pine Camp since you came." + +Nan told her cousin of her adventure in the hollow near +Blackton's lumber camp. Tom was much excited by that. + +"Gracious me, Nan! But you are a plucky girl. Wait till Rafe +hears about it. And marm and dad will praise you for being so +level-headed today. Aren't many girls like you, Nan, I bet!" + +"Nor boys like you, Tom," returned the girl, shyly. "How brave +you were, staying to pull that old wagon-wheel out of the fire." + +"Ugh1" growled Tom. "A fat time I'd have had there if it hadn't +been for you helping me out of the oven. Cracky! I thought I +was going to have my leg burned to a cinder. + +"That would have been terrible!" shuddered Nan. "What would poor +Aunt Kate have said?" + +"We can't tell her anything about it," Tom hastened to say. "You +see, my two older brothers, Jimmy and Alfred, were asleep in the +garret of our house at Pale Lick, and marm thought they'd got +out. It wasn't until afterward that she learned they'd been +burned up with the house. She's never got over it." + +"I shouldn't think she would," sighed Nan. + +"And you see she's awfully afraid of fire, even now," said Tom. + +They rattled on over the logs of the road; here and there they +came to bad places, where the water had not gone down; and the +horses were very careful in putting their hoofs down upon the +shaking logs. However, it was not much over an hour after +leaving the island that they spied the lights of Pine Camp from +the top of the easy rise leading out of the tamarack swamp. + +They met Rafe with a lantern half way down the hill. Uncle Henry +was away and Aunt Kate had sent Rafe out to look for Nan, +although she supposed that the girl had remained at the +Vanderwillers' until the rain was over, and that Toby would bring +her home. + +There was but one other incident of note before the three of them +reached the rambling house Uncle Henry had built on the outskirts +of Pine Camp. As they turned off the swamp road through the lane +that ran past the Llewellen cottage, Rafe suddenly threw the ray +of his lantern into a hollow tree beside the roadway. A small +figure was there, and it darted back out of sight. + +"There!" shouted Rafe. "I knew you were there, you little +nuisance. What did you run out of the house and follow me for, +Mar'gret Llewellen?" + +He jumped in and seized the child, dragging her forth from the +hollow of the big tree. He held her, while she squirmed and +screamed. + +"You lemme alone, Rafe Sherwood! Lemme alone!" she commanded. +"I ain't doin' nothin' to you." + +"Well, I bet you are up to some monkey-shines, out this time of +night," said Rafe, giving her a little shake. "You come on back +home, Mag." + +"I won't!" declared the girl. + +"Yes, do, Margaret," begged Nan. "It's going to rain harder. +Don't hurt her, Rafe." + +"Yah! You couldn't hurt her," said Rafe. "She's as tough as a +little pine-knot, and don't you forget it! Aren't you, Mag?" + +"Lemme go!" repeated Margaret, angrily. + +"What did you chase down here after me for?" asked Rafe, the +curious. + +"I, I thought mebbe you was comin' to hunt for something," +stammered the girl. + +"So I was. For Nancy here," laughed Rafe. + +"Thought 'twas somethin' of mine," said the girl. "Lemme go +now!" + +She jerked away her hand and scuttled into the house that they +were then just passing. + +"Wonder what the little imp came out to watch me for?" queried +Rafe. + +After they had arrived at home and the excitement o the return +was over; after she and Tom had told as much of their adventures +as they thought wise, and Nan had retired to the east chamber, +she thought again about Margaret and her queer actions by the +roadside. + +"Why, that tree is where Margaret hides her most precious +possessions," said Nan, suddenly, sitting up in bed. "Why, what +could it be she was afraid Rafe would find there? Why can that +child have hidden something there that she doesn't want any of us +to see?" + +Late as it was, and dark as it was, and stormy as the night was, +she felt that she must know immediately what Margaret Llewellen +had hidden in the hollow tree. + +Chapter XXIX +GREAT NEWS FROM SCOTLAND + +Nan put two and two together, and the answer came right. + +She got out of bed, lit her lamp again and began to dress. She +turned her light down to a dim glimmer, however, for she did not +want her aunt to look out of the window of her bedroom on the +other side of the parlor and catch a glimpse of her light. + +In the half darkness Nan made a quick toilet; and then, with her +raincoat on and hood over her head, she hesitated with her hand +upon the knob of the door. + +"If I go through the parlor and out the side door, Aunt Kate will +hear me," thought Nan. "That won't do at all." + +She looked at the further window. Outside the rain was pattering +and there was absolutely no light. In the pocket of her raincoat +Nan had slipped the electric torch she had brought from home, +something of which Aunt Kate cordially approved, and was always +begging Uncle Henry to buy one like it. + +The pocket lamp showed her the fastenings of the screen. Tom had +made it to slide up out of the way when she wanted to open or +close the sash. And, as far as she could see, any one could open +it from the outside as easily as from the room itself. + +"And that's just what she did," decided Nan. "How foolish of me +not to think of it before." + +With this enigmatical observation Nan prepared to leave the room +by this very means. She was agile, and the sill of the window +was only three feet from the ground. It was through this opening +that she had helped Margaret Llewellen into her room on the first +occasion that odd child had visited her. + +Nan jumped out, let the screen down softly, and hurried across +the unfenced yard to the road. She knew well enough when she +reached the public track, despite the darkness for the mirey clay +stuck to her shoes and made the walking difficult. + +She flashed her lamp once, to get her bearings, and then set off +down the lane toward the swamp road. There was not a light in +any house she passed, not even in Mr. Fen Llewellen's cottage. +"I guess Margaret's fast asleep," murmured Nan, as she passed +swiftly on. + +The rain beat down upon the girl steadily, and Nan found it +shivery out here in the dark and storm. However, her reason for +coming, Nan conceived, was a very serious one. This was no +foolish escapade. + +By showing her light now and then she managed to follow the dark +lane without stepping off into any of the deep puddles which lay +beside the path. She came, finally, to the spot where Rafe had +met her and Tom with his lantern that evening. Here stood the +great tree with a big hollow in it, Margaret Llewellen's +favorite playhouse. + +For a moment Nan hesitated. The place looked so dark and there +might be something alive in the hollow. + +But she plucked up courage and flashed her lamp into it. The +white ray played about the floor of the hollow. The other +Llewellen children dared not come here, for Margaret punished +them if they disturbed anything belonging to her. + +What Nan was looking for was not in sight. She stepped inside, +and raised the torch. The rotting wood had been neatly scooped +out, and where the aperture grew smaller at the top a wide shelf +had been made by the ingenious Margaret. Nan had never been in +this hide-out before. + +"It must be here! It must be here!" she kept telling herself, +and stood on her tiptoes to feel along the shelf, which was above +her head. + +Nan discovered nothing at first. She felt along the entire +length of the shelf again. Nothing! + +"I know better!" she almost sobbed. "My dear, beautiful " + +She jumped up, feeling back on the shelf with her right hand. +Her fingers touched something, and it was not the rotting wood +of the tree! + +"It's there!" breathed the excited girl. She flashed her lamp +around, searching for something to stand upon. There in the +corner was a roughly made footstool. + +In a moment Nan had the footstool set in position, and had +stepped upon it. Her hand darted to the back of the shelf. +There was a long box, a pasteboard box. + +Nan dropped her lamp with a little scream of ecstasy, and of +course the light went out. But she had the long box clasped in +her arms. She could not wait to get home with it, but tumbled +off the stool and sat down upon it, picked up the torch, held it +so the round spot-light gave her illumination, and untied the +string. + +Off came the cover. She peeped within. The pink and white +loveliness of Beulah's wax features peered up at her. + +In fifteen minutes Nan was back in her room, without being +discovered by anybody, and with the doll safely clasped in her +arms. Indeed, she went to bed a second time that night with her +beloved playmate lying on the pillow beside her, just as she had +done when a little girl. + +"I suppose I'm foolish," she confessed to Aunt Kate the next +morning when she told her about it. "But I loved Beulah so much +when I was little that I can't forget her now. If I go to +Lakeview Hall I'm going to take her with me. I don't care what +the other girls say!" + +"You are faithful in your likes, child," said Aunt Kate nodding. +"'Tis a good trait. But I'd like to lay that Marg'ret Llewellen +across my knee, for her capers." + +"And I didn't think she cared for dolls," murmured Nan. + +But it was young Bob who betrayed the mysterious reason for his +sister's act. + +"Huh!" he said, with a boy's disgust for such things. "Mag's +crazy about pretty faces, if they're smooth, an' pink. She +peeked into that Sherwood gal's room and seed her playin' doll; +then she had ter have it for herself 'cause it was so pretty and +had a smooth face, not like the kids' dolls that Aunt Matildy +buyed." + +Poor little Margaret was greatly chagrined at the discovery of +her secret. She ran away into the woods whenever she saw Nan +coming, for a long time thereafter. It took weeks for the girl +from Tillbury to regain the half-wild girl's confidence again. + +Nan was just as busy and happy as she could be, considering the +uncertain news from Scotland and Uncle Henry's unfortunate affair +with Gedney Raffer. She helped Aunt Kate with the housework +early every morning so that they might both hurry into the woods +to pick berries. + +Pine Camp was in the midst of a vast huckleberry country, and at +the Forks a cannery had been established. Beside, the Forks was +a big shipping centre for the fresh berries. + +Uncle Henry bought crates and berry "cups," and sometimes the +whole family picked all day long in the berry pasture, taking +with them a cold luncheon, and eating it picnic fashion. + +It was great fun, Nan thought, despite the fact that she often +came home so wearied that her only desire was to drop into bed. +But the best part of it, the saving grace of all this toil, was +the fact that she was earning money for herself! Account was +faithfully kept of every cup of berries she picked, and, when +Uncle Henry received his check from the produce merchant to whom +he shipped the berries, Nan was paid her share. + +These welcome earnings she saved for a particular purpose, and +for no selfish one, you may be sure. Little Margaret Llewellen +still ran from her and Nan wished to win the child back; so she +schemed to do this. + +After all, there was something rather pitiful in the nature of +the child who so disliked any face that was "wizzled," but loved +those faces that were fair and smooth. + +Margaret only possessed a feeling that is quite common to +humanity; she being such a little savage, she openly expressed an +emotion that many of us have, but try to hide. + +The Llewellen children picked berries, of course, as did most of +the other neighbors. Pine Camp was almost a "deserted village" +during the season when the sweet, blue fruit hung heavy on the +bushes. + +Sometimes the Sherwood party, and the Llewellens, would cross +each others' paths in the woods, or pastures; but little Margaret +always shrank into the background. If Nan tried to surprise her, +the half wild little thing would slip away into the deeper woods +like one of its own denizens. + +Near the river one day Margaret had an experience that should +have taught her a lesson, however, regarding wandering alone in +the forest. And the adventure should, too, have taught the child +not to shrink so from an ugly face. + +Nan had something very important to tell Margaret. Her savings +had amounted to quite a goodly sum and in the catalog of a mail- +order house she had found something of which she wished to secure +Margaret's opinion. The child, as usual, ran away when they met, +and even Bob could not bring her back. + +"She's as obstinate as dad's old mu-el," grunted the disgusted +boy. "Can't do a thing with her, Nan Sherwood." + +"I'll just get her myself!" declared Nan, laughing, and she +started into the thicker woods to circumvent Margaret. She did +not follow the river as the smaller girl had, but struck into the +bush, intending to circle around and head Margaret off. + +She had not pushed her way through the clinging vines and brush +for ten minutes before she heard somebody else in the jungle. +She thought it was the little girl, at first; then she caught +sight of a man's hat and knew that Margaret did not wear a hat at +all. + +"Goodness! Who can that be?" thought Nan. She was a little +nervous about approaching strange people in the wood; although at +this season there was nothing to apprehend from stragglers, there +were so many berry pickers within call. + +Nan did not seek to overtake the man, however, and would have +kept on in her original direction, had she not heard a cry and a +splitting crash toward the river bank. Some accident had +happened, and when Nan heard the scream repeated, she was sure +that the voice was that of Margaret. + +So she set off directly, on a run, tearing her dress and +scratching her hands and face, but paying no attention to either +misfortune. She only wanted to get to the scene of the accident +and lend her aid, if it was needed. + +And it would have been needed if it had not been for the man +whose hat she had seen a few moments before. He made his passage +through the bush much quicker than could Nan, and when the latter +reached an opening where she could see the river, the stranger +was just leaping into the deep pool under the high bank. + +It was plain to be seen what had happened. A sycamore overhung +the river and somebody had climbed out upon a small branch to +reach a few half-ripened grapes growing on a vine that ran up the +tree. + +The branch had split, drooping downward, and the adventurous +grape-gatherer had been cast into the water. + +"Oh, Margaret!" screamed Nan, confident that it was the reckless +child that was in peril. + +She hurried to the brink of the low bluff, from which the rescuer +had plunged. He had already seized the child (there was an eddy +here under the bank) and was striking out for the shore. Nan saw +his wet face, with the bedraggled hair clinging about it. + +It was the awfully scarred face of Injun Pete; but to the excited +Nan, at that moment, it seemed one of the most beautiful faces +she had ever seen! + +The Indian reached the bank, clung to a tough root, and lifted up +the gasping Margaret for Nan to reach. The girl took the child +and scrambled up the bank again; by the time she was at the top, +Injun Pete was beside her. + +"She not hurt, Little missy," said the man, in his soft voice, +and turning his face so that Nan should not see it. "She just +scared." + +Margaret would not even cry. She was too plucky for that. When +she got her breath she croaked: + +"Put me down, Nan Sherwood. I ain't no baby." + +"But you're a very wet child," said Nan, laughing, yet on the +verge of tears herself. "You might have been drowned, you WOULD +have been had it not been for Mr. Indian Pete." + +"Ugh!" whispered Margaret. "I seen him when I come up out o' +that nasty water. I wanted to go down again." + +"Hush, Margaret!" cried Nan, sternly. "You must thank him." + +The man was just then moving away. He shook himself like a dog +coming out of the stream, and paid no further attention to his +own wet condition. + +"Wait, please!" Nan called after him. + +"She all right now," said the Indian. + +"But Margaret wants to thank you, don't you, Margaret?" + +"Much obleeged," said the little girl, bashfully. "You air all +right, you air." + +"That all right, that all right," said the man, hurriedly. "No +need to thank me." + +"Yes, there is," said Nan, insistently. "Come here, please. +Margaret wants to kiss you for saving her life." + +"Oh!" The word came out of Margaret's lips like an explosion. +Nan stared very sternly at her. "If you don't," she said in a +low tone, "I'll tell your father all about how you came to fall +into the river." + +Under this threat Margaret became amenable. She puckered up her +lips and stretched her arms out toward Indian Pete. The man +stumbled back and fell on his knees beside the two girls. Nan +heard the hoarse sob in his throat as he took little Margaret in +his arms. + +"Bless you! Bless you!" he murmured, receiving the kiss right +upon his scarred cheek. But Nan saw that Margaret's eyes were +tightly closed as she delivered the caress, per order! + +The next moment the man with the scarred face had slipped away +and disappeared in the forest. They saw him no more. + +However, just as soon as the catalog house could send it, +Margaret received a beautiful, pink-cheeked, and flaxen-haired +Doll, not as fine as Beulah, but beautiful enough to delight any +reasonable child. + +Nan had won back Margaret's confidence and affection. + +Meanwhile the hot summer was fast passing. Nan heard from her +chum, Bess Harley, with commendable regularity; and no time did +Bess write without many references to Lakeview Hall. + +Nan, advised by her former teacher in Tillbury, had brought her +books to Pine Camp, and had studied faithfully along the lines of +the high school work. She was sure she could pass quite as good +an entrance examination for Lakeview Hall as Bess could. + +And at last good news came from Scotland: + +"I am not quite ready to bring Momsey home," Papa Sherwood wrote. +"But the matter of her fortune is at least partially settled. +The claims of the other relatives have been disallowed. Mr. +Andrew Blake is prepared to turn over to your Momsey a part of +her wonderful fortune. The rest will come later. She will tell +you all about it herself. + +"What I wish to say to you particularly in this letter," pursued +Mr. Sherwood, "is, that arrangements have been made for you to +attend Lakeview Hall this coming semester. You will meet your +friend, Elizabeth Harley, in Chicago, and will go with her to the +school. I am writing by this mail to the principal of the Hall. +Mr. Harley has made all other necessary arrangements for you." + +"Oh!" cried Nan, clasping her hands. "It"s too good to be true! +It can't be possible! I just know I'll wake up in a minute and +find all this an exciting dream, and that's all!" + +But Nan was wrong on that point, as the reader will see if her +further adventures are followed in the next volume of the series, +entitled, "Nan Sherwood at Lakeview Hall, or, The Mystery of the +Haunted Boathouse." + +While Nan was still intensely excited over this letter from +Scotland, Toby Vanderwiller drove up to the Sherwood house behind +his broken-kneed pony. This was the first time any of the +Sherwoods had seen him since the day of the big storm and the +fire in the sawdust. + +Chapter XXX +OFF FOR LAKEVIEW HALL + +Nan ran out immediately to speak to the old lumberman; but Toby +was calling for Uncle Henry: + +"Hey, Hen! Hen Sherwood! Come out yere," he cried. + +Uncle Henry halloaed from the stables, and came striding at the +call. Nan reached the old rattletrap wagon first. + +"Oh, Mr. Vanderwiller!" she said. "I am glad to see you! And +how is your wife and Corson?" + +He looked down at her reflectively, and for a moment did not say +a word. Then he swallowed something and said, jerkily: + +"An' you're the one that done it all, Sissy! The ol' woman an' +the boy air as chipper as bluejays. An' they air a honin' for a +sight on you." + +"Yes. I haven't been over lately. But that man from Chicago +came, didn't he?" + +"I sh'd say 'yes'! He come," said Toby, in awe. "An' what d'ye +s'pose? He done buyed a heap of Corson's spec'mens an' paid him +more'n a hundred dollars for 'em. And that ain't countin' that +there dead-head butterfly ye made sech a time about. + +"I reckoned," pursued Toby, "that you was right crazy about that +there bug. One bug's as bad as another to my way of thinkin'. +But it seems that Chicago feller thinked dif'rent." + +"It really was one of the very rare death's-head moths?" cried +Nan, delighted. + +"So he said. And he was willin' ter back up his belief with cold +cash," declared Toby, smiting his leg for emphasis. "He paid us +harnsome for it; and he said he'd take a lot more spec'mens if + +"Har! Here ye be, Hen," he added, breaking off to greet Nan's +uncle. "I got suthin' to say to you. I kin say it now, for I +ain't beholden ter nobody. With what me and the ol' woman had +scrimped and saved, an' what this feller from Chicago give +Corson, I done paid off my debt to ol' Ged Raffer, an' the little +farm's free and clear." + +"I'm glad to hear it, Tobe," Uncle Henry declared, shaking hands +with the old lumberman again. "I certain sure am glad to hear +it! I'm pleased that you shouldn't have that worry on your mind +any longer." + +"And it has been a worry," said Old Toby, shaking his head. +"More'n you think for. Ye see, it snarled me all up so's I +warn't my own master." + +"I see." + +"Ye see, Ged was allus after me to go inter court an' back up his +claim ag'in you on that Perkins Tract." + +"I see," said Henry Sherwood again, nodding. + +"On the other hand, you wanted me, if I knowed which was right, +to witness, too. If I'd witnessed for Ged, ev'rybody wuld ha' +thought I done it because he had a mortgage on the farm." + +"I s'pose so," admitted Uncle Henry. + +"Or, if I helped you, they'd ha' thought you'd bribed me - mebbe +helped me git square with Ged." + +"I couldn't. Too poor just now," said Uncle Henry, grimly. "But +I'd the mind for it, Toby." + +"Well, there ye be. Whichever way the cat jumped, I'd lost the +respect of the community," said the old lumberman. "But now I am +independent, I don't give a dern!" + +Mr. Sherwood looked at him expectantly. Toby's "wizzled" face +shone. + +"I got a debt owin' to that leetle gal you got here, and +somethin' to pay off to Tommy, too. But money won't do it, ef I +had money. I am goin' to tell what I know about that boundary, +though, Hen, and it will do YOU good! I can find another old +feller, livin' down Pale Lick way, that can corroborate my +evidence. + +"You can git that injunction vacated at once, Hen, if you want, +and put your axe-men right back into the Perkins Tract to work. +That's what I come 'round to tell ye." + +Aunt Kate was moved to tears, an unusual expression of emotion +on her part. Being of pioneer stock, and having suffered much in +the past, Nan's aunt was not easily moved. Uncle Henry was +delighted. It was a great day for the Sherwoods. + +It was another great day when, a week later, the roan ponies were +brought to the door and Nan's trunk was strapped upon the back of +the buckboard. Uncle Henry was to drive her to the train; but +she would travel alone to Chicago to meet her chum, Bess Harley. + +"And go to Lakeview Hall! I never did really expect I'd get +there," Nan sighed, as she clung to Aunt Kate's neck. "It almost +makes me forget that Momsey and Papa Sherwood are not at home +yet. + +"But, my dear!" she added, "if such a thing could be, you and +Uncle Henry have taken the place of my own dear parents all these +months I have been at Pine Camp. I've had a dee-lightful time. +I'll never forget you all. I love you, love you, love you." + +The roan ponies started on the jump. The boys cheered her from +the corner of the house, having bashfully remained in the +background. Even Margaret Llewellen and her impish brother, Bob, +appeared and shrilly bade her goodbye. + +Nan was off for school, and wonderful adventures lay before her! + + + + + +The End of +Project Gutenberg's Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp, by Annie Roe Carr +Project Gutenberg's The Old Lumberman's Secret, by Annie Roe Carr + diff --git a/old/nsapc10.zip b/old/nsapc10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1505a8f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/nsapc10.zip |