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diff --git a/34202.txt b/34202.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c9a73e --- /dev/null +++ b/34202.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10554 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Girl From Tim's Place, by Charles Clark Munn + +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: The Girl From Tim's Place + +Author: Charles Clark Munn + +Illustrator: Frank T. Merrill + +Release Date: November 3, 2010 [EBook #34202] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL FROM TIM'S PLACE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.fadedpage.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "For God's sake give me suthin' to eat."] + + + + +THE GIRL FROM TIM'S PLACE + + + + +THE GIRL FROM TIM'S PLACE + +BY CHARLES CLARK MUNN + +Author of "Pocket Island," "Uncle Terry," +"The Hermit," "Rockhaven." + +ILLUSTRATED BY FRANK T. MERRILL + +New York + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS + + + + +Published, March, 1906. + +Copyright, 1906, by LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. + +All rights reserved. + +The Girl from Tim's Place. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +When we leave the world's busy haunts and penetrate the primal solitude +of a vast wilderness, a new realm peopled by mystic genii opens to +us. Each sombre gorge, where twisted roots clasp the moss-coated walls, +discloses fabled gnomes and dryads. Nymphs and naiads outline their +shadowy forms in the mist of every cascade. Elfin sprites dance in +the ripples of a laughing brook, and brownies scamper away over the +leaf-swept hilltops. + +A wondrous Presence, multiform, omnipresent, and ever fascinating, meets +us on every hand, and there in those magic aisles and sombre glades, +where man seems far away and God very near, Nature sits enthroned. + +It is with the hope that a few of my readers may feel this forest-born +mood, and in its poetic spirit forget worldly cares, that I have written +the story of "The Girl from Tim's Place." + + THE AUTHOR. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + "For God's sake give me suthin' to eat" + (_Frontispiece_) 23 + All the goblin forms and hideous shapes of Old + Tomah's fancy were rushing and leaping about 21 + Nearer and nearer that unconscious girl it crept! 123 + He grasped and struck at this enemy in a blind + instinct of self-preservation 195 + "Won't you please give me a lift an' a chance + to earn my vittles for a day or two?" 260 + "Thank God, little gal, I've found what belongs + to ye" 272 + "Quit takin' on so, girlie," he said 325 + "I did mean to hate you, but I--I can't" 416 + + + + +PART I + +CHIP MCGUIRE + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Chip was very tired. All that long June day, since Tim's harsh, "Come, +out wid ye," had roused her to daily toil, until now, wearied and +disconsolate, she had crept, barefoot, up the back stairs to her room, +not one moment's rest or one kindly word had been hers. + +Below, in the one living room of Tim's Place, the men were grouped +playing cards, and the medley of their oaths, their laughter, the thump +of knuckles on the bare table, and the pungent odor of pipes, reached +her through the floor cracks. Outside the fireflies twinkled above the +slow-running river and along the stump-dotted hillside. Close by, a +few pigs dozed contentedly in their rudely constructed sty. + +A servant to those scarce fit for servants, a menial at the beck and call +of all Tim's Place, and laboring with the men in the fields, Chip, a +girl of almost sixteen, felt her soul revolt at the filth, the brutality, +the coarse existence of those whose slave she was. + +And what a group they were! + +First, Tim Connor, the owner and master of this oasis in the wilderness, +sixty miles from the nearest settlement; his brother Mike, as coarse; +their wives and a half a dozen children who played with the pigs, +squealed as often for food, and were left to grow up the same way; +and Pierre Lubec, the hired man, completed the score. + +There was another transient resident here, an old Indian named Tomah, +who came with the snow, and deserted his hut below on the river bank when +spring unlocked that stream. + +Two occasional visitors also came here, both even more objectionable +to Chip than Tim and his family. One was her father, known to her to be +an outlaw and escaped murderer in hiding; the other a half-breed named +Bolduc, but known as One-eyed Pete, a trapper and hunter whose abode +was a log cabin on the Fox Hole, ten miles away. His face was horribly +scarred by a wildcat's claws; one eye-socket was empty; his lips, +chin, and protruding teeth were always tobacco-stained. For three months +now, he had made weekly calls at Tim's Place, in pursuit of Chip. His +wooing, as might be expected, had been a persistent leering at her with +his one sinister eye, oft-repeated innuendoes and insinuations of +lascivious nature, scarce understood by her, with now and then attempted +familiarity. These advances had met with much the same reception once +accorded him by the wildcat. + +Both these visitors were now with the group below. That fact was of +no interest to Chip, except in connection with a more pertinent one--a +long conference she had observed between them that day. What it was +about, she could not guess, and yet some queer intuition told her that it +concerned her. Ordinarily, she would have sought sleep in her box-on-legs +bed; now she crouched on the floor, listening. + +For an hour the game and its medley of sounds continued; then +cessation, the tramp of heavily shod feet, the light extinguished, +and finally--silence. A few minutes of this, and then the sound of +whispered converse, low yet distinct, reached Chip from outside. +Cautiously she crept to her window. + +"I gif you one hunerd dollars now, for ze gal," Pete was saying, "an' +one hunerd more when you fotch her." + +"It's three hundred down, I've told ye, or we don't do business," +was her father's answer, in almost a hiss. + +A pain like a knife piercing her heart came to Chip. + +"But s'pose she run away?" came in Pete's voice. + +"What, sixty miles to a settlement? You must be a damn fool!" + +"An' if she no mind me?" + +"Wal, thrash her then; she's yours." + +"But I no gif so much," parleyed Pete; "I gif you one-feefty now, an' +one hunerd when she come." + +"You'll give what I say, and be quick about it, or I'll take her out +to-morrow, and you'll never see her again; so fork over." + +"And you fotch her to-morrow?" + +"Yes, I told you." And so the bargain was concluded. + +Only a moment more, while Chip sat numb and dazed, then came the sound of +footsteps, as the two men separated, and then silence over Tim's Place. + +And yet, what a horror for Chip! Sold like a horse or a pig to this +worse than disgusting half-breed, and on the morrow to be taken--no, +dragged--to the half-breed's hut by her hated father. + +Hardly conscious of the real intent and object of this purchase, she yet +understood it dimly. Life here was bad enough--it was coarse, unloved, +even filthy, and yet, hard as it was, it was a thousand times better +than slavery with such an owner. + +And now, still weak and trembling from the shock, she raised her head +cautiously and peeped out of the window. A faint spectral light from +the rising moon outlined the log barn, the two log cabins, and pigsty, +which, with the frame house she was in, comprised Tim's Place. Above +and beyond where the forest enclosed the hillside, it shone brighter, +and as Chip looked out upon the ethereal silvered view, away to the +right she saw the dark opening into the old tote road. Up this they +had brought her, eight years before. Never since had she traversed it; +and yet, as she looked at it now, an inspiration born of her father's +sneer came to her. + +It was a desperate chance, a foolhardy step--a journey so appalling, +so almost hopeless, she might well hesitate; and yet, escape that way was +her one chance. Only a moment longer she waited, then gathering her few +belongings--a pair of old shoes, the moccasins Old Tomah had given her, a +skirt and jacket fashioned from Tim's cast-off garments, a fur cap, +and soft felt hat--she thrust them into a soiled pillow-case and crept +down the stairs. + +Once out, she looked about, listened, then darted up the hillside, +straight for the tote road entrance. Here she paused, put on her +moccasins, and looked back. + +The moon, now above the tree-tops, shone full upon Tim's Place, +softening and silvering all its ugliness and all its squalor. Away to +the left stood Tomah's hut, across the river, a shining path bright +and rippled. + +In spite of the awful dread of her situation and the years of her hard, +unpaid, and ofttimes cursed toil, a pang of regret now came to her. This +was her home, wretched as it was. Here she had at least been fed and +warmed in winters, and here Old Tomah had shown her kindness. Oh, if +he were only in his hut now, that she might go and waken him softly, +and beg him to take her in his canoe and speed down the river! + +But no! only her own desperate courage would now avail, and realizing +that this look upon Tim's Place was the last one, she turned and fled +down the path. Sixty miles of stony, bush-encumbered, brier-grown, +seldom-travelled road lay ahead of her! Sixty miles of mingled swamp, +morass, and rock-ribbed hill! Sixty miles through the sombre silence +and persistent menace of a wilderness, peopled only by death-intending +creatures, yellow-eyed and sharp-fanged! + +With only a sickening, soul-nauseating fate awaiting her at Tim's +Place, and her sole escape this almost insane flight, she sped on. The +faint, spectral rifts of moonlight through interlaced fir and spruce +as often deceived as aided her; bending boughs whipped her, bushes +and logs tripped her, sharp stones and pointed sticks bit her; she +hurried over hillocks, wallowed through sloughs and dashed into tangles +of briers, heedless of all except her one mad impulse to escape. + +Soon the ever present menace of a wilderness assailed her,--the yowl +of a wildcat close at hand; in a swamp, the sharp bark of a wolf; on a +hillside above her, the hoot of an owl; and when after two hours of this +desperate flight had exhausted her and she was forced to halt, strange +creeping, crawling things seemed all about. + +And now the erratic, fantastic belief of Old Tomah returned to her. With +him the forest was peopled by a weird, uncanny race, sometimes visible +and sometimes not--"spites," he called them, and they were the souls +of both man and beast; sometimes good, sometimes evil, according as +they had been in life, and all good or ill luck was due to their ghostly +influences. They followed the hunter and trapper day and night, luring +him into safety or danger, as they chose. They were everywhere, and in +countless numbers, ready and sure to avenge all wrongs and reward all +virtues. They had a Chieftain also, a great white spectre who came forth +from the north in winter, and swept across the wilderness, spreading +death and terror. + +Many times at Tim's Place, Chip had sat enthralled on winter evenings, +while Old Tomah described these mystic genii. They were so real to him +that he made them real to her, and now, alone in this vast wilderness, +spectral in the faint moonlight and filled with countless terrors, they +returned in full force. On every side she could see them, creeping, +crawling, through the undergrowth or along the interlaced boughs above +her. She could hear the faint hiss of their breath in the night wind, +see the gleam of their little eyes in dark places--they were crossing +the path in front of her, following close behind, and gathering about +her from every direction. + +Beneath bright sunlight, a vast wilderness is at best a place peopled +by many terrors. Its solitude seems uncanny, its shadow fearsome, its +silence ominous. The creaking of limbs moving in the breeze sounds like +the shriek of demons; the rush of winds becomes the hiss of serpents. +Vague terrors assail one on every hand, and the rustle of each dry +leaf, or breaking of every twig, becomes the footfall of a savage +beast. We advance only with caution, oft halting to look and listen. A +stern, defiant _Presence_ seems everywhere confronting us, and the weird +mysticism of Nature bids us beware. By night this invisible Something +becomes of monstrous proportions. Ghosts fashion themselves out of each +rift of light, and every rock, thick-grown tree-top, or dark shadow +becomes a goblin. + +To Chip, educated only in the fantastic lore of Old Tomah, these terrors +now became insanity-breeding. She could not turn back--better death +among the spites than slaving to the half-breed; and so, faint from +awful fear, gasping from miles of running, she stumbled on. And now a +little hope came, for the road bent down beside the river, and its low +voice seemed a word of cheer. Into its cool depths she could at least +plunge and die, as a last resort. + +Soon an opening showed ahead, and a bridge appeared. Here, for the first +time, on this vantage point, she halted. How thrice blessed those knotted +logs now seemed! She hugged and patted them in abject gratitude. She +crawled to the edge and looked over into the dark, gurgling water. Up +above lay a faint ripple of silver. Here, also, she could see the +moon almost at the zenith, and a few flickering stars. + +A trifle of courage and renewal of hope now came. Her face and hands were +scratched and bleeding, clothing torn, feet and legs black with mud. But +these things she neither noticed nor felt--only that blessed bridge of +logs that gave her safety, and the moon that bade her hope. + +Then she began to count her chances. This landmark told her that five +miles of her desperate journey had been covered and she was still alive. +She began to calculate. How soon would her escape be discovered, and +who would pursue her? Only Pete, her purchaser, she felt sure, and +there was a possible chance that he might return to his cabin before +doing so. Or perhaps he might sleep late, and thus give her one or two +hours more of time. + +[Illustration: All the goblin forms and hideous shapes of Old Tomah's +fancy were rushing and leaping about.] + +And now she began to review the usual morning movements at Tim's +Place--Tim the first one up, calling her, then going out to milking; the +others, slower to arise, getting out and about their special duties. +Pete, she knew, always slept in one of the two empty log cabins which +were first built there. Her father slept in the other or in the barn. +Neither would be called, she knew--it was get around in time for +breakfast at Tim's Place or go hungry. And so she speculated on her +chances of early pursuit. Here on this bridge she now meant to remain +until the first sign of dawn, then push on again with all speed. She +already had a five-mile start, she was weary, footsore, and still faint +from the awful terrors of her flight; to go on meant to rush into the +swarm of spites once more, and so she lay inert on the hard logs +watching, listening, calculating. + +And now cheered by this trifling hope and lessening sense of danger, +her past life came back. Her childhood in a far-off settlement; the +home always in a turmoil from the strange men and women ever coming and +going; the drinking, swearing, singing, at all hours of the night, her +constant fear of them and wonder who they were and why they came. There +were other features of this disturbed life: frequent quarrels between +her father and mother; curses, tears, and sometimes blows, until at +last after a night more hideous than any other her mother had taken her +and fled. Then came a long journey to another village and a new life +of peace and quietness. Here it was all so different--no red-shirted men +to be afraid of, no loud-voiced women drinking with them. She became +acquainted with other children of her own age, was sent to school and +taken to church. Here, also, her mother began to smile once more, and +look content. For two years, and the only ones Chip cared to recall, +she had been a happy schoolgirl, and then came a sudden, tragic end to +it all. Of that she never wished to think. It was all so horrible, and +yet so mercifully brief. + +The one friend life held, her mother, had been brought home, wounded +to death amid the whirring wheels of the mill where she worked; there +were a few hours of agonized dread as her life ebbed away, a whisper or +two of love and longing, and then the sad farewell made doubly awful by +her father's frowning face and harsh voice. At its ending, and in spite +of her fears and tears, she was now borne away by him. For days they +journeyed deeper and deeper into a vast wilderness, to halt at last at +Tim's Place. + +Like a dread dream it all came back now, as she lay there on this one +flat spot of security--the bridge--and listened to the river's low +murmur. + +The moon was lowering now. Already the shadow of the stream's bordering +trees had reached her. First the stars vanished, then the moon faded +into a dim patch of light, finally that disappeared, a chill breeze +swept down from a neighboring mountain, and the trees began to moan +and creak. Then a fiercer blast swept through the forest, the great +firs and spruces bent and groaned and screamed. Surely the spites were +gathering in force again, and this was their doing. + +Once more she began to hear them creeping, crawling, over the bridge. +They spit, they snarled, they growled. The darkness grew more intense, +no longer could the river's course be seen, but only a black chasm. + +All through her mad flight the wilderness had been ghostly and spectral +in the moonlight; now it had become lost in inky blackness, yet alive +with demoniac voices. All the goblin forms and hideous shapes of Old +Tomah's fancy were rushing and leaping about. Now high up in the +tree-tops, now deep in the hollows, they screamed and shrieked and moaned. + +And now, just as this fierce battle of sound and spectral shape was at +its worst, and Chip, a hopeless, helpless mite of humanity, crouched low +upon the bridge, suddenly a vicious growl reached her, and raising her +head she saw at the bridge's end two gleaming eyes! + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Martin Frisbie and his nephew Raymond Stetson, or Ray, were cutting +boughs and carrying them to two tents standing in the mouth of a +bush-choked opening into the forest. In front of this Angie, Martin's +wife, was placing tin dishes, knives, and forks, upon a low table of +boards. Upon the bank of a broad, slow-running stream, two canoes were +drawn out, and halfway between these and the table a camp-fire burnt. + +Here Levi, Martin's guide for many trips into this wilderness, was also +occupied, intently watching two pails depending from bending wambecks, +a coffee-pot hanging from another, and two frying-pans, whose sputtering +contents gave forth an enticing odor. + +Twilight was just falling, the river murmured in low melody, and a few +rods above a small rill entered it, adding a more musical tinkle. + +Soon Levi deftly swung one of the pails away from the flame with a +hook-stick and speared a potato with a fork. + +"Supper ready," he called; and then as the rest seated themselves at +the table, he advanced, carrying the pail of steaming potatoes on the +hooked stick and the frying-pan in his other hand. + +The meal had scarce begun when a crackling in the undergrowth back of +the tent was heard, and on the instant there emerged a girl. Her clothing +was in shreds, her face and hands were black with mud, streaks of blood +showed across cheek and chin, and her eyes were fierce and sunken. + +"For God's sake give me suthin' to eat," she said, looking from one +to another of the astonished group. "I'm damn near starved--only a +bite," she added, sinking to her knees and extending her hands. "I +hain't eat nothin' but roots 'n' berries for three days." + +Angie was the first to recover. "Here," she said, hastily extending +her plate, "take this." + +Without a word the starved creature grasped it and began eating as only a +desperate, hungry animal would, while the group watched her. + +"Don't hurry so," exclaimed Martin, whose wits had now returned. +"Here, take this cup of coffee." + +Soon the food vanished and then the girl arose. "Sit down again, my poor +child," entreated Angie, who had observed the strange scene with moist +eyes, "and tell us who you are and where you came from." + +"My name's Chip," answered the girl, bluntly, "an' I'm runnin' +away from Tim's Place, 'cause dad sold me to Pete Bolduc." + +"Sold--you--to--Pete--Bolduc," exclaimed Angie, looking at her +wide-eyed. "What do you mean?" + +"He did, sartin," answered the girl, laconically. "I heerd 'em +makin' the bargain, 'n' I fetched three hundred dollars." + +Martin and his wife exchanged glances. + +"Well, and then what?" continued Angie. + +"Wal, then I waited a spell, till they'd turned in," explained +the girl, "and then I lit out. I knowed 'twas sixty miles to the +settlement, but 'twas moonlight 'n' I chanced it. I've had an awful +time, though, the spites hev chased me all the way. I was jist makin' a +nestle when I seed yer light, an' I crept through the brush 'n' +peeked. I seen ye wa'n't nobody from Tim's Place, 'n' then I cum +out. I guess you've saved my life. I was gittin' dizzy." + +It was a brief, blunt story whose directness bespoke truth; but it +revealed such a pigsty state of morality at this Tim's Place that the +little group of astonished listeners could scarce finish supper or +cease watching this much-soiled girl. + +"And so your name is Chip," queried Angie at last. "Chip what?" + +"Chip McGuire," answered the waif, quickly; "only my real name ain't +Chip, it's Vera; but they've allus called me Chip at Tim's Place." + +"And your father sold you to this man?" + +"He did, 'n' he's a damn bad man," replied Chip, readily. "He +killed somebody once, an' he don't show up often. I hate him!" + +"You mustn't use swear words," returned Angie, "it's not nice." + +The girl looked abashed. "I guess you'd cuss if you'd been sold to +such a nasty-looking man as Pete," she responded. "He chaws terbaccer +'n' lets it drizzle on his chin, 'n' he hain't but one eye." + +Angie smiled, while Martin stared at the girl with increased +astonishment. He knew who this McGuire was, and something of his +history, and that Tim's Place was a hillside clearing far up the +river, inhabited by an Irish family devoted to the raising of +potatoes. He had halted there once, long enough to observe its somewhat +slothful condition, and to buy pork and potatoes; but this tale was a +revelation, and the girl herself a greater one. + +This oasis in the wilderness was fully forty miles above here, its only +connection with civilization was a seldom-used log road which only an +experienced woodsman could follow, and how this mere child had dared it, +was a marvel. + +But there she was, squat on the ground and watching them with big black, +pleading eyes. There was but one thing to do, to care for her now, +as humanity insisted, and Angie made the first move. It was in the +direction of cleanliness; for entering the tent, she soon appeared with +some of her own extra clothing, soap, and towels, and bade the girl +follow her up the river a few rods. + +The moon was shining clearly above the tree-tops, the camp-fire burned +brightly, and Martin, Ray, and Levi were lounging near it when the two +returned, and in one an astonishing transformation had taken place. + +Angie had gone away with a girl of ten in respect to clothing, her skirt +evidently made of gunny cloth and reaching but little below her knees, +and for a waist, what was once a man's red flannel shirt, and both in +rags. Soiled with black mud, and bleeding, she was an object pitiable +beyond words; she returned a young lady, almost, in stature, her face +shining and rosy, and her eyes so tender with gratitude that they were +pathetic. + +Another change had also come with cleanliness and clothing--a sudden +bashfulness. It was some time ere she could be made to talk again, +but finally that wore away and then her story came. What a tale it +was--scarce credible. + +At first were growing terrors as she plunged deeper and deeper into +the shadowy forest, the brush and logs that tripped her, the mud holes +she wallowed through, the ever increasing horrors of this flight, the +blood-chilling cries of night prowlers, the gathering darkness while +she waited on the bridge, the awful moment when she saw two yellow eyes +watching her, not twenty feet away, her screams of agonized fear, and +then time that seemed eternity, while she expected the next moment to +feel the fangs of a hungry panther. + +How blessed the first dawn of morning had seemed, how she ran on and +on, until faint with hunger she halted to eat roots, leaves, +berries--anything to sustain life! The river had been her one boon +of hope and consolation, and even beyond the fear of wild beast had +been the dread of pursuit and capture by this half-breed. When night +came, she had crept into a thicket, covering herself with boughs; +when daylight dawned, she had pushed on again, ever growing weaker and +oft stumbling from faintness. + +Hope had almost vanished, her strength had quite left her, the last day +had been a partial blank so far as knowledge of her progress went, but +filled with eerie sights and sounds. From first to last the spites of +Old Tomah had kept her company--by day she heard them, swifter-footed +than she, in the undergrowth; by night they were all about, dodging +behind trees, hopping from limb to limb, and sometimes snapping and +snarling. The one supreme moment of joy, oft referred to, was when she +had seen her rescuers' camp-fire, with human, and possibly friendly, +faces about it. + +It was a fantastic, weird, almost spookish tale,--the spectres she had +seen were so real to her that the telling made them seem almost so to +the rest, and beyond that, the girl herself, so like a young witch, with +her shadowy eyes and furtive glances, added to the illusion. + +But now came a diversion, for Levi freshened the fire, and at a nod +from Angie, Ray brought forth his banjo. It was his one pet foible, and +it went with him everywhere, and now, with time and place so in accord, +he was glad to exhibit his talent. He was not an expert,--a few jigs and +plantation melodies composed his repertory,--but with the moonlight +glinting through the spruce boughs, the river murmuring near, somehow one +could not fail to catch the quaint humor of "Old Uncle Ned," "Jim +Crack Corn," and the like, and see the two dusky lovers as they floated +down the "Tombigbee River," and feel the pathos of "Nellie Grey" +and "Old Kentucky Home." + +Ray sang fairly well and in sympathy with each theme. To Angie and the +rest it was but ordinary; but to this waif, who never before had heard +a banjo or a darky song, it was marvellous. Her face lit up with keen +interest, her eyes grew misty at times, and once two tears stole down +her cheeks. + +For an hour Ray was the centre of interest, and then Angie arose. + +"Come, Chip," she said pleasantly, "it's time to go to bed, and you +are to share my tent." + +"I'd rather not," the girl replied bluntly. "I ain't fit. I kin jist +ez well curl 'longside o' the fire." + +But Angie insisted and the girl followed her into the tent. + +Here occurred another incident that must be related. Angie, always +devout, and somewhat puritanical, was one who never forgot her nightly +prayer, and now, when ready for slumber, she knelt on the bed of fir +twigs, and by the light of one small candle offered her usual petition, +while Chip watched her with wide and wondering eyes. As might be +expected, that waif was mentioned, and with deep feeling. + +"Do ye s'pose God heard ye?" she queried with evident candor, when +Angie ceased. + +"Why, certainly," came the earnest answer; "God hears all prayers." + +"And do the spites hear 'em?" + +"There are no such creatures as 'spites,'" answered Angie, +severely; "you only imagine them, and what this Indian has told you is +superstition." + +"But I've seen 'em, hundreds on 'em, big and little," returned the +girl, stoutly. + +Angie looked at her with pity. + +"Put that notion out of your head, once for all," she said, almost +sternly. "It is only a delusion, and no doubt told to scare you." + +And poor Chip, conscious that perhaps she had sinned in speech, said no +more. + +For a long time Angie lay sleepless upon her fragrant bed, recalling the +waif's strange story and trying to grasp the depth and breadth of her +life at Tim's Place; also to surmise, if possible, how serious a taint +of evil she had inherited. That her father was vile beyond compare seemed +positive; that her mother might have been scarce better was probable. +No mention, thus far, had been made of her; and so Angie reflected +upon this pitiful child's ancestry and what manner of heritage she had +been blessed or cursed with. Some of her attributes awoke Angie's +admiration. She had shown utter abhorrence of this brutal sale of +herself, a marvellous courage in endeavoring to escape it. She seemed +grateful for what had been done for her, and a partial realization of +her own unfitness for association with refined people. Her speech was no +worse than might be expected from her life at Tim's Place. Doubtless, +she was unable to read or write. And so Angie lay, considering all the +pros and cons of the situation and of this girl's life. + +There was also another side to it all, the humane one. They were on +their way out of the wilderness, for a business visit to the nearest +settlement, intending to return to the woods in a few days--and what +was to be done with this child of misfortune? + +Most assuredly they must protect her for the present. But was there any +one to whom she could be turned over and cared for? It seemed possible +this brutal buyer of her would follow her out of the woods, to abduct her +if found, and then the moral side of this episode with all its abominable +possibilities occurred to Angie, who was, above all, unselfish and +noble-hearted. Vice, crime, and immorality were horrible to her. + +Here was a self-evident duty thrusting itself upon her, and how to meet +it with justice to herself, her husband, and her own conscience, was a +problem. Thus dwelling upon this complex situation, she fell asleep. + +The first faint light of morning was stealing into the tent when Angie +felt her companion stir. She had, exhausted as she doubtless was, fallen +asleep almost the moment she lay down; but now she was evidently awake. + +Curious to note what she would do, Angie remained with closed eyes and +motionless. From the corner of the tent where she had curled up the night +before, the girl now cautiously crept toward the elder woman. Inch by +inch, upon the bed of boughs, she moved nearer, until Angie, watching +with half-open eyes, saw her head lowered, and felt two soft warm lips +touch her hand. + +It was a trifle. It was no more than the act of a cat who rubs herself +against her mistress or a dog who licks his master's hand, and yet it +settled once for all that waif's fate and Angie's indecision. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + + Women are like grasshoppers--ye kin never tell which + way they're goin' to jump.--Old Cy Walker. + +Levi was starting a fire, Ray washing potatoes, and Martin, in his +shirt-sleeves, using a towel vigorously near the canoes, when Angie and +Chip emerged that morning; and now while breakfast is under way, a +moment may be seized to explain who these people were and their mission +in this wilderness. + +Many years before, in a distant village called Greenvale, two brothers, +David and Amzi Curtis, had quarrelled over an unfortunate division of +inherited land. The outcome was that Amzi, somewhat misanthropic over +the death of his wife, and of peculiar make-up, deserted his home and +little daughter Angeline, and vanished. For many years no one knew of +his whereabouts, and he was given up as dead. + +In the meantime his child, cared for by a kindly woman known as Aunt +Comfort, had grown to womanhood. About this time a boyhood sweetheart of +Angeline's, named Martin Frisbie, who had been gathering wealth in a +distant city, invited a former schoolmate, now the village doctor in +Greenvale, to join him on an outing trip into the wilderness. + +Here something of the history of a notorious outlaw named McGuire +became known to Martin, and more important than that, a queer old +hermit was discovered, dwelling in solitude on the shore of a small +lake. Who he was, and why this strange manner of life, Martin could not +learn, and not until later, when he returned to Greenvale to woo his +former sweetheart once more, did he even guess. Here, however, from a +description furnished by a village nondescript,--a sort of Natty Bumpo +and philosopher combined, known as Old Cy Walker, who had been Martin's +youthful companion,--he was led to believe that the queer hermit and +the long-missing Amzi were one and the same. + +Another trip into this wilderness with Old Cy, taken to identify the +hermit, resulted in proving the correctness of the surmise. Then Martin +set about making this misanthropic recluse more comfortable in all ways +possible; and then, leaving Old Cy to keep him company, he returned to +Greenvale and Angie. + +A marriage was the outcome of his return to his native village, and then, +with his nephew, Ray, and long-tried guide, Levi, as helpers on this +unique wedding trip, the hermit was visited. + +It was hoped that meeting his child once more would result in inducing +him to abandon his wildwood existence and to return to civilization; +and it did--partially. He seemed happy to meet his daughter again, +consented to return with them when ready, and after a couple of weeks' +sojourn here, the canoes were packed and all set out for civilization and +Greenvale once more. + +But "home, sweet home," albeit it was, as in this case, a lonely +log cabin in a vast wilderness, proved stronger than parental love or +aught else; and sometime during first night's camp on the way out, +this strange recluse stole away in his canoe and returned. + +"It's natur," Old Cy observed when morning came, "an' home is the +hardest spot in the world to fergit. Amzi's lived in that old shack all +'lone for twenty years. He's got wonted to it like a dog to his kennel, +an' all the powers o' the univarse can't break up the feelin'." + +It seemed an indisputable, if disappointing, fact, and Martin led his +party back to the hermit's home once more. + +Another plan was now considered by Martin--to buy the township, or at +least a large tract enclosing this lake, build a more commodious log +cabin for the use of himself and his wife, and spend a portion of each +summer there. There were several reasons other than those of affection +for this decision. + +This lake, perhaps half a mile in diameter, teemed with trout. The low +mountains enclosing it were thickly covered with fine spruce and fir, +groves of pine with some beech and birch grew in the valleys; deer, +moose, and feathered game abounded here, and best of all, no vandal +lumbermen ever encroached upon this region. + +It was, all considered, a veritable sportsman's paradise. Most likely +a few thousand dollars would purchase it, and so, for these collective +reasons, Martin decided to buy it. + +Old Cy was left to keep the hermit company; Martin, his wife, and Ray, +with Levi, started for civilization to obtain needed supplies, and had +been four days upon the way when this much-abused waif appeared on +the scene. The party were journeying in two canoes, one manned by Ray, +who had already learned to wield a paddle, which carried the tents and +luggage; while the other was occupied by Martin, his wife, and Levi. The +only available seat for the new arrival was in Ray's canoe, and when +breakfast was disposed of and the voyagers ready to start, she was given +a place therein. + +The river at this point was broad and of slow current, only two days' +journey was needful to reach the settlement, and no cause for worry +appeared--but Levi felt otherwise. + +"You'd best hug the futher shore," he observed to Ray quietly when +the boy pushed off, "an' don't git out o' sight o' us." "I ain't +sartin 'bout the outcome o' this matter," he said to Martin later. "I +know that half-breed, Bolduc, and he's a bad 'un. From the gal's +story he paid big money fer her. He don't know the meanin' o' law, +and if he follers down the tote road, as I callate he will, 'n' ketches +sight o' her, the first we'll know on't 'll be the crack o' a rifle. +The wonder to me is he didn't ketch her 'fore she got to us. He could +track her faster'n she could run. I don't want to 'larm you folks, +but I shan't feel easy till we're out o' the woods." + +It wasn't reassuring. + +But no thought of this came to Ray, at least, and these two young +people, yielding to the magic of the morning, the rippled river that +bore them onward, the birds singing along the fir-clad banks, and all the +exhilaration of the wilderness, soon reached the care-free converse +of youthful friends. + +"I never had nothin' but work 'n' cussin'," Chip responded, when +Ray asked if she never had any time she could call her own. "Tim +thinked I couldn't get tired, I guess. He'd roust me up fust of all +'n' larrup me if he caught me shirkin'. Once I had a little posey +bed back o' the pig-pen. I fixed it after dark an' mornin's when I +ketched the chance. He ketched me thar one mornin' a-weedin' it +'n' knocked me sprawlin' an' then stomped all over the posies. +That night I went out into the woods 'n' begged the spites to git him +killed somehow. 'Nother time I forgot to put up the bars, an' the cows +got into the taters. That night he tied me to a stump clus to the bars, +an' left me thar all night. I used to be more skeered o' my dad 'n +I was o' Tim, tho'. He'd look at me like he hated me, an' say, +'Shut up,' if I said a word, an' I 'most believed he'd kill me, +just fer nothin'. Once he said he'd take me out into the woods at +night 'n' bait a bear trap with me if he heerd I didn't mind Tim. I +told Old Tomah that, an' he said if he did, he'd shoot him; but Old +Tomah wasn't round only winters. I hated dad so I'd 'a' shot him +myself, I guess, if I cud 'a' got hold o' a gun when he wa'n't +watchin'." + +"It's awful to have to feel that way toward your own father," +interrupted Ray, "for he was your father." + +"I s'pose 'twas," admitted Chip, candidly, "but I never felt +much different. I've seen him slap mother when she was on her knees +a-bawlin', an' the way he would cuss her was awful." + +"But you had some friendship from this old Indian," queried Ray, who +began to realize what a pitiful life the girl had led; "he was good to +you, wasn't he?" + +"He was, sartin," returned Chip, eagerly; "he used to tell me the +spites 'ud fix dad 'fore long, so he'd never show up agin, 'n' +when I got big 'nuff he'd sneak me off some night 'n' take me to +the settlement, whar I could arn a livin'. Old Tomah was the only +one who cared a cuss fer me. I used to bawl when he went away every +spring, an' beg him to take me 'long 'n' help him camp 'n' cook. +I'd 'a' done 'most anything fer Old Tomah. I didn't mind havin' +to work all the time fer Tim. I didn't mind wearin' clothes made +out o' old duds 'n' bein' cussed fer not workin' hard 'nuff. +What I did mind was not havin' nobody who cared whether I lived or +died, or said a good word to me. Sometimes I got so lonesome, I used +to go out in the woods nights when 'twas moonlight 'n' beg the spites +to help me. I used to think mother might be one on 'em 'n' she'd +keer fer me. I think she was, an' 'twas her as kept me goin' till I +found you folks's camp. I got awful skeered them nights I was runnin' +away, an' when 'twas so dark I couldn't see no more, an' I heerd +wildcats yowlin', I'd git on my knees 'n' beg mother to keep 'em +away. I think she did, an' allus shall." + +Much more in connection with the wild, harsh life Chip had led for +eight years was now told by her. Old Tomah's superstition and belief +in hobgoblins were enlarged upon. Life at Tim's Place, with all its +filth, brutality, and nearly animal existence, was described in full; +for Chip's tongue, once loosened, ran on and on, while Ray, spellbound +by this description, was scarce conscious he was wielding a paddle. +Never before had he heard such a tale, so unusual and so pathetic. +Naturally of chivalrous and manly nature, it appealed to him as naught +else could. Then the girl herself, with her big, pleading eyes, her +queer belief in those woodsy, spectral forms she called spites, and her +free and easy confidence in him, and his sympathy also, surprised Ray. +Her speech was coarse and crude--the vernacular of Tim's Place. Now and +then a profane word crept in; yet it was absolute truth, and forceful +from its very simplicity. + +But another influence, more potent than her wrongs, was now appealing +to Chip--her sense of joy at her rescue, and with it a positive faith +that the spites had been the means of her escape. + +"I know they did it," she said time and again, "an' I know mother was +one on 'em. I wished I cud do suthin' to show 'em how thankful I am +'n' how happy I am now." And Ray, astonished that so keen-witted and +courageous a girl should have such a fantastic belief, made no comment. + +A more serious subject was under discussion in the other canoe, meantime, +as to the future disposition of Chip herself. + +"I feel it my duty to take care of her," Angie said, after relating +her conversation with Chip and that morning's incident. "She is a +homeless, outcast waif, needing education and everything else to +Christianize her. We must bring her to the settlement, but to turn +her adrift might mean leaving her to a life of vice, even if she +escapes her brutal father and this worse half-breed. Then, again, I am +not sure that her parentage will bear inspection. She has told me +something about her earlier life, and about her mother, who evidently +loved her. One course only seems plain to me,--to take care of and +educate this unfortunate." + +"I am willing, my dear," responded Martin, who, like all new husbands, +was ready to concede anything, "only I suggest that you go a little +slow. You can't tell yet what this girl will develop into. She has had +the worst possible parentage, without doubt. Her life at Tim's Place, +and contact with lumbermen or worse, has been no benefit. She is grossly +ignorant, and may be ill-tempered, and once given to understand that +you have practically adopted her, you can't--or won't--have the heart +to turn her off. Now we are to return to the lake and remain a month, as +you know, and in the meantime, what will you do with this girl?" + +This was reducing Angie's philanthropic impulses to a focus, as it were, +and it set her thinking. Something more of this discussion followed, +and finally Angie announced her decision. + +"We must take the girl back with us," she said, "and begin her +reformation at the camp. If she shows any aptitude and willingness to +obey, we will take her to Greenvale. If not, you must arrange to get +her into some institution." + +"And suppose the half-breed finds where she is, what then?" inquired +Martin. + +"What do you say, Levi?" he added, turning to his guide, "you know +this fellow; what will he be apt to do?" + +"I s'pose you know what a panther'll do, robbed of her cub," Levi +answered, "an' how a bull moose acts in runnin' time, mebbe. Wal, +this Pete is worse'n both on 'em biled into one, I callate. If you're +goin' ter take the gal back, you've got to keep her shady, or some day +you'll find her missin'. Besides, Pete, ez I told ye, don't know the +meanin' o' law and is handy with a gun." + +But Martin did not quite share Levi's fears, and so Angie's decision +was agreed to. Levi's advice to "keep shady" was accepted, however, +and all through that summer's somewhat thrilling experiences it was the +rule of conduct. + +When noon came, Levi led the way into a lagoon; in a secluded spot at its +head dinner was cooked, and when the sun was well down and a tributary +stream was reached, he turned into it, and halted not for the night camp +until a full half-mile separated them from the river. + +A certain vague sense of impending danger began to impress both Martin +and his wife, and the woods seemed to hold a one-eyed, malicious villain +who might appear at any moment. A danger which we know actually exists, +we can avoid or meet squarely; but one merely imaginary becomes irksome +and really more annoying. + +No hint of this was dropped by the three older ones, and when the tents +were pitched, long before twilight, and Martin and Ray had captured a +goodly string of trout and the camp-fire was alight, this wildwood life +seemed absolutely perfect, to the young folks at least. + +Chip also showed one of the best features of her training. She wanted to +help everybody and do everything, and Levi, who always did the cooking, +was importuned to let her help. Strong as a young Amazon, she fetched +and carried like a man, and the one thing that gladdened her most was +permission to work. + +When supper was over came the lounging beside the cheerful fire, and as +the shadows thickened, forth came Ray's banjo once more, and with it the +light of admiration in Chip's eyes. + +All that day he had been her charming companion; his open, manly face, +his bright brown eyes, had been ever before her. His well-bred ways, so +unlike all the men at Tim's Place, had impressed her as those of a youth +of eighteen will a maid of sixteen; and now, with his voice appealing +to the best in her, he seemed like Pan of old, once more wooing a nymph +with his pipes. + +No knowledge of this was hers, no consciousness of why she was happy came +to her. She knew what spites were; but the god Pan and Apollo with his +harp were unknown forms. + +Neither did she realize that born in her soul that day, on the broad +shining river, was a magic impulse woven out of heart throbs, and +destined to mete out to her more sorrow than all else in her life +combined. + +She had entered the wondrous vale of love whose paths are flower-strewn, +whose shores are rippled with laughter, and whose borders, alas! are ever +hid in the midst of tears. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + + "The wilderness allus seems full o' spectres 'n' creepin' + crawlin' panthers. Sometimes I think it's God, an' then + agin, the devil."--Old Cy Walker. + +Tim's Place, this refuge in the wilderness, cleared and colonized by +Tim Connor, was neither better nor worse than such pioneer openings in +Nature's domain are apt to be. Tim, a hardy Irishman of sod-hovel and +potato-diet ancestors, had been blacksmith for a lumber camp on this +broad river and at its junction with a tributary called the Fox Hole +years before Chip was born. + +When all the adjacent lumber was cut and sent down this river, the camp +was abandoned, and then Tim saw his opening. With his precious winter's +wages he purchased a large tract of this now worthless land, induced a +robust Bridget, his brother Mike, and his consort to join fortunes with +him, brought in cows, horses, pigs, and poultry, and began farming with +the lumber camp as domicile. + +Another log cabin was soon added, the first crop of potatoes sold +readily to other lumbermen farther in the wilderness, the pigs in a +sty adjacent to his own throve, the poultry multiplied, children came, +and the red-shirted men coming into the wilderness or going out found +Tim's Place convenient. + +With this added business came an enlargement in Tim's ideas, the +outcome of which was a framed house containing a kitchen and dining room +and half a dozen others of closet-like proportions, furnished with +box-on-legs beds. It was not a pretentious hostelry. Paint, shutters, +and carpets were absent, benches served for chairs, the only mirror in +it was eight by twelve inches, and used in common by Bridget and Mary. +The toilet conveniences consisted of a wash-basin in the kitchen sink and +a "last year's" towel, used semi-occasionally. A long table bare of +cloth and set with tinware served in the dining room, warmed in winter by +a round sheet-iron stove; above it usually hung an array of socks and +mittens, and a capacious cook stove half filled the kitchen. It was the +crudest possible backwoods abode, and yet compared to the log cabin +first occupied by Tim, it was a palace, and he was proud of it. + +In autumn swarms of lumbermen halted there, content to sleep on the floor +if need be. In spring they came again, log-driving down stream; later +a few sportsmen occasionally tried it, and all fared alike. + +There was no sentiment about Tim. If the citified fishermen objected to +what they found, "Be gob, you kin kape away," he readily told them. A +quarter for each meal, or a night's lodging, was the price, whether a +bed or the floor was provided, and from early spring until frost came, +all the occupants went barefoot. + +When snow had made the sixty miles of log road to the nearest settlement +passable, Tim invariably journeyed hither with horse and bob-sled for +clothing and supplies. + +No knowledge or news from the world reached here, unless brought by +chance visitors. Sundays were an unknown factor, the work of clearing +land and potato-raising became a continuous performance from spring +until autumn; and the change of seasons, the rise and fall of the river, +were the only measure of time. + +An addition to Tim's Place, other than babies and pigs, came one fall in +an old Indian who, by ample presents of game, soon won Tim's good-will +and help in the erection of a log wigwam; but this relic of a vanishing +race--reckoned by Tim as partially insane--remained there only winters, +and when spring returned, disappeared into the wilderness. + +There were also two other occasional visitors both meriting description. +First, a beetle-browed, keen-eyed, red-haired man garbed as a hunter, +whose speech disclosed something of the Scotch dialect, and who, +presenting Tim with a deer and two bottles of whiskey as a peace-offering +on his first arrival, soon obtained a welcome. He told a plausible +tale of having been pursued for years by enemies seeking his life; +how he had been robbed and driven away from the settlements; and how +two of these enemies had even followed him into the woods. He had +been shot at by them, had killed one in self-defence, a price had been +set upon his capture, dead or alive, and, all in all, he was a sorely +abused man. + +How much of this lurid and fantastic tale Tim believed, is not pertinent +to this narrative. The stranger, calling himself McGuire, was evidently +a good fellow, since he brought good whiskey, and Tim made him welcome. + +The facts as to McGuire, however, were somewhat at variance with his +assertions. He had originally been a dive-keeper in a focal city for +the lumbering interests of this wilderness, had entertained swarms of +log-drivers just paid off and anxious to spend money, and when the law +interfered, he retreated to a smaller town. + +In the interval, strange to say, his moral nature--or rather +immoral--suffered a brief relapse, during which he persuaded an +excellent if confiding young woman to share his name and infamy. + +His second business venture came to grief, however, and his wife deserted +him and met with a fatal accident a few years after. In the meantime +he had kept busy, exercising his peculiar talents and tastes in an +individual manner, and evading officers, and his ways of money-getting +were peculiar and diverse. + +The Chinese Exclusion Act had just become operative, and the admission +of Celestials into the land of the free, and of good wages, became a +valuable matter. McGuire conceived the brilliant, if grewsome, idea of +passing "Chinks" over the border line concealed in coffins. It worked +admirably, and with accomplices on both sides to obtain certificates +and permits, and take charge of the "corpses," a few dozen almond-eyed +immigrants at two hundred dollars each obtained admission. + +In time, this budding industry met an official quietus, and McGuire, +with several warrants out against him, took to the woods. He still +continued business, however, in various ways. He smuggled liquor over +the border by canoe loads, hiding it at convenient points, to exchange +for log-drivers' wages. He killed game out of season, and dynamited +trout and salmon on spawning beds for the same purpose; and, handy +with cards, did not disdain their use in lumbering camps. + +In all and through all his various ways of money-getting, one purpose +had governed him--that of money-saving. Trusting no one, as he had reason +to feel no one trusted him, he continually emulated the squirrels and +hid his savings in the woods. A trapper and hunter by instinct, as well +as thief, dive-keeper, smuggler, poacher, and gambler, he had in his +wanderings discovered a cave in a slate ledge upon the shores of a small +lake far into the wilderness. It was while trapping here that he found +this by the aid of a fox which, while dragging a trap, became caught +and held in a crevasse while attempting to enter it. + +The fox thus secured, McGuire made further investigation, and by removing +a loose slab of slate, he was enabled to enter a roomy cavern, or rather +two small ones partially separated by slate walls. A little light +entered the larger one, through a seam crossing it lengthwise. They were +free from moisture at this time--early autumn--and so secluded was the +spot that McGuire decided at once to use this place as a hiding-spot +for his money. The entrance could be kept concealed, its location served +his purpose, and, fox-like himself, he decided to occupy what he +would never have found without the aid of a fox, believing no one +else would find it. It could also be used as a domicile for himself as +well. A fireplace of slate could be built in it, an escape for smoke +might be formed through the crack, if enlarged, and so this cave's +possibilities increased. + +There were still several other advantages. This lake was surrounded by +precipitous mountains; no lumbermen, even, were likely to operate there; +the stream flowing out of it soon crossed the border line, finding escape +into the St. Lawrence valley at a point some twenty miles distant; a +short carry enabled him to reach the Fox Hole which flowed by Tim's +Place, and so this served as an excellent whip road in case of pursuit. + +His transient asylum at Tim's Place also served as a vantage point in +another way. + +Here all who entered this portion of the wilderness invariably +halted,--officers and wardens as well,--and as by this time McGuire +had become an outlaw murderer, with a reward offered for his capture, +this outpost was of double advantage. + +Caution was a strong point in his make-up, yet he was daring as well. +He still visited the settlements occasionally, to sell furs and obtain +ammunition and whiskey; and when he, as ill luck would have it, happened +there at the time his child was left motherless, some malign impulse led +him to take her to Tim's Place and leave her in servitude there. + +There was also another chance caller at this outpost--a half-breed +trapper and hunter named Bolduc, who had established himself in a +lone cabin on the Fox Hole, some ten miles up from Tim's Place. He +was a repulsive minor edition of McGuire. A wildcat, with laudable +intentions, had essayed putting an end to his career, and succeeded to +the extent of one eye and some blood. He had been the accomplice and +partner of McGuire in many a whiskey-smuggling trip. He also dealt in +this pernicious, but valuable, fluid, was a poacher ever ready to +pot-hunt for a lumbering camp in winter, or find a moose yard on +snow-shoes, after slaughtering the helpless inmates of which, he +would sell them to the busy wood-choppers. + +He, too, could be classed as brigand of the wilderness, and while no +warrants or charges against him were rife, he felt it wise to avoid +meeting minions of the law. Tim's Place was a convenient point to +obtain information as to location of new lumber camps or possible visits +of officers. An occasional bottle of whiskey secured Tim's favor. +The evenings and meals there impressed Pete with the advantages of +owning a woman's services, and as Chip matured in domestic and other +possibilities, a desire to possess her began to increase his visits. + +His wooing met no response, however, and when persisted in always awoke +on her part the same instinct once displayed toward him by a wildcat. + +Then recourse to her father's greed for money was taken, with results as +described. + +The only thing that saved poor Chip from pursuit and capture, however, +was his wholesome fear of her finger-nails, and the belief that it was +best to let her father earn the balance of her price and fetch her, as +agreed. Acting upon this theory, Pete had departed from Tim's Place at +dawn, to await her arrival at his cabin, quite oblivious of the fact that +his bird had flown. + +All that long day he waited in great expectancy. Toward evening he +returned to Tim's Place to learn that Chip had not been seen since +the previous night; that her father had also vanished without comment. +That he was a party to this trick and deception, and, after securing his +three hundred dollars, had taken her away, was Pete's conclusion, +and he vowed a murderous revenge. He returned to his cabin, little +realizing that twenty miles away poor Chip, faint with hunger and the +terror of a vast wilderness, was fighting her way through bush, bramble, +and swamp in a mad attempt to escape. + +Neither did Tim, while regretting the loss of his slave, know or care +that one of his occasional visitors was now a mortal enemy of the other, +and that a tragedy, dark and grewsome, would be its outcome. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + + "The size o' a toad is allus reg'lated by the size o' the + puddle."--Old Cy Walker. + +A week was spent by Martin and his party at the settlement, during which +he acquired the title to township forty-four, range ten, which included +the little lake near the hermit's hut, and made a foursquare-mile tract +about it. + +Chip, thanks to Angie, secured a simple outfit of apparel and--surprising +fact--evinced excellent taste in its selection, thereby proving that +eight years of isolation and a gunny-sack and red-shirt garb had not +obliterated the deepest instinct of woman. + +To Levi, Martin's woodwise helper, was left the selection of fittings +for the new camp. A couple of husky Canucks were engaged to bring them in +in a bateau, and then the party started on its return. + +Only one incident of importance occurred during the wait at this +village known as Grindstone. Angie and Chip had just left the only +store there, in front of which a group of log-drivers had congregated, +when Angie, glancing back, saw that one of the group was following +them. She quickened her pace, and so did he, until just as they turned +into a side street, he passed them, halted, and turned about. + +"Wal, I'm damned if 'tain't Chip, an' dressed like a leddy," he +exclaimed, as they drew near. + +"Hullo, Chip," he added, as they passed, "when did you strike luck?" + +Chip made no response and he muttered again, "Wal, I'm damned, jest +like a leddy!" + +It was annoying, especially to Angie, and neither of the two realized +how soon this blunt log-driver's discovery would reach Tim's Place. + +And now, leaving the bateau to follow, the party started once more on +their journey into the wilderness. No sight or sign of pursuit from the +half-breed had been thus far observed. A few idle lumbermen in the +village--the only visible connection between the vast forest and a +busy world--were little thought of, as their canoes crept slowly up +the narrowing river and gave no hint of interference from this low +brute to any one except Levi. + +He, however, seldom speaking, but ever acting, kept watch and ward +continually. At every bend of the stream his eyes were alert to catch +the first sight of a down-coming canoe in time to conceal Chip, as +he decided must be done. When night camps were made, a site at the +head of the lagoon or up some tributary stream was selected, and while +not even hinting his reason for this, he felt it wise. As they drew +near to Tim's Place, it began to occur to Martin that Chip's presence +had best be concealed until that point was passed. He also desired +to learn the situation there. He had always halted at this clearing in +all his up-river journeys, so far, usually to buy pork and potatoes, and +he now intended to do so again. He also felt it imperative to conceal +Chip in Ray's canoe, before they reached Tim's Place, and let Ray +paddle slowly on while the halt was made. But Levi dissented. + +"'Tain't best," he said, "to let Tim know there's two canoes of +us and one not stoppin'. It'll make him s'picious o' suthin, 'n' +what he 'spects, Pete'll find out. I callate we'd best pass thar in +the night, leave the wimmen above, 'n' you 'n' I go back 'n' git +what we want." + +"But what about the Canucks following us with the bateau?" returned +Martin. "They'll tell who is with us, won't they?" + +"They didn't see us start," answered Levi, "'n' can't swear wimmen +came. We'll say we're alone, 'n' bein' so'll make it plausible, +'n' you might say we're goin' to build a camp 'n' 'nother season +fetch our wimmen in." + +"But how about our men, on the return trip, after finding we have women +at the camp?" rejoined Martin. "They will be sure to tell all they know +on the way back." + +"We've got to keep the wimmen shady, an' fool 'em," answered Levi. +And so his plan was adopted. + +It was in the early hours of morning when the two canoes crept +noiselessly past Tim's Place. The stars barely outlined the river's +course, the frame dwelling, log cabin, and stump-dotted slope back of +them. All the untidiness existent about this dwelling was hid in +darkness, and only the faint sounds and odors betrayed these conditions. +But every eye and ear in the two canoes was alert, paddles were dipped +without sound, and Chip's heart was beating so loudly that it seemed +to her Tim and all his family must be awakened. Her recent escape +from this spot and all the reasons forcing it, the fear that both her +father and the half-breed might even now be there, added dread; and +not until a bend hid even the shadowy view of this plague spot did she +breathe easier. + +"I was nigh skeered to death," she whispered to Ray when safety seemed +assured, "an' if ever Pete finds I'm up whar the folks is goin', +I'm a goner." + +"Oh, we'll take care of you," returned that boy, with the boundless +confidence of youth; "my uncle can shoot as well as any one, and then +Old Cy is up at the camp, and he's a wonder with a rifle. Why, I've +seen him hit a crow a half-mile off!" + +Smoke was ascending from the chimney, and the rising sun was just visible +when Martin and Levi returned to Tim's. Mike was out in an enclosure, +milking; Tim was back of the house, preparing the pigs' breakfast. The +pigs were squealing, and a group of unwashed children were watching +operations, when Martin appeared. A pleasant "Good morning" from him +and a gruff one from Tim was the introduction, and then that stolid +pioneer started for the sty. Not even the unusual event of a caller +could hinder him from the one duty he most enjoyed,--the care of his +beloved swine. + +"You have some nice thrifty pigs," began Martin, when the pen was +reached, desiring to placate Tim. + +"They are thot," he returned. + +"My guide and I are on our way into the woods, to build a camp," +continued Martin, anxious to have his errand over with, "and we halted +to buy a few potatoes of you and some pork. I have a couple of men +following with a bateau," he continued, after pausing for a reply +which did not come; "they will be along in a day or two with most of +our supplies; but I felt sure I could get some extra good pork of you +and some choice potatoes." + +"You kin thot same," replied Tim, his demeanor obviously softening +under this flattery, and so business relations were established. + +Martin had intended asking some cautious question regarding Chip or her +father; but Tim's surly face, his unresponsive manner, and a mistrust +of its wisdom prevented. He was blunt of speech, almost to the verge of +insolence, and the arrival of Martin with all his polite words evoked +not a vestige of welcome; and yet back of those keen gray eyes of his a +deal of cunning might lurk, thought Martin. + +Two slovenly women peered out of back door and window while the interview +was in progress. Mike came and looked on in silence; two of the +oldest children were down by the canoe where Levi waited; the rest, +open-eyed and astonished, seemed likely to be trodden on by some one +each moment. When the stores were secured and paid for, and Martin +had pushed off with Levi, he realized something of the life Chip must +have led there. + +He had intended not only to obtain potatoes, but some information of +value. He obtained the goods, paying a thrifty price, also a good bit +of cold shoulder, and that was all. + +But Levi, shrewd woodsman that he was, fared better. + +"I larned Chip's gone off with old McGuire," he asserted with a quiet +smile when they were well away, "an' that Pete's swearin' murder agin +him." + +"And how?" responded Martin, in astonishment. "I felt that silence +was golden with that surly chap, and didn't ask a question." + +"I'm glad," rejoined Levi. "I wanted to tell you not to, and I've +larned all we want. Children are easy to pump, an' I did it 'thout +wakin' a hint o' 'spicion. Tim's folks all believe Chip's gone +with her dad. Pete thinks so, an' is watchin' for him with a gun, I +'spect, an' if so, the sooner they meet, the better." + +It was gratifying news to Martin, and when the other canoe was reached, +the two again pushed on, with Martin, at least, feeling that the ways +of Fate might prove acceptable. + +Three days more were consumed in reaching the lake now owned by him, for +the river was low, carries had to be made around two rapids, and when at +last the sequestered, forest-bordered sheet of water was being crossed, +Martin wished some titanic hand might raise an impassable barrier about +his possessions. + +Old Cy's joy at their return was almost hilarious. To a man long past +the spasmodic exuberance of youth, loving nature and the wild as few do, +the six months here with the misanthropic old hermit, then a month of +more cheerful companionship, followed by the departure of Martin and +Angie, made this forest home-coming doubly welcome. + +But Chip's appearance, and the somewhat thrilling episode of her escape +from Tim's Place and her rescue, astonished him. Like all old men +who are childless, a young girl and her troubles touched a responsive +chord in his heart, and on the instant Chip's unfortunate condition +found sympathy. Her bluntly told story, with all its details, held him +spellbound. He laughed over her description of spites, and when she +seemed hurt at this seeming levity, he assured her that spites were a +reality in the woods--he had seen hundreds of them. It was not long ere +he had won her confidence and good-will, as he had Ray's, and then he +took Martin aside. + +"That gal's chaser's bin here 'bout a week ago," he said, "an' the +worst-lookin' cuss I ever seen. I know from his description 'twas +him. He kept quizzin' me ez to how long we'd been here, if I knew +McGuire, or had seen him lately, until I got sorter riled 'n' began +to string him. I told him finally that I'd been foolin' all 'long; +that McGuire was a friend o' mine; that he'd been here a day or two +afore, borrowed some money 'n' lit out fer Canada, knowin' there +was a bad man arter him. Then this one-eyed gazoo got mad, real mad, +'n' said things, an' then he cleared out." + +When Martin explained the situation, as he now did, Old Cy chuckled. + +"'Tain't often one shoots in the dark 'n' makes a bull's eye," he +said. + +"I think you and I had better keep mum about this half-breed's call," +Martin added quietly, "and if Angie mentions it, you needn't say that +you know who he was. It will only make my wife and the girl nervous." + +The two tents were now pitched at the head of a cove, some rods away from +the hermit's hut, and well out of sight from the landing, and to these +both Angie and Chip were assured they must flee as soon as the expected +bateau entered the lake, and remain secluded until it had departed. + +In a way, it was a ticklish situation. All knowledge that this waif +was with Martin's party must be kept from Tim's Place and this +half-breed, or she wouldn't be safe an hour; and until the Canucks +had come and gone, she must be kept hidden. Another and quite a serious +annoyance to Martin was the fact that he had counted on these two men +as helpers in cutting and hauling logs for this new camp. Only man-power +was available, and to move logs a foot in diameter and twenty feet +long, in midsummer, was no easy task; but Levi, more experienced in +camp-building, made light of it. + +"We'll cut the logs we need, clus to the lake," he said, "float 'em +'round, 'n' roll 'em up on skids. It's easy 'nough, 'n' we don't +need them Canuckers round a minit." + +It was four days of keen suspense to Chip before they appeared. Neither +she nor Angie left the closed tent while they remained over night, or +until they had been gone many hours, and then every one felt easier. + +The ringing sound of axes now began to echo over the rippled lake, logs +were towed across with canoes, a cellar under the new cabin site was +excavated, and home-building in the wilderness went merrily on. + +While the men worked, Angie and Chip were not idle. Not only did they +have meals to prepare over a rude outdoor fireplace, but they gathered +grass and moss for beds, wove a hammock and rustic chair seats out of +sedge grass, and countless other useful aids. + +Chip was especially helpful and more grateful than a dog for any and all +consideration. Not a step that she could take or a bit of work that she +could do was left to Angie; her interest and do-all-she-could desire +never flagged, and from early morn until the supper dishes were washed +and wiped, Chip was busy. + +But Martin, and especially Levi, had other causes for worry than those +which camp-building entailed. The fact that this "Pernicious Pete," as +Angie had once called him, would soon learn of their presence here, +and hating all law-abiding people, as such forest brigands always do, +would naturally seek to injure them, was one cause. Then, there were +so many ways by which he could do harm. A fire started at one corner +of the hut at midnight, the same Indian-like malice applied to their +two tents, the stealing of their canoes or the gashing of them with a +hunting-knife, and countless other methods of venting spite, presented +themselves. In a way, they were helpless against such a night-prowling +enemy. Over one hundred miles separated them from civilization and all +assistance; an impassable wilderness lay between. The stream and their +canoes were the only means of egress. These valuable craft were left +out of sight and sound each night, on the lake shore, and so their +vulnerability on all sides was manifest. + +Then, Chip's presence was an added danger. If once this brute found that +she was here, there was no limit to what he would do to secure her and +take revenge. They had smuggled her past Tim's Place, but concealment +here was impossible; if ever this half-breed returned, she would be +discovered, and then what? + +And so by day, while Martin and Levi were busy with hut-building, or +beside the evening camp-fire when Ray picked his banjo and Chip watched +him with admiring glances, these two guardians had eyes and ears ever +alert for this expected enemy. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + + "It allus makes me coltish to see two young folks a-weavin' + the thread o' affection."--Old Cy Walker. + +There were three people at Birch Camp,--as Angie had christened +it,--namely, herself, Ray, and Chip, who did not share Martin's +suspicion of danger. A firm belief that a woman's aid in such a +complication was of no value, coupled with a desire to save her +anxiety, had kept his lips closed as to the situation. + +Life here at all hours soon settled itself into a certain daily +routine of work, amusement, and, on Chip's part, of study. True to +her philanthropic sense of duty toward this waif, Angie had at once +set about her much-needed education. A reading and spelling book +suitable for a child of eight had been secured at the settlement, and +now "lessons" occupied a few hours of each day. + +It was only a beginning, of course, and yet with constant reminders +as to pronunciation, this was all that Angie could do. The idioms of +Tim's Place, with all its profanity, still adhered to Chip's speech. +This latter, especially, would now and then crop out in spite of all +admonitions; and so Angie found that her pupil made slow progress. + +There was also another reason for this. Chip was afraid of her, and oft +reproved for her lapses in speech, soon ceased all unnecessary talk when +with Angie. + +But with Ray it was different. He was near her own age, the companionship +of youth was theirs, and with him Chip's speech was ready enough. This, +of course, answered all the purposes of benefit by assimilation, and +so Angie was well satisfied that they should be together. Beyond that +she had no thought that love might accrue from this association. + +Chip, while fair of face and form, and at a sentimental age, was so crude +of speech, so grossly ignorant, and so allied to the ways and manners of +Tim's Place, that, according to Angie's reasoning, Ray's feelings +were safe enough. He was well bred and refined, a happy, natural boy now +verging upon manhood. In Greenvale he had never shown much interest in +girls' society, and while he now showed a playmate enjoyment of Chip's +company, that was all that was likely to happen. + +But the winged god wots not of speech or manners. A youth of eighteen and +a maid of sixteen are the same the world over, and so out of sight of +Angie, and unsuspected by her, the by-play of heart-interest went on. + +And what a glorious golden summer opportunity these two had! + +Back of the camp and tending northwest to southeast was a low ridge of +outcropping slate, bare in spots--a hog-back, in wilderness phrase. +Beyond this lay a mile-long "blow-down," where a tornado had levelled +the tall timber. A fire, sweeping this when dry, left a criss-cross +confusion of charred logs, blueberry bushes had followed fast, and now +those luscious berries were ripening in limitless profusion. Every fair +day Ray and Chip came here to pick, to eat, to hear the birds sing, to +gather flowers and be happy. + +They watched the rippled lake with now and then a deer upon its shores, +from this ridge; they climbed up or down it, hand in hand; they fished in +the lake or canoed about it, time and again; and many a summer evening, +when the moon served, Chip handled the paddle, while Ray picked his +banjo and sang his darky songs all around this placid sheet of water. + +And what a wondrous charm this combination of moonlight on the lake and +love songs softened and made tender by the still water held for Chip! As +those melodies had done on that first evening beside the camp-fire, so +now they filled her soul with a strange, new-born, and wonderful sense of +joy and gladness. + +The black forest enclosing them now was sombre and silent. Spites still +lurked in its depths and doubtless were watching; but a protector was +near, his arm was strong; back at the landing were kind friends, and the +undulating path of silvered light, the round, smiling orb above, the +twinkling stars, and this matchless music became a new wonder-world to +her. + +Her eyes glistened and grew tender with pathos. She had no more idea than +a child why she was happy. Each day sped by on wings of wind, each hour, +with her one best companion, the most joyful, and so, day by day, poor +Chip learned the sad lesson of loving. + +But never a word or hint of this fell from her lips. Ray was so far above +her and such a young hero, that she, a homeless outcast, tainted by the +filth and service of Tim's Place, could only look to him as she did +to the moon. + +They laughed and exchanged histories. Ofttimes he reproved her speech. +They fished, picked berries, and worked together like two big children, +and only her wistful eyes told the other why they were wistful. + +Martin, busy at camp-building and watching ever for an enemy's coming, +saw it not. Angie was as obtuse; the old hermit, misanthropic and verging +into dotage, was certainly oblivious, and so no ripples of interest +disturbed these workers. + +Such conditions were as sunshine to flowers in aiding the two young +lovers, so this forest idyl matured rapidly. Chip, perhaps more +imaginative than Ray, since most of her education had been the weird +superstition of Old Tomah, felt most of its emotional force, though +unconscious of the reason. + +"I dunno why I feel so upset all the time lately," she said one +afternoon to Ray as, returning from the berry field, they halted on +top of the ridge to scan the lake below. "Some o' the time I feel so +happy I want to sing, 'n' then I feel jes' t'other way, 'n' +like cryin'. When the good spell is on, everything looks so purty, +'n' when I come on to a bunch o' posies, then I feel I must go right +down on my knees 'n' kiss 'em. When I was at Tim's Place, I never +thought about anything 'cept to get my work done 'n' keep from +gettin' cussed 'n' licked. I was scart, too, most o' the time, +'n' kept feelin' suthin awful was goin' to happen to me. Now that's +'most gone, but I feel a heartache in place on't. I allus hev a spell +o' feelin' so every mornin' when I wake up 'n' hear the birds +singin'. They 'fect me so that I'm near cryin' 'fore I git up. You +'n' Mis' Frisbie 'n' everybody's been so good to me, I guess it's +made me silly. Then thar's 'nother thing worries me, an' that's +goin' to the settlement whar you folks is from. I feel I kin sorter earn +my keepin' here, but I s'pose I can't thar, 'n' that bothers me. +If only you 'n' all the rest was goin' to stay here all the time +'n' I could work some, same as I do now, an' be with you odd spells +'n' evenin's, I'd be so happy. It 'ud be jest like the spot Old +Tomah said we're goin' to when we die. He used to tell how 'twas +summer thar all the time, with game plenty, berries ripe, flowers +growin', too, all the year 'round, 'n' birds singin'. He believed +thar was two places somewhar: one for white folks and one fer Injuns; +that when we died we turned into spites, stayed 'round till we got +revenge for everything bad done us, or got a chance to pay up what good +we owed for." + +"I don't know where we go to when we quit this world, and neither +does anybody else, I believe," Ray answered philosophically, and +scarce understanding Chip's mood. "I believe, as Old Cy does, that +the time to be happy is when we are young and can be; that when we +are ready to leave this world is time enough for another one. As to your +worrying about your going to Greenvale," he added confidently, and +encircling Chip's waist with one arm, "why, you've got me to look +out for you, and then Angie won't begrudge you your keep, so don't +think about that." And then this young optimist, quite content with +what the gods had provided in this maid of sweet lip and appealing eye, +assured her she had everything to make her happy, including himself for +companion; that all her moody spells were merely memories of Tim's +Place, best forgotten, and much more of equally tender and silly import. + +Not for one instant did he realize the growing independence and +self-reliance of this wilderness waif, or how the first feeling that +she was a burden upon these kind people would chafe and vex her defiant +nature, until she would scorn even love, to escape it. + +Just now the tender impulse of first love was all Ray felt or +considered. This girl of sweet sixteen and utter confidence in him was +so enthralling in spite of her crude speech and lack of education, her +kisses were so much his to take whenever chance offered, and himself +such a young hero in her sight, that he thought of naught else. + +In this, or at least so far as his reasoning went, they were like two +grown-up children entering a new world--the enchanted garden of love. Or +like two souls merged into one in impulse, yet in no wise conscious why +or for what all-wise purpose. + +For them alone the sun shone, birds sang, leaves rustled, flowers +bloomed, and the blue lake rippled. For them alone was all this charming +chance given, with all that made it entrancing. For them alone was life, +love, and lips that met in ecstasy. + +Oh, wondrous beatitude! Oh, heaven-born joy! Oh, divine illusion that +builds the world anew, and building thus, believes its secret safe! + +But Old Cy, wise old observer of all things human, from the natural +attraction of two children to the philosophy of content, saw and +understood. + +Not for worlds would he hint this to Angie or Martin. Full well he knew +how soon this "weavin' o' the threads o' affection," would be +frowned upon by them; but he loved children as few men do. + +This summer-day budding of romance would end in a few weeks, these two +were happy now--let them remain so, and perhaps in Chip's case it might +prove the one best incentive to her own improvement. + +And now as he watched them day by day, came another feeling. Homeless all +his life so far, and for many years a wanderer, these two had awakened +the home-building impulse in his. He could not have a home himself, he +could only help them to one in the future, and to that end and purpose +he now bent his thought. + +The weeks there with Ray had opened Old Cy's heart to him. Even sooner, +and with greater force, had Chip's helpless condition made the same +appeal, and as he watched her wistful eyes and willing ways, in spite +of her speech and in spite of her origin, he saw in her the making of a +good wife and mother. Her heritage, as he now guessed, was of the worst, +her education was yet to be obtained; but for all that, a girl--no, a +child--of sixteen who would dare sixty miles of wilderness alone to save +herself from a shameful fate, was of the metal and fibre to win, and +more than that, deserved the best that life afforded. + +How he could at present aid her, he saw not. A few years of help and time +to study must be given her, and as Old Cy realized how much must be done +for her and how uncertain it was whether Angie would find time, or be +willing to do it, then and there he determined to share that duty with +her. + +It was midsummer when Martin and his party returned to the lake with +Chip. In two weeks the new log cabin--a large one, divided into three +compartments--was erected and ready for occupation, and so convenient +and picturesque a wildwood dwelling was it that a brief description may +be tolerated. + +All log cabins are much alike--a square enclosure of unhewn logs thatched +with saplings and chinked with mud and moss. A low door of boards or +split poles is the usual entrance, with one small window for light; its +floor may be of small split logs or mother earth, and at best it is a +cramped, cheerless hovel. + +But Martin's was a more pretentious creation. Its location, well out on +the birch-clad point, back of which stood the hermit's hut, commanded a +view of the lake. A group of tall-stemmed spruce, amid which it stood, +gave shade, yet allowed observation. It was of oblong shape, with a +wide piazza of white birch poles and roof of same; two four-pane windows +to each room gave ample light; a small Franklin stove had been brought +for the sitting room, and a cook stove occupied the "lean-to" cook +room back of the main cabin. Beds, chairs, and benches were fashioned +from the plentiful white birch stems, and floor and doors were of planed +boards. + +It was but a crude structure, compared to even the humblest of civilized +dwellings; and yet with all its fittings conveyed into this wilderness in +one bateau, and with only axes, a saw, and hammer for tools, as was +the case, it was a marvel. + +Working as all the men had done from dawn until dark to complete this +cabin, no recreation had been taken by any one except Ray and Chip; and +now Martin, a keen sportsman, felt that his turn had come. The trout were +rising night and morn all over the lake, partridges so tame that they +would scarce fly were as plenty as sparrows, a half-dozen deer could be +seen any time along the lake shore--in fact, one had already furnished +them venison--and so Martin now anticipated some relaxation and sport. + +But Fate willed otherwise. + +One of Old Cy's first and most far-sighted bits of work, after being +left with the hermit the previous autumn, had been the erection of an +ice-house out of large saplings. It stood at the foot of a high bank +on the north of the knoll and close to the lake, and here, out of the +sunshine, yet handy to fill, stood his creation. Its double walls of +poles were stuffed with moss, its roof chinked with blue clay, a sliding +door gave ingress, and even now, with summer almost gone, an ample supply +of ice remained in it. + +In the division of duties among these campers, Levi usually started the +morning fire while Old Cy visited the ice-house for anything needed. One +morning after the new cabin was completed, he came here as usual. + +A fine string of trout caught by Martin and Ray the day before were +hanging in this ice-house, and securing what was needed, Old Cy closed +the door and turned away. As usual with him, he glanced up and down +the narrow beach to see if a deer had wandered along there that morning, +and in doing so he now saw, close to the water's edge and distinctly +outlined in the damp sand, the print of a moccasined foot. + +It was of extra large size, and as Old Cy bent over it, he saw it had +recently been made. Glancing along toward the head of this cove, he saw +more tracks, and two rods away, the sharp furrow of a canoe prow in the +sand. + +"It's that pesky half-breed, sure's a gun," he muttered, stooping +over the track, "fer a good bit o' his legs was turned up to walk on, +and he wore moccasins t'other day." + +Curious now, and somewhat startled, he looked along where the narrow +beach curved out and around to the landing, and saw the tracks led that +way. Then picking his way so as not to obscure them, he followed until +not three rods from the new cabin they left the beach and were plainly +visible behind a couple of spruces, in the soft carpet of needles, which +was crushed for a small space, where some one had stood. + +Returning to camp, Old Cy motioned to Levi and Martin. All three returned +to the ice-house, looked where the canoe had cut its furrow, took up +the trail to its ending beside the two trees, and then glanced into one +another's eyes with serious, sobered, troubled faces. + +And well they might; for the evening previous they had all been grouped +upon the piazza of this new cabin until late, while scarce three rods +away a spying enemy, presumably this half-breed, had stood and watched +them. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + + "Blessed be them that 'spects nothin', they won't git + fooled."--Old Cy Walker. + +Christmas Cove was never disturbed by aught except small boats, and few +of them. It was a long, crescent-shaped arm of the sea, parallel to the +ocean, and separated from it by a spruce-clad cliff; its placid surface +scarcely more than rippled or undulated outside, and so shallow was it +that each ebb tide left its sandy bottom bare. + +A stream found devious way along this crescent when the outflow left it +bare. Mottled minnows, schools of white and green smelts, crabs of all +sorts and sizes, swam and sported up and down this broad, shallow brook +while the tide was away, and few of human kind ever watched them. + +Alongside this cove and inward a dozen or more brown houses and a few +white ones faced its curving shore, a broad street with many elms and +ruts between which the grass grew separated the houses and cove, and a +small white church with a gilt fish for weather-vane on its steeple stood +midway of these dwellings. + +A low range of green hills to the northward of this village shut off +the wintry winds, at the upper end of the street a stream from a cleft +in the hills crossed it, and here stood a mill, its roof green with +moss, its clapboards brown and whitened with mill dust, the log dam +above it half obscured by willows. To the right of this a short flume +was entirely hidden by alders, and above the dam lay a pond, entirely +covered with green lily-pads, and dotted by white blossoms all summer. + +Beside the mill and nearer the roadway stood an ancient dwelling, +also moss-coated; two giant elms shaded it, and the entire impression +conveyed by the mill's drowsy rumble and splashing wheel on a hot +August afternoon was--find a shady spot and take a nap. + +These were the summer conditions existent at Christmas Cove. The winter +ones may be left undescribed. + +Just beyond where the mill stream crossed the road the highway divided, +one fork following the trend of these hills to where a railroad crossed +them, ten miles away; the other, running close to the upper and marshy +end of Christmas Cove to where a spile bridge connected the two uplands +and thence over to another village called Bayport. This, the larger +of the two, had once contained a shipyard, now idle, a score of its +dwellings were vacant, and the two hundred or more of its population +existed by farming, fishing, lobster-catching, and a small factory +devoted to the production of sardines duly labelled with a French name. + +Christmas Cove, however, was more respectable, with its hundred +residents, mostly retired sea captains with an income, and no litter of +lobster pots or nets to obstruct its one long, narrow wharf which +reached out to deep water at the mouth of the cove. A few small pleasure +craft were tethered to the wharf, and gardens, cows, and poultry were +merely diversions here. + +One other income it had, however, which was considered less plebeian than +Bayport's--the money a score of city-bred people left each summer. + +Keeping boarders was all right at Christmas Cove. It did not smack of +trade and commerce. No smoke of engines, no dust of coal, no noise of +hammer and saw, were parts of it. No odor from a canning factory, no +wrack of dismantled boats, tarred nets, and broken traps, was connected +with it. The dwellings at Christmas Cove were roomy, few children were +now a part of its population--scarce enough to fill the one schoolhouse +presided over by Mr. Bell, and so each season a few dozen of the uneasy +horde, always anxious to leave home and board somewhere, came here. + +A daily stage line--an ancient carryall drawn by one sleepy +horse--connected this village with the railroad. Its church bell called +the faithful to Thursday evening prayer-meeting and Sunday service with +unfailing regularity. Its one general store and post-office combined, was +the evening rendezvous for a score of sea captains--grizzled hulks who +had sailed into safe harbor here at last, and who watched the +weather, discussed the visitors, and swapped yarns year in and year out. + +Here also, many years before, when Bayport was more prosperous, the +threads of a romance had been woven, and two brothers, Judson and Cyrus +Walker, born at Bayport, and sailing out of it, had paid court to two +sisters, Abigail and Amanda Grey, here at Christmas Cove. + +It was, as such sailors' courtships ever are, intermittent. Six, eight, +and sometimes twelve months marked its interims, until finally only +one brother, Judson, returned to announce a shipwreck in mid-ocean, +a separation of their crew in two boats, and Abbie Grey, whom Cyrus +had smiled upon, was left to wait and watch and hope. + +In time, also, Judson and "Mandy" joined fortunes. In time, and after +many voyages, during which he vainly tried to find some tidings of his +brother, Judson, now Captain Walker, gave up the sea, and with wife +and two young sons retired inland, purchased an abandoned farm in a +sequestered valley, and began another life. + +Another mating had also occurred at Christmas Cove, for Abbie, the other +sister and the sweetheart of Cyrus, giving him up for lost, finally +consented to share the ancestral home of Captain Bemis--once a sailor and +now the miller, who had exchanged the sea's perils for that peaceful +vocation. + +His father had ground grist here for a lifetime, and passed on. His +mother still survived when Abbie Grey, once the belle of the village and +a boarding-school graduate, married Captain Bemis, twice her age, and +her old-time romance became only a memory. + +No children came to fill this great, cheerless house with laughter. The +old mother was laid away in due time, Abbie, once a handsome girl, grew +portly and became Aunt Abbie to neighboring children, and finally all +the village; and disappointed as she had cause to be, she turned her +thoughts to good works and religion. + +But Cyrus, adrift in an open boat with half the crew, was finally +rescued by a whaler, after starvation had left him almost an imbecile. +A four-year, compulsory voyage to southern seas followed; then +another wreck and a year on an island, and then a chance meeting with +another sailor from Bayport, and from whom he learned two unpleasant +facts,--first that his sweetheart, Abbie Grey, was married; and secondly +that his brother had been lost at sea. + +One was true, of course, and somewhat disheartening to Cyrus; the +other, as discomforting, but not true. It was simply a case of mistaken +identity, his own disappearance being confounded with that of his brother. + +This story served the purpose of so affecting Cyrus that he resolved +never to set foot in either Christmas Cove or Bayport, and also never +to allow any one there to know that he was alive. + +From now on, also, he deserted the sea and became a wanderer. He first +lived in the wilderness, where as trapper and hunter and lumberman he +learned the woodsman's habits; and when mid-life was reached, having +become sceptical of all things, he finally settled down at Greenvale. +Here, loving children and the woods, fields, brooks, and Nature more than +raiment, religion, and respectability, he became a village nondescript, +a social outcast, and--Old Cy Walker. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + + "The poor 'n' pious kin callate the crumbs fallin' from the + rich man's table'll be few 'n' skimpy."--Old Cy Walker. + +An enemy we can meet in the open need not appall us; but an enemy who +creeps up to us by day, or still worse by night, in a vast wilderness, +becomes a panther and an Indian combined. + +Such a one had spied upon Martin's camp that night, and all the tales +of this half-breed's cunning and fierce nature, told by Levi, were now +recalled. Like a human brute whose fangs were tobacco-stained, whose one +evil eye glared at them out of darkness, the half-breed had now become a +creeping, crawling beast, impossible to trail, yet certain to bide his +time, seize Chip, or avenge her loss upon her protectors. + +Now another complication arose as Martin, Old Cy, and Levi left the +spot where this enemy had watched them--what to do about Angie and the +girl? From the first warning from Levi that they were in danger from +the half-breed, Martin had avoided all hint of it to them. Now they +must be told, and all peace of mind at once destroyed. Concealment was +no longer possible, however, and when Angie was told, her face paled. Her +first intuition, and as the sequel proved, a wise one, was for them +to at once pack up and quit the woods as speedily as possible. + +But Martin was of different fibre. To run away like this was cowardly, +and besides he cherished only contempt for a wretch who had played the +role of this fellow, and was so vile of instinct. With no desire to +do wrong, he yet felt that if sufficient provocation and the need of +self-defence arose, the earth, and especially this wilderness, would be +well rid of such a despicable creature. + +Then Levi's advice carried weight. + +"We ain't goin' to 'scape him," he said, "by startin' out o' +the woods now. Most likely he's got his eye on us this minute. He +knows every rod o' the way out whar we'd be likely to camp. He'd +sure follow, an' if he didn't cut our canoes to pieces some night, +he'd watch his chance 'n' grab the gal 'n' make off under cover +o' darkness. We've got a sort o' human panther to figger on, an' +shootin' under such conditions might mean killin' the gal. We've got +to go out sometime, but I don't believe in turnin' tail fust go-off, +'n' we may get a chance to wing the cuss, like ez not," and the +glitter in Levi's eyes showed he would not hesitate to shoot this +half-breed if the chance presented itself. + +Old Cy's opinion is also worth quoting:--"My notion is this hyena's a +coward, 'n' like all sich'll never show himself by daylight. He knows +we've got guns 'n' know how to use 'em. The camp's as good as a +fort. One on us kin allus be on guard daytimes, an' when it's time +to go out--wal, I think we ought to hev cunnin' 'nuff 'mongst us to +gin one hyena the slip. Thar's one thing must be done, though, 'n' +that is, keep the gal clus. 'Twon't do to let her go over the hog-back +arter berries, or canoein' round the lake no more." + +And now began a state of semi-siege at Birch Camp. + +Chip was kept an almost prisoner, hardly ever permitted out of +Angie's sight. One of the men, always with rifle handy, remained on +guard--usually Old Cy, and for a few nights he lay in ambush near the +shore, to see if perchance this enemy would steal up again. + +With all these precautions against surprise, came a certain feeling of +defiance in Martin. With Ray for companion he went fishing once more, +and with Levi as pilot he cruised about for game. + +Only a few more weeks of his outing remained, and on sober second +thought, he didn't mean to let this sneaking enemy spoil those. + +But Old Cy never relaxed his vigil. This waif of the wilderness and her +pitiful position appealed to him even more than to Angie, and true to +the nature that had made all Greenvale's children love him, so now did +Chip find him a kind and protecting father. + +With rifle always with him, he took her canoeing and fishing; sometimes +Angie joined them, and so life at Birch Camp became pleasant once more. + +A week or more of happiness was passed, with no sight or sign of their +enemy, and then one morning when Old Cy had journeyed over to the +ice-house, he glanced across the lake to a narrow valley through which a +stream known as Beaver Brook reached the lake, and far up this vale, +rising above the dense woods, was a faint column of smoke. + +The morning was damp, cloudy, and still--conditions suitable for +smoke-rising, and yet so faint and distant was this that none but +the keen, observant eyes of a woodsman would have noticed it. Yet there +it was, a thin white pillar, clearly outlined against the dark green +of the foliage. + +Old Cy hurried back, motioned to Levi, and the two watched it from the +front of the camp. Martin soon joined them, then Angie and Chip, and all +stood and studied this smoke sign. It was almost ludicrous, and yet not; +for at its foot must be a fire, and beside it, doubtless, the half-breed. + +"Can you locate it?" queried Martin of his guide, as the delicate +column of white slowly faded. + +"It's purty well up the brook," Levi answered; "thar's a sort of +Rocky Dundar thar, 'n' probably a cave. I callate if it's him, he's +s'pected a storm, 'n' so sneaked to cover." + +And now, as if to prove this, a few drops of rain began to patter on +the motionless lake; thicker, faster they came, and as the little group +hurried to shelter, a torrent, almost, descended. For weeks not a drop of +rain had fallen here. Each morn the sun had risen in undimmed splendor, +to vanish at night, a ball of glorious red. + +But now a change had come. Wind followed the rain, and all that day the +storm raged and roared through the dense forest about. The lake was +white with driving scud, the cabin rocked, trees creaked, and outdoor +life was impossible. When night came, it seemed a thousand demons were +wailing, moaning, and screeching in the forest, and as the little party +now grouped around the open stove in the new cabin watched it, the fire +rose and fell in unison with the blasts. + +"It's the spites," whispered Chip to Ray. "They allus act that way +when it's stormin'." + +The next day the gale began to lessen, and by night the moon, now half +full, peeped out of the scurrying clouds. At bedtime it was smiling +serenely, well down toward the tree-tops, and Chip's spites had ceased +their wailing. + +Fortunately, however, Martin's quest for game had been successful. A +saddle of venison, a dozen or more partridges, and two goodly strings of +trout hung in cold storage. + +But utter and almost speechless astonishment awaited Old Cy at the +ice-house when he visited it the next morning, for the venison was +gone, not a bird remained, and one of the two strings of trout had +vanished. + +In front, on the sand, was the same tell-tale moccasin tracks. + +"Wal, by the Great Horn Spoon! if that cuss hain't swiped the hull +business," Old Cy ejaculated, as he looked in and then at the tracks. +"Crossed over last night," he added, noting where a canoe had cut its +furrow, "an' steered plumb for my ice-house! The varmint!" + +But Martin was angry, thoroughly angry, at the audacious insolence of +the theft, and the thought that just now this sneaking half-breed was +doubtless enjoying grilled venison and roast partridge in some secure +shelter. It also opened his eyes to the fact that this chap would hang +about, watching his chance, until they started out of the wilderness, and +then capture the girl if he could. For a little while Martin pondered +over the situation and then announced his plans. + +"There's law, and officers to execute it," he said, "if a sufficient +reward be offered; and to-morrow you and I, Levi, will start for the +settlement and fetch a couple in. I'll gladly give five hundred dollars +to land this sneak behind the bars. If he can't be caught, we can at +least have two officers to guard us going out." + +All that day he and Levi spent in hunting. Another deer was captured, +more birds secured, and when evening came plans to meet the situation +were discussed. + +"You or Ray must remain on guard daytimes near the cabin," Martin said +to Old Cy. "My wife and Chip had better keep in it, or near it most of +the time; and both of you must sleep there nights. One or the other can +fish or hunt, as needed. We must be gone a week or more, even if we have +good luck; but fetching the officers here is the best plan now." + +Levi was up early the next morning, and had the best canoe packed for +a hurry trip ere breakfast was ready. No tent was to be taken, only +blankets, a rifle, a bag of the simplest cooking utensils, pork, bread, +and coffee. A modest outfit--barely enough to sustain life, yet all a +woodsman carries when a long canoe journey with many carries must be +taken. + +There were sober faces at the landing when Martin was ready to +start,--Chip most sober of all,--for now she realized as never before +how serious a burden she had become. + +No time was wasted in good-bys. Martin grasped the bow paddle, and with +"Old Faithful" Levi wielding the stern one, they soon crossed the lake +and vanished at its outlet. + +And now, also, for the first time, Angie realized how much the +presence of these two strong and resourceful men meant to her. All +that day she and Chip clung to the cabin, while Old Cy, a long, lanky +Leatherstocking, patrolled the premises, rifle in hand. + +"We hain't a mite o' cause to worry," he said, when nightfall drew +near. "That pesky varmint's a coward, 'n' knows guns are plenty +here, an' we folks handy in usin' 'em. I've rigged a fish line to +the ice-house door, so it'll rattle some tinware in the cabin if he +meddles it again. I sleep with one eye 'n' both ears open, an' if he +comes prowlin' round night-times, he'll hear bullets whizzin' an' +think Fourth o' July's opened up arly." + +But for all his cheerful assurance, time passed slowly, and a sense of +real danger oppressed Angie and Chip as well. Ray shared it also. He was +not as yet hardened to the wilderness, and like all who are thus tender, +its vast sombre solitude seemed ominous. + +Only the hermit, with his moonlike eyes and impassive ways, showed no +sign of trouble. What this half-breed wanted, other than food, he seemed +not to understand; and while he helped about the camp work and followed +Old Cy like a dog, he was of no other aid. + +One, two, three days of watchful guard and evenings when even Old Cy's +cheerful philosophy or Ray's banjo failed to dispel the gloom, and then, +just as the sun was setting once again, a canoe with one occupant was +seen to enter the lake and head for the landing. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + + "The more I see o' the world, the better I like the + woods."--Old Cy Walker. + +Martin's journey to the settlement was a rushing one. The first day +they wielded paddles without rest, and aided by the current made +rapid progress. Both carries were passed before sunset, a halt made +for a supper of frizzled pork, coffee, and hard tack; then on again +by moonlight, and not until wearied to the limit at almost midnight did +they pause, and hiding themselves in the entrance to an old tote road, +they slept the sleep of weariness. + +Tim's Place was sighted the next day, and now, at Levi's suggestion, +Martin lay down in the canoe as they passed it, concealed beneath a +blanket. + +"It's best to be keerful," Levi said, when proposing this; "I +wouldn't trust Tim a minute. Most likely he's found out whar the +gal is, an' knows what Pete's up to. The two are cahoots together, +'n' if Tim saw you an' I both leavin', no tellin' what'd happen." + +The journey from here on was slower, as no current aided, and yet in +three days and nights of paddling, Martin and Levi covered that +hundred-mile journey and reached the settlement. + +A stage and rail journey, consuming one day and night more, enabled +Martin to reach the man he wanted--a well-informed and fearless officer +named Hersey, and then, securing an assistant and a warrant for one Pete +Bolduc, on the charge of theft, the three returned to the settlement +where Levi had waited. + +"I'm glad to get track of this half-breed," Hersey said on the way. +"He has been the pal of the notorious McGuire for many years, and +besides has been smuggling whiskey into lumber camps and slaughtering +game out of season all the time. Like McGuire, he is hard to locate. +No guide or lumberman dare betray him, and so it's a fruitless task to +try to catch either. We have been after this McGuire for years. He +killed one deputy and wounded another, as you may have heard. This +Bolduc is a cat of the same color, but less courageous, I fancy, and +yet as hard to catch. I think, for the sake of your guide," he added, +"we'd better not enter the woods together. You two go on, saying +nothing. My mate and I will say we are on a pleasure trip, and follow +and overtake you in a few hours. This will protect your man, and evade +suspicion. Even these people at the settlement are half-hearted in +aiding an officer. Most of them are fearful of house or barn burning if +they give any information to us, a few are in secret league with these +outlaws; and so you see our position." + +Martin saw, and marvelled that any of the simple, honest dwellers at this +small settlement, law-abiding as they seemed, would either aid or warn so +red-handed a criminal as McGuire. + +That fear of consequences might influence them, was possible, and yet all +the more reason for assisting the law in ridding the forest of two such +criminals. + +But Martin, thorough sportsman that he was, and keen to all the world's +affairs, understood but little of the conditions existent in the +wilderness, or about the lives and morals of those who find a living thus. + +He knew, as all do, that a few thousand lumbermen entered each autumn, +and, much to his regret, made steady inroads toward its despoilment. He +knew, also, that these men included many of excellent habits--sober, +industrious workers with families which they cheerfully supported, and +that there were also many among them whose sole ambition was to earn a +few hundred dollars in a season of hard work, that they might spend it +in a few weeks, or even days, of drunken debauchery. + +He was well aware that a few wandering hunters and trappers plied their +calling here, and many of a mixed occupation, guiding sportsmen like +himself in season, were engaged in lumbering or farming between times. +This mixed and transient population, he knew, were neither better nor +worse than the average of such pioneers--good-natured and good-hearted, +though somewhat lax in speech and morals. + +What he did not know, however, was that a few unscrupulous and +disreputable men, half gamblers, half dive-keepers, followed these +lumbermen into camp as ostensible hunters and trappers, but really +gamblers, ready to turn a trick at cards, convoy a keg of whiskey in, +or follow a moose on snow-shoes, kill and sell him, as occasion +offered. Or that, when spring opened the streams, these same itinerant +purveyors of vice spotted their possible victims, as a bunco man does a +rural "good thing" visiting the metropolis, and when they reached town +or city, steered them where harpies waited to share the spoil. A +brief explanation of these facts were furnished to Martin by Warden +Hersey, when, after overhauling him, the parties joined about one +camp-fire. + +"We have," Hersey said, "in the case of this McGuire, a fair +sample of the outcome liable to follow or attach to a man who makes a +business of preying upon the vices and follies of the lumbering +class. It is a sort of evolution in law-evasion and opportunity, +encouraged and aided by the animosity which is sure to arise between the +lumberman and us, whose duty it is to enforce the fish and game laws. +These lumbermen, or a majority of them, feel and believe that the forest +and all it contains is theirs by natural right; that no law forbidding +them to obtain all the fish and game they can, is just; that such laws +are enacted and accrue for the sole benefit of city sportsmen who, +like yourself, come here for rest and recreation. It is all a wrong +conclusion, as we know, and yet it exists. Now come these leeches +like McGuire, who prey upon this hard-working class. Such as McGuire +foster the prejudice and antagonism of the lumbermen in all ways +possible, arguing that moose and deer are the natural perquisites of +those who go into the woods for a livelihood, and belong to them as much +as the trees which they have paid stumpage to cut. Also that we who come +in to execute the laws are interlopers, who draw pay for the sole +purpose of robbing them of their rights. Of course, we receive no welcome +at a lumbering camp, and not one iota of information as to what is +going on or where a law-breaker may be found. More than that, they will +protect the leeches who fatten on them in every way possible, even +after, as in McGuire's case, they become murderers and outlaws, with a +price set upon their capture. And here comes in the factor of terrorism. +A few of these lumbermen might give information from a desire to aid the +law, or to obtain a reward, did they not know that to do so would expose +them to the inevitable fate of all betrayers. + +"It is a community of interest, a sort of freemasonry that exists +between these lumbermen and all who thrive upon their labors and +hardships. Now this McGuire has preyed upon them for years, a notorious +example of dive-keeper, gambler, smuggler, and pot-hunter. He is now in +hiding somewhere in this wilderness, or, maybe, creeping up some +stream with a canoe load of liquor bought in some Canadian town. He +will meet and be welcomed by any lumber-cutting party just making camp +next fall, sell them liquor at exorbitant prices, shoot and sell them +venison, and when the snow is deep enough, he will follow and find +moose yards, and do a wholesale slaughter act, and not satisfied with +this, will absorb any and all money these lumbermen have left by card +games. And yet the moment I enter the woods to arrest him, their camps +are closed to me, and word of my coming is passed along to others. The +guides even, who are at the beck and call of you sportsmen, are, +many of them, in secret sympathy with such as McGuire; or if not, dare +not give any clews, and many a wild-goose chase has resulted from +following their supposed information. Some of the wisest among them are +beginning to realize that they must cooperate with us in the protection +of fish and game, or their occupation will be gone. But even those +sensible fellows--and they are increasing--hate to become informer, +fearing consequences. + +"There is still another side to this game situation," continued Hersey, +filling and lighting his pipe, "and this is our laws, or rather, the +selfishness of our lawmakers. We have plenty of laws--and good ones. +We impose a license tax upon all non-residents for the privilege of +shooting or fishing. We limit the season and number of moose, deer, +or trout which may be taken. This license, which is all right, produces +an annual fund sufficient to employ ten wardens, where the State only +employs one. The result is that this vast wilderness is so poorly +patrolled that a game warden is as much of a rarity as a white deer. +Now and then one may be seen canoeing up or down some main stream, +or loafing a week or two at some backwoods farm and having a good time. +One may certainly be found at all points of egress; but a portion of the +wilderness--the greater way-back region--is rarely visited by wardens. + +"There is still one more point, and that is the pay which wardens +receive. It is so small that capable, honest men cannot be obtained +for what the State allows; and considering the large sums raised from +this license tax, it is a mere pittance. The result is, we have to employ +a class of men, many of whom are no respecters of the law themselves, +or who may be bribed." + +It was a full and complete explanation of the conditions then existing in +the wilderness, and as Martin glanced at "Old Faithful" Levi lounging +on his elbow, he understood why that astute guide had always avoided all +possible reference to McGuire. + +"This half-breed, Bolduc, is another sample of his class," continued +Hersey, "and while we have no criminal charge, we can prove we know he +is a pot-hunter, and I'll be glad to nab him, for an example. I judge +he is lurking about your camp, watching a chance to abduct this girl, +and while it's an unusual case, it may serve our purpose nicely--a sort +of bait, useful in alluring him into our hands. How we can catch him, +however, is not an easy problem. He knows the forest far better than +we do; every stream, lake, defile, or cave is familiar to him, and, +cunning as a fox, all pursuit would be useless. Our only hope is to +patrol the woods about your camp as hunters, or watch for another night +visit, and halt him, at the muzzle of a rifle." + +And now Martin turned the conversation to a more interesting +subject--Chip herself. + +"I saw the girl at Tim's Place," Hersey said, "and knowing her +ancestry, felt curious to observe her. She appeared bright as a new +dollar and a willing worker for Tim. Of course, it seemed unfortunate +that she should be left to grow up there without education; and while +her natural guardian being an outlaw gave the State an ample right to +interfere, the proper officer has never seen fit to do so. It has been a +case of 'out of sight, out of mind,' I presume, and while we have +a law obliging parents to send their children to public schools so +many months a year until a certain age, this is a case where no one has +seen fit to enforce it." + +"But what about her parents?" queried Martin, curious on this point. +"Do you know whether they were legally married?" + +"Why, no-o, only by hearsay," Hersey responded. "I've been told +her mother was a Nova Scotia girl, a mill worker in one of our larger +cities, and as no one ever hinted otherwise, I think it safe to assume +that they were married. If not, there would surely have been some one to +spread the sinister fact. It's the way of the world. I presume Tim +knows the girl's history, but he is such a surly Irishman that I never +questioned him. In fact, his surroundings, as you may have noticed, do +not invite long visits." + +But no visit or even halt at Tim's Place was now considered advisable. +In fact, as Levi said, it was best to pass that spot at midnight. This +suggestion was carried out, and in five days from leaving the settlement, +Martin and the officers made their last camp at the lake where he had +once seen a spectral canoeist. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + + "A swelled heart may cost ye money, but a swelled head'll + cost ye ten times more."--Old Cy Walker. + +An unexpected canoe entering a lake so secluded and so seldom visited as +this lake must needs awaken the keenest surprise, and especially in the +case of a party situated as this one was. Ray, who had just returned +from a berry-picking trip over at the "blow down," and Old Cy, carrying +his suggestive rifle, were at the landing some time before this canoe +reached it, while Angie and Chip waited almost breathlessly on the cabin +piazza. A stout, bare-headed Indian, clad in white man's raiment, was +paddling. He glanced at the two awaiting him at the landing, with big +black, emotionless eyes, and then up to the cabin. + +As his canoe now grated on the sandy beach close by, he laid aside his +paddle, stepped forward and out, drew his craft well up, and folding +his arms glanced at Old Cy again, as if waiting for a welcome. None was +needed, however, for on the instant, almost, came an exclamation of joy +from Chip, and with a "Hullo, Poppy Tomah," she was down the bank, +with both her hands in his. + +A faint smile of welcome spread over his austere face as he looked down +at the girl, but not a word, as yet, came. + +Old Cy, quick to see that he was a friend, now advanced. + +"We're glad to see ye," he said, "an' as ye seem to be a friend o' +the gal's, we'll make ye welcome." + +The Indian bowed low, and a "How do," like a grunt, was his answer. A +calm, slow, motionless type of a now almost extinct race, as he seemed +to be, he would utter no word or move a step farther until invited. But +now, led by Chip, he advanced up the path. + +"It's Tomah, old Poppy Tomah," she said with pride, as Angie rose to +meet them, "and he's the only body who was ever good to me." + +"I am glad to see you, sir," Angie said, with a gracious bow and smile, +"and you are welcome here." + +"I thank the white lady--I not forget," came the Indian's dignified +answer with a stately bow. + +Not a word of greeting for Chip or of surprise at finding her here--only +the eagle glance, accustomed to bright sunlight or to following the +flight of a bird far out of white man's vision. + +"We shall have supper soon," Angie added, uncertain what to say to this +impassive man, "and some for you." + +It was a deft speech, for Angie, accustomed to take in every detail of a +man from the condition of his nails to the cut of his clothing, as all +women will, had ere now absorbed the appearance of this swarthy redskin, +and was not quite sure whether to invite him to share their table or say +nothing. + +But the Indian solved his own problem, for spying the outdoor fire to +which Old Cy now retreated, he bowed again and strode away toward it. + +"Me cook here?" he said to Old Cy. With an "Of course, an' you're +welcome to," the question was settled. + +Chip soon drew near, and now for the first time the Indian's speech +seemed to return, and while Old Cy busied himself about the cooking, +these two began to visit. + +Chip, as might be expected, did most of the talking, asked questions as +to Tim's Place, when he was there, and what they said about her running +away, in rapid succession. Her own adventures and how she came here soon +followed, and it was not long before he knew all that was to be known +about her. + +His replies were blunt and brief, after the manner of such. Now and then +an expressive nod or grunt filled in the place of an ordinary answer. +He knew but little about the recent happenings at Tim's Place, as he +had stayed there only one night since Chip departed with her father--as +he was told. He had been away in the woods, looking for places to set +traps later, and had no idea Chip was here. + +As to Pete's movements, he was equally in the dark, and when Chip told +him what her friends here suspected, he merely grunted. As he seemed to +wish to do his own cooking, Old Cy, having completed his task, offered +him a partridge and a couple of trout fresh from the ice-house, also pork +and potatoes, and left him to care for himself. + +He became more sociable later, and when supper was over and the rest had, +as usual, gathered on the piazza of the new cabin, he joined them. + +And now came a recital from Ray of far more interest to these people than +they suspected. + +"I saw a bear over back of the ridge this afternoon," he said, "or I +don't know but it was a wildcat. I'd just filled my pail with berries, +when way up, close to the rocks, I saw something moving. I crouched down +back of a bush, thinking it might be a bear, and if it was, I'd get +a chance to see it nearer. I could only see the top of its back above +the bushes, and once I saw its head, as if it was standing up. Then I +didn't see it for quite a spell, and then I caught sight of its back +again, a good deal nearer, and then it went into one of the gullies in +the hog-back. I didn't wait to see if it came out, but cut for home." + +"Did this critter sorter wobble like a woodchuck runnin'?" put in Old +Cy. + +"No, it just crept along evenly," answered Ray, "I'd see it when it +would come out between the bushes." + +"'Twa'n't a b'ar," muttered Old Cy, and then, as if the unwisdom of +waking suspicion in Angie's mind occurred, he added hastily, "but mebbe +'twas a doe, walkin' head down 'n' feedin'." + +No further notice was taken of Ray's adventure. The sight of deer +everywhere about was a ten-times-daily occurrence, and Old Cy's +dismissal of the matter ended it. + +His thoughts, however, were a different matter. Full well he knew it was +no bear thus moving. A deer would never enter a crevasse, nor a wildcat +or lynx ever leave the shelter of woods to wander in open sunlight. + +"I'll go over thar in the mornin'," he said to himself; "I may git a +chance to wing that varmint 'n' end our worryin'." + +And now Angie, more interested in spites and the weird belief which she +heard that this Indian held than in the sight of a doe, began to ply Old +Tomah with questions, and bit by bit she led him on toward that subject. + +It was not an easy task. His speech came slowly. Deeds, not words, are an +Indian's form of expression, and this fair white lady, serene as the +moon and as suave and smiling as culture could make her, was one to awe +him. + +With Chip he had been fluent enough. She had been almost a protegee of +his, a big pappoose whom he had taught to manage a canoe, for whom he had +made moccasins, a fur cap and cape, who had listened to all his strange +theories with wide-open, believing eyes, and, best of all, a helpless +waif whom he had learned to love. + +But this white lady, awe-inspiring as she was, now failed to induce him +to talk. + +Chip, however, keen to catch the drift of Angie's wishes and anxious +to have her own faith defended, soon came to the rescue and induced Old +Tomah to speak--not fluently at first, the "me" in place of "I" +always occurring, adjectives following nouns, prepositions left out in +many cases; and yet, as he warmed up to his subject, his coal-black eyes +were fierce or tender, and the inborn eloquence of his race glowed in +face and speech. + +And what a wild tale he told! Some of it was the history of his own +race, beginning long before white men came. He related the contests of +his people with wild animals, their deeds of valor, their torturing +of prisoners, their own scorn of death and stoical endurance of pain. +His own ancestors had been mighty chieftains. They had led the tribe +through many battles, swept down upon their white enemies, an avenging +horde, and were now roaming the happy hunting-grounds where he would soon +join them. Mingled with this tale of warfare and conquest, and always +an unseen force for good or evil, were the spites--the souls of all +brute creation. How they followed or led the hunter! How they warned +their own kind of his coming! How they lured him into unseen danger, +and how they continually sought to avenge their own deaths! There were +also two kinds of them,--some evil and the others good. The evil ones +predominated, the good ones feared them, yet sought to interfere in all +evil effort. These two hosts also had their own warfares. They fought +oftenest when storms raged in the forest. Then they swept the tree-tops +and scurried over the hills in vast numbers, shrieking and screaming +defiance. + +Another apparition was oft referred to in this weird talk. A great +white spectre and chieftain of all spites, who sprang from his abode +in the north, whose breath was a blast of snow, howling as it swept +over the wilderness--this ghost, so vast that it covered miles and +miles of wilderness, was altogether evil. It spared neither man nor +beast. The hunter trailing his game met death on the instant and was +left rigid and upright in his tracks. Squaws and children huddled in +wigwams shared the same speedy fate. Lynxes and panthers, deer and +moose by the score, were touched by the same mystic and awful wand of +death. + +It was all an uncanny, eerie, ghostly recital; yet all real and true +to Chip, whose eyes never once left the Indian's face while he was +speaking. Angie, too, was spellbound. Never had she heard anything +like it; and while believing it was all a mere myth and legend, a +superstitious fancy, maybe, of this strange Indian, its telling was +none the less interesting. + +Ray was also enthralled, and he was half convinced that the forest might, +after all, contain spooks and goblins. + +But Old Cy was only a curious listener. He, too, had woven many a +fantastic tale of the sea, its storms and monsters leaping from the +crests of waves, and all such figments of the imagination, and this +fable was but the same. The only feature of passing interest to him was +the fact that any Indian had such a vivid imagination and could relate +such a mingled ghost story so coherently. + +Old Tomah ceased speaking even more abruptly than he began, then looked +from one to another of the group, perhaps to see if they all believed +him, and then without a word or even "good night," he rose and stalked +out of the cabin. + +For a few moments Chip watched Angie and the rest, anxious to see how +this explanation of her own belief affected them, and then Old Cy spoke. + +"I'd hate to be campin' with that Injun," he said, "or sharin' a +wigwam with him night-times. It 'ud be worse'n a man I sot up with +once that had the jim-jams, 'n' I'd see spites and spooks for a week +arter." + +Angie's sleep was troubled that night, and in her dreams she saw white +spectres and a man with a hideously scarred face and one eye watching her. + +Ray also felt the uncanny influence of such a tale and "saw things" +in his sleep. But Old Cy, who had securely barred the doors and then had +rolled himself in a blanket with rifle handy, thought only of what Ray +had seen that day and who it might be. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + + "An honest man's the best critter God ever made, an' the + skeercest."--Old Cy Walker. + +Old Cy's suspicions were correct. It was neither bear, deer, nor wildcat +that Ray saw skulking along the ridge, but the half-breed. + +Believing Chip's father had taken her out of the wilderness, or more +likely up-stream to find a place with these campers, he had come here +to seek her. To find her here, as he of course did, only convinced him +that his suspicions were true and that her father had thus meant to rob +him. + +Two determined impulses now followed this discovery: first, to make the +girl he had bought a prisoner, carry her into the woods, and then, when +the chance came, revenge himself on McGuire. No sense of law, or decency +even, entered his calculation. He was beyond such scruples, and what he +wanted was his only law. + +The fear of rifles, which he knew were plenty enough at this camp, was +the only factor to be considered. For days he watched the camp from +across the lake, hoping that the girl he saw canoeing with a boy so +often might come near enough for him to make a capture. Many times, +when darkness served, he paddled close to where the cabin stood, and +once landed and watched it for hours. + +Growing bolder, as the days wore on, he hid his canoe below the outlet +of the lake and taking advantage of this outcropping slate ledge with +its many fissures, secreted himself and watched. + +But some shelter, at least to cook and eat in, he must have, and this he +found in a distant crevasse of this same ledge, and from this he sneaked +along back of it until he could hide and watch the camp below. From this +vantage-point, he saw that the girl no longer went out upon the lake, +but remained near the cabin; then later, he noticed the two men leave +the lake one morning. This encouraged him, and now he grew still bolder, +even descending the ridge and watching those remaining at the cabin, +from a dense thicket. + +From this new post he saw that but one man seemed on guard, and almost +was he tempted to shoot him from ambush and make a dash to capture his +victim. Cautious and cunning, he still waited a chance involving less +risk. + +And now he saw that certain duties were performed by these people; +that one man and the boy always started the morning fire; that the girl +invariably went to the landing alone for water, at about the same time. +Here for the moment she was out of sight from either cabin, and now in +this act of hers, he saw his opportunity to land from his canoe near +this spot before daylight, and hide in the bushes fringing the shore here +and below the bank, watch his chance and seize and gag her before an +outcry could be made. To tie her hands and feet and to push the other +canoe out into the lake, thus avoiding pursuit until they could get a +good start, was an easy matter. + +It was risky, of course. She might hear or see him in time to give one +scream. The old man who had said foolish things to him, and now seemed +to be on guard, would surely send bullets after him as he sped away; but +once out of the lake, he would be safe. It was a dangerous act; yet the +other two men might return any day, and with this in prospect, this wily +half-breed now resolved to act. + +Old Cy was up early that fatal morning. Somehow a sense of impending +danger haunted him, and calling Ray, he unlocked the cabin door and began +starting the morning fire. He wanted to get breakfast out of the way as +speedily as possible, and then visit this ridge, feeling almost sure +that he would find where this half-breed had been watching them. + +When Ray came out, and before the hermit or Chip appeared, Old Cy hurried +over to the ice-house, and now Chip came forth as usual, and without a +word to any one, she took the two pails and started for the landing. It +was, perhaps, ten rods to this, down a narrow path winding through the +scrub spruce. The morning was fair, the lake without a ripple. + +Above the ridge, and peeping through its topping of stunted fir, came +the first glance of the sun, and Chip was happy. + +Old Tomah, her one and only friend for many years, was here. A something +Ray had whispered the night before, now returned like a sweet note of +music vibrating in her heart, and as if to add their cheer, the birds +were piping all about. + +For weeks the cheerful words of one of Ray's songs had haunted her with +its catchy rhythm:-- + + "Dar was an old nigger and his name was Uncle Ned, + He died long 'go, long 'go." + +They now rose to her lips, as she neared the lake. Here she halted, +filled a pail, and set it on the log landing. + +[Illustration: Nearer and nearer that unconscious girl it crept!] + +From behind a low spruce one evil, sinister eye watched her. + +And now Chip, still humming this ditty, glanced up at the rising sun and +out over the lake. + +A crouching form with hideous face now emerged from behind the bush; +step by step, this human panther advanced. A slow, cautious, catlike +movement, without sound, as each moccasined foot touched the sand. Nearer +and nearer that unconscious girl it crept! Now twenty feet away, now +ten, now five! + +And now came a swift rush, two fierce hands enclosed the girl's face +and drew her backward on to the sand. + +Ray and the hermit were beside the fire, and the Indian just emerging +from the hut where he had slept, when Old Cy returned from the ice-house. + +"Where's Chip?" he questioned. + +"Gone after water," answered Ray. And the two glanced down the path. + +One, two, five minutes elapsed, and then a sudden suspicion of something +wrong came to Old Cy, and, followed by Ray, he hurried to the landing. + +One pail of water stood on the float, both their canoes were adrift on +the lake, and as Old Cy looked out, there, heading for the outlet, was +a canoe! + +One swift glance and, "My God, he's got Chip!" told the story, +and with face fierce in anger, he darted back, grasped his rifle, and +returned. + +The canoe, its paddler bending low as he forced it into almost leaps, +was scarce two lengths from the outlet. + +Old Cy raised his rifle, then lowered it. + +Chip was in that canoe! + +His avenging shot was stayed. + +And now Old Tomah leaped down the path, rifle in hand. + +One look at the vanishing canoe, and his own, floating out upon the lake, +told him the tale, and without a word he turned and, plunging into the +undergrowth, leaping like a deer over rock and chasm, vanished at the +top of the ridge. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + + "The man that won't bear watchin' needs it." + --Old Cy Walker. + +While Chip, bound, gagged, and helpless in the half-breed's canoe, +was just entering the alder-choked outlet of this lake, twenty miles +below and close to where the stream entered another lake, four men were +launching their canoes. + +"It was here," Martin was saying to Hersey, "one moonlight night a +year ago, that a friend of mine and myself saw a spectral man astride +a log, just entering that bed of reeds, as I told you. Who or what it +was, we could not guess; but as that spook canoeman went up this stream, +we followed and discovered our hermit's home." + +"Night-time and moonshine play queer pranks with our imagination," +Hersey responded. "I'm not a whit superstitious, and yet I've many +a time seen what I thought to be a hunter creeping along the lake shore +at night, and I once came near plugging a fat man in a shadowy glen. I +was up on a cliff watching down into it, the day was cloudy, and 'way +below I saw what I was sure was a bear crawling along the bank of the +stream. I had my rifle raised and was only waiting for a better sight, +when up rose the bear and I saw a human face. For a moment it made me +faint, and since then I make doubly sure before shooting at any object +in the woods." + +And now these four men, Levi wielding the stern paddle of Martin's +canoe, and Hersey's deputy that of his, entered the broad, winding +stream. The tall spruce-tops meeting darkened its currentless course, +long filaments of white moss depended from every limb, and as they +twisted and turned up this sombre highway, the air grew stifling. Not +a breeze, not a sound, disturbed the solemn silence, and except for the +swish of paddles and faint thud as they touched gunwales, the fall of a +leaf might have been heard. So dense was this dark, silent forest, +and so forbidding its effect, that for an hour no one scarce spoke, +and even when the two canoes finally drew together, converse came in +whispers. Another hour of steady progress, and then the banks began to +outline themselves ahead, the trees opened more, a sign of current was +met, and the sun lit up their pathway. + +By now the spectral beard had vanished from the trees, white clouds were +reflected from the still waters, and the gleam of sandy bottom was seen +below. The birds, inspired perhaps by the absence of gloom, also added +their cheering notes, Nature was smiling once more, and not a hint or +even intuition of the fast-nearing tragedy met those men. + +And then, as a broad, eddying bend in the stream held their canoes, by +tacit consent a halt was made. + +Martin, his paddle crossed on the thwarts in front, dipped a cup of +the cool, sweet water and drank. Levi wiped the sweat from his face, and +Hersey also quenched his thirst. The day was hot. They had paddled ten +miles. There was no hurry, and as pipes were drawn forth and filled, +conversation began. But just at this moment Levi's ears, ever alert, +caught the faint sound of a paddle striking a canoe gunwale. Not as +usual, in an intermittent fashion, as would be the case with a skilled +canoeist, but a steady, rhythmic thud. + +"Hist," he said, and silence fell upon the group. + +In the wilderness all sounds are noticed and noted, by night especially, +because then they may mean a bear crawling softly through the +undergrowth, or a wildcat, yellow-eyed and vicious, creeping near. But by +day as well they are always heeded, and the crackle of a twig, or the +sound of a deer's foot striking a stone, or any slight noise, becomes +of keen interest. + +And now, from far ahead, came the steady tap, tap, tap. It soon +increased, and then it assured those waiting, listening men that some +canoe was being urged down-stream. + +Without a word they glanced at one another, and then, as if an intuition +came to both at the same time, Martin and Hersey reached for their rifles. + +On and on came the steady thump, thump. + +Just ahead the stream narrowed and curved out of sight. A few foam flecks +from an unseen rill above floated down. The white sandy bottom showed +in the clear water. + +And then, as those stern-faced, watching, listening men, rifles in hand, +almost side by side, waited there, out from behind this bend shot a canoe. + +"My God, it's Pete Bolduc! Look out!" almost yelled Levi, and "Halt! +Surrender!" from Hersey, as two rifles were levelled at the oncomer. +Then one instant's sight of a red and scarred face, a quick reach for +a rifle, a splash of water, an overturned canoe, and with a curse the +astonished half-breed dived into the undergrowth. + +Two rifles spoke almost at the same instant from the waiting canoes, one +answered from out the thicket. A thrashing, struggling something in the +filled canoe next caught all eyes, and Levi, leaping into the waist-deep +stream, grasped and lifted a dripping form. + +It was Chip! + +A brief yet bloodless tragedy, all over in less time than the telling; +yet a lifetime of horror had been endured by that waif, for as Levi bore +her to the bank, cut the thongs that bound her, and freed her mouth from +a pad of deerskin, she grasped his hand and kissed it. + +And then came another surprise; for down a sloping, thick-grown hillside, +something was heard thrashing, and soon Old Tomah, his clothing in +shreds, his face bleeding, appeared to view. + +Calculating to a nicety where he could best intercept and head off the +escaping half-breed, he had crossed four miles of pathless undergrowth +in less than an hour, and reached the stream at the nearest point after +it left the lake. + +How Chip, still sobbing from the awful agony of mind, and dripping +water as well, greeted Old Tomah; how Hersey, chagrined at the escape of +the half-breed, gave vent to muttered curses; how Martin joined them +in thought; and how they all gathered around Chip and listened to her +tale of horror, are but minor features of the episode, and not worth +the telling. + +When all was said and done, Old Tomah, grim and silent as ever, although +he had done what no white man could do or would try to do, washed his +bloody face in the stream, drank his fill of the cool water, and lifting +Pete's half-filled canoe as easily as if it were a shingle, tipped +it, turned the water out, and set it on the sloping bank. + +"Me take you back and watch you now," he said to Chip. "You no get +caught again." + +And thus convoyed, poor Chip, willing to clasp and caress the feet or +legs of any or all of those men, and more grateful than any dog ever was +for a caress, was escorted back to the lake. + +All those waiting at the cabin were at the landing when the rescuers +arrived. Angie, her eyes brimming, first embraced and then kissed the +girl. Ray would have felt it a proud privilege to have carried her to the +cabin, and Old Cy's wrinkled face showed more joy than ever gladdened +it in all his life before. + +Somehow this hapless waif had grown dearer to them all than she or they +understood. + +There was also feasting and rejoicing that night at Martin's wildwood +home, and mingled with it all an oft-repeated tale. + +Old Cy told one end of it in his droll way, Martin related the other, +and Chip filled up the interim. Levi had his say, and Hersey supplied +more or less--mostly more--of this half-breed's history. + +Old Tomah, however, said nothing. To him, who lived in the past of a +bygone race which looked upon lumbermen as devastating vandals ever +eating into its kingdom, and whose thoughts were upon the happy +hunting-grounds soon to be entered, this half-breed's lust and +cunning were as the fall of the leaf. Were it needful he would, as he +had, plunge through bramble and brier and leap over rock and chasm to +rescue his big pappoose, but now that she was safe again, he lapsed into +his stoical reserve once more. Shadowy forms and the mysticism of the +wilderness were more to his taste than all the pathos of human life; +and while his eyes kindled at Chip's smile, his thoughts were following +some storm or tempest sweeping over a vast wilderness, or the rush and +roar of the great white spectre. + +"Chip is good girl," he said to Angie the next morning, "and white +lady love her. Tomah's heart is like squaw heart, too; but he go away +and forget. White lady must not forget," and with that mixture of +tenderness and stoicism he strode away, and the last seen of him was +when he entered the outlet without once looking back at the cabin where +his "big pappoose" was kept. + +More serious, however, were the facts Martin and Hersey now had to +consider, and a council of war, as it were, was now held with Levi, Old +Cy, and the deputy as advisers. + +What the half-breed would now do, and in what way they could now capture +him were, of course, discussed, and as usual in such cases, it was of +no avail, because they were dealing with absolutely unknown quantities. +The facts were these: Bolduc, a cunning criminal, fearless of all +law, had set his heart upon the possession of this girl. Her story, +unquestionably true, that he had paid a large sum for this right and +title, must inevitably make him feel that he would have what was his at +any cost. His first attempt at securing her had been thwarted. He had +been shot at by minions of the law,--an act sure to make him more +vengeful,--his canoe had been taken, and what with the loss of the +girl, money, and canoe also, one of his stamp would surely be driven to +extreme revenge. + +He was now at large in this wilderness, knew where the girl and his +enemies were, and as Hersey said, "He had the drop on them." + +"I believe in standing by our guns," that officer continued, after all +these conclusions had been admitted. "We are here to rid the woods of +this scoundrel. We have five good rifles and know how to use them. The +law is on our side, for he refused to surrender, and returned our shots; +and if I catch sight of him, I shall shoot to cripple, anyway." + +Old Cy's advice, however, was more pacific. + +"My notion is this feller's a cowardly cuss," he said, "a sort o' +human hyena. He'll never show himself in the open, but come prowlin' +'round nights, stealin' anything he can. He may take a pop at some on +us from a-top o' the ridge; but I callate he'll never venture within +gunshot daytimes. His sort is allus more skeered o' us'n we need be +o' him." + +In spite of Old Cy's conclusions, however, the camp remained in a state +of siege that day and many days following. + +Angie and Chip seldom strayed far from the cabin. Ray assumed the +water-bringing, night and morning. Old Cy and Levi patrolled the +premises, while Martin, Hersey, and his deputy hunted a little for game +and a good deal for moccasined footprints or a sight or a sign of this +half-breed. + +Hersey, more especially, made him his object of pursuit. He had come +here for that purpose, his pride and reputation were at stake, and +the thousand dollars Martin had agreed to pay was a minor factor. He +and his mate passed hours in the mornings and late in the afternoon +watching from wide apart outlooks on the ridge. They made long jaunts +up the brook valley to where the smoke sign had been seen, they found +where this half-breed had built a fire here, and later another lair, +a mile from the cabins and in this ridge. Long detours they made in +other directions. Old Tomah's trail through the forest was crossed; +but neither in forest nor on lake shore were any recent footprints of +the half-breed found. Old ones were discovered in plenty. An almost +beaten trail led from his lair in the ridge to a crevasse back of the +cabins, but to one well versed in wood tracks, it was easy to tell how +old these tracks were. + +A freshly made trail in the forest bears unmistakable evidence of its +date, and no woodwise man ever confounds a two or three days' old one +with it. One footprint may not determine this occult fact; but followed +to where the moss is spongy or the earth moist, a matter of hours, even, +can be decided. + +A week of this watchfulness, with no sign of their enemy's return, not +even to within the circuit patrolled time and again, began to relieve +suspense and awaken curiosity. They had been so sure, especially Martin, +that he would come back for revenge, that now it was hard to account for +his not doing so. + +"My idee is he got so skeered at them two shots," Old Cy asserted, +"he hain't stopped runnin' yit." And then the old man chuckled at +the ludicrous picture of this pernicious "varmint" scampering through +a wilderness from fright. + +But Old Cy was wrong. It was not fear that saved them from a prompt +visitation from this half-breed, but lack of means of defence. The one +shot remaining in his rifle at the moment of meeting had been sent on +its vengeful errand, all the rest of his ammunition was in his canoe, and +now on the bottom of the stream. Being thus crippled for means to act, +the only course left to him was a return to his cabin seventy-five miles +away, with only a hunting-knife to sustain life with. + +Even to a skilled hunter and trapper like him, this was no easy task. It +meant at least a week's journey through almost impassable swamps and +undergrowth, with frogs, raw fish, roots, and berries for food. + +How that half-breed, unconscious that the mills of God had ground him +the grist he deserved, fought his way through this pathless wilderness; +how he ate mice and frogs to sustain his worthless life; how he cursed +McGuire as the original cause of his wretched plight and Martin's party +as aids; and how many times he swore he would kill every one of them, +needs no description. + +He lived to reach his hut on the Fox Hole, and from that moment on, this +wilderness held an implacable enemy of McGuire's, sworn to kill him, +first of all. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + + "The biggest fool is the man that thinks he knows it all." + --Old Cy Walker. + +For two weeks the little party at Birch Camp first watched and then +began to enjoy themselves once more. September had come, the first +tint of autumn colored every patch of hardwood, a mellow haze softened +the outline of each green-clad hill and mountain, the sun rose red and +sailed an unclouded course each day, and gentle breezes rippled the +lake. The forest, the sky, the air and earth, all seemed in harmonious +mood, and the one discordant note, fear of this half-breed, slowly +vanished. + +Chip resumed her hour of study each day; a little fishing and hunting +was indulged in by Martin and the two officers; wild ducks, partridges, +deer, and trout supplied their table; each evening all gathered about +the open fire in Martin's new cabin, and while the older people chatted, +Ray took his banjo or whispered with Chip. + +These two, quite unguessed by Angie, had become almost lovers, and as it +was understood Chip was to be taken to Greenvale, all that wonder-world, +to her, had been described by Ray many times. He also outlined many +little plans for sleigh-rides, skating on the mill-pond, and dances +which he and she were to enjoy together. + +His own future and livelihood were a little hazy to him. These matters do +not impress a youth of eighteen; but of one thing he felt sure,--that +Chip with her rosy face and black eyes, always tender to him, was to +be his future companion in all pleasures. It was love among the spruce +trees, a summer idyl made tender by the dangers interrupting it, and +hidden from all eyes except Old Cy's, who was these young friends' +favorite. + +How many times he had taken these two over the ridge during the first +two weeks, and picked berries while they played at it, or crossed the +lake in his canoe to leave them on the shore while he cast for trout, +no one but himself knew, and he wasn't telling. + +Even now, with these two strangers about, Old Cy, Chip, and Ray somehow +seemed to "flock by themselves." Old Cy took them canoeing. They +paddled up streams entering the lake. He showed them where muskrats +were house-building, where mink had runways, and otter had sliding +spots; and to forestall a plan of his own, he enlarged upon the fun +and profit of trapping here when the time came. If these two young +doves cooed a little meantime, he never heard it; if they held hands +unduly long, he never saw it; and if they exchanged kisses behind his +back--well, it was their own loss if they didn't. + +But these days of mingled romance and tragic happenings, of shooting, +fishing, story-telling, and wildwood life, were nearing their end, and +one evening Martin announced that on the morrow they would pack their +belongings and, escorted by the officers, leave the wilderness. + +The next morning Old Cy took Ray aside. + +"I want a good square talk with ye, my boy," he said, "an' I'm +goin' to do ye a good turn if I kin. Now to begin, I s'pose ye know +yer aunt's goin' to take Chip to Greenvale 'n' gin her a chance at +the schoolin' she sartinly needs. Now you're callatin' to go 'long +'n' have a heap o' fun this winter. I'm goin' to stay here 'n' +keer for Amzi. This is the situation 'bout as it is. Now you hev got yer +eddication, 'n' the next move is to make yer way in the world 'n' +arn suthin', an' ez a starter, I want ye to stay here this winter +with me 'n' trap. The woods round here is jist bristlin' with spruce +gum that is worth a dollar-fifty a pound, easy. We've got two months +now, 'fore snow gits deep. We kin live on the top shelf in the way +o' fish 'n' game. We'll ketch a b'ar and pickle his meat 'n' +smoke his hams, and when spring comes, I'll take ye out with mebbe +five hundred dollars' worth of furs 'n' gum ez a beginnin'. + +"Thar's also 'nother side to consider. Chip wants schoolin', 'n' +she's got to study night 'n' day fer the next eight months. If you +go back with 'em, an' go gallivantin' 'round with her, ez you're +sure to, it won't be no help to her. I've given you two all the chances +fer weavin' the threads o' 'fect-shun I could this summer, an' now +let's you 'n' I turn to and make some money. I've asked your uncle +'n' aunt. They're willin', 'n' now, what do ye say?" + +Few country boys with a love for trapping, such as Ray had, ever had a +more alluring prospect spread before them. He knew Old Cy was right in +all his conclusions, and almost without hesitation he agreed to the plan. + +It was far-sighted wisdom on Old Cy's part, however, in not giving +Ray time to reflect, else the magnet of Chip's eyes on the one hand, +and eight months of separation on the other, would have proved too +strong, and trap-setting and gum-gathering, with five hundred dollars as +reward, would have failed. + +As it was, he came near weakening at the last moment when the canoes were +packed and Angie and Chip came to take their seats in them. + +He and his crude, rude, yet winsome little sweetheart had suffered a +brief preliminary parting the evening previous. A good many sweet and +silly nothings had been exchanged, also promises, and now the boy's +heart was very sore. + +Chip was more stoical. Her life at Tim's Place and contact with Old +Tomah had taught her reserve, and yet when she turned for the last +possible look at Old Cy and Ray, waving good-bye at the landing, a mist +of tears hid them. + +Old Cy's face was also a study. To him these parting clouds were as the +white ones hiding the sun; yet he felt their chill. His own life shadow +was lengthening. He had now but a brief renewal of youth in the lives +of these two, and then forgetfulness, as he knew full well, and yet he +pitied them. + +More than that, he had set his hand to guiding the bark of their young +lives into the safe harbor of a home, and all feelings of his own +subserved to that. + +"Come, come, my boy," he said to Ray as the two turned away, and he +noted the lad's sad face, "she's gone now, an' ye'd best ferget her +fer a spell. Ye won't, I know, 'n' she won't; but ye'd best make +believe ye do. This ain't no spot fer love-sick spells. We've got work +to do, 'n' money to arn; ye've got the chance o' yer life now, an' +me to help ye to it, so brace up 'n' look cheerful. + +"Think o' what we got to do to git ready fer winter 'n' six foot +o' snow. Think o' the traps we're goin' to set, an' the fun o' +tendin' 'em. Why, girls ain't in it a minnit with ketchin' mink, +marten, otter, an' now 'n' then a lynx or bobcat. Then when ye go +back with a new suit 'n' money in yer pocket, ye'll feel prouder'n a +peacock, 'n' Chip a-smilin' at ye sweeter'n new maple syrup." + +Verily Old Cy had the wisdom of age and the cheerfulness of morning +sunshine. + +All that day these wilderness-marooned friends worked hard. An ample +stock of birch wood must be cut and split, a shed of poles to cover it +must be erected alongside of the cabin, the hermit's log hut was to +be divested of its fittings, which were to be removed to the new cabin +which all were now to occupy. + +Realizing how vital to their existence the canoes were, Old Cy had also +planned a shelter of small logs for them on one side of the log cabin, +that could be locked. Here the canoes not in use must be stored at once +to guard against a night call from the malignant half-breed. His canoe +had been taken along by Martin's party, to be left at Tim's Place, for +even Hersey would have scorned to appropriate it. + +There were dozens of other needs to prepare for during the next two +months, all of which were important. An ample supply of deer meat must be +secured, to be pickled and smoked. All the partridges they could shoot +would be needed, and later, when south-bound ducks halted at the lake, a +few of these would add to their larder. + +In this connection, also, another need occurred to Old Cy. Trout could be +caught all winter in the lake, but live bait must be had, and so a +slat car to be sunk in some swift-running stream, which would hold +them, must be constructed, also a scoop of mosquito net to catch them. +These minnows were to be found now by the million in every brook, and +forethought was Old Cy's watchword. + +All these duties and details he discussed that first day with Ray, while +they worked, for a purpose. + +But the first evening here, with its open fire, yet empty seats, was the +hardest to pass. In vain Old Cy enlarged upon the joys of trap-setting +once more, and how and where they were to secure gum. In vain he +described how deadfalls were built and where they must be placed, +how many signs of lynx and wildcat he had seen that summer, and how +sure they were to secure some of these valuable furs. + +Ray's heart was not here. Far away in some night camp, Chip was thinking +of him. He knew each day would bear her farther away. No word of her +safe arrival could reach them now. Long months must elapse ere he and she +could meet again, and in prospect they seemed an eternity. + +"Come, git yer banjo, my boy," Old Cy ejaculated at last, seeing Ray's +face grow gloomy. "Tune 'er up, an' play us suthin' lively. None +o' them goody-goody weepin' sort o' tunes; but give us 'Money Musk' +'n' a few jigs. I'm feelin' our prospects are so cheerful, I'd +like to cut a few pigeon-wings out o' compliment." + +But Old Cy's hilarity was nearly all put on. He, too, felt the effect +of the empty seats and missed every one that had gone, and Ray's jig +tunes lacked their spirit. He essayed a few, and then quite unconsciously +his fingers strayed to "My Old Kentucky Home," and Old Cy's feelings +responded. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + + "I jist nachly hate a person that talks as tho' he'd bin + measured fer a harp."--Old Cy Walker. + +Chip's arrival in Greenvale produced astonishment and gossip galore. It +began when the stage that "Uncle Joe" Barnes had driven for twenty +years started for that village. There were other passengers besides +Martin, his wife, and Chip. The seats inside were soon filled, and Chip, +seeing a coveted chance, climbed nimbly to a position beside the driver. + +"Gee Whittaker," observed one bystander to another, as Chip's +black-stockinged legs flashed into view, "but that gal's nimbler'n +a squirrel 'n' don't mind showin' underpinnin'. I wished I was +drivin' that stage. I'll bet she's a circus." + +Uncle Joe soon found her a live companion at least, for he had scarce +left the village ere she began. + +"Your hosses are fatter'n Tim's hosses used to be," she said. "Do +ye feed 'em on hay and taters?" + +Uncle Joe gave her a sideways glance. + +"Hay and taters," he exclaimed; "we don't feed hosses on taters down +here. Where'd you come from?" + +"I used to live at Tim's Place, up in the woods, 'n' we fed our +hosses on taters, 'n' they had backs sharp 'nuff to split ye." + +This time Uncle Joe faced squarely around. + +"I know all about hosses," she continued glibly, "I used to take keer +on 'em 'n' ride one ploughin', an' I've been throwed more'n a +hundred times when we struck roots, an' ye ought to 'a' heerd Tim +cuss. I used to cuss just the same, but Mrs. Frisbie says I mustn't." + +"Wal, I swow," ejaculated Uncle Joe, realizing that he had a "case." +"What's your name, 'n' whar's Tim's Place?" + +"My name's Chip, Chip McGuire, only 'tain't, it's Vera; but they +allus called me Chip, an' Tim's Place is ever so far up in the woods. +I runned away 'cause dad sold me, an' fetched up at Mrs. Frisbie's +camp, 'n' she's goin' to eddicate me. My mother got killed when I +was a kid, 'n' my dad killed 'nother one, too; he's a bad 'un." + +Uncle Joe gasped at this gory tale of double murder, not being quite sure +that the girl was sane. + +"Hain't they ketched yer dad yit?" he queried. + +"No, nor they won't," Chip rattled on, as if such killing were a daily +occurrence in the woods. "He's a slick 'un, they say, an' now he's +got Pete's money, he'll lay low." + +"Worse and worse, and more of it," Uncle Joe thought. + +"You must 'a' had middlin' lively times up in the woods," he said. +"Did yer dad kill anybody else 'sides yer mother 'n' this man?" + +"He didn't kill mother," Chip returned promptly; "he used to lick +her, though, but she got killed in a mill, 'n' I wisht it 'ud bin him. +I wouldn't 'a' bin an orfin then. Say," she added, as they entered +a woods-bordered stretch of road, "did ye ever see spites here?" + +"Spites," he responded, now more than ever in doubt as to her sanity, +"what's them?" + +"Why, they's just spites--things ye can't see much of 'ceptin' it's +dark. Then they come crawlin' round. They's souls o' animals mostly, +Old Tomah says. I've seen thousands on 'em." + +Uncle Joe shifted his quid, turned and eyed the girl once more. First, +a wild and wofully mixed tale of murder, and then spookish things! Beyond +question she had wheels, and he resolved to humor her. + +"Oh, yes, we see them things here now 'n' then," he said, "but it +takes considerable licker to do it. We hain't had a murder, though, for +quite a spell. This is a sorter peaceful neck o' woods ye're comin' +to." + +But Chip failed to grasp his quiet humor, and all through that +twenty-mile autumn day stage ride she chattered on like a magpie. + +He soon concluded she was sane enough, however, but the most voluble +talker who ever shared his seat. + +"I never seen the beat o' her," he said that night at Phinney's +store,--the village news agency,--"she clacked every minit from the +time we started till we fetched in, an' I never callated sich goin's +on ez she told about cud ever happen. Thar was murder 'n' runnin' +away, 'n' she got ketched 'n' carried off 'n' fetched back, 'n' +a whole lot o' resky business. She believes in ghosts, too, sorter +Injun sperits, 'n' she kin swear jist ez easy ez I kin. It seems +the Frisbies hev kinder 'dopted her, 'n' I guess they'll hev their +hands full. She's a bright 'un, though, but sich a talker!" + +At Aunt Comfort's spacious, old-fashioned home, where Chip was now +installed, she soon began to create the same impression. This had been +Angie's former home, and her Aunt Comfort Day had been her foster-mother. + +This family, in addition to the new arrival, consisted of Aunt Comfort, +rotund and warm-hearted; Hannah Pettibone, a well-along spinster of +angular form and temper, thin to an almost painful degree, with a +well-defined mustache; and a general helper on the farm, and a chore +boy about Chip's age named Nezer, completed the list. + +Once included in this somewhat diverse group, Chip became an immediate +bone of contention. + +Aunt Comfort, of course, opened her heart to her at once; but Hannah +closed hers, almost from the first day, and in addition she began to +nurse malice as well. There was some reason for this, mainly due to +Chip's startling freshness of speech. + +"I thought ye must be a man wearin' wimmin's clothes, the first time I +see ye," she said to Hannah the next day after her arrival, and without +meaning offence. "It was all on account o' yer little whiskers, I +guess. I never see a woman with 'em afore. Why don't ye shave?" + +This was enough; for if there was any one thing more mortifying than +all else to Hannah, it was her facial blemish, and a mention of it she +considered an intentional insult. + +From this moment onward she hated Chip. + +Nezer, however, took to her as a duck to water, and her story, which +he soon heard, became a real dime novel to him, and not content with +one telling, he insisted on repetition. This was also unfortunate +for--blessed with a vivid imagination and sure to enlarge upon all +facts--he soon spread the story with many blood-curdling additions. + +These stories, with Uncle Joe's corroboration, resulted in a direful +tale believed by all. Neighbors flocked in to see this heroine of many +escapades, villagers halted in front of Aunt Comfort's to catch a sight +of this marvel, and so the wonder spread. + +Angie was, of course, to blame. More impressed with the seriousness of +the task she had undertaken than the need of caution, she had failed to +tell Chip she must not talk about herself, and so a wofully distorted +history became current gossip. + +When Sunday came, the village church was packed, and Parson Jones +marvelled much at the unexpected increase of religious interest. He +had heard of this new arrival, but when the Frisbie family with Chip, +in suitable clothing, entered their pew, the cynosure of all eyes, +this unusual attendance was accounted for. + +And what a staring-at Chip received! + +On the church steps a group of both young and old men had awaited her +arrival and gazed at her in open-eyed astonishment. All through service +she was watched, and not content with this, a dozen or so, men and women, +formed a double line outside, awaiting the Frisbies' exit. + +Angie also failed to understand the principal cause of this interest. Her +last appearance at this church had been as a bride. Naturally that fact +would produce some staring, and so the curious and almost rude scrutiny +the family received, was less noticed by her. + +But Chip's eyes were observant. + +"I don't like goin' to meetin'," she said, "an' bein' stared at +like I was a wildcat. I seen 'em grinnin', too, some on 'em, when we +went in, an' one feller winked to another. What ailed 'em?" + +Her vexations, however, had only just begun, for Angie had seen and made +arrangements with Miss Phinney, one of the village school-teachers, and +the next morning Chip was sent to school. And now real trouble commenced. + +Not knowing more than how to read and spell short words, and unable to +write, she, a fairly well-developed young lady, presented a problem +which was hard for a teacher to solve. To put her in the class where she +belonged was absurd. She must sit with older girls, or look ridiculous. +If she recited with the eight-year-old children, the result would be +the same, and so a species of private tuition with recitations at noon or +after school became the only possible course and the one her teacher +adopted. + +This also carried its vexations, for Chip was as tall as Miss Phinney +and a little larger. Not one of that band of pupils was over twelve. +To join in their games was no sport for Chip, while they, having heard +about her thrilling experiences, with a hint that she wasn't quite right +in her head, felt afraid of her. + +"I feel so sorry for her," Miss Phinney explained to Angie, a week +later, "and yet, I don't know what to do. She is so big the children +won't play with her, or she with them. I am the only one with whom she +will talk, and she seems so humble and so grateful for every word. I +can't be as stern with her or govern her as I should, on account of her +temper and size. + +"Only yesterday I heard screaming at recess, and going out, I found +that Chip had one of the girls by the hair and was cuffing her. It +transpired that this girl had called her an Indian and asked if she had +ever scalped anybody. I can't punish such a pupil, and I can't help +loving her, so you see she is a sore trial." + +She also became a trial to Angie in countless ways. + +Of a deep religious conviction, and believing this waif needed to be +brought into the fold, Angie set about that task at once. But Chip was +impervious to such instruction. By no argument or persuasion could +Angie force her protegee to renounce her belief in the heathenism of +Old Tomah, or convince her that God and the angels were any different +from his collection of spirit forms, or that heaven was anything more +than another name for his happy hunting-grounds. Old Tomah had been her +wise and only friend, so far. She had seen all the ghostly forms he had +described, had felt all the occult influences which he said existed, +and neither coaxing nor derision served to make her disown them. + +Of course, Angie took her to church regularly. She sat through services +and bowed as all did. Sabbath-school instruction would have been forced +upon her but for the reason that made her a class of one under Miss +Phinney, and Parson Jones's attention was finally enlisted. + +He spent an hour in pointing out her heathenish sins, assured her that +Old Tomah was a wicked reprobate and an ignorant savage combined, that +all influences so far surrounding her had been the worst possible,--a +self-evident fact,--and unless she confessed a change of heart, and +soon, too, all her friends here would desert her and the devil would +overtake her by and by, and then closed this well-intended effort with a +prayer. + +Chip sat through it all, mute and cowering. The parson's white hair, +sharp eyes, and solemn voice awed her, and when he had departed, she +began to cry. + +"I don't see the need o' makin' me say I don't believe suthin' when +I do," she said. "I've seen spites 'n' I know I've seen 'em, an' +nobody can make me believe Old Tomah a bad man, if he is an Injun. He +runned after me when I got ketched, 'n' near got his eyes scratched +out"--a logic it was useless to contend with. + +"You're jest a little spunky devil," Hannah said to her later on with +a vicious accent, "an' if I was Mrs. Frisbie I'd larrup ye till ye +confessed penitence, I would. The idee o' you settin' thar a-mullin' +all the time the minister was tryin' to save ye! It's scand'lus!" + +And that night Chip was back in the wilderness with Old Cy and Ray in +thought, and so homesick for them that she cried herself to sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + + "While yer argufyin' with a fool, jes' figger thar's two on + 'em."--Old Cy Walker. + +The streams and swamps contiguous to this lake were well adapted for the +habitat of mink, muskrat, otter, fisher, and those large fur-bearing +animals, the lynx and lucivee, and here a brief description of where +such animals exist, and how they are caught, may be of interest. + +The habits of the muskrat, the least cunning of these, are so well +known that they merit only a few words. They are amphibious animals, +their food is succulent roots, bulbs, and bark, and they frequent small, +marshy ponds, sluggish streams, and swamps. In summer they conceal +themselves by burrowing into soft banks; in winter they erect houses +of sedge-grass, roots, and mud, and are caught in small steel traps +set in shallow water at the entrance of their paths out of lake or stream. + +Mink, marten, otter, and fisher are much alike in shape and habit. All +belong to the same family, but vary in size, also slightly in the matter +of food. Mink and marten live on fish, frogs, birds, mice, etc.; otter on +fish and roots; and fishers, as their name implies, subsist largely on +fish. All these are more valuable fur-bearing animals than muskrats. +Their abiding places are swamps and shallow streams, in the banks of +which they burrow, and they are usually caught in steel traps baited +with fish or meat. + +The lucivee, or lynx, and bobcat, more ferocious and cunning than their +smaller cousins, roam the woods and swamps, live on smaller animals, +hide in caves, crevices, and hollow trees, and they as well as otter +occasionally are caught in deadfalls. + +Old Cy, familiar as he was with the homes, habits, and the manner of +catching these cunning animals, soon began his trap-setting campaign. +A few dozen steel traps were first set along the stream and lagoons +entering the lake, and then he and Ray pushed up Beaver Brook, and +leaving their canoe, followed its narrow valley in search of suitable +spots to set the more elaborated deadfalls, which also merit description. + +A deadfall is made by placing one end of a suitably sized log--one +perhaps fifteen feet long and a foot in diameter--on a figure four trap, +so adjusted that its spindle end, to which the bait is secured, shall +be poised beneath the upraised end of the log. Alongside of this log +a double row of stakes is driven to form a pen with entrance leading +to the bait. When this deadly contrivance is properly adjusted, the +log and its pen of stakes is concealed with green boughs piled lightly +over it, and all the hungry lynx sees is a narrow opening under green +boughs, and in it a tempting morsel awaiting him. As those creatures, +as well as now and then an otter, are sure to roam up and down all +small streams, a spot where one emerges from a narrow defile, or joins a +larger one, is usually selected for a deadfall. + +It is also quite a task to clear a suitable space, fell a right-sized +tree, and construct one of these penlike traps; and although Old Cy and +Ray started early, it was mid-afternoon that day ere they had the third +one ready and awaiting its possible victim. + +As gum-gathering was also a part of their season's plan, they now left +the swamp valley, and, ascending the spruce-clad upland, began this work, +which is also worthy of description. + +The chewing gum of commerce, so delightful to schoolgirls and small boys, +is the refined, diluted, and sweetened product of gum nuts, or the small +excrescences of spruce sap that exudes and hardens around knot-holes and +cracks in the bark of those trees. These form into hardened nuts or +knobs of gum, from the size of a hazelnut to that of butternut, and +are worth from a dollar to a dollar and fifty cents a pound. A long pole +with a sharpened knife or chisel fastened to its tip is used by gum +seekers. It can be gathered from the time frost first hardens it until +spring, and to gather three to five pounds is considered a good day's +work. + +Ray's first attempt at this labor seemed like nut-gathering at home, +only more romantic, and when they were well into the vast spruce growth +bordering one side of the Beaver Brook valley, he became so interested in +hunting for the brown knobs, loosening them, and picking them up that +he would have soon lost all points of the compass, except for Old Cy. + +There is also a spice of danger seasoning this pursuit. A wildcat might +at any moment be seen watching from the crotch of a tree, or a bear might +suddenly emerge from the thicket. It was hard work also, for while some +parts of a spruce forest may be free from undergrowth, not all portions +are, and this tangle is one not easy to move about in. + +There was also another element that entered into the trapping and +gum-gathering life,--the possible return of the half-breed. + +"He hain't nothin' agin us," Old Cy asserted, when the question came +up. "We didn't chase him the day he stole Chip, 'n' yet I s'pose +he'll show up some day, 'n' mebbe do us harm." + +It was this fear that had led Old Cy to leave one of their canoes in a +log locker, securely barred, and also to caution the hermit to remain +on guard at the cabin while he and Ray were away. + +A canoe is the one most vital need of a wildwood life, for the reason +that the streams are the only avenues of escape and afford the only +opportunities for travel. + +The wilderness, of course, can be traversed, but not easily. Swamps +will be met and must be avoided, for a wilderness swamp is practically +impassable. Streams can be forded, but lakes must be encompassed, +and even an upland forest is but a tangled jungle of fallen trees and +undergrowth. + +Old Cy knew, or at least he felt almost sure, that the half-breed would +return in good time. He had also reasoned out his failure to do so at +once, and knew that left canoeless, as he had been that tragic day, his +only course must be the one he actually followed. A month had elapsed +since then, with no sign of this "varmint's" return, and now Old Cy +was on the watch for it. + +Each morning, when he traversed the lake shore from ice-house to landing, +he looked for tell-tale footprints. He watched for them wherever he went, +and the distant report of a rifle would have been accepted as a sure +harbinger of this enemy. + +It became their custom now each day, first to visit all small traps +in the near-by streams, then pushing their canoe as far as possible +up the Beaver Brook, to leave it, continue up the valley, and after +inspecting their deadfalls, turn to the right out of this swale, and +begin the gathering of gum. + +And now, one day, in carrying out this programme, a discovery was made. + +They had first visited the small traps near the lake, securing a couple +of mink and three muskrats, which were left in the canoe. An otter was +found in one of the deadfalls, and taking this with them, they entered +the spruce timber and hung it on a conspicuous limb. Then the search for +gum began. + +As usual, they worked hard. The days were short, the best of sunlight +was needful to see the brown nuts in the sombre forest, and so they +paid no heed to aught except what was overhead. When time to return +arrived, Old Cy picked up his rifle and led the way back to where the +otter had been left, but it had vanished. Glancing about to make sure +that he was right, he advanced to the tree, looked down, and saw two +footprints. Stooping over to examine them better in the uncertain light, +he noted also that they were not his own, but larger, and made by some +one wearing boots. + +"Tain't the half-breed," he muttered, with an accent of relief, and +looking about, he saw a well-defined trail leading down the slope and +thence onward toward the swamp. + +Some one had crossed this broad, oval, spruce-covered upland while they +were not two hundred rods away from this tree, had stolen their otter, +and gone on into the swamp. + +Any freshly made human footprint found in a vast wilderness awakens +curiosity; these seemed ominous. + +"He must 'a' seen us 'fore he did the otter," Old Cy ejaculated, +"an' it's curis he didn't make himself known. Neighbors ain't over +plenty, hereabout." + +But the sun was nearing the tree-tops, the canoe was a mile away, and +after one more look around, Old Cy started for it. There was no use in +following this trail now, for it led into the tangled swamp, and so, +skirting this until a point opposite the canoe was reached, Old Cy and +Ray then plunged into it. + +Twilight had begun to shadow this vale ere the canoe was reached. And +here was another surprise, for the canoe was found turned half over, and +on its broad oval bottom was a curious outline of black mud. The light +was not good here. A fir-grown ledge shadowed the spot; but as Old Cy +stooped to examine this mud-made emblem, it gradually took shape, and +he saw--a skull and cross bones! + +"Wal, by the Great Horn Spoon!" he exclaimed, "I never s'posed a +pirate 'ud fetch in here! An' he's swiped our muskrats and mink," he +added, as he looked under the canoe, "durn him!" + +Then the bold bravado of it all occurred to Old Cy. The theft was +doubtless made by whosoever had taken their otter, and not content +with robbing them, he had added insult. + +"I s'pose we'd orter be grateful he left the paddles 'n' didn't +smash the canoe," Old Cy continued, turning it over. "I wonder who't +can be?" + +One hasty look around revealed the same boot-marks in the soft earth near +the stream, and then he and Ray launched their craft and started for home. + +"I'm goin' to foller them tracks to-morrer," Old Cy said, when they +were entering the lake and a light in the cabin just across reassured +him. "It may be a little resky, but I'm goin' to find out what sorter +a neighbor we've got." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + + "When a man begins talkin' 'bout himself, it seems as tho' + he'd never run down."--Old Cy Walker. + +All fellow-sojourners in the wilderness awaken keen interest, and the +unbroken silence and solitude of a boundless forest make a fellow human +being one we are glad to accost. + +A party of lumbermen wielding axes causes one to turn aside and call on +them. A sportsman's camp seen on a lake shore or near a stream's bank +always invites a landing to interview whoever may be there. + +All this interest was now felt by Old Cy and Ray, and with it an added +sense of danger. No friendly hunter or trapper would thus ignore them +in the woods. This piratically minded thief must have seen them, for +the spruce-clad oval, perhaps half a mile in width, was comparatively +free from undergrowth where they had been working. He had crossed it +within fairly open sight of them, had found the otter hanging from a +limb, had taken it, and thence on to rob their canoe, daub it with that +hideous emblem, world-wide in meaning, and then had gone on his way. +Almost could Old Cy see him watching them from behind trees, skulking +along when their backs were turned, a low, contemptible thief. + +Old Cy knew that bordering this oval ridge on its farther side was a +swamp, that a stream flowed through it, and surmising that this fellow +might have come up or down this stream, he left their cabin prepared +for a two or three days' sojourn away from it, which meant that food, +blankets, and simple cooking utensils must be taken along. + +No halt was made to visit traps. Old Cy was trailing bigger game now; +and when the point where they had left the canoe the day previous was +reached, the canoe was pulled out on the stream's bank, the rifles only +taken, and the trailing began. He followed up the brook valley a little +way, to find that only one track came down; he then circled about the +canoe, until, like a hound, he found where the clearly defined trail left +the swamp again. + +Here in the soft carpet under the spruce trees one could follow this +trail on the run, and here also Old Cy found where this enemy had halted +beside trees evidently while watching them, as the tracks indicated. +When the bordering swamp was reached, the trail turned in a westerly +direction, skirting thus for half a mile, and here, also, evidences of +skulking along were visible. + +Another trail was now come upon, but leading directly over the ridge, +and just beyond this juncture both the trails now joined, entered the +swamp, and ended at a lagoon opening out from the stream. Here, also, +evidences of a canoe having been hauled up into the bog were visible. + +"That sneakin' pirate come up this stream," Old Cy observed to Ray, as +the two stood looking at these unmistakable signs. "He left his canoe +here 'n' crossed the ridge above us 'n' down to whar we left the +otter 'n' on to our canoe. Then he come back the way we follered, +'n' my idee is he had his eye on us most o' the time. I callate he +has been laughin' ever since at what we'd say when we found that mud +daub on our canoe, durn him!" + +But their canoe was now a half-mile away, and for a little time Old Cy +looked at the black, currentless stream and considered. Then he glanced +up at the sun. + +"I've a notion we'd best fetch our canoe over here," he said at last, +"an' follow this thief a spell farther. We may come on to suthin'." + +"Won't he shoot at us?" returned Ray, more impressed by this possible +danger than was Old Cy. + +"Wal, mebbe and mebbe not," answered the old man. "Shootin's a game +two kin play at, an' we've jist ez good a right to foller the stream +ez he has." + +But when their canoe had been carried over and launched in this lagoon, +Ray's spirits rose. It was an expedition into new waters, somewhat +venturesome, and for that reason it appealed to him. + +Then they had two rifles, Old Cy had taught him to shoot, he had already +killed one deer and some smaller game, and the go-west-and-kill-Indian +impulse latent in all boys was a part of Ray's nature. Besides, he had +an unbounded faith in Old Cy's skill with the rifle. + +And now began a canoe journey into and through a vast swamp, the upland +border of which could scarce be seen. The stream they followed was black, +and so absolutely motionless that it was a guess which way they were +going. The mingled hack-matack and alder growth along each bank was so +dense that no view ahead could be seen, and they must merely follow the +winding pathway of dark waters and hope to come out somewhere. + +For two hours they paddled along this serpentine highway, and then the +vastness of this morass began to impress them. No sign of current had +been met. All view of the spruce-grown upland they had left was obscured +by distance. Now and then a dead tree, bleached and spectral, marked a +turn in the stream, and hundreds of them, rising all about above the low +green tangle, added a ghostly haze. It was as if they were venturing into +a new world--a boundless morass, covered by an impenetrable tangle, and +made grewsome by the bleaching trunks of dead trees. + +"I'm goin' to find which way we're goin'," Old Cy exclaimed at +last, as they neared a small dead cedar that pointed out over the stream, +and seizing a projecting limb of this, he broke off bits of dry twigs, +and tossed them into the stream. For a long moment not one stirred, and +then at last a movement backward could be discovered. + +"We're goin' up-stream, anyhow," he added, glancing at the sun, now +marking mid-afternoon; "but we've got to git out o' this 'fore dark, +or we'll be in a bad fix, an' hev to sleep in the canoe." + +No halt for dinner had yet been made. They were both faint from need of +food, and so Old Cy reached for a small wooden pail containing their sole +supply of provisions. Neither was it a luxurious repast which was now +eaten. A couple of hard-tacks munched by each and moistened with a cup +of this swamp water and a bit of dried deer meat was all, and then Old +Cy lit his pipe, dipped his paddle handle in the stream, and once more +they pushed on. Soon a low mound of hard soil rose out of the tangle +just ahead, an oasis in this unvarying mud swamp, and gaping at them +from amid its cover of scrub birch and cedar stood a deadfall. It faced +them as they neared this small island, and with log upraised between +a pen of stakes it much resembled the open mouth of a huge alligator. + +"Hain't been built long," Old Cy exclaimed, after they had landed to +examine it. "I've a notion it's the doin's of our pirate friend, +an' he's trappin' round about this swamp. He's had good luck lately, +anyhow, for he's got six o' our pelts to add to his string." + +From here onward signs of human presence in this swamp became more +visible. Now and then an opening cut through the limbs of a lopped-over +spruce was met; a spot where drift had been pushed aside to clear the +stream was found at one place; signs of a canoe having been nosed into +the bog grass were seen; and here were also the same footprints they +had followed. + +Another bit of hard bottom was reached, and here again was another +deadfall. Tracks evidently made within a few days were about here, +and tied to its figure-four spindle was a freshly caught brook sucker. + +"The scent's gettin' warm," Old Cy muttered, as he examined these +signs of a trapper's presence, and then, mindful of the sun, he paddled +on again. + +And now an upland growth of tall spruce was seen ahead, the banks became +in evidence, and a slight current was met. One more long bend in the +stream was followed, then came curving banks and large-bodied spruce. +They were out of the swamp. + +Soon a more distinctive current opposed them, a low murmur of running +water came from ahead, and then a pass between two abutting ledges was +entered. Here the stream eddied over sunken rocks, and pushing on, the +forest seemed suddenly to vanish as they emerged from the gloom of this +short canyon, and the next moment they caught sight of a long, narrow +lakelet. + +The sun, now almost to the tree-tops, cast a reddish glow upon its placid +surface, and so welcome a change was it from the ghostly, forbidding +swamp just left, that Old Cy halted their canoe at once to look out upon +it. It was seemingly a mile long, but quite a narrow lake. A bold, rocky +shore rising in ledges faced them just across, and extended along +that side, back of these a low, green-clad mountain, to the right, +and at the end of this lanelike lake a bolder, bare-topped cliff was +outlined clear and distinct. + +This strip of water, for it was not much more, seemingly filled an oblong +gorge in these mountains, only one break in them, to the left of this +bare peak; and as Old Cy urged their canoe out of the alder-choked +stream, now currentless once more, a margin line of rushes and reeds +was seen to form that shore. Back of these, also, rose the low ledge +they had passed. + +"Looks like a good hidin' spot fer a pirate," he exclaimed, glancing +up and down the smiling lakelet. "Thar ain't many folks likely to +tackle that swamp--it took us 'most all day to cross it. I'll bet +no lumberman ever tried it twice, 'n' if I wanted to git absolutely +'way from bein' molested, I'd locate here. I dunno whether we'd +best cross 'n' make camp 'mong them ledges, or go back into the woods. +Guess we'd best go back 'n' take a sneak round behind the ledge. I +noticed a loggin[1] leadin' up that way 'fore we left the swamp." + +But now something was discovered that proved Old Cy's wisdom, for as +they, charmed somewhat by the spot, yet feeling it forbidding, still +glanced up and down the bold shore just across, suddenly a thin column +of smoke rose from away to the right, amid the bare ledges. + +First a faint haze, rising in the still air, then a burst of white, +until the fleecy pillar was plainly outlined as it ascended and drifted +backward into the green forest. + +------ + +[Footnote 1: Lagoon.] + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + + "Licker allus lets the cat out."--Old Cy Walker. + +When the half-breed, Pete Bolduc, reached Tim's Place, he was more +dead than alive. A week of crawling through swamps, wading or swimming +streams, sleeping under fallen trees, while sustaining life on frogs, +raw fish, and one muskrat, had eliminated about all desire to obtain +Chip, and left a murderous hate instead. And McGuire was its object. + +Pete reasoned that he had bought the girl and paid for her. Her father, +never intending to keep faith, had connived at her escape, and knowing +of these campers, had hired her for a serving maid, and they would +inevitably take her out when they left. It was all a part of McGuire's +plot and plan, and no doubt this stranger had also paid him for her +possession. + +Two other facts also seemed proof positive that these conclusions were +correct. First, McGuire had never been seen at Tim's Place since the +girl's escape; second, it would have been impossible for her to reach +these campers without aid. But she was lost to him for all time, as Pete +now realized. The stern faces and ready rifles of her protectors had +convinced him of that, and all that remained was to find McGuire, force +him to give back the money, then obtain revenge. + +Neither was this an easy task, for McGuire was a dangerous man, as Pete +well knew, and the more he considered the matter, sojourning at Tim's +Place and nursing his hate meanwhile, the more he realized that the +killing of McGuire must precede the obtaining of his money. And now, +where to find McGuire became a question. + +Pete knew that at this season he usually devoted a month or more to a +trapping trip, that in starting out he always ascended the Fox Hole, and +that his location for this purpose was the head waters of another stream, +reached by a carry from the Fox Hole. + +For a week Pete remained at Tim's Place, and then, obtaining a canoe, +returned to his hut on this stream. + +And now, in the seclusion of his own domicile, certain other facts and +conclusions bearing upon the present whereabouts of McGuire occurred to +him. + +For many years they had been friends in a way, or at least as much so +as two such scamps ever are. Together they had made many canoe trips +to the Provinces to obtain liquor. In these expeditions, McGuire had +furnished the means; but outlawed as he was, had remained in hiding while +Pete transacted the business and later shared the profits. Pete's hut +had also been used as headquarters, and near by it the smuggled liquor +had been secreted. + +On rare occasions, also, McGuire had broken away from his usual +abstemiousness, and here, with Pete for companion, had indulged in an +orgie. At these times he invariably boasted how cunning he had been +in eluding all hated officers of the law, how much money he was worth, +and how securely he had it hidden. The one most pertinent fact, the +location of this hiding spot, he never betrayed. But now Pete--almost as +shrewd as he--reasoned that it would most likely be somewhere in this +region annually visited by him. + +To find this was a hard problem; to find McGuire's hiding spot for +his money more so. It meant trailing a human being of greater cunning +than any animal that roamed this wilderness; and yet with the double +incentive of robbing and revenge now decided upon by this half-breed, +he set about solving it. + +A day's journey up the Fox Hole brought him to the carry over into +another stream, and here a probably month-old trail, crossing and +recrossing it, was found. Whoever left the tell-tale footprints wore +boots, and as McGuire was the only hunter or trapper in this region +known to wear them, this seemed evidence that it was he. Then as two +trails led over, with only one returning, that proved he had made two +trips across to carry his canoe and belongings and had not returned. +This was plain enough, but when once over, the question of whether he +went up or down stream was another matter. It was an even chance, +however, and Pete decided to go up, and keep sharp watch for any signs +which would indicate that he was on the right track. To trail any animal +in this wilderness was child's play to Pete; but to follow another +trapper journeying by canoe was not so easy. Halts for night camps he +must of course make, collections of drift in some narrow part of the +stream he would inevitably disturb, and where a carry around a rapid +came, a trail would be left. These were the only signs possible to +discover, and for these Pete now watched. + +The slow-running waterway he ascended the first day wound through a +stately forest of spruce. Its banks were low and well defined, yet +always covered by undergrowth. No breaks in them, no openings where a +night halt would naturally be made; but ever of the same unvarying +character, and shadowed by the overhang of interlaced boughs. With one +eye keen to any even the slightest signs of human progress up this +stream, and ears ever alert, Pete paddled on. Wildwood sights and +sounds, however, were met in plenty. Once a lordly moose, seeing or +smelling him, snorted and plunged away, crashing through the undergrowth. +Deer were seen or heard at every turn of the stream, and dozens of +muskrats were noticed swimming or diving off the bank, with now and then +an otter or a mink, to vary this monotony. + +But these were of no interest to Pete. He was trailing other game, +and like an avenging Nemesis, slowly crept through this vast, sombre, +and forbidding forest. When nightfall neared, he hauled his canoe out +where a stretch of hard bank favored, and camped for the night, and +when daylight came again, he pushed on. For three days this watchful, +up-stream journey was continued, and then a range of low mountains began +to close in, short rapids needing the use of a setting-pole were met, +and at last a series of stair-like falls was sighted ahead. The sun was +well down when these were reached. How long the necessary carry might +be, he could not tell, and hauling out below the rapids, Pete took +his rifle and crept up along the bank. So far not a sign indicating +whether or not McGuire had gone up this stream had been found, but here, +if anywhere, they must be met, and Pete watched eagerly for them. + +Every rock where a human foot might scrape away the moss was scanned. +Each bending bough and bush was observed, and when, perforce, he had to +leave the rock-lined bank and make a detour, he still watched for signs. + +At the top of this long pitch, the tall trees also ended, and here the +stream issued from a vast bush-grown swamp devoid of timber. A few dead +trees rose from it, and climbing a low spruce, Pete saw this whitened +expanse of spectral cones extended for miles. It was a forbidding +prospect. The stream's course appeared visible only a few rods. It +seemed hardly probable the man he was trailing would cross this swamp. No +signs of his ascending this waterway had so far been met, and Pete, +now discouraged, was about to return to his canoe and on the morn go +back, when, glancing across the stream, he saw a tiny opening in the +bushes, as if they had been pushed aside. + +To cross, leaping from rock to rock in the rapids below, was his next +move, and returning to where the fall began, there, just back from this +point, and beside a ledge, were the charred embers of a camp-fire. + +Weeks old, without doubt, for rain had fallen on them, and all about were +the footprints of some one wearing boots. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + + "'Tain't allus the bell cow that gives the most milk." + --Old Cy Walker. + +Old Cy was, above all, a peaceable man, and while curiosity had led him +to follow the trail of this robber and to cross this vast swamp, now that +he saw the suggestive smoke sign, he hesitated about venturing nearer. + +"I guess we'd best be keerful," he whispered to Ray, "or we may +wish we had been. I callate our pirate friend's got a hidin' spot +over thar, 'n' most likely don't want callers. He may be only a queer +old trapper a little short o' scruples ag'in' takin' what he finds, +'n' then ag'in he may be worse'n that. His campin' spot's ag'in' +him, anyhow." + +But the sun was now very low; a camp site must soon be found, and scarce +two minutes from the time he saw this rising column of smoke, Old Cy +dipped his paddle and slowly drew back into the protecting forest. Once +well out of sight, the canoe was turned and they sped back down-stream +and into the swamp once more. Here he turned aside into a lagoon they +had passed, and at its head they pulled their canoe out into the bog. + +The two gathered up their belongings, and picking their way out of +the morass, reached the belt of hard bottom skirting the ridge. They +were now out of sight from the lake, but still too near the stream +to risk a camp-fire, and so Old Cy led the way along this belt until +a more secluded niche in the ridge was reached, and here they began +camp-making. It was a simple process. A level spot was cleared from +brush, two convenient saplings denuded of their lower limbs, a cross +pole was placed in suitable crotches, near-by spruces were attacked with +the axe, and a bark wigwam soon resulted, and just as the darkness began +to gather, a fire was started. + +Both Old Cy and Ray had worked with a will, and none too soon was so much +accomplished, for night was upon them, and only by the firelight could +they see to complete the needful preparations. + +A peculiar effect of the time, place, and their position was also +noticeable; for although at least a mile away from where this smoke +sign had warned them, and screened from it by a high ridge, both spoke +only in whispers. More than that, the camp-fire was kept low, barely +enough to cook a modest meal, and when the flame chanced to flare up, +Old Cy glanced aloft into the tree-tops to see if they were illumed. +Not much was said, for Old Cy's thoughts were far away, and when +supper was eaten he lit his pipe and sat watching the embers while Ray +studied him. Ray, too, spoke scarcely a word. All that day he had felt +much the same, and while he had the most implicit confidence in Old +Cy's wisdom, now that he had advised retreat, the reasons for it +became ten times more ominous to Ray. + +Then again, the sombre nook in which they had camped and the vast swamp +that lay between them and the protecting cabin, all had an effect. This +weird feeling was also added to by the occasional cry of some night +prowler far away in the forest or out in the swamp. Chip's spites, +those uncanny creatures of the imagination, also began to gather, and +Ray fancied he could hear them crawling cautiously about. + +"I don't like this," he whispered at last, "and I wish we hadn't +come. Don't you think we had better go back soon as it's daylight?" + +"Wal, mebbe," answered Old Cy, smiling at Ray's nervousness. "I've +kinder figgered we might watch out from a-top o' the ridge when mornin' +came 'n' see what we kin see. We might ketch sight o' the pirate +chap 'cross the lake." + +"But suppose he catches sight of us," returned Ray, "what then?" + +"I don't mean he shall," answered Old Cy, "so don't git skeered. +I'll take keer on ye." + +That night, however, was the longest ever passed by Ray, for not until +near morning did he fall into a fitful slumber, and scarcely had he lost +himself before Old Cy was up and watching for the dawn. + +Its first faint glow was visible when Ray's eyes opened, and without +waiting for fire or breakfast, they started for the top of the ridge. +From here a curious sight met their eyes, for the lake and also the +ridges out of which the smoke had risen were hidden beneath a white pall +of fog. Back of them also, and completely coating the immense swamp, was +the same sea of vapor. It soon vanished with the rising sun, and just as +the ledges across the lake outlined themselves, once more that smoke +sign rose aloft. + +And now the two watchers could better see whence it came. Old Cy had +expected to obtain sight of some hut or bark shack nestling among these +rocks; but none was visible. Instead, the smoke rose out of a jagged +rock, and there was not a cabin roof or sign of one anywhere. + +"That feller's in a cave," he whispered to Ray, "an' the smoke's +comin' out o' a crack, sure's a gun!" + +It seemed so, and for a half-hour the two watched it in silent amazement. + +Then came another surprise, for suddenly Old Cy caught sight of a man +just emerging from behind a rock fully ten rods from the rising smoke; he +stooped, lifted a canoe into view, advanced to the shore, slid it halfway +into the water, returned to the rock, picked up a rifle, then pushed +the canoe off, and, crossing the lake, vanished into the outlet. + +The two watchers on the ridge exchanged glances. + +"He's goin' to tend his traps, an' mebbe ourn," Old Cy said at +last, and then led the way back to their bark shack. Here he halted, +and placing one hand scoop-fashion over his ear, listened intently until +he caught the faint sound of a paddle touching a canoe gunwale. First +slightly, then a more distinctive thud, and then less and less until the +sound ceased. + +"The coast's clear," he added, now in an exultant whisper, "an' +while the old cat's away we'll take a peek at his den." + +A hurried gathering of their few belongings was made, the canoe was +shoved into the lagoon, and no time was lost until the lake was crossed +and they drew alongside of where the smoke was still rising in a thin +film. No landing was possible here, for the shore was a sheer face of +upright slate, and only where this lone trapper had launched his canoe +could they make one. + +From here a series of outcropping slate ledges rose one above another, +and between them and parallel to the shore, narrow, irregular passages +partially closed by broken rock. It was all of slaty formation, jagged, +serrated, and gray with moss. + +Following one of these passages, Old Cy and Ray came to the ledge out +of which the smoke was rising from a crevasse. It was a little lower +than one in front, perhaps forty feet in breadth, double that in length, +and of a more even surface. At each end was a short transverse passage +hardly wide enough to walk in, and a few feet deep. + +And now, after a more careful examination of the crevasse out of which +the thin film of smoke rose, Old Cy began a search. Up and down each +narrow passway he peeped and peered, but nowhere was a crack or cranny +to be found in their walls. In places they were as high as his head, +sheer faces of slate, then broken, serrated, moss-coated, or of yellow, +rusty color. Here and there a stunted spruce had taken root in some +crack, and over, back from the topmost ledge, this green enclosure began +and continued up the low mountain. Here, also, in a sunny nook below +this belting tangle of scrub spruce, were ample signs of a trapper's +occupation in the way of pelts stretched upon forked sticks and hanging +from a cord crossing this niche. They were of the usual species found +in this wilderness,--a dozen muskrat, with a few mink and otter skins +and one lynx. + +Another sign of human presence was also noted, for here a log showing +axe-marks, with split wood and chips all about, was seen. + +"Some o' them pelts is ourn," Old Cy ejaculated, glancing at the +array, "an' I've a notion we'd best hook on to 'em. Mebbe not, +though," he added a moment later, "it might git us into more trouble." + +But Ray was getting more and more uneasy each moment since they had +landed there. It seemed to him a most dangerous exploit, and while Old Cy +had hunted over this curious confusion of slate ledges and stared at +the rising film of smoke, Ray had covertly watched the lake's outlet. + +"I don't think we'd better stay here much longer," he said at last. +"We can't tell how soon that man may come back and catch us." + +"Guess you're right," Old Cy asserted tersely, and after one more look +at the inch-wide crack out of which the smoke rose, he led the way to +their canoe. + +"Thar's a cave thar, sure's a gun," he muttered, as they skirted the +bold shore once more, "an' that smoke's comin' out on't. I wish I +dared stay here a little longer 'n' hunt fer it." + +Old Cy was right, there was a cave there beneath the slate ledge--in +fact, two caves; and in one, safe and secure, as its owner the notorious +McGuire believed, were concealed the savings of his lifetime. + +More than that, so near do we often come to an important discovery and +miss it, Old Cy had twice leaned against a slab of slate closing the +entrance to this cave and access to a fortune, the heritage of Chip +McGuire. + +Ray's fears, while well founded, were needless, however. McGuire--for it +was this outlaw whom they had ample reason to avoid--was many miles away. +And yet so potent was the sense of danger, that neither Old Cy nor Ray +thought of food, or ceased paddling one moment, until they had crossed +the vast swamp and once more pulled their canoe out at the point where +they had entered it the day before. + +Here a brief halt for food and rest was taken; then they shouldered their +light craft and started for Birch Camp. + +In the meantime another canoe was ascending this winding stream, and long +before nightfall, Pete Bolduc, sure that he was on the trail of McGuire, +entered the ledge-bordered lake. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + + "If most on us cud see ourselves as the rest see us, we'd + want to be hermits."--Old Cy Walker. + +To trail an enemy who is never without a rifle and the will to use it, +requires courage and Indian cunning as well. Pete Bolduc had both, and +after observing the many signs of a trapper's presence in the swamp, +he knew, after he crossed it and reached this lake, that somewhere on +its shores, his enemy, McGuire, had his lair. + +He paused at the outlet, as did Old Cy, to scan every rod of its rocky +shores, not once, but a dozen times. + +The sun was now halfway down. A mellow autumn haze softened the +encircling mountains and the broad, frowning peak to the right. A +gentle breeze rippled the upper end of the lake, and here, in the +wild rice growing along its borders, stood a deer, belly-deep in the +green growth. + +No thought of the blessed harmony of lake, sky, and forest, or the +sequestered beauty of this spot, came to the half-breed. Revenge and +murder--twin demons of his nature--were in his heart, and the Indian +cunning that made him hide while he watched for signs of his enemy. The +bare peak overlooking the lake soon impressed him as a vantage point, and +after a half-hour of watchful listening he laid his rifle across the +thwart, handy to grasp on the instant, and, seizing his paddle once +more, crossed the lake to the foot of the peak. + +To hide his canoe here, ascend this with pack and rifle, was the next +move of this human panther, and here in a sheltering crevasse he lay and +watched for his enemy. + +Two hours later, and just at sunset, McGuire returned to the lake. + +As usual, he, too, paused at the outlet to scan its shores. He believed +himself utterly secure here, and thought no human being was likely to +find this lakelet. But for all that, he was watchful. Some exploring +lumberman or some pioneer trapper might cross this vast swamp and find +this lake during his absence. + +A brief scrutiny assured him that he was still safe from human eyes, and +he crossed the lake. + +From the bare cliff a single keen and vengeful eye watched him. + +As usual, also, McGuire made his landing at a convenient point, some +fifty rods from his cave, and carried his canoe up and turned it over, +back of a low-jutting ridge of slate. He skinned the half-dozen prizes +his traps had secured that day and followed a shallow defile to his +lair. Here his pelts were stretched, a slab of slate was lifted from +its position in a deep, wide crevasse between two of these ledges, and +McGuire crawled into his den. + +Most of these movements were observed by the half-breed, who, watching +ever while he plotted and planned how best to catch his enemy unawares, +saw him emerge from amid the ledges again, go down to the lake, return +with a pail of water, and vanish once more. + +All this was a curious proceeding, for he, like Old Cy, had expected to +find McGuire occupying some bark shelter, and even now he supposed there +was one among this confusion of bare rocks. + +Another surprise soon came to this distant watcher, for he now saw a thin +column of smoke rise from a ledge and continue in varying volume until +hidden by twilight. + +And now, secure in his cave and quite unconscious of the watcher with +murderous intent who had observed his actions, McGuire was enjoying +himself. He had built a little slate fireplace within his cave. A funnel +of the same easily fitted material carried the smoke up to a long, +inch-wide fissure in the roof. He had a table of slate to eat from, +handy by a bed filled with moss and dry grass, also pine knots for +needed light. + +Opening into this small cave was a lesser one, always cool and dry, for +no rain nor melting snow could enter it, and here was McGuire's pantry, +and here also a half-dozen tin cans, safely hidden under a slab of slate, +stuffed with gold and banknotes. + +To still further protect this inner cave, he had fitted a section of +slate to entirely fill its entrance. + +When the last vestige of sunset had vanished and twinkling stars were +reflected from the placid lake, the half-breed descended from his lookout +point, and, launching his canoe, followed close to the shadowed shore +and landed just above where McGuire disembarked. Indian that he was, he +chose the hours of night and darkness to crawl up to the bark shelter +which he expected to find, his intention being to thrust a rifle muzzle +close to his enemy's head and then pull the trigger. + +But to do this required a long wait and extreme caution. His enemy +surely had a camp-fire behind a ledge, and shelter as well. The smoke +had seemed to rise out of a ledge, but certainly could not, and so--still +unaware of McGuire's position, yet sure that he was amid these ledges, +and near a shelter--Pete grasped his rifle and crept ashore. + +It was too early to surprise his enemy--time to fall asleep must be +allowed. Yet so eager was the half-breed to deal death to him, that he +must needs come here to wait. No chances must be taken when he did crawl +up to his victim, for a false step or the rattle of a loose stone, or +his form outlined against the starlit sky as he crawled over a ledge, +might mean death to him instead of McGuire. And so, crouching safely +in a dark nook above the landing, Pete waited, watched, and listened. + +One hour passed--it seemed two--and then the half-breed crept stealthily +up to where the smoke had been seen. Not by strides, or even steps, but +as a panther would, lifting one foot and feeling where it would rest and +then another, and all the while listening and advancing again. + +It was McGuire's habit, while staying here, to look at the weather +prospects each night, and also to obtain a drink of cool lake water +before going to sleep. + +Often when the evenings were not too cold, he would sit by the lake shore +for a half-hour, smoking and watching its starlit or moon-glittering +surface, and listening to the calls of night prowlers. + +In spite of being an outlaw, devoid of moral nature, and one who preyed +upon his fellow-man, he was not without sentiment, and the wild grandeur +of these enclosing mountains, and the sense of security they gave, were +pleasant to him. His life had been a harsh and brutal one. He had dealt +in man's lust and love of liquor. He measured all humankind by his own +standard of right and wrong, and believed that he must rob others or +they would rob him. He had followed that belief implicitly from the +start, and would so long as he lived. He felt that every man's hand +was against him, and no reproaches of conscience had resulted from his +cold-blooded killing of an officer. Never once did the thought return +of the few years when a woman's hand sought his in tenderness, nor any +sense of the unspeakable horror he had decreed for his own child. + +So vile a wretch seemed unfit for God's green earth; and yet the silence +of night beside this lake, and the stars mirrored on its motionless +surface, soothed and satisfied him. + +[Illustration: He grasped and struck at this enemy in a blind instinct of +self-preservation.] + +He had now and then another impulse--to some day take his savings of many +years, secreted here, and go to some other country, assume another name, +and lead a different life. + +And now, while an unsuspected enemy was waiting for him to enter a sleep +that should know no waking, he left his cave and seated himself on a +shelf-like projection close to the lake, which was deep here, and the +ledge shore a sheer face rising some ten feet above the water. + +One hour or more this strange compound of brute and man sat there +contemplating the stars, and then he suddenly detected a sound--only +a faint one, the mere click of one pebble striking another. + +He arose and listened. + +Soon another soft, crushing sound reached him. Some animal creeping along +in the passage between the ledges, he thought. + +He stepped quickly to the end of the shelf. On that instant a crouching +form rose upward and confronted him. + +He had one moment only, but enough to see a tall man a step below him, +the next a flash of spitting fire, a stinging pain in one shoulder, and +this human panther leaped upon McGuire! + +But life was sweet, even to McGuire, and as he grasped and struck at +this enemy in a blind instinct of self-preservation as both closed in +a death-grapple, one instant of awful agony came to him as a knife +entered his heart--a yell of mingled hate and deadly fear, as two +bodies writhed on the narrow shelf, a plunging sound, as both struck +the water below--and then silence. + +Death and vengeance were clasped in one eternal embrace. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + + "Thar's two things it don't pay to worry 'bout,--those ye + can help 'n' and those ye can't."--Old Cy Walker. + +When Old Cy and Ray once more made their way up the Beaver Brook valley, +it was with the feeling that this lone and sinister trapper might be +met at any moment. They dared not leave their canoe where it might be +easily found, but adopting Indian tactics, Old Cy cunningly hid it in a +rank growth of swamp grass, and oft doubling on their own tracks and +wading the shallow stream, left only a confusing trail. + +When the deadfalls had been visited and they began gum-gathering again, +they watched constantly for an enemy. + +A dense forest of tall spruces is at best a weird and ill-omened spot. +Its vastness appalls, its shadows seem spectral, and every natural object +becomes grotesque and distorted. An overturned stump with bleaching +roots appears like a hideous devilfish with arms ready to entwine and +crush. A twisted tree trunk, prone, rotting, and coated with moss, looks +like a huge green serpent, and even a knot in the side of a big spruce +will resemble a grinning gnome. Even the sunlight flitting through the +dense canopy plays fantastic tricks, and every breath of wind becomes +the moan of troubled spirits. + +Something of this weird impress now assailed Old Cy and more especially +Ray, and after two days of unpleasant work in this part of the +wilderness, they gave it up. + +"I don't like feelin' I'm bein' watched," Old Cy observed when +they once more started for home, "an' to-morrer I guess we'd best +go 'nother way. Thar's a good spruce growth over beyond the hog-back, +'n' I'd feel safer leavin' the canoe whar Amzi kin keep an eye on't. +We kin come up now once a week 'n' tend the deadfalls 'n' not leave +the canoe more'n an hour." + +Little did Old Cy realize how groundless his fears now were, or that +fathoms deep, in a cold, mountain-hid lake, the thieving McGuire and +the implacable half-breed were now locked in the clasp of death. + +A change of location, however, banished somewhat of this spectral +presence, and although Old Cy was ever alert and watchful, he showed +no sign of it. + +Ray, more volatile and with implicit faith in his protector, soon +returned to normal condition of mind and once more entered into the +spirit of their work and sport with a keen zest. + +The traps gave increased returns, the little bin where they stored their +gum was filling slowly but surely, and their life at this wildwood home +became enjoyable. + +Neither was it all labor, for the ducks now migrating southward were +alighting in the lake by thousands, a few hours' shooting at them from +ambush made glorious sport, and what with all the partridges they had +secured and these additions, their ice-house was soon unable to hold +another bird. + +But the halcyon days of autumn were fast passing and signs of nearing +winter were now visible. Ice began to form in little coves, the ducks +ceased coming, soon the last of them had departed, the leaves of all +hardwood trees were now joining in a hurry-scurry dance with every +passing breeze, the days were of a suggestive shortness, and soon the +grim and merciless snow--the White Spirit of Old Tomah--would be sweeping +over the wilderness. + +And then one night the Frost King silently touched that rippled lake +with his wand and the next morning Old Cy and Ray looked out upon its +motionless expanse of black ice. The sky was also leaden, an ominous +stillness brooded over forest, lake, and mountain, and midway of that +day, the first snowfall came. + +Old Cy and Ray were a mile away from the cabin, busy at gum-gathering, +when the first flakes sifted down through the canopied spruce tops. Soon +the carpet of needles began to whiten, and by mid-afternoon they had to +abandon work and return. + +"I guess we come pretty clus to bein' prisoners now," Old Cy +ejaculated when he shook himself free from the white coating on the +cabin porch, "but we've got to make the best on't. We'll git warm +fust 'n' then go 'n' fetch our canoe up 'n' stow it in the +shed. We ain't like to want it ag'in 'fore spring. One thing is +sartin," he added, when the fire began to blaze in the open fireplace, +"we are sure o' keepin' warm 'n' 'nuff to eat this winter, 'n' +that's all we really need in life, anyway. The rest on't is mostly +imagination." + +But in spite of his serene philosophy, Old Cy had dreaded the coming +of winter more than Ray could guess, and all on account of that lad. He +himself knew what a winter meant in this wilderness cabin, while Ray did +not. Separated as they were from civilization by a full hundred miles, +and from Tim's place by forty, they were, as he stated, practically +prisoners for the next five months. + +To escape on snow-shoes was possible, of course, if the need arose, and +yet it would be a pretty serious venture, after all. + +They were in no particular danger, however. With plenty of food and +fuel, they need not suffer. If the cabin burned, they could erect another +shelter or use the old one. Something of diversion could be obtained +from ice-fishing or gum-gathering on warm days; but not enough, as Old +Cy feared, to keep Ray content and free from the megrims. + +None of these fears escaped Old Cy, however. He was too wise for that; +and moreover, in order to inspire Ray, he now began to affect an almost +boyish interest in the snow coming and its enjoyments. + +"We can't do much more trappin'," he said that first winter evening +beside the fire while the snow beat against the windows, "but we kin +hev some fun keepin' warm an' cookin', 'n' when the snow hardens a +bit we kin go fer gum again, or set tip-ups. We've got more'n a million +shiners in the cage up the brook, 'n' 'fore it gits too cold, we'll +ketch a lot o' trout." + +It was this faculty for adaptation to the situation, this making the +best of all circumstances and seizing all opportunities for pleasure +or profit, that was Old Cy's woodwise characteristic. No matter if +it stormed, he knew that the sun shone behind the clouds. No matter +if they were utterly isolated in this wilderness, he still saw ways +of enjoyment, and even when snowbound, or shut in by zero weather, he +would still find interest in cooking, keeping warm, or getting ready +to fish, or in gathering gum, when the chance came. + +But winter had now come upon them with a sudden swoop. The next day snow +fell incessantly, and when the sun shone again, a two-foot level of it +hid the lake. + +Then, as if to test Ray's spirits, the temperature kept well below +freezing for the next week, the wind blew continuously, sweeping the +snow into drifts, and all the three could do, as Old Cy said, was to +"cook vittles and keep warm." + +And now for the first time, Ray began to show homesickness. From the day +Chip had left, not once had he mentioned her or his aunt or uncle in any +way. He had kept step, as it were, with Old Cy in all things adventurous +as well as labor and sport. + +The possible, even certain gain in the money value of the furs and gum +which they had secured, coupled with their adventurous life, had occupied +his every thought; but now that he could only help Old Cy indoors, he +began to mope. + +"I wonder what they are doing now down in Greenvale," he said one +evening after they had gathered about the fire. "I wish we could hear +from 'em." + +It was the first sign of homesickness which Old Cy had so long dreaded +to see in him. + +"Oh, they ain't havin' half the fun we are," Old Cy answered +cheerfully. "Jest now I callate Chip's studyin' 'longside o' Aunt +Comfort's fire; mebbe Angie 'n' Martin's over to Dr. Sol's, +swappin' yarns. To-morrer Chip'll go ter school, ez usual, 'n' when +Sunday comes they'll all dress up 'n' go ter meetin'. One thing +is sartin, they ain't takin' any more comfort'n we are, or gittin' +better things to eat. If the weather warms up, ez I callate it will in a +day or two, we'll pull some trout out o' the lake that 'ud make +all Greenvale stare. They allus bite sharp arter a cold spell. Ez fer +Chip," he continued, eying Ray's sober face, "she ain't goin' +to fergit ye, never fear, an' when I take ye out o' the woods in the +spring 'n' start ye fer Greenvale with five hundred dollars in yer +inside pocket, ez I callate, ye'll feel's though ye owned the hull +town when ye git thar, an' Chip'll feel ez tho' she owned ye." + +"I wish I could hear how they are once in a while," Ray rejoined. +"They may be sick." + +That "they" meant Chip was self-evident. + +Once a mood comes upon a person, it is hard to change it, and of all +the moods that torture poor human beings, the love mood is the most +implacable. While the zest of trapping was upon Ray, he was himself and a +cheerful enough lad. There had also been the spice of danger from this +unknown, thieving trapper; but when both had vanished, and all that was +left for excitement was the monotony of indoor life, with occasional +half-days when fishing through the ice was permissible, his spirits +fell to low tide. + +Old Cy had feared this from the outset, but believing that the +experience here was the best possible for the boy, to say nothing of the +financial side, he had brought it about. And now he had his hands full. + +But he was equal to it. Next to sport, work, he knew, was the best +panacea for any mental disorder, and work a-plenty he now found for +Ray. First, it had been the making of tip-ups for use on the lake, then +snow-shoes for both of them, and then cutting and splitting more wood. +They had an ample supply already, piled high in a lean-to alongside the +big cabin, but Old Cy asserted that it was not enough, and so more was +added. + +The paths, one to the lake to obtain water and one to the ice-house, were +allotted to Ray to keep open. + +A few days were consumed in filling the ice-house once more, and when +a warm day came, Old Cy led the way to the sheltered side of the lake, +as enthusiastic as a boy, to begin cutting holes and setting lines for +fishing. + +This especially interested Ray, and one good day with a fine catch of +trout would revive his spirits for some time. + +Each and every evening, also, when the social side came, Old Cy, always a +prolific story-teller, would engage in his favorite pastime for a purpose. + +And what a marvellous fund he had to draw from! All the years when he, +a sailor boy, had sailed afar, all the strange countries and people he +had visited, and all the mishaps he had met were now levied upon. + +When these failed--and it was not soon--his wilderness wanderings before +he settled down at Greenvale furnished tales, and when facts became +scarce, his fancies came into play, and many a thrilling shipwreck and +hair-breadth escape that never happened, held Ray's attention for a +long evening. + +The banjo also helped out for many an hour. The old hermit with his +jews'-harp joined in, and although Ray's fingers were prone to stray +to "solemn" tunes, Old Cy persisted in his calls for livelier songs, +even to the extent of adding his voice; and so the first few weeks of +winter wore away. + +When Christmas neared, however, Ray had a "spell." It had been a +calendar day in his memory, and he had been one of the crowd of young +folks who made merry in the usual ways; but now no cheer was possible, +he believed, and once more he began to look glum. + +It may seem rank foolishness and doubtless was, yet Ray, like all +humanity, must be measured by his years and judged by his surroundings. + +In Greenvale he had been one of fifty schoolmates whose lives and moods +were akin, and whose enjoyments must be much the same. Here he was, in a +way, utterly alone so far as age means companionship, and worse than +that, one of his two companions was morose and misanthropic. True, he +twanged his jews'-harp in tune with Ray's plantation melodies, but +when that bond of feeling ceased, he lapsed into chill silence once more. + +But Old Cy, wise philosopher that he was, saw and felt every mood and +tense that came to Ray, and, seeing thus, forestalled each and every one. + +"Christmas is 'most here," he said to Ray, a few days before, "an' +I've been figgerin' we three ought to celebrate it 'cordin' to +the best o' our means. We can't do much in the way o' gifts, but we +kin bust ourselves with vittles 'n' have some fun, just the same. +I've kinder mapped out the day sorter this way, if it's pleasant. +Fust, we'll hev an arly breakfast, then pack a lot o' things on the +hand-sled, go 'cross the lake 'n' round to the cove facin' the south. +Here we'll cut a few holes, set some lines, 'n' while you're tendin' +'em, Amzi 'n' me'll clear a spot under the bank, build a bough +lean-to facin' the sun, spread blankets in it, 'n' when noon comes, +cook a meal fit fer the gods. We kin hev briled venison, fried trout +jist out o' the water, boiled taters, hot coffee, 'n' an appetite +that'll make ye lick yer fingers 'n' holler fer more. If only the +sun shines, we kin hev a heap o' fun." + +It was all a boyish diversion as planned by Old Cy, and the sole object +was to tide Ray over a day that might add to his homesickness. The +weather favored this kindly interest. + +Christmas morn opened warm, and but for the deep snow it might have +been an October day. Old Cy's romantic plan also materialized to the +fullest, and when his green bough shed, with carpet of the same, was +completed, the fire in front blazing cheerfully and dinner cooking, it +was all a picture well worth a study. + +Then as if to prove that good luck trots in double harness, about this +time the trout began to bite, and the line of tip-ups across the cove +were flagging exciting signals that kept Ray and the old hermit on the +jump. Even when their picturesque Christmas dinner was spread upon an +improvised table in front of the bough shelter, Ray could hardly leave +the sport to eat, and Old Cy had to interfere. + +"We ain't ketchin' fish to sell," he said to Ray, "but jist fer fun. +You've got more'n we kin eat in two weeks, so give 'em a rest." + +When dinner was over there came a lazy lounging hour on the fir boughs in +the warm sun, while Old Cy smoked his pipe of content. + +Ray, however, could not resist the signal flags any longer, and as soon +as the meal was eaten he was out tending them again. + +When the sun was halfway down, again the happy trio broke camp and +returned to the cabin, carrying fish enough to feed a multitude. That +evening Old Cy told stories as usual, Ray picked his banjo and sang +lively songs, and so ended Christmas in the wilderness. + +Our lives are but a succession of moods, varying ever as our surroundings +change; and so it was with Ray, isolated as he was with two old men for +companions. With work or sport to interest him, he was cheerful and +content. But when, as now happened, another long and heavy snowfall +succeeded that mellow Christmas Day, he grew morose. It was selfish, +perhaps, and thoughtless, as youth ever is, and yet not surprising; for +when the sun shone again, they were practically buried under snow. It +took an entire day, with all three working, to shovel paths to the lake +and ice-house, and when that was done there was naught else except to +cook and keep the fire going. A few days of this bore heavily on +Ray's spirits, and he became so glum that Old Cy took him to task. + +"You've got to brace up, my boy," he said one evening, "an' likewise +count yer blessin's. We are shut up fer a spell, but think how much +worse off ye might be. We've got plenty to eat 'n' keep warm with, +thar's a good three hundred pounds o' gum we got, an' it's worth over +four hundred dollars, say nothin' o' the furs, 'n' all yourn. Then, +'nother thing, ye mustn't keep broodin' over yer own lonesomeness +so much. I'll 'low ye're kind o' anxious to see the little gal +ag'in, as is nat'ral; but s'pose it was two years ye hed to look +forrard to, a-waitin', an' then on top o' that, arter waitin' so +long, ye hed to face three more, with never a chance to larn whether +she was dead or alive!" + +And now Old Cy paused, and watched the low-burning fire as if living once +more in bygone days. + +"It seems a long time, these months," he continued at last, glancing +at Ray, "an' so 'tis; but I had a longer spell on't once, an' it +ended the way I hope your waitin' won't. It all happened more'n forty +years ago, 'n' I've never told nobody 'bout it since. + +"I was born in Bayport, that's a seaport town, an' me 'n' my only +brother took to the sea at an arly age. We had sweethearts, too, and, +curislike, they was sisters. Mine was Abbie Grey--sweet Abbie Grey they +used to call her, an' she well desarved it. + +"Wal, I used to see her 'tween viages, mebbe a week or two, onct in +six or twelve months o' waitin', an' them was spells I've lived over +hundreds o' times, I kin tell ye. We 'greed to hitch up finally arter +I made one more viage, 'n' I went off, feelin' life ahead was all +apple orchards 'n' sunshine." + +He paused, looked long at the dying embers once more, and then continued: +"Life is all a mix-up o' hopes 'n' disapp'intments, tho', an' the +brighter the hopes the more sartin they are to be upset. I started on +that viage feelin' heaven was waitin' fer me at shore, 'n' I seemed +to 'a' sailed right into the other place, fer our ship sprung a +leak 'n' foundered. We took to the boats, ez I told ye onct. Most +o' my crew died afore I was picked up, 'n' then the whaler that +took me aboard was bound on a four years' viage. That was bad enough, +but worse was possible, fer she fetched up on a coral island one +night toward the last on't, and 'twas plumb six years 'fore I heard +from home 'n' Abbie. Things had happened thar in that time, too, an' I +was told my brother had been given up ez lost, 'n' Abbie, believin' +we both was dead, had married 'nother man. I was so upsot I never let +her know I was alive, 'n' she don't know it to-day, if she's +still livin', which I hope she is." + +For a long time now Old Cy remained silent, his head bowed, his eyes +closed, as that long-ago page of memories returned, while Ray watched him. + +"Life is a curis puzzle," he added at last, "an' we all live in +to-morrers. Fust we are like boys chasin' Jack-lanterns, rushin' on all +the time, 'spectin' most o' the trouble is past 'n' the future +is all rosy. We don't figger much on to-day, but callate next week, next +month, next year, is goin' to be more sunshiny, till we get old 'n' +gray 'n' grumpy, 'n' nobody wants us 'round." + +Once more he ceased speaking, and once more his eyes closed. Five, ten, +twenty minutes passed while Ray watched Old Age in repose and the fire +quite died away. + +"It's gittin' chilly," Old Cy said at last, suddenly rousing himself +from his dream of the long ago and sweet Abbie Grey, "an' we'd best +turn in." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + + "The biggest fool thing--an' we all do it--is shakin' + hands with trouble 'fore ye meet it."--Old Cy Walker. + +For two months life at Birch Camp much resembled that of a woodchuck or +a squirrel. Now and then a day came when the crusted snow permitted a +gum-gathering trip into the forest, or a few midday hours at ice-fishing; +and never were the first signs of spring more welcome than to those +winter-bound prisoners. The wise counsel and patient example of Old Cy +had not been lost upon Ray, either; and that winter's experience had +changed him to an almost marvellous degree. He was no longer a moody and +selfish boy, thinking only of his own privations, but more of a man, who +realized that he had duties and obligations toward others, as well as +himself. + +With the returning sun and vanishing snow, animal life was once more +astir, and a short season of trapping was again entered upon, and +mingled with that a few days more of gum-gathering. It was brief and at a +disadvantage, for ice still covered the lake, and until that disappeared +no use of the canoes could be made. + +Once well under way, however, spring returned with speed, the brooks +began to overflow, the lake to rise, and one morning, instead of a white +expanse of watery ice, it was a blue and rippled lake once more. + +And now plans for Ray's return to Greenvale were in order, and the sole +topic of discussion. He was as eager as a boy anxious for the close of +school, and for a double reason, which is self-evident. + +It was agreed that Old Cy and himself should make the trip out together +in two canoes, and convey their stores of gum and firs. At the settlement +these were to be packed, to await later sale and shipment. Old Cy would +then return to camp, and Ray would go on to Greenvale. + +A change in this plan came in an unexpected manner, however, for a few +days before the one set for departure, Old Cy, always on watch, saw a +canoe enter the lake, and who should appear but Levi, Martin's old guide. + +"I've been cookin' up at a lumber camp on the Moosehorn," he +explained, after greetings had been exchanged, "an' I thought I +would make a trip up here an' call on ye 'fore I went out." + +How welcome he was, and how all, even Amzi, of those winter-bound +prisoners vied with each other in making him the guest of honor, need not +be asserted. He had been a part of their life here the previous summer, +with all its joys and dangers, and now seemed one of them. + +When mutual experiences and their winter's history had been exchanged, +of course Chip's rescue, the half-breed's escape, and the whereabouts +of her father came up for discussion that evening. + +"I've heard from Tim's Place two or three times this winter," said +Levi, "an' neither Pete nor old McGuire has been seen or heard on +since early last fall. Pete got thar all safe, but vowed revenge on +McGuire, as Martin and I found, when we went out. He stayed round a week +or so, I heard later, and then started for his cabin on the Fox Hole, +'n' since then hain't never been seen or heard of by nobody. Tim +an' Mike went over to his cabin 'long in the winter, but no signs of +him was found, or even of his bein' thar since snow came. McGuire also +seems to hev dropped out o' business and ain't been heard on since +in the summer. We've expected him all winter at the lumber camp, but +he didn't show up." + +"We've seen him," put in Old Cy, flashing a smile at Ray, "leastwise +I callated 'twas him, though I never let on to that effect. He was +trappin' over beyond a big swamp last fall, 'n' he paid us a visit, +stole a half-dozen o' our catches 'n' left his trade-mark on our +canoe." And then Old Cy told the story of their adventure, omitting, +however, any reference to the supposed cave. + +"It's curis what has become o' him," Levi said, when the tale was +told, "and our camp crowd all believe that thar's been foul play, +with Pete at the bottom on't. Nobody's shed any tears, though, an' +I'm thinkin' the woods is well rid o' him. He's been a terror to +everybody long enough." + +Much more of this backwoods gossip and change of experience filled in +the evening, and next morning Old Cy gave Ray a word of caution. + +"I kept whist 'bout our findin' what we callated was a cave," he +said, "an' I want you to. This matter o' McGuire and the half-breed +ain't blowed over yit, an' we don't want to git mixed up in it. Ez +fer the cave, if we 'lowed we found one, the folks at Tim's Place 'ud +go huntin' fer it, sure, 'n' I've my reasons for not wantin' they +should go. So mum's the word to Levi 'bout it." + +Levi's arrival, however, changed their plans, for he at once offered to +convoy Ray out of the woods, thus relieving Old Cy, and three days later +these two, with well-laden canoes, started on the out-going journey. + +It was not without incident, for when the main stream was reached, it was +dotted with floating logs and the red-shirted drivers with the bateaux +and spike shoes were in evidence. A monster jam was met at the first +rapid, the bags of gum nuts, bundles of firs, and canoes had to be +carried around it, and when Tim's Place was reached, a score of the +good-natured woodsmen were in possession. + +Levi discreetly avoided all questions as to what Tim knew of Chip, +her father, or the half-breed. Ray's lips were also sealed, and so +both escaped much questioning. Here, also, they learned what both had +guessed--that McGuire and Pete had either left the wilderness or had +perished that winter. Where and how, if such was the case, no one seemed +to know or care, and a close observer would have said that every one at +Tim's Place hoped that these two outlaws had met their fate. + +Old Tomah was also found at Tim's Place, and he was undeniably glad to +see both Ray and Levi, and to learn that Chip was likely to be well cared +for. + +When these two voyagers were ready to start, he joined and kept with +them until the settlement was reached. Knowing full well the value of +gum and furs, he soon found a purchaser for Ray's store and stock at +its full value; and when that youth, now elated as never before, was +ready to start for Greenvale, this fine old Indian showed almost a white +man's emotion. + +"Take this to little girl," he said, handing Ray a package, "and tell +her Old Tomah not forget. He hope she come back to see him soon." + +"Tell Mr. Frisbie I shall be here, waitin' to meet him, when he sends +word," Levi said; and shaking hands with both of his good friends, Ray +now bade them good-by with many thanks for all they had done. + +Of his homeward trip and all the charming anticipations now his, no +mention need be made. They are but the flowers wisely strewn in the +pathway of youth, and Ray--now more a man than when he entered the +woods--full well deserved all that lay before him. + +But Old Tomah's heart was sad, and far away beside a rippled lake was +another who felt the same. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + + "When ye see two hearts tryin' to beat ez one, gin 'em the + chance."--Old Cy Walker. + +Chip's success and popularity in Greenvale was practically nullified +by Hannah, who from wounded vanity and petty jealousy became her enemy +from the outset. + +Aunt Comfort did not know it. Angie was not conscious of the facts, or, +busy with her own social duties and home-making, gave them no thought. +And yet, inspired by Hannah's malicious tongue, Greenvale looked upon +poor Chip as one it was best to avoid. + +With Angie as sponsor, she had been made one of the Christmas church +decorators, and had been twice invited to parties, only to exasperate +Hannah all the more and cause an increase of sneers. + +"She's nobody an' an upstart," Hannah said at the first meeting of +the village sewing circle after Chip's advent, "an' I've my doubts +about her father an' mother ever bein' married. Then she's an infiddle +an' believes in Injun sperrits an' hobgoblin things she calls spites, +an' is a reg'lar heathen. I don't trust her a minit, an' never leave +the house 'thout I lock up my things." + +Much more of this sort fell from Hannah's lips whenever occasion +offered, though never within hearing of Aunt Comfort or Angie. Neither +did the townspeople enlighten them, and so the undercurrent of innuendo +and gossip, once started by Hannah, spread until all Greenvale looked +askance at Chip. + +There was also some color for this ill repute, for Angie had concealed +nothing, and Chip, foolishly perhaps, had asserted her belief when it +would have been better to conceal it. + +The parson also, chagrined at his failure to make a convert of the girl, +referred to her as "rebellious, obstinate in her ideas, and one who +needed chastening." + +Her teacher, however, was her stanch friend. Aunt Comfort beamed upon her +morning and night, while Angie, having provided her with home, raiment, +opportunity for schooling, escort to church, and much good advice, felt +that she had fulfilled her duty. And in a way, she had. + +But social recognition in a country village can be made or marred by +such a person as Hannah, and quite unknown to those most interested, +Chip's popularity was not decreed. Neither was she conscious of this +undercurrent. Each day she went to and returned from school in a sturdy +sort of way. A most devoted pupil, she never failed to thank her teacher +for every word of help, and if--thanks to Hannah--she failed to make +friends about the village, she won a place near to Aunt Comfort's heart. + +But somehow Aunt Comfort, who loved everybody alike, good or bad, or +at least spoke no ill of the bad ones, didn't count. That she must +inevitably take Chip under her motherly wing, all recognized. She had +taken Hannah, then Angie and Nezer, and now this waif who, as Hannah +insisted, was all bad; and according to Greenvale's belief, Aunt Comfort +would keep on "taking in" homeless waifs and outcast mortals as long +as she lived, or house room held out. And it was true. + +By midwinter Martin's new house was all furnished, and social +obligations began to interest Angie, which made matters all the worse for +Chip, for now Hannah could persecute her with less danger of exposure. + +But Chip was hard to persecute. She had known adversity in its worst +form. Her life at Tim's Place had been practical slavery, and the worst +that Hannah could do was as pin pricks compared to it. + +It is certain, also, if Chip had "spunked up," as Hannah would call +it, now and then, it would have been better for her; but it wasn't +Chip's way. To work and suffer in silence had been her lot at Tim's +Place. Angie had said, "You must obey everybody and make friends," and +impelled by experience, and this somewhat broad order, Chip was doing +her best. + +One hope cheered her all that long, hard winter of monotonous study--the +return of Ray, and possibly Old Cy, when summer came. Somehow these two +had knit themselves into her life as no one else had or could. Then +she wondered how Ray would seem to and feel toward her when he came, +and if the little bond--a wondrous strong one, as far as her feelings +went--would still call him to her side. + +Of love and its real meaning she was scarce conscious as yet. She simply +felt that this youth with his sunny face and brown eyes was the one +being on earth she wished to please. All the romance and pathos of +that summer idyl, all the moonlight and canoeing, all the songs he had +charmed her with, and every word and act of his from that first evening +when, ragged and starving, she had stumbled into the camp, until she had +parted from him with misty eyes, had been lived over by her countless +times. + +It had all been a beacon of hope to her in the uphill road toward the +temple of learning; and how hard she had studied, and how patiently she +had tried to correct her own speech, not even her teacher guessed. + +Few of us can see ourselves as others see us, and yet Chip, mature +of mind as one just entering womanhood, realized somewhat her own +condition. Perhaps, also, she was conscious in some degree as to why +she was not more popular, but that was a matter of scant interest to +her. All she wished and all she strove for was to learn what others knew, +speak as others spoke, and act as they acted; and all for one end and +purpose--to win favor in the eyes of Ray. + +And so no one, not even Hannah, whose prying eyes saw all things, guessed +her secret. + +A little of gall and bitterness was now and then meted out to Hannah +in return for all her sneers, for Chip's teacher occasionally spent an +evening at Aunt Comfort's, and every word of praise she let fall for +her pupil was a thorn to Hannah. But she revenged herself, as might be +expected. + +"I think that Injun gal's a witch," she said once to her bosom friend +after one of these unpleasant evenings, "the way she pulls wool over +Miss Phinney's eyes by pretending she's so anxious to learn. You'd +think to hear her go on that learnin' was all she was livin' for, and +her teacher almost an angel. I think Angie must 'a' ben spellbound +the same way when she fetched her here to crowd out her betters." + +But Chip, fortunately, was still unconscious of the extent and injury +of Hannah's malice. + +With the coming of springtime and green grass, life for Chip assumed +a more smiling face, for now she could fly to the hillsides, and for +the time being imagine herself at the lake once more. Somehow Greenvale +as a whole had impressed her as cold and unloving, and to escape it was +a relief. Her teacher was dear to her, Aunt Comfort a kindly mother, +Angie a good friend; but none were kin to her and never could be, as +she more and more realized. + +Then, too, poor Chip, in spite of Tim's Place, was growing homesick for +the wilderness again; or, to be more accurate, for the little lake where +her heart had been touched by the wand of love. + +With some insight into books and a developing mind came a keener +sensitiveness, and what people thought of her and how they felt toward +her became of more consequence. Her life was simple. She rose early, +assisted as a housemaid in Aunt Comfort's home, departed at a set time +for school with its six hours of almost unbroken study, and, most prized +of all, a few moments' companionship with her teacher. To her Chip +had confided all her joys and sorrows and most of her history as well. +And be it said to Miss Phinney's credit, she had discretion and honor +enough not to betray Chip's confidence. + +It is also possible, in fact almost certain, that that unfortunate +waif's somewhat pitiful tale had won her teacher's interest and +affection as naught else could. Only one reservation was made by +Chip--her own feelings toward Ray. All else became an open book to +Miss Phinney. + +When school was out, the two walked homeward together as far as their +ways permitted, and then Chip obtained the one hour of the day which she +felt was quite her own. At first, during the autumn days, she had used it +for a scamper through the nutbrown woods. When winter came and it was +not too cold, she occasionally visited the mill pond above the village, +where, if the conditions were right, all the skating and sliding youth +were gathered; and when blessed spring returned, it was away to the +hills and fields once more. + +On Saturdays she seldom left the house, unless sent on an errand, and +Sunday became a day of penance. + +"I don't know why folks watch me so much when I go to meetin'," Chip +complained once to her teacher, "but they do, and I don't like it. I +can see now why they did when I first came. I guess they thought I was +an Injun, maybe; but what do I do now to make 'em so curious?" + +"Oh, I wouldn't mind them," Miss Phinney answered soothingly, "no +one intends to annoy you; but it takes a long time for people here to +become accustomed to a stranger." + +Miss Phinney dared not tell her pupil that her somewhat wild belief +and unquestionably rude origin and early life formed the basis of this +curiosity. + +And now, when the flowers and birds had once more returned to Greenvale, +and Ray might return any day, a little plan that Chip had had in mind +for many weeks took shape. She knew Ray must come on the stage, and eager +for a sight of his face as only love can make one, she meant to be the +first to meet and greet him. + +A mile down the village street and beyond the last house was a sharp +hilltop. The stage usually reached here about an hour after the close of +school, and to this vantage point, where she could hide behind a stone +wall, Chip now betook herself each day. + +Her plans for meeting her young hero were well considered. She was sure +he would, like herself, prefer a seat with Uncle Joe. That important +person, whose heart she had won by her admiration of his horses on her +arrival, would surely invite her to ride into the village, if he saw her. +If he was alone, she would remain hid; but if _some one_ was with him, +she would then disclose herself and the coveted invitation and meeting +with Ray would follow. + +It was a vague, uncertain plan. No one in Greenvale had the remotest idea +when Ray would return. Chip only knew that he was expected in the spring. +The day, or even week, was a long-range guess. But even that slim chance +poor, lonesome, heart-longing Chip would not miss, and so each day at +close of school she hurried to her lookout point to watch and wait. + +It was a silly, almost hopeless sentinelship, as she knew well enough; +but with the dog's heart that was hers, she would keep her vigil, and +like one of those dumb brutes, wait weeks, months, ay, years even, for a +master coming. + +It was mid-April when Chip began her daily watch, and missed no day +unless a pelting rain prevented. It was June ere she won her reward, and +then one balmy afternoon when she saw the stage afar, there, perched +beside Uncle Joe, was--a companion! + +How sure that weary, waiting waif was that her heart was not mistaken! +How her pulses leaped and thrilled as the slow-moving stage crept up +the hill; and how Ray, eager to catch the first glimpse of his native +village, saw a winsome, smiling face shaded by a flower-decked hat, +peeping at him over a wall, was but a minor episode in the lives of +these two; yet one to be recalled many, many times afterward and always +with a heartache. + +None came to them now, for on the instant Ray saw who was waiting for him +he halted the stage, and the next moment he was beside his sweetheart. +And Uncle Joe, with the wisdom and sympathy of old age, discreetly +averted his face, and said "Go-lang" to his horses, and drove on alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + + "There ain't but few folks smell woollen quite quick enough." + --Old Cy Walker. + +During all the long weeks while Chip had awaited her lover's coming, +one hope had been hers--that his return would end all her loneliness and +begin a season of the happy, care-free days like those by the lake once +more. + +And there were many reasons for it. + +In this quiet, strictly religious, gossip-loving village, a dependant +upon charity, as it were, and with Hannah's sneers, Chip had slowly but +surely learned how little akin she was to them all, and how distrustful +they all were of her. This knowledge had come by degrees: first, from +the way in which the older pupils at school regarded her, having +always kept aloof; then the insistent staring she received each Sunday +at church; the somewhat chilly reception she had met in a social +way; and lastly, a seeming indifference on Angie's part. There was no +reason for it all, so far as Chip could understand. She walked in +the straight and narrow path laid out for her each day, made herself +useful between school hours at Aunt Comfort's, studied hard, thanked +Angie for every trifle, and after her first unfortunate experience in +defending her belief in spites and Old Tomah's hobgoblins, she had +never referred to them again. But the seeming fact that she was disliked +and unwelcome here had slowly forced itself upon her and added to her +loneliness. + +It was all to end, however, when Ray came. In him or from him she would +find a welcome. He knew her as she was, and what she was. He had not been +distrustful, but tender and loving, and all clouds and sorrow and all +humiliations would fade away when he came. + +She had pictured to herself, also, how much they would be together +and where; how he would come to Aunt Comfort's the first evening and +tell all about his winter in the wilderness and Old Cy,--all about +the trap-setting, gum-gathering, and the deep snows she knew so much +about. Maybe he would bring his banjo now and then and play and sing the +darky songs she had hummed so many times. Possibly he might come and +meet her occasionally on the way home from school; and when vacation +came, how many long rambles they would take in the dear old woods, with +no such ogre as the half-breed to spoil them. It had all been a rosy-hued +dream with her, while she waited his coming. And now he was here! + +For the first few moments after he kissed her upraised lips, she could +not speak for very joy; and then, as hand in hand they started toward +the village, her speech came. + +"I've been so lonesome," she said simply, "I've counted the days, +and come down here to meet you daily, for over a month. I don't like +it here, and nobody likes me, I guess. I'm so glad you've come, though. +Now I shan't be lonesome no more. I've studied hard, too," she added, +with an accent of pride. "I can read and spell words of six syllables. +I've ciphered up to decimal fractions, an' begun grammar." + +"I'm glad to get home, too," answered Ray, as simply. "It was +lonesome in the woods all winter, when we couldn't tend the traps. But +I've made a lot of money--'most five hundred dollars--all mine, too. +How is everybody?" And so they dropped from sentiment into commonplace. + +At the tavern he secured his belongings. At the corner where their ways +parted, he bade Chip a light good-by, and with an "I'll see you soon," +left her. + +Her hero had arrived. They had met, kissed as lovers should, and the +lonely waiting and watching days were at an end and a new life was to +begin for Chip. + +Little did she realize what it would mean for her, or how utterly her +hopes were to fail. + +"He will come to-night," her heart assured her, and that evening, +without a word to Aunt Comfort or Hannah as to whom she expected, she +arrayed herself in her one best dress and awaited his expected visit. + +And what a propitious and all-favoring evening it was! The June night +was balmy. Blooming lilacs and syringas half hid, as well as adorned, the +porch of Aunt Comfort's home. Aunt Comfort had just departed to make +a call, Hannah was away at prayer meeting, and "no one nigh to hinder." + +But Chip waited in vain! + +The drowsy hum of the Mizzy Falls, up the village street, came to her; +the fireflies twinkled amid the dense-growing maples and over the broad +meadows; whippoorwills called across the valley; but no lover came to +Chip. One, two, almost three hours she waited and watched. Then came +Aunt Comfort and Hannah, and heavy-hearted and lonesome once more, poor +Chip retired. + +At school next day her mind and heart were at war. The parts of speech +and rules of subtraction and division seemed complete chaos, and when +homeward bound, she loitered slowly along, hoping Ray would make amends +and meet her on the way. But again he failed to appear. + +And that night, when alone with Hannah, a worse blow came. + +"I heerd young Stetson got back yesterday," she said, fixing her +steely blue eyes on Chip, "an' you went down the road to meet him. I +should think you'd be 'shamed o' yourself. If you're callatin' +on settin' your cap for him, 'twon't do a mite o' good. His aunt +wouldn't think o' havin' sich an outcast ez you for him--that I can +tell ye." + +But not a word of reply came from poor Chip. Such speeches were not new +to her, and she had long before ceased to answer them. But this one, from +its very truth, hurt more than all others had, and, crushed by it, she +stole away out of the house. + +No thought that Ray might call came to her. She only wished to escape +somewhere, that she might cry away her misery and shame in solitude. + +The evening was but a repetition of the previous one. The same sweet +influence and silvered light was all about, but no heed of its beauty +came to Chip. Instead, she felt herself a shameful thing of no account. +Her lover had failed her--now she knew why, and as she sped along the +lonely way to the schoolhouse, scarce conscious of her steps, all hope +and all joy left her. Why or for what purpose she was hurrying toward +this deserted little building, she knew not. Hot tears filled her eyes. +Shame surged in her heart. She was a nobody in the eyes of all her +world, and once she had reached the worn sill, so often crossed by +her, she threw herself upon it and sobbed in utter despair. + +For a long hour she sat there while the tide of feeling ebbed and tears +came unchecked, and then the reaction came. With it, also, came something +of the old courage and defiance that had once led her to face night, +danger, and sixty miles of wilderness alone. + +"I have made a mistake," she said, sitting up, "and Hannah was right. +I am a nobody here, and Ray has been told so and has kept away." + +And now with returning calm, and soothed, maybe, by the still, ethereal +night, she saw herself, her past and present, as it all was. Back in +an instant she sped in thought to the moment when, kneeling to these +people, she begged for food; back to that first prayer she ever heard +in the tent, and the offer of rescue that followed. + +And then her life here, with all its hopes and humiliation, rose before +her. + +"It was all wrong, my coming here," she said, looking away to the +village where lights twinkled; "I am not their sort, nor they mine. +I'd better go away." + +Then, lifted a wee bit by this new resolve, she rose and returned to the +house. + +The tall clock in the sitting room was just chiming ten when she entered, +and Aunt Comfort was there alone. + +"Raymond was here this evening," she said kindly, "and waited quite +a spell. Where have you been?" + +"Oh, nowhere," answered Chip, pleasantly, "only I was lonesome and +went out for a walk." + +Little did good Aunt Comfort realize what a volcano of hope, despair, +shame, and tender love was concealed beneath that calm answer, or the +new resolve budding in Chip's heart. + +No more did Ray suspect it when he met her coming home from school the +next afternoon. + +For during those two wretched hours when she was alone on the worn +schoolhouse step, poor Chip McGuire, the low-born, pitiful waif, had +become a woman and put away girlish impulses. + +"I couldn't come to see you that first evening," he said at once, +"for uncle and aunty kept me talking till bedtime. Where were you last +night?" + +"Oh, I didn't much think you would come," answered Chip, calmly, +smiling at him in a far-off way. "I am a nobody here, as you will soon +find out, and I don't expect--anything. I got lonesome last night and +went off for a walk." + +Ray looked at her in wide-eyed astonishment. And well he might, for only +two short days since she had met him, an eager, simple girl, and now she +spoke like a woman. No word, no hint of his neglect, escaped her; but +a cool indifference was apparent. + +"Tell me about the woods and Old Cy," she said, not waiting for him +to speak again, "and how is the hermit? I want to know all about them." + +"Oh, I left 'em all right," answered Ray, sullenly, for like a boy +he wanted to be coaxed. And then, urged a little by Chip, he told his +winter's experience. + +One episode interested her most of all--the strange trapper's doings, +his theft of their game, their pursuit of him and discovery of his hiding +spot. + +"I know who that was," she said, when it was all described. "It was +my father, and if he had caught you spying upon him, I guess he'd shot +you both. He always used to go somewhere trapping every fall; but nobody +could ever find where." + +This return to the memories of the wilderness wore away something of +Chip's cool reserve, and when the house was reached her eyes had grown +tender. + +"I shall be glad to see you often--as--as your folks will let you +come," she said, somewhat timidly when they parted; and scarce +understanding this speech, Ray left her. + +"Chip has changed a whole lot," he said to his aunt a little later, +"and I wish she hadn't; she don't seem the same any more." + +"I'm glad of it if she has," answered Angie, smiling at him. "There +was need enough of it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Old Cy had builded wiser than he realized when he coaxed Ray to spend +a winter in the woods. + +The long tramps through the vast wilderness; the keen hunt for signs of +mink, fisher, otter, and wildcat, with constant guard against danger; +the unremitting though zestful labor of gum-gathering; the far-sighted +need for winter preparation; and last but not least Old Cy's cheerful +philosophy, had broadened the lad and developed both muscle and mind. + +His success, too, had encouraged him. He was eager to try another season +there, and planned for hiring men to gather gum, and saw in this vocation +possible future. + +But the change in Chip puzzled him. He had returned, expecting to find +her the same timid, yet courageous little girl, ready to be his companion +at all times and to kiss him when he chose--a somewhat better-educated +girl, of course, using more refined language, but otherwise the same +confiding child, as it were. + +She was all this the day of his return; and then, presto! like a sudden +blast of cold air came a change. Too loyal to her to question any one, +he could only wonder why this change. + +He called again soon after that first, unsatisfying walk home with her, +to find her the same cool, collected young lady. She was nice to him, +induced him to talk of the woods once more and his own plans; but it was +not the Chip of old who listened, but quite another person. + +"I am going back to the lake with uncle and aunt," he said at last, +"and I mean to coax them to take you along. You have been shut up in +school so long, it will do you good." + +"Please don't say a word to them about it," she urged, in hurt tone, +"for it will do no good. I wouldn't go, anyway." + +"Not go to the woods if you could," he exclaimed in astonishment; +"why, what do you mean?" + +"Just what I say," she returned firmly, and then added wistfully, +"I'd fly there, if I had wings. I'd give my life, almost, for one more +summer like the last. But I shall not go again now, and maybe never." + +It was unaccountable and quite beyond Ray's ken--this strange decision +of hers--and her "Please don't say any more about it," closed the +subject. + +Another and even greater shock came to Ray when late that evening, on the +porch, he essayed to kiss her. + +"No, no; please don't," she said with almost a sob, pushing him away. +"It's silly now, and--and--you mustn't." + +A week later school closed, and Chip's conduct was then also a puzzle +to Miss Phinney. As usual on these occasions, when the hour came, each +pupil, young and old, filed past the teacher at her desk, the boys to +shake hands, the girls to be kissed, and all bade good-by, after which +they trooped away, glad to escape. + +This ceremony now took place as usual. All departed except Chip, and +she remained at her desk. Some intuition of pity or sympathy drew Miss +Phinney to her at once; and then, at the first word from her, Chip gave +way to tears--not light ones, but sobs that shook her as a great grief. +Vainly Miss Phinney tried to cheer and console her, stroking the bowed +head until her own eyes grew misty. + +"I didn't mean to give way," Chip said at last, looking up and +brushing away the tears, "but you've been so good and patient with +me, I couldn't help it. I hain't many friends here, I guess, and--" +choking back another sob--"I shall be more lonesome'n ever." + +It was true enough, as Miss Phinney well understood, and somehow her +heart went out to this unfortunate girl now, as never before. + +"You mustn't think about that," she said at last, in her most soothing +voice, "but come and see me as often as you can--every day, if you +like, for I shall always be glad to have you. I'd keep on studying, if I +were you," she added, as Chip brightened, "it will help you on, and I +will gladly hear you recite every day." + +Then hand in hand, like two sisters, they left the dear old schoolhouse. +Little did Miss Phinney, good soul that she was, realize how recently +poor Chip had cried her heart almost out on its well-worn sill, or that +never again would this strange, winsome, woman-grown pupil enter that +temple. + +At the parting of their ways the two embraced, kissed, and with +tear-dimmed eyes separated. + +"I can't account for it," Miss Phinney said to herself when well away. +"It may be a love-affair with young Stetson, or it may be something +worse." + +That evening she called on Angie. The result was fruitless, so far as +obtaining any light upon this puzzling matter was concerned, for Angie +was either blind to the situation, or feigned ignorance. + +"They were together all last summer, of course," she said, "in fact, +they were forced to be like two children, you know. I was glad to have +it so, feeling it would benefit the girl. If any love flame was started +then, it has had ample time to die out since." + +"There is something else the matter with Chip, then," Miss Phinney +rejoined, "she has been moody and quite upset at times for the past few +weeks, and to-day when school closed, she sobbed like a brokenhearted +woman. It was quite pathetic, and I had to cry myself." + +That night Angie took counsel of her husband. + +"Well, what if it is so," he responded, to her suggestion that a +love-affair might have started between them. "It won't harm either. +So far as I've observed, the girl couldn't have been better behaved +since she came here. She has never missed an hour at school all winter, +no matter how cold it has been. Her teacher says she has made wonderful +progress. She has attended church with you every Sunday, and as for +Ray--well, if I were in his shoes, I'd be in love with her myself." + +It was clear enough that Angie's fears were not shared by Martin. + +"But think of her origin and parentage," answered Angie, "and that +outlaw father who might appear at any time! The very idea of Ray marrying +her is preposterous. It would wreck his life." + +"But what about Chip?" returned Martin, who had broader views of life. +"You brought her here to Christianize and educate her; do you propose +to turn her adrift because she has a pretty face and the boy sees it? She +isn't to blame for her origin. As for Ray, if he shows that he is able +to support a wife and wants her, I honor him for it, and I'll give him +a house to start with." + +At Aunt Comfort's, however, no signs of love troubles were visible; +in fact, no signs of any sort, except the malicious "hanging around" +interference of Hannah whenever Ray was there. She seemed to feel it +her duty to remain on guard at such times, much to Ray's disgust. No +annoyance at this was apparent in Chip. She helped at housework, studied +at odd hours, and when Ray came she met and talked with him as if he were +a brother. + +The day he was to leave Greenvale was close at hand, however, and the +evening before he came early, bringing his banjo, and by tacit consent, +perhaps to escape Hannah, they both left the house at once. + +Just above the village there was a long, narrow pond, wooded upon one +side and around its upper end, with partially cleared land and scattered +trees along the opposite bank. One of these trees was a monster beech +near the water's edge, the trunk of which was scarred by many entwined +initials. + +To this lovers' trysting tree now came Ray and Chip. + +The evening was not one for romance, for no moon graced it--only stars +were reflected from the pond's motionless surface, while fireflies +twinkled above it. + +The shadow of the near parting also hovered over these two as, hand +in hand, they picked their way up and along the bank; and once seated +beneath the tree, it seemed to forbid speech. + +"I wish you'd play some of the songs you used to," Chip said at last +hurriedly, "I'd like to think I'm back at the lake again." + +Glad to do so, Ray drew out his banjo and began to tune it. He started +a song also--one of the "graveyardy" ones which Old Cy had interdicted, +but choked at once and stopped abruptly. + +"I can't sing to-night," he said, "I'm too blue about going away." + +There were two in this frame of mind, evidently, for Chip made no +protest, and for another long interval they watched the fireflies +and listened to the whippoorwills. + +"I wish you were going back with us," Ray said at last. "It breaks +my heart to go away so soon and leave you. Why won't you let me ask my +uncle to take you? He might be glad to do it, just for me." + +"No," answered Chip, firmly, "you mustn't. It would shame me so that +I couldn't look them in the face." Then, as if this subject and their +own feelings must be avoided, she added hurriedly, "Tell me what you +will do when the folks come back--whether you will come with them or stay +at the lake?" + +"Stay there, I suppose," answered Ray, somewhat doggedly, for +money-making and love were in conflict. "Old Cy says we can make a +lot of money if I will. I wish I were rich," he added with a sigh. + +He was not the first young man to whom that wish had come at such a +moment. But converse between them was at ebb tide just now, and the +parting moment, ever creeping nearer, overshadowed all else. To +Chip--known only to herself--it meant forever. To Ray, another long +isolation from all the world and young associates, and all for a few +hundred dollars sorely needed by him, yet seeming of scant value +compared to the sweet companionship of this maid. + +Then Chip's feelings and the reason for them were quite beyond him. +He could not see why she was unwilling to ask to be taken to the woods +again, nor why she held herself aloof from him. She had not done so at +the lake, or when they met again, and why should she now? + +Something of this might have been inferred by Chip, for she suddenly +arose. + +"I think we'd best go back," she said. "It's time, and Hannah will +be watching for me." + +What Ray might have said had he been a world-wise man, does not matter. +What he did was to pick up his useless banjo, and clasping Chip's arm, +led her along the winding walk. + +Below the falls and near the house they paused, for now the last moment +alone together had come, and with it the real parting. + +"Tell Old Cy I--I haven't forgot him," whispered Chip, her voice +quivering, "and--and--you won't forget me either, will you, Ray?" + +That little sob in her speech was all that was needed to break away the +barrier between them, for the next instant Ray's arms were about the +girl. + +No words of love, no protestations, no promises. Only one instant's +meeting of soul and impulse, fierce as love of life, sacred as the hand +of death. + +Love consecrated it. The shadowing maples blessed it. The stars hallowed +it. + +And yet it was a long, long parting. + +When Ray rode away next morning, he watched for her at the first sharp +hilltop. + +It was in vain, for Chip's resolve had been taken, and he never saw the +forlorn figure crouching behind that bush-topped wall, or knew that two +wistful, misty eyes had seen him depart. + +Few of us ever see even a faint image of ourselves as others see us; +and yet, calm reflection spurred to self-analysis by a hungry heart +occasionally effects that almost miracle. + +In Ray's case it did; for after his eager eyes had scanned every rod +of that roadside trysting-place in vain, a revelation came to him--not +a wide open one, such as he deserved, but a glance at himself and his +conduct as it had been. First he saw Chip just as she entered their camp +that night in the wilderness, so pitiful in appearance, so pathetic in +her abject gratitude. Once again he looked at her appealing eyes growing +misty while he played and sang his old-time love songs. He remembered +that during all the days, weeks, and months following, he had never +failed to find the love-light of admiration when his eyes met hers. +It had all been a summer idyl, so sweet, so romantic, so tender, and +so unexpected that he had scarce realized its value--not at all then, +but faintly now. + +For all that up-hill, down-dale journey to Riverton, he lived over +this moonlit lake and wilderness camp episode, and every hour and +every thought shared with him by this girl--a playmate and lover +combined--returned again like echoes of past and gone heart throbs, +each time a little sweeter, each time a trifle more piercing, until +his own self-complacency faded quite away and an abject penitence +began to replace it. For the first time in his callow youth he began to +reflect, and once started on this beneficial course, the barometer of +his vanity fell rapidly. It was not long ere his own conduct since he +returned to Greenvale also added an assault. He had utterly failed to +realize the meaning of Chip's abject devotion--her pitiful +first-hour confessions of how hard she had studied, and all for his +sake; how she had counted days and hours until he was likely to +return; how many times she had gone to the hilltop to watch for him; and +even the eagerness of her arms and the warmth of her lips at that first +moment of meeting, now came back to him. + +Another and even a more painful self-reproach followed this--his own +neglect of opportunities and the result. + +He had returned to Greenvale feeling that Chip was his devoted slave +and had found that she was. Like many another arrogant youth, he had +plumed himself upon that fact, taking everything for granted. He had +yielded to his aunt's and other friends' coaxings to tell his past +winter's history of life in the woods, feeling that Chip could and +would wait; and then, an unexpected and most vexatious frost had fallen +upon his little love-garden, and presto! his confiding sweetheart, his +almost abject slave, was one no longer. + +At the moment of starting, that wildwood camp and charming lake had +seemed a Mecca which he must hasten to reach once more. When he again +beheld it, it had lost its fairness, and to return to Greenvale and +beg and implore Chip's forgiveness--ay, even kneel to her, if need +be--seemed the only duty life held. + +His punishment had only just begun. + + + + +PART II + +VERA RAYMOND + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +For a few more days, Chip lived the life that had now become unbearable, +and then the end came. It was hastened, perhaps, by Hannah, for that +ill-tempered spinster had been ever watchful, and with shrewd insight +had seen or guessed all that had transpired. + +"I s'pose ye know why the Frisbies hurried away so soon after Ray got +back," she said to Chip that last day. "If you don't, I can tell ye. +It was 'cos they noticed the goin's on 'tween you an' him, an' +wanted to head it off." + +Not a word of protest came from the poor child in response to this sneer, +and that night she wrote two notes, one to Miss Phinney, the other to +Aunt Comfort. Then, making a bundle of the few belongings she could call +her own--the beaded moccasins, cap, and fur cape old Tomah had given +her, and other trifles--she waited until almost midnight and stole out +of the house. + +Once before she had left her only shelter, in a more desperate mood. +Now the same impulse nerved her, and for ample reason. Dependent upon +the bounty of those in no wise kin to her, tortured by the sarcastic +tongue of Hannah, her heart hungering for a love she believed could +never be hers, no other outcome seemed possible; and defiant still, +yet saddened beyond all words, she set out to escape it all. + +Where to go, she knew not nor cared--only to leave Greenvale and all the +shame, sorrow, and humiliation it held for her, and make her own way in +the world as best she could. + +The village street was as silent as midnight always found it. The low +murmur of the Mizzy Falls whispered down the valley. A half-moon was +just rising, and as Chip reached the hilltop where she had waited for +Ray, she halted. From here must be taken the last glance at Greenvale, +and as she turned about a sob rose in her heart, in spite of her stern +resolve, for ties cannot be sundered easily. + +And how vivid and life-lasting was that picture! The two long rows of +white houses facing the broad street, the tall-spired church in the +middle of them; scattered dwellings to the right and left; away to one +side the little brown schoolhouse that had been her Mecca; the stream +that wound through the broad meadows; and over all the faint sheen of the +rising moon. + +Only for a moment she paused for this good-bye look, then turned and +ran. On and on she sped mile after mile, up hill, down hill, halting now +and then for breath until a cross-road was reached, and here she stopped. +Here also came the question of direction. To follow the main road was +to reach Riverton, between which and Greenvale the stage journeyed. To +go there meant being recognized perhaps. In her study of geography, +she had found that the village which was her birthplace lay northeast +from Greenvale. She meant sometime and somehow to reach that spot and +visit her mother's grave once more, and also, if possible, to send +word to Old Tomah. And so guided by this vague plan, she turned to the +left. + +From now on the road became narrow. Miles elapsed between houses, and +Chip, wearied and heavy-eyed, could only creep along. The way became +more devious now, bending around a wooded hill and then crossing a +wide swamp to enter a stretch of forest. Direction became lost in these +turnings, the road grew hilly and less travelled. The moon scarce showed +it; and Chip, almost exhausted, stumbled over stones and felt that +she was becoming lost in an unsettled country. And then, just as she +emerged from a thicket and ascended a low hill, the light of coming +dawn faced her, and with it the need of sleep and concealment. + +Full well she knew she must avoid all observing eyes and place many +more miles between herself and Greenvale to be certain of escape. And +then, as the daylight increased, she caught sight of an old, almost +ruined dwelling half hid among bushes just ahead. Even if empty, as it +appeared, it would serve for shelter, and finding it so, she crept in, +so wearied that she fell asleep at once on the warped and mouldy floor. + +It was only a brief nap, for soon the rattle of a passing farm wagon woke +her, but refreshed somewhat by it, she again pushed on. + +Soon a brook, singing cheerfully as it tumbled down a ledge, was reached, +and here Chip bathed her face and hands and drank of the sweet, cool +water. + +Hunger also asserted itself, but that did not daunt her. She had faced +it once before. + +Then something of a plan as to her future movements began to shape itself +in her mind, following which came an increased courage and self-reliance. +Not a cent did she now possess. Food she could not have until she had +made good her escape and could earn it somewhere. + +But the sun was shining, the birds were singing, her young, supple body +was strong, life and the world were ahead; and, best of all, never again +would she have to feel herself a dependent upon any one. + +With these blessings, scant to most of us, hardened as she had been by +servitude at Tim's Place, came a certain buoyancy of spirit and defiance +of all things human. + +No wild beasts were here to menace, no spites to creep and crawl along +fence or hedgerow, no hideous half-breed to pursue, and as she counted +her blessings, while her spirits rose, a new life and new hope came to +her. + +And now another feeling came--the certainty that she had come so far that +no one would recognize her. At first that morning, when she heard a team +coming or overtaking her, she had hidden by the roadside until it passed. +When a house was sighted ahead, she made a wide detour in the fields to +avoid it. Now this sense of caution vanished, and she strode on fearless +and confident. + +When night came again she crept into an unused sheep barn, and when +daylight wakened her, she hurried on once more. + +During all that first day's journey, her one fear had been that some one +she would meet might recognize her and report the fact in Greenvale. To +avoid that had been her sole thought. Now that feeling of danger was +vanishing, and when people were met, she looked at them fearlessly and +kept on. When cross-roads were reached and a choice in ways became +necessary, she followed the one nearest to northeast, and for the reason +that her school map had shown that her birthplace lay in this direction. +How far away it was, she had not the faintest idea, or whether she +could live to reach it. Her sole thought was to escape Greenvale and +the humiliating life of dependence there, and when she was so far away +that no one could find her, obtain work at some farm-house. + +All that second day she plodded on that same patient up-hill, down-dale +journey, never halting except to pick a few berries, or where a brook +crossed the road to obtain a handful of watercress or some sweet-flag +buds. + +Now and then villages were passed, again it was country sparsely settled, +where farm-houses were wide apart, and when this day was waning, even +these had vanished and she found herself in almost a wilderness once more. + +[Illustration: "Won't you please give me a lift an' a chance to earn +my vittles for a day or two?"] + +Hills now met her already weary feet; they seemed never ending, for as +the crown of one was reached, another met her eyes. The roadway also +became badly gullied, always stony, with grass growing in the hollows. + +By now she was faint and dizzy from two days' fasting, and so footsore +that she could scarce limp along. So far her defiant pride had kept her +from begging food, but now that was weakening, and at the next house she +would have asked a morsel. But no next house came. Only the same scrub +growth along the wayside with now and then a patch of forest, with never +a fence, even, to indicate human ownership. + +The sun had now vanished. Already the stretches of forest were shadowy, +and as Chip reached the apex of another long hill, beyond and far below +she could see another darkened valley. Night seemed creeping up from it +to meet her. Not a house, not even a fence or recent clearing--only the +unending tangle of green growth and this dark vale beyond. + +"I guess I'll starve 'fore I find another house," poor Chip muttered, +and then as the utter desolation of her situation and surroundings were +realized for a moment, her defiant courage gave way. + +For two days and half a night she had plodded on without food and with +scarce a moment's rest. Her feet were blistered, her eyes smarted +from sun and dust, her head swam. She was miles away from any human +habitation, footsore, weary, and despondent, with night enclosing her--a +homeless waif, still clinging to the small bundle that contained her all. + +But now as she crouched by the roadside, too exhausted to move on, the +memory of those three days and nights of horror, one year ago, came to +her. Her plight was bad enough now, but nothing to compare with what it +was then, and as all the terror and desperation of that mad flight now +returned, it renewed her courage. + +"I ain't so bad off as I was then," she said. "I'm sure of finding +a house to-morrow." + +And now, as if this moment marked the turning-point of her fortunes, +from far down the hill she had climbed, came the faint creak, creak, +and jolting sound of an ascending wagon. Slowly it neared, until just +at the hilltop where Chip sat, the tired horse halted, and its driver saw +her rise almost beside the wagon. + +"Mister," she said, "I'm nearly tuckered out and 'bout starved. +Won't you please give me a lift an' a chance to earn my vittles for +a day or two?" + +The man gave a low whistle. + +"Why sartin, sartin," he answered in a moment, "but who be ye? I +thought for a minute ye was a sperit. Git up here," he added, without +waiting for a reply and moving to make room. Then as Chip obeyed, he +chirruped to his horse and down the hill they rattled. + +"Who might be ye, girlie, an' whar'd ye come from?" he asked again, +as they came to another ascent and the horse walked. + +"My name's Vera, Vera--Raymond," answered Chip, "an' I run away from +where I was livin'." + +"That's curis," answered the old man, glancing at her; "whar'd ye +run away from, some poor farm?" + +"No, sir," replied Chip, almost defiantly, "but I guess I was a sort +o' pauper. I was livin' with folks that fetched me out o' the woods +an' was schoolin' me, and I couldn't stand it, so I run away. I don't +want to tell where they be, or where I came from either," she added +in a moment, "for I don't want them ever to find me." + +"Wal, that's a proper sort o' feelin'," responded the man, still +looking at his passenger, "an' I don't mind. I live down beyond here +in what's called the Holler. Somebody called it Peaceful Valley once. +We'll take keer o' ye to-night 'n' to-morrer we'll see what's best +to be done. I guess ye need a hum 'bout ez bad ez a body kin, anyway." + +And so Chip McGuire, waif of the wilderness and erstwhile protegee of a +philanthropic woman, as Vera Raymond found another home, and began still +another life with this old farmer, Judson Walker, and his wife Mandy. + +But a sorrow deeper far than Chip ever realized fell upon Aunt Comfort +when her brimming eyes read her note the morning after her flight. + + "Dear Aunt Comfort, + + "I can't stand Hannah or being a pauper any longer. She as + good as told me I wanted your money and I never thought of + it. She said I wasn't good enough for Ray, either, and that + was the reason Mrs. Frisbie took him away so soon. I know I + ain't good for nothin' nor nobody, but I didn't ask to + be fetched here and I am going away, never, never, never to + come back. If ever I can, I will pay you and Mrs. Frisbie for + all I've eat and had. + + "Good-bye Forever, + "Chip." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + + "There's a heap o' comfort in lookin' on the dark side o' + life cheerfully."--Old Cy Walker. + +Old Cy especially found life dull after Ray had gone. The hermit also +appeared to miss him and became more morose than ever. He never had +been what might be termed social, speaking only when spoken to, and then +only in the fewest possible words. Now Old Cy became almost a walking +sphinx, and found that time passed slowly. His heartstrings had somehow +become entwined with Ray's hopes and plans. He had bent every energy +and thought to secure for Ray a valuable stock of furs and gum, and, +as was his nature, felt a keen satisfaction in helping that youth to +a few hundred dollars. + +Now Ray had departed, furs, gum, and all. He had promised to return with +Martin and Angie later on, but of that Old Cy felt somewhat dubious, and +so the old man mourned. + +There was no real reason for it, for all Nature was now smiling. The lake +was blue and rippled by the June breezes; trout leaped out of it night +and morning; flowers were blooming, squirrels frisking, birds singing +and nest-building; and what Old Cy most enjoyed, the vernal season was +at hand. + +Another matter also disturbed him--the whereabouts of McGuire and the +half-breed, Pete Bolduc. + +Levi had brought the information that neither had been seen nor heard +of since the previous autumn; but that was not conclusive, and somehow +Old Cy felt that a certain mystery had attached itself to them, and once +we suspect a mystery, it pursues us like a phantom. He did not fear +either of these renegades, however. He had never harmed them. But he +felt that any day might bring a call from one or the other, or that some +tragic outcome would be disclosed. + +Another problem also annoyed him--who this thief of their game could be, +and whether his supposed cave lair was a permanent hiding-spot. + +Two reasons had kept Old Cy from another visit to that sequestered lake +during the fall trapping season: first, its evident danger, and then lack +of time. But now, with nothing to do except wait for the incoming ones, +an impulse to visit again this mysterious spot came to him. + +He had, at the former excursion, felt almost certain that this unknown +trapper was either McGuire or the half-breed. Some assertions made by +Levi seemed to corroborate that theory, and impelled by it, Old Cy +started alone, one morning, to visit this lake again. It took him until +midday to carry his canoe, camp outfit, rifle, and all across from +stream to stream, and twilight had come ere he reached the lagoon where +he and Ray had left the main stream and camped. Up here Old Cy now +turned his canoe, and repairing the bark shack they had built, which +had been crushed by winter's snow, he camped there again. + +Next morning, bright and early, he launched his canoe and once more +followed the winding stream through the dark gorge and out into the +rippled lake again. + +Here he halted and looked about. + +No signs of aught human could be seen. The long, narrow lakelet sparkled +beneath the morning sun. The bald mountain frowned upon it, the jagged +ledges just across faced him like serried ramparts, an eagle slowly +circled overhead, and, best indication of primal solitude, an antlered +deer stood looking at him from out an opening above the ledges. + +"Guess I'm alone here!" exclaimed Old Cy, glancing around; "but if +this ain't a pictur worth rememberin', I never saw one. Wish I could +take it with me into t'other world; an' if I was sure o' findin' a +spot like it thar, I'd never worry 'bout goin' when my time comes." + +After a long wait, as if he wanted to observe every detail of this +wondrous picture of wildwood beauty, he dipped his paddle, crossed the +sheet of rippled water, and stepped ashore at the very spot where he +and Ray had landed over eight months before. + +"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, glancing around, "if thar ain't a canoe, +bottom up! Two, by ginger!" he added, as he saw another drawn out and +half hid by a low ledge. + +To this second one he hastened at once, and looked into it. + +It had evidently rested there all winter, for it was partially filled +with water, and half afloat in it were two paddles and a setting pole. +A gunny-cloth bag, evidently containing the usual cooking outfit of a +woodsman, lay soaking in one end, a frying-pan and an axe were rusting +in the other, and a coating of mould had browned each crossbar and thwart. + +"Been here quite a spell, all winter, I guess," muttered Old Cy, +looking it over, and then he advanced to the other canoe. That was, +as he asserted, bottom up, and also lay half hid back of a jutting +ledge of slate. Two paddles leaned against this ledge, and near by was +another setting pole. All three of these familiar objects were brown +with damp mould and evidently had rested there many months. + +"Curis, curis," muttered Old Cy again. "I callated I'd find nothin' +here, 'n' here's two canoes left to rot, 'n' been here all winter." + +Then with a vague sense of need, he returned to his canoe, seized his +rifle, looked all around, over the lake, up into the green tangle above +the ledges, and finally followed the narrow passage leading to where he +had once watched smoke arise. Here on top of this ledge he again halted +and looked about. + +Back of it was the same V-shaped cleft across which a cord had held +drying pelts, the cord was still there, and below it he could see the +dark skins amid the confusion of jagged stones. + +Turning, he stepped from this ledge to the lower one nearer the lake, +walked down its slope, and looked about again. At its foot was a long, +narrow, shelf-like projection, ending at the corner of the ledge. Old Cy +followed this to its end and stepped down into a narrow crevasse. + +"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, taking a backward step as he did so. + +And well he might, for there at his feet lay a rifle coated with rust +beside a brown felt hat. + +Had a grinning skull met his eyes, he would not have been more astounded. +In fact, that was the next object he expected to see, and he glanced up +and down the crevasse for it. None leered at him, however, and picking +up the rusted weapon, he continued his search. + +Two rods or so below where he had climbed the upper ledge, he was halted +again, for there, at his hand almost, was a curious doorlike opening some +three feet high and one foot wide, back of an outstanding slab of slate. + +The two abandoned canoes had surprised him, the rusty rifle astonished +him, but this, a self-evident cave entrance, almost took his breath away. + +For one instant he glanced at it, stepped back a step, dropped the rusty +rifle and cocked his own, as if expecting a ghost or panther to emerge. +None came, however, and once more Old Cy advanced and peered into this +opening. A faint light illumined its interior--a weird slant of sunlight, +yet enough to show a roomy cavern. + +The mystery was solved. This surely was the hiding-spot of the strange +trapper! + +"Can't see why I missed it afore," Old Cy muttered, kneeling that he +might better look within, and sniffing at the peculiar odor. "Wonder +if the cuss is dead in thar, or what smells so!" + +Then he arose and grasped the slab of slate. One slight pull and it fell +aside. + +"A nat'ral door, by hokey!" exclaimed Old Cy, and once more he knelt +and looked in. + +The bravest man will hesitate a moment before entering such a cavern, +prefaced, so to speak, by two abandoned canoes, a rusty rifle, human head +covering, each and all bespeaking something tragic, and Old Cy was no +exception. That he had come upon some grewsome mystery was apparent. +Canoes were not left to rot in the wilderness or rifles dropped without +cause. + +And then, that hat! + +Surely here, or hereabout, had been enacted a drama of murderous nature, +and inside this cavern might repose its blood-stained sequel. + +But the filtering beams of light encouraged Old Cy, and he entered. +No ghastly corpse confronted him, but instead a human, if cramped, +abode. A fireplace deftly fashioned of slate occupied one side of this +cave; in front a low table of the same flat stone, resting upon small +ones; and upon the table were rusty tin dishes, a few mouldy hardtack, a +knife, fork, and scraps of meat, exhaling the odor of decay. A smell of +smoke from the charred wood in the fireplace mingled with it all. In +one corner was a bed of brown fir twigs, also mouldy, a blanket, and +tanned deerskins. + +The cave was of oval, irregular shape, barely high enough for Old Cy to +stand upright. Across its roof, on either side of the rude chimney, a +narrow crack admitted light, and as he looked about, he saw in the dim +light another doorlike opening into still another cave. Into this he +peered, but could see nothing. + +"A queer livin' spot," he muttered at last, "a reg'lar human panther +den. An' 'twas out o' this I seen the smoke come. An' here's his +gun," he added, as, more accustomed to the dim light, he saw one in +a corner. "Two guns, two canoes, an' nobody to hum," he continued. +"I'm safe, anyhow. But I've got to peek into that other cave, sartin +sure," and he withdrew to the open air. + +A visit to a couple of birches soon provided means of light, and he +again entered the cave. One moment more, and then a flaring torch of bark +was thrust into the inner cave, a mere crevasse not four feet wide, and +stooping, as he now had to, Old Cy entered and knelt while he looked +about. + +He saw nothing here of interest except the serried rows of jutting slate, +across two of which lay a slab of the same--no vestige of aught human, +and Old Cy was about to retreat when his flare burning close to his +finger tips unnoticed, caused him to drop it on the instant, and drawing +another from his pocket he lit it while the flame lasted in the first one. + +It is said that great discoveries are almost invariably made by some +trifling accident--a gold mine found by stumbling over a stone, a valley +prolific of diamonds disclosed by digging for water. + +In this case it was true, for as Old Cy bent to light his second torch +ere he withdrew from the inner cave, a flash of reflected light came +from beneath this slab--only for one second, but enough to attract his +attention. + +He stooped again and lifted the slab. Six large tin cans had been hidden +by it. He grasped one and could scarce lift it. Again his fingers closed +over it. He crawled backward to the better-lighted cave and drew the +cover off the can with eager motion, and poured a heap of shining, +glittering coin out upon that food-littered table. + +Into that dark hole he dived again, as a starved dog leaps for food, +seized the cans, two at a time, almost tumbled back, and emptied them. +Four had been filled with gold coin and two stuffed with paper money. + +Folded with these bills of all denominations from one to fifty dollars +was a legal paper yellowed by age, with a red seal still glowing like a +spot of blood. + +It was an innholder's license, authorizing one Thomas McGuire to furnish +food, shelter, and entertainment for man and beast. + +With eyes almost tear-dimmed and heart throbbing at having found poor +Chip's splendid heritage, Old Cy now gazed at it. + +The sharp stones upon which he knelt nearly pierced his flesh, but he +felt them not. + +The glint of sunlight from the crack above caressed his scant gray hairs +and white fringing beard, forming almost a halo, yet he knew it not. + +He only knew that here, before him, on this rude stone table, lay +thousands of dollars, all belonging to the child he loved. + +"Thank God, little gal," he said at last, "I've found what belongs +to ye, 'n' ye hain't got to want for nothin' no more. I wish I could +kiss ye now." + +Little did he realize that at this very moment of thankfulness for her +sake, poor Chip was lost to all who knew her, and, half starved and +almost hopeless, knew not where to find shelter. + +[Illustration: "Thank God, little gal, I've found what belongs to ye."] + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + + "When life looks darkest to ye, count yer blessin's, boy, + count yer blessin's."--Old Cy Walker. + +When the sun rose again and Chip awoke, she scarce knew where she was. +Outside, and almost reaching the one window of her little room, was the +top of an apple tree in full bloom. Below she could hear ducks quacking, +now and then a barnyard monarch's defiant crow, from farther away came +the rippling sound of running water, and as she lay and listened to the +medley, a robin lit on the tree-top not ten feet away and chirped as he +peered into her window. A scent of lavender mingled with apple blossoms +became noticeable; then the few and very old-fashioned fittings of the +room,--a chest of drawers with little brass handles, over it a narrow +mirror with gilt frame, two wood-seated chairs painted blue, and white +muslin curtains draped away from the window. + +And now, conscious that she was in some strange place, back in an +instant came the three days of her long, weary tramp, the nights when she +had slept in a sheep barn and in a deserted dwelling, and at last, +faint, footsore, and almost hopeless, she had been rescued from another +night with only the sky for a roof. + +Then the quaint old man, so much like Old Cy, whom she had accosted, the +rattling, bumping ride down into this valley, and the halt where a cheery +light beamed its welcome and a motherly woman made it real. + +It was all so unexpected, so satisfying, so protective of herself, that +Chip could hardly realize how it had come about. + +No questions had been asked of her here. These two quaint old people had +taken her as she was--dusty, dirty, and travel-worn. She had bathed and +been helped to an ample meal and shown to this sweet-smelling room as if +she had been their own daughter. + +"They must be awful kind sort o' people," Chip thought, and then +creeping out of bed she dressed, and taking her stockings and sadly +worn shoes in hand softly descended the stairs. + +No one seemed astir anywhere. The ticking of a tall clock in the sitting +room was the only sound, the back door was wide open, and out of this +Chip passed and, seating herself on a bench, began putting on stockings +and shoes. This was scarce done ere she heard a step and saw the old man +emerge from the same door. + +"Wal, Pattycake, how air ye?" he asked, smiling. "I heerd ye creepin' +downstairs like a mouse, but I was up, 'n' 'bout dressed. Hope ye +slept well. It's Sunday," he added, without waiting for a reply, +"an' we don't git up quite so arly ez usual. Ye can help Mandy 'bout +breakfast now, if ye like, 'n' I'll do the milkin'." + +And this marked the entry of Chip into the new home, and outlined her +duties. No more questions were asked of her. She was taken at her own +valuation--a needy girl, willing to work for her board, insisting on it, +and yet, in a few days, so hospitable were these people and so winsome +was Chip, that she stepped into their affection, as it were, almost +without effort. + +"I don't think we best quiz her much," Uncle Jud (as he was known) +said to his wife that first night. "I found her on the top o' Bangall +Hill, where she riz up like a ghost. She 'lowed she run away from +somewhar, but where 'twas, she didn't want to tell. My 'pinion is +thar's a love 'fair at the bottom on't all; but whether it's so or +not, it ain't none o' our business. She needs a home, sartin sure. +She says she means to airn her keep, which is the right sperit, an' +long as she minds us, she kin have it." + +That Chip "airned her keep" and something more was soon evinced, for +in two weeks it was "Aunt Mandy" and "Uncle Jud" from her, and +"Patty" or "Pattycake," the nickname given her that first morning, +from them. More than that, so rapidly had she won her way here that +by now Uncle Jud had visited the Riggsville store, some four miles +down this valley, and materials for two dresses, new shoes, a broad sun +hat, and other much-needed clothing were bought for Chip. + +Neither was it all one-sided, for these people, well-to-do in their +isolated home, were also quite alone. Their two boys had grown up, gone +away and married, and had homes of their own, and the company of a +bright and winsome girl like Chip was needed in this home. + +Her adoption and acceptance of it were like a small stream flowing into +a larger one, for the reason that these people were almost primitive in +location and custom. + +"We don't go to meetin' Sundays," Uncle Jud had explained that +first day after breakfast. "We're sorter heathen, I s'pose; but then +ag'in, thar ain't no chance. Thar used to be meetin's down to the +Corners, 'n' a parson; but he only got four hundred a year, an' +hard work to collect that, 'n' so he gin the job up. Since then the +meetin'-house has kinder gone to pieces, 'n' the Corner folks use +it now for storin' tools. We obsarve Sundays here by bein' sorter +lazy, 'n' I go fishin' some or pickin' berries." + +To Chip, reared at Tim's Place, and whose knowledge of Sunday was its +strict observance at Greenvale, this seemed a relief. Sundays there had +never been pleasant days to her. She could not understand what the +preaching and praying meant, or why people needed to look so solemn +on that day. She had been stared at so much at church, also, that the +ordeal had become painful. The parson had, on two occasions, glared and +glowered at her while he assured her that her opinions and belief in +spites were rank heresy and that she was a wicked heathen; and, all +in all, religion was not to her taste. With these people she was to +escape it, and instead of being imprisoned for long, weary hours while +being stared at each Sunday, she was likely to have perfect freedom and +a chance to go with this nice old man on a fishing or berry-picking jaunt. + +And then Uncle Jud was so much like Old Cy in ways and speech that her +heart was won. And besides these blessings, the old farm-house, hidden +away between two ranges of wooded hills, seemed so out of the world and +so secure from observation that she felt that no one from Greenvale ever +could or would discover her. She had meant to hide herself from all who +knew her, had changed her name for that purpose, and here and now it +was accomplished. + +That first Sunday, also, became a halcyon one for her, for after chores, +in the performance of which Chip made herself useful, Uncle Jud took his +fish-pole, and giving her the basket to carry, led the way to the brook, +and for four bright sunny hours, Chip knew not the lapse of time while +she watched the leaping, laughing stream, and her second Old Cy pulling +trout from each pool and cascade. + +And so her new life began. + +But the change was not made without some cost to her feelings, for +heartstrings reach far, and Miss Phinney and her months of patient +teaching were not forgotten. + +Aunt Comfort and her benign face oft returned to Chip, "and dear Old +Cy," as she always thought of him, still oftener. Ray's face also +lingered in her heart. Now and then she caught herself humming some +darky song, and never once did the moon smile into this quiet vale that +her thoughts did not speed away to that wildwood lake, with its rippled +path of silver, the dark bordering forest, and how she wielded a paddle +while her young lover picked his banjo. + +No word or hint of all this bygone life and romance ever fell from her +lips. It was a page in her memory that must never be turned,--an idyl +to be forgotten,--and yet forget it she could not, in spite of will or +wishes. + +And now as the summer days sped by, and Chip helping Uncle Jud in the +meadows or Aunt Mandy about the house, and winning love from both, saw a +new realm open before her. There was in the sitting room of this quaint +home a tall bookcase, its shelves filled with a motley collection of +books: works on science, astronomy, geology, botany, and the like; books +of travel and adventure; stories of strange countries and people never +heard of by Chip; and novels by Scott, Lever, Cooper, and Hardy. These +last, especially Scott and Cooper, appealed most to Chip, and once she +began them, every spare hour, and often until long past midnight, she +became lost in this new world. + +"I know all about how folks live in the woods," she said one Sunday +to Uncle Jud, when half through "The Deerslayer." "I was brought up +there. I know how Injuns live and what they believe. I had an old Injun +friend once. I've got the moccasins and fur cape he gave me now. His +name was Tomah, 'n' he believed in queer things that sometimes creep +an' sometimes run faster'n we can." + +It was her first reference to her old life, but once begun, she never +paused until all her queer history had been related. + +"I didn't mean to tell it," she explained in conclusion, "for I +don't want nobody to know where I came from, an' I hope you won't +tell." + +How near she came to disclosing what was of far more importance to +herself and these people than old Tomah's superstition she never knew, +or that all that saved her was her reference to Old Cy by that name only. + +More than that, and like Old Cy standing over the cave where her heritage +lay hid, she had no suspicion that this kindly old man, so much like him +in looks and speech, was his brother. + +With the coming of September, however, a visitor was announced. "Aunt +Abby's comin' to stay with us a spell," Uncle Jud said that day; +"she's Mandy's sister, Abigail Bemis, an' she lives at Christmas +Cove. It's a shore town, 'bout a hundred miles from here. She ain't +much like Mandy," he added confidentially to Chip; "she's more +book-larned, so you'll have to mind your _p_'s and _q_'s. If ye like, +ye can go with me to the station to meet her." + +And so it came to pass that a few days later, Chip, dressed in her best, +rode to the station with Uncle Jud in the old carryall, and there met +this visitor. + +She was not a welcome guest, so far as Chip was concerned, wonted as she +had now become to Uncle Jud and Aunt Mandy, whose speech, like her own, +was not "book-larned," and for this reason, Chip felt afraid of her. So +much so, in fact, that for a few days she scarce dared speak at all. + +Her timidity wore away in due time, for Aunt Abby--a counterpart of her +sister--was in no wise awe-inspiring. She saw Chip as she was, and soon +felt an interest in her and her peculiar history, or what was known of +it. She also noted Chip's interest in books, and guessing more than she +had been told, was not long in forming correct conclusions. + +"What do you intend to do with this runaway girl?" she said one day to +her sister, "keep her here and let her grow up in ignorance, or what?" + +"Wal, we ain't thought much about that," responded Mandy, "at least +not yet. She ain't got no relations to look arter her, so far ez we kin +larn. She's company for us, 'n' willin'. Uncle Jud sets lots of store +by her. She is with him from morn till night, and handy at all sorts o' +work. This is how 'tis with us here, an' now what do you say?" + +For a moment Aunt Abby meditated. "You ought to do your duty by her," +she said at last, "and she certainly needs more schooling." + +"We can send her down to the Corners when school begins, if you think +we orter," returned her sister, timidly; "but we hate to lose her now. +We've kinder took to her, you see." + +"I hardly think that will do," answered Aunt Abby, knowing as she +did that the three _R_'s comprised the full extent of an education at +the Corners. "What she needs is a chance to mingle with more people +than she can here, and learn the ways of the world, as well as books. +Her mind is bright. I notice she is reading every chance she can get, +and you know my ideas about education. For her to stay here, even with +schooling at the Corners, is to let her grow up like a hoyden. Now what +would you think if I took her back to Christmas Cove? There is a better +school there. She will meet and mingle with more people, and improve +faster." + +"I dunno what Judson'll say," returned Aunt Mandy, somewhat sadly. +"He's got so wonted to her, he'll be heart-broke, I'm afraid." And +so the consultation closed. + +The matter did not end here, for Aunt Abby, "sot in her way," as +Uncle Jud had often said, yet in reality only advocating what she felt +was best for this homeless waif, now began a persuasive campaign. She +enlarged on Christmas Cove, its excellent school and capable master, its +social advantages and cultured people, who boasted a public library and +debating society, and especially its summer attractions, when a few +dozen city people sojourned there. Its opportunities for church-going +also came in for praise, though if this worthy woman had known how +Chip felt about that feature, it would have been left unmentioned. + +"The girl needs religious influence and contact with believers, as +well as schooling," she said later on to Aunt Mandy, "and that must +be considered. Here she can have none, and will grow up a heathen. I +certainly think she ought to go back with me for a year or two, at least, +and then we can decide what is best." + +"Thar's one thing ye ain't thought 'bout," Mandy answered, "an' +that's her sense o' obligation. From what she's told me, 'twas that +that made her run away from whar she was, 'n' she'd run away from +here if she didn't feel she was earnin' her keep. She's peculiar in +that way, 'n' can't stand feelin' she's dependent. How you goin' +to get round that?" + +"Just as you do," returned Aunt Abby, not at all discouraged. "We live +about as you do, as you know, only Mr. Bemis has the mill; and she can +help me about the house, as she does here." + +But Chip's own consent to this new plan was the hardest to obtain. + +"I'll do just as Uncle Jud wants me to," she responded, when Aunt +Abby proposed the change; "but I'd hate to go 'way from here. It's +all the real sort o' home I've ever known, and they've been so good +to me I'll have to cry when I leave it. You'd let me come here once +in a while, wouldn't ye?" + +As she seemed ready to cry at this moment, Aunt Abby wisely dropped +the subject then and there; in fact, she did not allude to it again +in Chip's presence. + +But Aunt Abby carried her point with the others. Uncle Jud consented +very reluctantly, Aunt Mandy also yielded after much more persuasion, +and when Aunt Abby's visit terminated, poor Chip's few belongings were +packed in a new telescope case; she kissed Aunt Mandy, unable to speak, +and this tearful parting was repeated at the station with Uncle Jud. When +the train had vanished he wiped his eyes on his coat sleeves, climbed +into his old carryall, and drove away disconsolate. + +"Curis, curis, how a gal like that 'un'll work her way into a man's +feelin's," he said to himself. "It ain't been three months since I +picked her up, 'n' now her goin' away seems like pullin' my heart +out." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Christmas Cove had entered its autumn lethargy when Aunt Abby Bemis and +her new protegee reached it. Captain Bemis, who "never had no say 'bout +nothin'," but who had cooked his own meals uncomplainingly for three +weeks, emerged, white-dusted, from the mill, to greet the arrivals, +and Chip was soon installed in a somewhat bare room overlooking the +cove. Everything seemed slightly chilly to her here. This room, with +its four-poster bed, blue-painted chairs, light blue shades, and dark +blue straw matting, the leafless elms in front, the breeze that swept in +from the sea, and even her reception, seemed cool. Her heart was not in +it. Try as she would, she could not yet feel one spark of affection +for this "book-larned" Aunt Abby, who had already begun to reprove her +for lapses of speech. It was all so different from the home life she +had just left; and as Chip had now begun to notice and feel trifles, +the relations of the people seemed as chilly as the room to which she +was consigned. + +When Sunday came--a sunless one with leaden sky and cold wind bearing the +ocean's moaning--Chip felt herself back at Greenvale with its Sundays, +for now she was stared at the moment she entered the church. The singing +was, of course, of the same solemn character, the minister's prayers +even longer, and the preaching as incomprehensible as in Greenvale. + +To Chip, doubtless a heretic who needed regeneration, it seemed a +melancholy and solemn performance. The sermon (on predestination, with a +finale which was a description of the resurrection day) made her feel +creepy, and when the white-robed procession rising from countless +graves was touched upon, and a pause came when she could hear the +ocean's distant moan once more, it seemed that spites were creeping +and crawling all about that dim room. + +With her advent at school Monday came something of the same trouble first +met at Greenvale, for the master, a weazen, dried-up little old man, who +wore a wig and seemed to exude rules and discipline, lacked the kindly +interest of Miss Phinney. + +Chip, almost a mature young lady, was aligned with girls and boys of +ten and twelve, and once more the same shame and humiliation had to +be endured. It wore away in time, however, for she had made almost +marvellous progress under Miss Phinney. Her mind was keen and quick, and +once at study again, she astonished Mr. Bell, the master. + +Something of her old fearless self-reliance now came to her aid, also. +It had made her dare sixty miles of wilderness alone and helpless, it +had spurred her to escape Greenvale and her sense of being a dependent +pauper, and now that latent force for good or ill still nerved her. + +But Christmas Cove did not suit her. The sea that drew her eyes with +its vastness seemed to awe her. The great house, brown and moss-coated, +where she lived, was barnlike, and never quite warm enough. The long +street she traversed four times daily was bleak and wind-swept. Aunt +Abby was austere and lacking in cordiality; and Sundays--well, Sundays +were Chip's one chief abhorrence. + +She may be blamed for it,--doubtless will be,--and yet she never had +been, and it seemed never would be, quite reconciled to Sundays. At +Tim's Place they were unknown. At Greenvale they had been dreaded, +and now at Christmas Cove they were no less so. + +At Uncle Jud's, in Peaceful Valley, where she had found an asylum, +loving care, and companionship akin to her, Sundays were only +half-Sundays--days of chore-doing, of reading, of rest, or long +strolls along shady lanes with Uncle Jud, or following the brook and +watching him fish. It was not right, maybe. It was somewhat of +sacrilege, perhaps, this lazy, summer-day-strolling, flower-picking, +berry-gathering way of passing them, and yet, as the months with Martin +and his party in the wilderness where Sunday could not be observed, and +those with Uncle Jud were all that Chip had really enjoyed, she must +not be blamed. + +Another influence--an insidious heart-hunger she could not put away--now +added to her loneliness in the new life. It carried her thoughts back +to the rippled, moonlit lake, where Ray had picked his banjo and sung to +her; even back to that first night by the camp-fire when she had watched +and listened to him in rapt admiration. It thrilled her as naught else +could when she recalled the few moments at the lake when, unconscious +of the need of restraint, she had let him caress her. + +Then the long days of watching for his return were lived over, and the +one almost ecstatic moment when he had leaped from the stage and over +the wall, with no one in sight, while he held her in his arms. + +And then--and this hurt the most--that last evening before they were to +part again, when beside the firefly-lit mill-pond he had the chance to +say so much, and said--nothing! + +It was all a bitter-sweet memory, which she tried to put away forever the +night she left Greenvale. She was now Vera Raymond. No one could trace +her; and yet, so at odds were her will and heart, there still lingered +the faint hope that Ray would sometime and somehow find her out. + +And so, studying faithfully, often lonesome, now and then longing for +the bygone days with Ray and Old Cy, and always hoping that she might +sometime return to Peaceful Valley, Chip passed the winter at Christmas +Cove. + +Something of success came to her through it all. She reached and retained +head positions in her classes. A word of praise came occasionally from +Mr. Bell. Aunt Abby grew less austere and seemed to have a little pride +in her. She became acquainted with other people and in touch with young +folks, was invited to parties and sleigh-rides. The vernacular of +Tim's Place left her, and even Sundays were less a torture, in fact, +almost pleasant, for then she saw most of the young folks she mingled +with, and now and then exchanged a bit of gossip. + +Her own dress became of more interest to her. Aunt Abby, fortunately +for Chip, felt desirous that her ward should appear well, and Chip, thus +educated and polished in village life, to a degree, at least, fulfilled +Aunt Abby's hopes. + +Another success also came to her, for handsome as she undeniably was, +with her big, appealing eyes, her splendid black hair, and well-rounded +form, the young men began to seek her. One became persistent, and when +spring had unlocked the long, curved bay once more, Chip had become +almost a leader in the little circle of young people. + +Her life with those who had taken her in charge also became more +harmonious. In fact, something of affection began to leaven it, for the +reason that never once had Aunt Abby questioned Chip as to her past. +Aunt Mandy and Uncle Jud had both cautioned her as to its unwisdom, and +she was broad and charitable enough to let it remain a closed book until +such time as Chip was willing to open it; and for this, more than +all else that she received, Chip felt grateful. But one day it came +out--or at least a portion of it. + +"I suppose you have often wondered where I was born, and who my parents +were," Chip said, one Sunday afternoon, when she and Aunt Abby were +alone, "and I want to thank you for never, never asking." And then, +omitting much, she briefly outlined her history. + +"I was born close to the wilderness," she said, "and my mother died +when I was about eight years old. Then my father took me into the +woods, where I worked at a kind of a boarding house for lumbermen. I +ran away from that when I was about sixteen. I had to; the reasons I +don't want to tell. I found some people camping in the woods when I'd +been gone three days and 'most starved. They felt pity for me, I +guess, and took care of me. I stayed at their camp that summer, and then +they fetched me home with them and I was sent to school. Somebody said +something to me there, somebody who hated me. She had been pestering +me all the time, and I ran away. Uncle Jud found me and took care of +me until you came, and that's all I want to tell. I could tell a lot +more, but I don't ever want these people to find me or take me back +where they live, and that's why I don't tell where I came from. Then I +felt I was so dependent on them--I was twitted of it--that it's another +reason why I ran away. I wouldn't have stayed with Uncle Jud more than +over night except I had a chance to work and earn my board." + +"But wasn't it unkind of you--isn't it now--not to let these people +know you are alive?" answered Aunt Abby. "They were certainly good to +you." + +"I know that they were," returned Chip, somewhat contritely; "but I +couldn't stand being dependent on them any longer. If they found where I +was, they'd come and fetch me back; and I'd feel so ashamed I couldn't +look 'em in the face. I'd rather they'd think I was dead." + +"Well, perhaps it is best you do not," returned Aunt Abby, sighing; +"but years of doubt, and not knowing whether some one we care for is +dead or alive, are hard to bear. And now that you have told me some of +your history, I will tell you a lifelong case of not knowing some +one's fate. Many years ago my sister and myself, who were born here, +became acquainted with two young men, sailor boys from Bayport, named +Cyrus and Judson Walker. Cyrus became attached to me and we were engaged +to marry. It never came to pass, however, for the ship that Judson was +captain of, with Cyrus as first mate, foundered at sea. All hands took to +the two boats. The one Judson was in was picked up, but the other +was never heard of afterward. In due time Judson and my sister Amanda +married. He gave up a sailor's life, and they settled down where they +now live. I waited many years, vainly hoping for my sweetheart's +return, and finally, realizing that he must be dead, married Captain +Bemis. That all happened so long ago that I do not care to count the +years; and yet all through them has lingered that pitiful thread of +doubt and uncertainty, that vain hope that somehow and someway Cyrus +may have escaped death and may return. I know it will never happen. I +know he is dead; and yet I cannot put away that faint hope and quite +believe it is so, and never shall so long as I live. Now you have +left those who must have cared something for you in much the same +pitiful state of doubt, and it is not right." + +For one moment something almost akin to horror flashed over Chip. + +"And was he called--was he never--I mean this brother, ever heard +from?" she stammered, recovering herself in time. + +"Why, no," answered Aunt Abby, looking at her curiously, "of course +not. Why, what ails you? You look as if you'd seen a ghost." + +"Oh, nothing," returned Chip, now more composed; "only the story and +how strange it was." + +It ended the conversation, for Chip, so overwhelmed by the flood of +possibilities contained in this story, dared not trust herself longer +with Aunt Abby, and soon escaped to her room. + +And now circumstances came trooping upon her: the shipwreck, which +she had heard Old Cy describe so often; the name she knew was really +his; the almost startling resemblance to Uncle Jud in speech, ways, and +opinions; and countless other proofs. Surely it must be so. Surely Old +Cy, of charming memory, and Uncle Jud no less so, must be brothers, +and now it was in her power to--and then she paused, shocked at the +position she faced. + +She was now known as Vera Raymond, and respected; she had cut loose +forever from the old shame of an outlaw's child; of a wretched drudge +at Tim's Place; of being sold as a slave; and all that now made her +blush. + +And then Ray! + +Full well she knew now what must have been in his heart that last evening +and why he acted as he did. Hannah had told her the bitter truth, as +she had since realized. Ray had been assured that she was an outcast, and +despicable in the sight of Greenvale. He dared not say "I love you; +be my wife." Instead, he had been hurried away to keep them apart; +and as all this dire flood of shame that had driven her from Greenvale +surged in her heart, the bitter tears came. + +In calmer moments, and when the heart-hunger controlled, she had hoped +he might some day find her and some day say, "I love you." But now, so +soon, to make herself known, to tell who she was, to admit to these new +friends that she was Chip McGuire with all that went with it, to have to +face and live down that shame, to admit that she had taken Ray's first +name for her own--no, no, a thousand times no! + +But what of Old Cy and Uncle Jud, and their lifelong separation? + +Truly her footsteps had led her to a parting of the ways, one sign-board +lettered "Duty and Shame," the other a blank. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + + "Good luck comes now 'n' then; bad luck drops 'round + frequently."--Old Cy Walker. + +When Old Cy emerged from the cave, his face glorified and heart +throbbing with the blessings now his to give Chip, he looked about with +almost fear. The two abandoned canoes and the trusty rifle had seemed +an assurance of tragic import, and yet no proof of this outlaw's +death. That this cave had been his lair, could not be doubted; and so +momentous was this discovery, and so anxious was Old Cy to rescue this +fortune, that he trembled with a sudden dread. + +But no sign of human presence met his sweeping look. + +The lake still rippled and smiled in the sunlight. Two deer, a buck and +doe, were feeding on the rush-grown shore just across, while at his feet +that rusty rifle still uttered its fatal message. + +Once more Old Cy glanced all about, and then entered the cave again. +Here, in the dim light and with trembling hands, he filled the cans once +more, and almost staggering, so faint was he from excitement, he hurried +to the canoe, and packing them in its bow, covered the precious cargo +with his blanket. + +Then he ran like a deer back to the cave, closed it with the slab, +grasped his rifle, and not even looking at the rusty one, bounded down +the path to his canoe again, launched it, and pushed off. + +Never before had it seemed so frail a craft. And now, as he swung its +prow around toward the outlet, a curious object met his eyes. + +Far up the lake, and where no ripple concealed it, lay what looked like a +floating log, clasped by a human arm. + +What intuition led him hither, Old Cy never could explain, for escape +from the lake was now his sole thought. And yet, with one sweep of his +paddle, he turned his canoe and sped across the lake. And now, as he +neared this object, it slowly outlined itself, and he saw a grewsome +sight,--two bloated corpses grasping one another as if in a death +grapple. One had hair of bronze red, the other a hideously scarred face +with lips drawn and teeth exposed. + +Hate, Horror, and Death personified. + +Only for a moment did Old Cy glance at this ghastly sight, and then he +turned again and sped back across the lake. + +The bright sun still smiled calm and serene, the morning breeze still +kissed the blue water, the two deer still watched him with curious eyes; +but he saw them not--only the winsome face and appealing eyes of Chip as +he last beheld them. + +And now in the prow of his canoe lay her fortune, her heritage, which +was, after all, but scant return for all the shame and stigma so far +meted out to her. + +It was almost sunset ere Old Cy, his nerves still quivering and wearied +as never before, crossed the little lake and breathed a sigh of +heart-felt gratitude as he drew his canoe out on the sandy shore +near the ice-house. No one was in sight, nor likely to be. A thin +column of smoke rising from the cabin showed that the hermit was still on +earth, and now for the first time, Old Cy sat down and considered his +plans for the near future. + +First and foremost, not a soul, not even his old trusted companion here, +not even Martin, or Angie, and certainly not Ray, must learn what had +now come into his possession. Neither must his journey to this far-off +lake or aught he had learned there be disclosed. + +But how was he to escape from the woods and these people, soon to arrive +for their summer sojourn? And what if Chip herself should come? Two +conclusions forced themselves upon him now: first, he must so conceal +the fortune that none of these friends even could suspect its presence; +next, he must by some pretext leave here as soon as Martin and his +party arrived, and cease not his watchful care until Chip's heritage +was safe in some bank in her name. + +And now, with so much of his future moves decided upon, he hurried to the +cabin, greeted Amzi, urged him to hasten supper, and, securing a shovel, +returned to his canoe. + +In five minutes the cans of gold were buried deep in the sand, not two +feet from where the half-breed had once landed, and upon Old Cy's person +the bills found concealment. How much it all amounted to, he had not +even guessed, nor scarce thought. To secure it and bear it safely away +from this now almost accursed lake had been his sole thought, and must be +until locks and bolts could guard it better. That night Old Cy hardly +slept a moment. + +And now began days of waiting and watching, the slow course of which +he had never before known. He dared not leave the cabin except to fish +close by and within sight of the one focal point of his interest. Each +midday, for not sooner would the expected ones be apt to arrive, he +began to watch the lake's outlet, and ceased not this vigil until +darkness came. A dozen times a day he covertly visited the ice-house to +be certain no alien footprints had been stamped upon the sand near his +buried treasure, and had the hermit been an alert and normal man, he must +have noticed Old Cy's strange conduct. + +This burden of care also began to haunt his sleep, and in it he saw the +open cave, and himself watched by vicious, leering faces. Once he saw +those ghastly corpses still clasped together, but hovering over him, and +then awoke with a sense of horror. + +A worse dream than this came later, for in it he saw the half-breed +creeping along the lake's shore, and then, stooping where the gold was +buried, he began to dig, at which Old Cy sprang from his bed in sudden +terror. + +"I'll go crazy if I don't git rid o' that money 'fore long," he +said to himself; and the next day another place of concealment occurred +to him. + +There was, beneath the new cabin, a small cellar entered through a +trap-door. It was some ten feet square, and had been used to store +potatoes, pork, and the like. To carry out his new plan, which was to +hide the gold in this cellar, it became necessary to keep Amzi out of +sight until its transfer was made. That was an easy task, for Amzi, +docile as a child, was sent out on the lake to fish, and then Old Cy, +hastily constructing a bag of deerskin, hurried to the beach, dug up +the treasure, poured the glittering coin into this bag, hid it in the +cellar, nailed the trap-door down, and that night slept better. + +Two days after, just as the sun was nearing the mountain top, Martin, +Angie, Levi, and Ray entered the lake. + +How grateful both Old Cy and Amzi were for their arrival, how eagerly +they grasped hands with them at the landing, and how like two boys Martin +and Ray behaved needs no description. + +All that had happened in Greenvale was soon told. Chip's conduct and +progress were related by Angie. Ray's plans to remain here another +winter were disclosed by him; and then, when the cheerful party had +gathered about the evening fire, Martin touched upon another matter. + +"I met Hersey as we were coming in," he said, "and he says that +neither McGuire nor the half-breed has been seen or heard of since early +last fall. Hersey came in early this spring with one of his deputies; +they visited a half-dozen lumber camps, called twice at Tim's Place, and +even went over to Pete's cabin on the Fox Hole, but nowhere could +they learn anything of these two men. More than that, no canoe was found +at Pete's hut, and there was no sign of occupation at all this past +winter. Nothing could be learned from Tim, either, although not much was +expected from that source. It is all a most mysterious disappearance, +and the last that we can learn of Pete was his arrival and departure +from Tim's Place after we rescued Chip." + +"I think both on 'em has concluded this section was gittin' too warm +for 'em," remarked Levi, "an' they've lit out." + +"It's good riddance if they have," answered Old Cy, "an' I'm sartin +none on us'll ever set eyes on 'em agin." + +And Old Cy spoke the truth, for none of this party ever did. In fact, +no human being, except himself and Martin, ever learned the secret that +this mountain-hid lake could tell. + +But another matter now began to interest Old Cy--how Ray and Chip stood +in their mutual feelings. That all was not as he wished, Old Cy soon +guessed from Ray's face and actions, and he was not long in verifying it. + +"Wal, how'd ye find the gal?" he said to Ray when the chance came. +"Was she glad to see ye?" + +"Why, yes," answered Ray, looking away, "she appeared to be. I wasn't +in Greenvale but two weeks, you know." + +"Saw her 'most every evenin' durin' that time, I s'pose?" + +"No, not every one," returned Ray, vaguely; "her school hadn't closed +when I got home, and she studied nights, you see." + +Old Cy watched Ray's face for a moment. + +"I ain't pryin' into yer love matters," he said at last, "but as +I'm on your side, I'd sorter like to know how it's progressin'. +Wa'n't thar nothin' said 'tween ye--no sort o' promise, 'fore ye +come 'way?" + +"No, nothing of that sort," answered Ray, looking confused, "though +we parted good friends, and she sent her love to you. I'm afraid Chip +don't quite like Greenvale." + +Old Cy made no answer, though a smothered "hum, ha" escaped him at the +disclosure of what he feared. + +"I wish ye'd sorter clinched matters 'fore ye left," he said, after +a pause; "that is, if ye're callatin' to be here 'nother winter. +It's 'most too long to keep a gal guessin'; 'sides, 'tain't right." + +Ray, however, made no defence, in fact, seemed guilty and confused, so +Old Cy said no more. + +A few days later he made a proposal that astonished Martin. + +"I've been here now 'bout two years," he said, "an' I'm gittin' +sorter oneasy. I callate ye kin spare me a couple o' weeks." + +No intimation of his real errand escaped him, and so adroitly had he laid +his plans and timed his movements, that when his canoe was packed and he +bade them good-bye, no one suspected how valuable a cargo it carried. + +But Old Cy was more than "sorter oneasy," for the only spot where he +dared close his eyes in sleep during that three days' journey out of +the wilderness was in his canoe, with his head pillowed on that precious +gold. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + + "A miser was created to prove how little real comfort kin be + got out o' money."--Old Cy Walker. + +When Old Cy joined the little party at the lake again, he seemed to +have aged years. His sunny smile was gone. He looked weary, worn, and +disconsolate. + +"Chip's run away from Greenvale," he said simply, "an' nobody can +find hide nor hair on her. They've follered the roads for miles in +every direction. Nobody can be found that's seen anybody like her 'n' +they've even dragged the mill-pond. She left a note chargin' it to +that durn fool, Hannah, and things she said, which I guess was true. +I'd like to duck her in the hoss-pond!" + +Such news was like a bombshell in the camp, or if not, what soon followed +was, for after a few days Old Cy made another announcement which upset +the entire party. + +"I think I'd best go back to Greenvale," he said, "an' begin a +sarch for that gal. I ain't got nobody in the world that needs me so +much, or I them. I'm a sorter outcast myself, ez you folks know. That +little gal hez crept into my heart so, I can't take no more comfort +here. Amzi don't need me so much as I need her, 'n' I've made up my +mind I'll start trampin' till I find her. I've a notion, too, she'll +head for the wilderness ag'in, 'n' I'm most sartin she'll fetch +up whar her mother was buried. I watched that gal middlin' clus all last +summer. She's true blue 'n' good grit. She won't do no fool thing, +like makin' 'way with herself, 'n' I'll find her somewhar arnin' +her own livin' if I live long 'nuff. From the note she left, I know +that was in her mind." + +Martin realized that there was no use in trying to change Old Cy's +intent--in fact, had no heart to do so, for he too felt much the same +toward Chip. + +"I'll give you all the funds you need, old friend," he made answer, +"and wish you Godspeed on your mission. I'll do more than that even. +I'll pay some one to watch at Grindstone for the next year, so if Chip +reaches there, we can learn it." + +That night he held a consultation with his wife. + +"I suspect we are somewhat to blame for this unfortunate happening," +he said to her, "or, at least, some thoughtless admissions you may have +made led up to it. It's a matter we are responsible for, or I feel so, +anyway. I think as Old Cy does, that this girl must be found if money +can do it, and I propose that we break camp and return to Greenvale. +If Amzi can't be coaxed to go along, I must leave Levi with him. No +power on earth can keep Old Cy here any longer." + +But the old hermit had changed somewhat since that night he broke away +and returned to this camp, and when the alternative of remaining here +alone, or going out with them all, was presented, he soon yielded. + +"If Cyrus is goin', I'll have to," he said. "I'd be lonesome +without him." And to this assertion he adhered. + +Ray, however, was the most dejected and unhappy one now here, though +fortunately Old Cy was the only one who understood why, and he kept +silent. + +Old Cy's defection had influenced all alike, and wood life was no longer +attractive. It was a pity, in a way, for no more charming spot than this +sequestered lake could be found. The trout leaping or breaking its glassy +surface night and morning seemed to almost urge an angler; not an hour +in all the day but two to a dozen deer might be seen along its shore, and +blueberries were ripening over in the "blow down." Amzi's garden, +now doubled in size, was well along, and it seemed a sin to leave so +many attractions. + +But Martin had lost heart for these allurements. The thought of poor, +homeless Chip begging her way somewhere, spoiled it all. Conscious that +her own neglect might have invited this calamity, Angie was almost +heart-broken, and it was a saddened party that closed and barred the +new cabin and left this rippled lake one morning. + +They were even more sad when Aunt Comfort showed them Chip's message, +and Angie read it with brimming eyes. + +And now came Old Cy's departure, on a quest as hopeless as that of the +Wandering Jew and as pathetic as the Ancient Mariner's. + +But the climax was reached when Old Cy gave Martin his parting message +and charge:--"Here's a bank book," he said, "that calls fer 'bout +sixty thousand dollars. It's the savin's o' McGuire, 'n' belongs +to Chip. I found the cave whar 'twas hid. I found McGuire 'n' the +half-breed, both dead 'n' floatin' in the lake clus by, an' 'twas +to keer fer this money I quit ye three weeks ago. + +"If I never come back here,--an' I never shall 'thout I find +Chip,--keep it fer her. Sometime she may show up. If ever she does, +tell her Old Cy did all he could fer her." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + + "Those who hev nothin' but a stiddy faith the Lord'll provide, + never git fat."--Old Cy Walker. + +Life at Peaceful Valley and the home of Judson Walker fell into its usual +monotony after Chip's departure. + +Each day Uncle Jud went about his chores and his crop-gathering and +watched the leaves grow scarlet, then brown, and finally go eddying up +and down the valley, or heap themselves into every nook and cranny for +final sleep. + +Existence had become something like this to him, but he could no longer +anticipate a vernal budding forth as the leaves came, but only the sear +and autumn for himself, with the small and sadly neglected churchyard +at the Corners for its ending. + +Snow came and piled itself into fantastic drifts. The stream's summer +chatter was hushed. The cows, chickens, and his horse, with wood-cutting, +became his sole care. Once a week he journeyed to the Corners for his +weekly paper and Mandy's errands, always hoping for a message from +Chip. Now and then one came, a little missive in angular chirography, +telling how she longed to return to them, which they read and re-read +by candlelight. + +Somehow this strange wanderer, this unaccounted-for waif, had crept into +his life and love as a flower would, and "Pattycake," as he had named +her, with her appealing eyes and odd ways, was never out of his thoughts. + +And so the winter dragged its slow, chill course. Spring finally unlocked +the brook once more, the apple and cherry blossoms came, the robins began +nest-building, and one day Uncle Jud returned from the corner with a +glad smile on his face. + +"Pattycake's school's goin' to close in a couple o' weeks more, +'n' then she's comin' home," he announced, and Aunt Mandy, her face +beaming, made haste to wipe her "specs" and read the joyous tidings. + +For a few days Uncle Jud acted as if he had forgotten something and knew +not where to look for it. He lingered about the house when he would +naturally be at work. He peered into one room and then another, in an +abstracted way, and finally Aunt Mandy caught him in the keeping room, +with one curtain raised,--a thing unheard of,--seated in one of the +haircloth chairs and looking around. + +"Mandy," he said, as she entered, "do you know, I think them picturs +we've had hangin' here nigh on to forty year is homely 'nuff to stop +a horse, 'n' they make me feel like I'd been to a funeral. Thar's +that 'Death Bed o' Dan'l Webster,' an' 'Death o' Montcalm,' +'specially. I jest can't stand 'em no longer, an' 'The Father +o' his Country.' I'm gittin' tired o' that, 'n' the smirk he's +got on his face. I feel jest as though I'd like to throw a stun at +him this minute. You may feel sot on them picturs, but I'd like to +chuck the hull kit 'n' boodle into the cow shed. An' them winder +curtains," he continued, looking around, "things so blue they make me +shiver, an' this carpet with the figgers o' green and yaller birds, +it sorter stuns me. + +"Now Pattycake's comin' purty soon. She must 'a' seen more cheerful +keepin' rooms'n ourn, 'n' I'm callatin' we'd best rip this +'un all up an' fix it new. Then thar's the front chamber--in fact, +both on 'em--with the yaller spindle beds 'n' blue curtains, an' +only a square of rag carpet front o' the dressers. Say, Mandy," he +continued, looking around once more, "how'd we ever happen to git so +many blue curtains?" + +His discontent with their home now took shape in vigorous action, and +Aunt Mandy came to share it. Trip after trip to the Riggsville store was +made. Two new chamber sets and rolls of carpeting arrived at the station +six miles away, and came up the valley. A paper-hanger was engaged and +kept busy for ten days. The death-bed pictures were literally kicked into +the cow shed, and in three weeks four rooms had been so reconstructed +and fitted anew that no one would recognize them. + +Meanwhile Uncle Jud had utterly neglected his "craps," while he worked +around the house. The wide lawn had been clipped close. A new picket +fence, painted white, replaced the leaning, zigzag one around the garden. +Weeds and brush disappeared, and only Aunt Mandy's protest saved the +picturesque brown house from a coat of paint. + +And then "Pattycake" arrived. + +Nearly a year before she had been brought here, a weary, bedraggled, +dusty, half-starved waif. Now Uncle Jud met her at the station, his face +shining; Aunt Mandy clasped her close to her portly person; and as Chip +looked around and saw what had been done in her honor and to make her +welcome, her eyes filled. + +"I never thought anybody would care for me like this," she exclaimed, +and then glancing at Uncle Jud, her eyes alight, she threw her arms about +his neck and, for the first time, kissed him. + +And never in all his life had he felt more amply paid for anything he +had done. + +Then and there, Chip resolved to do something that now lay in her +power--to face shame and humbled pride and all the sacrifice it meant to +her in the end, and reunite these two long-separated brothers. But not +now, no, not yet. + +Before her lay two golden joyous summer months. Aunt Abby was coming up +later. She could not face her own humiliation now. She must wait until +these happy days were past, then tell her wretched story, not sparing +herself one iota, and then, if she must, go her way, an outcast into the +world once more. + +How utterly wrong she was in this conclusion, and how little she +understood the broad charity of Uncle Jud, need not be explained. She +was only a child as yet in all but stature. The one most bitter sneer of +malicious Hannah still rankled and poisoned her common sense. Its effect +upon Chip had been as usual on her nature and belief, and this waif +of the wilderness, this gnome child, must not be judged by ordinary +standards. Like reflections from grotesque mirrors, so had her ideas of +right and duty been distorted by eerie influences and weird surroundings. +There was first the unspeakable brutality of her father; then the +menial years at Tim's Place, with no more consideration than a horse +or pig received, her only education being the uncanny teachings of Old +Tomah. Under this baleful tuition, coupled with the ever present menace +and mystery of a vast wilderness, she passed from childhood into +womanhood, with the fixed belief that human kind were no better than +brutes; that the forest was peopled by a nether world of spites, the +shadowy forms of both man and beast; and worse than this, that all +thought and action here must be the selfish ones of personal gain and +personal protection. Like a dog forever expecting a blow, like any +dumb brute ever on guard against superior force, so had Chip grown to +maturity, a cringing, helpless, almost hopeless creature, and yet one +whose inborn impulses and desires revolted at her surroundings. + +Once removed from these, however, and in a purer atmosphere, she was +like one born again. Her past impressions still remained, her queer +belief of present and future conditions was still a motive force, and +the cringing, blow-expecting nature was yet hers. + +For this reason, and because this new world and these new people were +so unaccountable and quite beyond her ken in tender influence and +loving care, what they had done and for what purpose seemed all the +more impressive. But it was in no wise wasted; instead, it was like +God-given sunshine to a flower that has never known aught except the +chilling shadow of a dense forest. + +And now ensued an almost pathetic play of interest, for Chip set herself +about the duty of giving instead of obtaining pleasure. + +She became what she was at Tim's Place,--a menial, so far as they would +let her,--and from early morning until bedtime, some step, some duty, +some kindly care for her benefactors, was assumed by her. She worked and +weeded in the garden, she drove and milked the cows, she followed Uncle +Jud to the hay-field, insisting that she must help, until at last he +protested. + +"I like ye 'round me all the time, girlie," he assured her, "for +ye're the best o' company, 'n' I'd rather see yer face'n' any +posy that ever grew. But you've got to quit workin' so much in the sun. +'Twill get yer hands all calloused 'n' face freckled, an' I won't +have it. I want ye to injie yourself, read books, pick flowers, 'n' +sit in the shade. I see ye've got into the habit o' workin', which +ain't a bad 'un, but thar ain't no need on't here." + +One day a stranger happened up this valley, so seldom travelled that +its roadway ruts were obscured by grass. Chip noticed him that morning +where the brook curved almost to the garden, a fair-haired young man +with jaunty straw hat, delicate, shining rod, and new fish basket. He +was garbed in a spick-span brown linen suit. He saw her also, looking +over the garden wall, and raising his hat gracefully, strode on. + +His appearance, so neat and dainty and so like pictures of fishermen in +books, his courteous manner of touching his hat, without a rude stare +or even a second glance at her, caught her attention, and she watched him +a few moments. + +He did not look back until he had cast his line into a few eddies some +twenty rods away; and then he turned, looked at her, the house, barns, +garden, all as one picture, and then continued up the brook. + +He was not seen again until almost twilight by her, and then he and Uncle +Jud entered the sitting room. + +"This is Mr. Goodnow, Mandy," Uncle Jud explained, nodding to the +newcomer and glancing at Aunt Mandy and Chip. "He says he follered the +brook further up'n he figgered on. It's four miles to the Corners, +'n' he wants us to keep him over night. I 'lowed we could, if you was +willin'." + +"I shall be most grateful if you kind ladies will permit my intrusion," +the stranger added. "I have been so captivated by this delightful brook +that I quite forgot where I was or the distance to the village until I +saw that the sun was setting. If you can take care of me until morning, +any payment you will accept shall be yours." + +"I guess we can 'commodate ye," responded Aunt Mandy, pleasantly. And +so this modern Don Juan found lodgement in the home of these people. + +"I am an enthusiast on trout-catching," he explained, after all had +gathered on the vine-enclosed porch and he had presented Uncle Jud with +an excellent cigar. "About all I do summers is to hunt for brooks. I +came to the village below here yesterday, having heard of this stream, +and never before have I found one quite so attractive." + +Then followed a more or less fictitious account of his own station +and occupation in life, all very plausible, entirely frank, and quite +convincing. + +"I am unfortunate in one respect," he said, "in that I have no fixed +occupation. My father, now dead, was a prominent physician. I was +educated for the same profession and had just begun its practice when he +died. An uncle also left me a large bequest at about the same time. My +mother insisted that I give up practice, and now I am an enforced idler." + +He was such an entirely new specimen of manhood, so charming of manner, +so smooth of speech, that Chip watched and listened while he talked +on and on, quite enthralled. She had seen similar gentlemen pass and +repass Tim's Place, not quite so dainty and suave, perhaps, but dressed +much the same. She had now and then noticed a pictured reproduction of +one in some magazine. Insensibly, she compared this Mr. Goodnow with +Ray, to the latter's discredit, and when the evening was ended and +she was alone in her room, this new arrival's delicately chiselled +face, smiling blue eyes, slightly curled mustache, and refined manners +followed her. + +"He's a purty slick talker," Uncle Jud admitted to his wife later +on, "a sorter chinaware, pictur-book feller 'thout much harm in him. +I kinder felt sorry for him, so I 'lowed we'd keep him over night. +Guess he ain't much use in the world." + +How little use and how much harm he was capable of may be gleaned from a +brief resume of this stranger's history. + +He was, as he stated, without occupation and with plenty of money. He +also, as stated, loved trout brooks and wildwood life--not wildwood life +in its true sense, but the summer-day kind, where, clad as he was, +he could follow some meadow brook or sit in the shade and watch it +while indulging in day-dreams and smoking. He loved these things, but +he loved fair ladies--collectively--still more. He had stumbled upon +Peaceful Valley by accident, coming to it from a fashionable resort to +escape an intrigue with a foolish _grande dame_ and consequent irate +husband. Chip's face and form had caught his eyes as he strolled by that +day, and admission to the home of Uncle Jud and opportunity to meet, +and, if possible, impress this handsome country lass, had been a matter +of shrewd calculation with him. He had purposely remained up the brook +until nightfall. He watched for and intercepted Uncle Jud in the nick +of time, persuaded that confiding man that he was too tired to reach the +village, and with all the blandishments of speech at his command, had +obtained entry to this home. + +But he failed to impress Chip as he had hoped. She was no fool, if she +had been reared at Tim's Place. A certain shiftiness in his eyes when he +looked at her, a covert, sideways glance, never firm but ever elusive, +was soon noted and awoke her suspicion. Then the glib story he had +told of himself was soon contradicted by him in a few minor details. +Like all liars, he lacked a perfect memory, and, talking freely, he +occasionally crossed his own tracks. + +Unfortunately for him, he also showed more interest in her than in the +brook the next day, and the following one he capped the climax by asking +her to go fishing with him--an invitation which she promptly refused. + +"I don't like that Mr. Goodnow," she asserted to Uncle Jud a little +later. "I think he's a deceitful man. He pesters me every chance he +can, and I wish he'd go away." + +That was enough for Uncle Jud, and after supper he harnessed his horse +and politely but firmly requested Mr. Goodnow's company to the village. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +For many weeks now Chip had suffered from a troubled conscience, and, +like most of us, was unable to face its consequences and admit her sin. + +Time and again she had planned how she could best evade it and yet bring +those two brothers together without first confessing. Old Cy must be +told, of course. She could explain her conduct to him. He would surely +forgive her, she thought, and then, maybe, find another home for her +somehow and somewhere. Oversensitive as she was, to now confess her +cowardly concealment and her deception of those who had loved and trusted +her, seemed horrible. + +But events were stronger than her will, for one day in the last of +August, Uncle Jud returned from the village store, bringing dress +materials and startling information. "Cap'n Bemis is failin' purty +fast," he said, "so Aunt Abby writes, an' she ain't comin' up here. +It won't make no difference to you, girlie," he continued, turning to +Chip. "I've brought home stuff to rig ye out fer school. Miss Solon +the dressmaker's comin' to-morrer, 'n' we'll take keer o' ye in +good shape. We've made up our minds ye belong to us fer good, me +'n' Mandy," he added, smiling at Chip, "an' I shall go with ye +to Christmas Cove, if Cap'n Bemis ain't improvin', 'n' find ye a +boardin' place." + +"I'm awful sorry to hear 'bout the Cap'n," interrupted Aunt Mandy, +as if the other matter and Chip's future were settled definitely; +"but if he drops off, Aunt Abby must come here fer good. I dunno but +it'll be a relief," she added, looking at Uncle Jud and sighing. +"'Twa'n't no love-match in the first place, 'n' Abby's mind's +always been sot on your brother Cyrus, 'n' she never quite gin up the +idee he was alive." + +And now a sudden faintness came to Chip as the chasm in her own life was +thus opened. Only one instant she faltered, and then her defiant courage +rose supreme and she took the plunge. + +"Oh, your brother Cyrus isn't dead, Uncle Jud," she exclaimed, "he's +alive and I know him. I've known it all summer and dare not tell +because I'm a miserable coward and couldn't own up that I lied to you. +My name isn't Raymond, it's McGuire; and my father was a murderer, +and I'm nobody and fit for nobody. I know you'll all despise me now +and I deserve it. I'm willing to go away, though," and the next +instant she was kneeling before Uncle Jud and sobbing. + +It had all come in a brief torrent of pitiful confession which few would +be brave enough to make. + +To Chip, seeing herself as she did, it meant loss of love, home, respect, +and all else she now valued, and that she must become a homeless wanderer +once more. + +But Uncle Jud thought otherwise, for now he drew the sobbing girl into +his lap. + +"Quit takin' on so, girlie," he said, choking back a lump; "why, +we'll all love ye ten times more fer all this, an' ez fer bein' a +nobody, ye're a blessed angel to us fer bringin' the news ye hev." +And then he kissed her, while Aunt Mandy wiped her eyes on her apron. + +The shower, violent for a moment, was soon over; for as Chip raised her +wet eyes, a sunshiny smile illumined Uncle Jud's face. + +"If Cyrus is alive," he said, "as ye callate, I'll thank God till I +set eyes on him, and then I think I'll lick him fer not huntin' me up +all these years." + +"But mebbe he found Abby was married 'n' didn't want to," interposed +Aunt Mandy. "We mustn't judge him yet." + +"No, I won't judge him," asserted Uncle Jud; "I'll jest cuff him, +good 'n' hard, an' let it go at that. + +"Ez fer you, girlie, an' jest to set yer mind at rest, we found out +what your right name was and where ye run away from last fall, but never +let on to nobody. 'Twas your business and nobody else's, an' made no +difference in our feelin's, ez ye must see; an' now I'll tell ye how +I found out. + +"I was down to the Corners one day arter ye went to Christmas Cove, +'n' a feller--nice-lookin' feller, too, with honest brown eyes--was +askin' if anybody had seen or heard o' a runaway girl by the name o' +McGuire. Said she'd run away from Greenvale--'That's 'bout a hundred +miles from here,' he said--an' he was huntin' for her. Nobody at +the Corners knew about ye 'n' I kept still, believin' ye had reason +fer not wantin' to be found out." + +And now another tide--the thrill of love--surged in Chip's heart, and +her face became glorified. + +And so the clouds rolled away. That night Chip wrote a brief but curious +letter, so odd, in fact, it must be quoted verbatim:-- + +[Illustration: "Quit takin' on so, girlie," he said.] + + "Mr. Martin Frisbie, + + "Please send word at once to Mr. Cyrus Walker that his brother + Judson, who lives in Riggsville, wants to see him. No one else + must be told of this, for it's a secret. + + "One who Knows." + +But Chip's secret was a most transparent one, for when this missive +reached Martin three days later, he recognized its angular penmanship +and similarity to the note Aunt Comfort still treasured, and knew that +Chip wrote it. + +It startled him somewhat, however, for Old Cy's youthful history was +unknown to him, and suspecting that some mystery lay beneath this +information, he told no one, but started for Riggsville at once. + +The tide of emotion that had upset the even tenor of Uncle Jud's home +life slowly ebbed away, and a keen sense of expectancy took its place. + +Chip, after giving him her letter, explained that Old Cy was most likely +in the wilderness, and that the letter might not reach him for weeks. + +And then one day a broad-shouldered, rather commanding, and somewhat +citified man drove up to the home of Uncle Jud. + +"Does Mr. Judson Walker live here?" he inquired of Aunt Mandy, who met +him at the door. + +Her admission of that fact was scarce uttered when there came a +rustling of skirts, a "Why, Mr. Frisbie!" and Chip was beside her, +at which Martin, collected man of the world that he was, felt an unusual +heart-throb of thankfulness. + +A little later, when Uncle Jud had been summoned into their newly +furnished "keeping room," disclosures astonishing to all followed. + +"We have been searching for you, Chip, far and near," Martin assured +them, "and Old Cy is still at it. He left us at the camp, almost a year +ago, came to Greenvale, found you had run away, and came back to tell +us. It upset us all so that we broke camp at once, taking Amzi with us, +and returned to Greenvale. Old Cy there bade us good-bye and started +to find you. Ray also began a search as well. I've advertised in dozens +of papers, have kept Levi on watch for you at Grindstone ever since, and +now I hope you will return with me to Greenvale." + +"I thank you all, oh, so much," answered Chip, scared a little at this +proposal, "but I don't want to. I'm nobody there and never can be. +I'd be ashamed to face folks there any more." + +"I guess she best stay with us," put in Uncle Jud, "fer we sorter +'dopted her, 'n' not meanin' no disrespect to you folks, I callate +she'll be more content here. I'd like ye to get word to Cyrus, though, +soon's possible. I hain't sot eyes on him fer forty years, 'n'," +his eyes twinkling, "I'm jest spilin' to pull his hair 'n' cuff +him." + +"I will help out in that matter at once, and more than gladly," +replied Martin, again looking at Chip and noting how improved she was; +"but I still think Miss Runaway had better return with me. We need you, +Chip," he continued earnestly, "and so does some else I can name, +more than you imagine, I fancy, and my wife will welcome you with open +arms, you may be sure. As for that foolish Hannah, she's the most +penitent person in Greenvale. There's another reason still," he +added, glancing around with a smile, "and no one is more glad of it +than we all are. It's a sixty-thousand-dollar reason--your heritage, +Miss Vera McGuire, for your father is dead, and that amount is now +in the Riverton Savings Bank awaiting you." + +Martin had expected this news to be overpowering, and a "Good God!" +from Uncle Jud, and a gasping "Land sakes!" from Aunt Mandy, proved +that it was. + +Chip's face, however, was a study. First she grew pale, then flashed +a scared glance from one to another of the three who watched her, and +then almost did her shame and hatred of this vile parent find expression. + +"I'm glad he--no, I won't say so, for he was my father," she +exclaimed; "but I want Old Cy to have some of the money, and Uncle +Jud here, and you folks, all. I was a pauper long enough," and then, +true to her instinct of how to escape from trouble, she ran out of the +room. + +"She's a curis gal," asserted Uncle Jud, looking after her as if +feeling that she needed explanation, "the most curis gal I ever saw. +But we can't let her go, money or no money, Mr. Frisbie. I found her +one night upon top o' Bangall Hill. She was so starved an' beat out +from trampin' she couldn't hardly crawl up on to the wagon, 'n' +yet she said she wouldn't be helped 'thout she could arn it. I think +she's like folks we read about, who starve ruther'n beg. But she kin +have all we've got some day, an' we jest can't let her go." + +And Martin, realizing its futility, made no further protest. + +Something of chagrin also came to him, for, broad-minded as he was, +he realized how partial neglect, the narrow religious prejudice of +Greenvale, and unwise notice of her childish ideas about spites and +Old Tomah's superstitions had all conspired to drive her away. She was +honest and self-respecting, "true blue," as Old Cy had said, grateful +as a fawning dog for all that had been done for her, and in spite of +her origin, a circumstance that carried no weight with Martin, she was +one, he believed, who would develop into splendid womanhood. That she +was well on her way toward that goal, her improved speech and devotion to +these new friends gave ample evidence. + +And now Ray's position in this complex situation occurred to Martin; +for this young man's interest in Chip and almost heart-broken grief over +her disappearance had long since betrayed his attachment. + +"I suppose you may have guessed that there was a love-affair mixed up +with this episode," he said to the two somewhat dazed people. + +"I callated thar was, that fust night," Uncle Jud responded, his eyes +twinkling again, "an' told Mandy so. 'Twas that more'n anything +else kept us from quizzin' the gal. I knowed by her face she had heart +trouble, 'n' I've seen the cause on't." + +"You have," exclaimed Martin, astonished in turn, "for Heaven's sake, +where?" + +"Oh, down to the Corners, 'most a year ago, 'n' a likely boy he was, +too." + +"And never told her?" + +"No, why should I, thinkin' she'd run away from him. We didn't want +to spile her plans. We found out, though, her name was McGuire, but +never let on till she told us a spell ago." And then Uncle Jud told +the story of Ray's arrival in Riggsville in search of Chip. + +"That fellow is my nephew, Raymond Stetson," rejoined Martin with +pride, "he also is an orphan, and I have adopted him. Chip has no cause +to be ashamed of his attachment." + +"I don't callate she is," replied Uncle Jud. "'Tain't that that +jinerally makes a gal kick over the traces. Mebbe 'twas suthin some o' +you folks said." And then a new light came to Martin. + +"Mr. Walker," he answered impressively, "in every village there is +always a meddlesome old maid who invariably says things she'd better +not, and ours is no exception. In this case it was a dependent of our +family who took a dislike to Chip, it seems, and her escapade was its +outcome." + +"Wal, ye've got to hev charity for 'em," replied Uncle Jud with a +broad smile. "Never havin' suffered the joys 'n' sorrows o' love, +they look at it sorter criss-cross, an' mebbe this 'un did. Old maids +are a good deal like cider--nat'raly turn into vinegar. What wimmin need +more'n all the rest is bein' loved, 'n' if they don't get it, they +sour up in time an' ain't no comfort to themselves nor nobody else. +Then ag'in, not havin' no man nor no babies to look arter, they take +to coddlin' cats 'n' dogs 'n' parrots, which ain't nat'ral." + +"I think," continued Uncle Jud, "now that we've turned another +furrow, you'd best stop a day or two with us, 'n' sorter git +'quainted. We'll be mighty glad to hev ye, me an' Mandy, an' then +ag'in thar's a lot o' good trout holes up the brook. We hev plenty +to eat, 'n' mebbe a few days here in Peaceful Valley'll sorter +reconcile ye to leavin' the gal with us." And nothing loath, Martin +accepted. + +Aunt Mandy and Chip now bestirred themselves as never before. The +dressmaker was left to her own resources, Martin and Uncle Jud rigged +fish-poles and started for the brook. Chip, with pail in hand, hurried +away to the fields, and when teatime arrived, the big platter of crisp +fried trout, saucers filled with luscious blackberries, and ample +shortcake of the same with cream that poured in clots, assured Martin +that these people did indeed have plenty to eat. + +"How did this come to be named Peaceful Valley?" he queried, when they +had all gathered around the table. "It's very appropriate." + +"Wal," answered Uncle Jud, "we got it from a feller that come up +here paintin' picturs one summer, an'," chuckling, "'twas all we +got for a month's board, at that. He was a sort o' skimpy critter, +with long hair, kinder pale, and chawed tobacco stiddy. He 'lowed +his name was Grahame, that he was in the show business 'n' gittin' +backgrounds, as he called 'em, fer show picturs. He roved up 'n' down +the brook, puttin' rocks 'n' trees 'n' waterfalls on paper, allus +gittin' 'round reg'lar 'bout meal-time--must 'a' gained twenty +pounds while here. An' then one mornin' he was missin', 'n' so +was Aunt Mandy's gold thimble 'n' all her silver spoons. She'd sorter +took to him, too, he was that palaverin' in his way." + +There now ensued a series a questions from Uncle Jud in regard to Old +Cy--how long Martin had known him, and all that pertained to his history. + +It was gladly recited by Martin, together with all the strange happenings +in the wilderness, the finding of Chip, the half-breed's pursuit and +abduction of her, and much else that has been told. + +It was almost midnight ere Martin was shown to the best front chamber, +and even then he lay awake an hour, listening to the steady prattle of a +near-by brook and thinking of all that had happened. + + * * * * * + +A tone of regret crept into his voice, however, when, after thanking +Uncle Jud and Aunt Mandy, and bidding them good-bye, he addressed Chip. + +"I wish I could take you back with me," he said, "your return would +be such a blessing to Aunt Comfort and my wife. You may not believe it, +but you are dear to them both. I must insist that you at least pay us a +visit soon. Here is your bank book," he added, presenting it. "You +are rich now, or at least need never want, for which we are all grateful. +And what about Ray?" he added, pausing to watch her. "What shall I say +to him? Shall I tell him to come and see you?" + +Chip shook her head firmly. "No, no," she answered, "please don't +do that. Some day I may feel different, but not now." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +Sad news arrived in Peaceful Valley a week later, for Captain Bemis had +passed on, Aunt Abby was in lonely sorrow, and wrote for Chip to come +at once. + +Her fate was now linked with these people. Aunt Abby had been kind and +helpful, and Chip, more than glad to return a little of the obligation, +hurried to Christmas Cove. + +It was a solemn and silent house she now entered. Aunt Abby, despite +the fact that it was not a love-match, mourned her departed companion. +The mill's pertinent silence added gloom, and Chip's smiling face and +affectionate interest was more than welcome to Aunt Abby. + +And now that concealment was no longer needed, Chip hastened to tell her +story in full. + +How utterly Aunt Abby was astonished, how breathlessly she listened +to Chip's recital, and how, when the climax came and Chip assured her +that good Old Cy Walker was still alive, Aunt Abby collapsed entirely, +sobbing and thanking God all at once, is but a sidelight on this tale. + +"I couldn't tell you before," Chip assured her, while her own tears +still flowed. "I was so ashamed and guilty all in one, I couldn't +bear to. I never did so mean a thing in all my life, and never will +again. But when Uncle Jud told me what you didn't, and how much he +cared for me, and how you once cared for Uncle Cy, I went all to pieces +and told the whole story and sent word to Uncle Cy that day. I feel so +guilty now, and so mean, I don't see how you can forgive me." + +But Aunt Abby's forgiveness was not slow in coming. The past ten days of +sorrow had left her heart very tender. In spite of being "book-larned," +she was very humane. Chip's sad life and misfortunes appealed to +her, as they had to Uncle Jud, and true Christian woman that she was, her +heart opened to Chip. + +"I hope we shall never be parted while I live," she said, as the tears +came again. "I have no children, and no one to live for but my sister. +I am so wonted to Christmas Cove, I could not feel at home anywhere else. +If Uncle Jud will consent, I will adopt you legally, and when I am laid +away, all I have shall be yours." + +And so Chip McGuire, waif of the wilderness, child of an outlaw, once +sold to a human brute, yet fighting her way upward and onward to a better +life, despite every drawback, now found a home and mother. + +No light of education had illumined her pathway, no Christian teaching +and no home example, only the inborn and God-given impulse of purity, +self-respect, and gratitude; and yet, like a bud forcing its way up out +of a muck heap and into the sunshine, so Chip had emerged to win respect +and love. + +But all her history is not told yet. She still lacked even a common +education. There was still an old man seeking to find her, who was yet +wandering afar. A homeless, almost friendless old man was he, whose +life had gone amiss, and whose sole ambition was to do for her and +find content in her happiness. A wanderer and recluse for many years, he +was still more so now, and out of place as well among the busy haunts +of men. More than that, he was an object of curiosity to all grown people +and the jest of the young, as he tramped up and down the land in search +of Chip. + +And what a pitiful quest it was,--this asking the same question thousands +of times, this lingering in towns to watch mill operatives file out, +this peering into stores and marts, to go on again, and repeat it for +months and months. + +There was still another link in this chain,--a boy, so far as experience +goes, who was only deterred from unwise haste by a cool-headed man. + +"You had better not go to Chip now," Martin said to him on his +return from Peaceful Valley. "She is an odd child of nature, and you +won't lose by waiting. My advice to you is to forget her for the +present, find some profitable occupation, and then, when you have made a +little advancement in life, go and woo her if you can. To try it now +is foolish." + +It was cold comfort for Ray. + +One of Chip's first acts of emancipation was to write to Aunt Comfort +and Angie, assuring both of her love and best wishes, and thanking them +for all they had done. Both letters were cramped in chirography but +correct in spelling, and in Angie's was a note for Martin, asking that +he draw one hundred dollars of her money and send it to her, and as +much more to pay some one to follow Old Cy. The latter request Martin +ignored, however, for he had already set the machinery of newspaperdom at +work, and an advertisement for information of that wanderer was flying +far and wide. + +Of the money sent her, Chip made odd and quite characteristic uses, only +one of which needs mention,--the purchase of a banjo. Had Ray known +this, and that the tender memory it invoked was the reason for this +investment, he would have had less cause for grief. But Ray did not, +which was all the better for him. + +And now, while she is in good company at Christmas Cove, with Mr. Bell, +syntax, decimal fractions, the planetary system, and divisions of the +earth six hours of each school day, or with Aunt Abby sewing, or picking +at the banjo, or attending church, we must leave Chip and follow Old Cy. + +With a hunter's instinct he had calculated that Chip would head for the +place of her birth, and then, if possible, send word to either himself +or the Indian. That she had made way with herself he did not consider +probable. She was not of that fibre, he felt positive; but instead, +would make her own way across country, working, if need be, to obtain +food and shelter until she at last reached the one spot nearest her +heart,--her mother's grave. + +Believing this of her, and judging rightly, he left Greenvale, and, as +it happened, twice crossed and once followed the very route she had +taken for miles. That he failed to hear of her from the many he asked +was solely due to accident, added to her own caution in avoiding all +observant eyes. + +And what an almost hopeless and interminable tramp he took! Back and +forth across the section of country she was likely to follow for weeks +and weeks, halting a day in every village and two or three in each city, +asking the same question over and over again, until his indomitable +courage and almost deathless faith slowly ebbed away. + +Autumn came, the leaves grew scarlet and brown, snow followed, and winter +locked all streams, and still Old Cy journeyed on. Spring and sunshine +once more warmed the earth into life, the fields grew green, and yet he +paused not. + +With June and the real beginning of summer, however, came a new +inspiration, which was to go at once by rail and stage to Chip's native +town and learn if, perchance, she, or any news of her, had reached this +village. + +Another thought also came with this,--that Martin might soon again visit +the woods and perhaps he could intercept him. + +A little satisfaction was obtained by this advance move, for when this +village was reached, Levi was found waiting. + +"I've been watchin' for the gal over eight months now, under pay from +Mr. Frisbie," he assured Old Cy when they met. "I also sent word to Old +Tomah late last fall, 'n' he came out o' the woods 'n' stayed here +two months, but nothin's been heard o' poor Chip by any one, 'n' I +doubt ever will be." + +"Mebbe not yet," answered Old Cy, "but thar will be some day, an' +here, too. She hadn't a cent when she left Greenvale--only grit, +'n' it's a long ways here fer a gal what's got to arn her vittles +while she's trampin'. It may be one year, it may be two, but some +day Chip'll show up here, if she lives to do it. I callate I'd best +wait here a few weeks tho', an' then, if nothin' turns up, I'll +start ag'in." + +Nothing did, however; but during his stay, Old Cy learned that Chip's +entire history, from the night she left Tim's Place until she ran away +from Greenvale, was known at this village. This fact was of no value +whatever, except to prove the universal interest all humanity has in +the fate and fortune of one another. + +"I never told what happened in the woods," Levi responded when Old +Cy questioned him, "an' didn't need to, for it got here 'fore I +did. I jest 'lowed it was true, 'n' that I was hired to wait and watch +here for Chip. It's curis, too, how everybody here feels 'bout it. +They're a poorish sort here, families o' lumbermen, men that work in +the sawmills, some farmin', an' all findin' it hard work to git a +livin'. An' yet they're so interested in Chip 'n' so sorry for +her, if she shows up now she'd be carried 'round the village like +some queen 'ud be, with everybody follerin'. Thar's 'nother curis +thing happened since I've been here that I'd never believed o' +these people neither. I told them, of course, who I was, 'n' what I +was here for, 'n' who was payin' me, when I come, an' then as +time kinder went slow, I began huntin' some 'round here. Wal, thar's a +little graveyard up back o' the village 'n' all growed up to weeds +'n' bushes, an' one day last fall I happened to be lookin' it +over 'n' somebody come 'long. It was a man that keeps store here, +an' I asked him if 'twas here Chip's mother was buried. He said +'twas, an' pointed out the spot 'way up in one corner, 'thout any +stone, 'n' the mound most hid in a tangle. I didn't say nothin'--jest +looked, an' went on, 'n' that was all. Wal, the curis part is last +spring they sot a couple o' men to work cleanin' up the graveyard +o' bushes an' laid out walks 'n' built a new fence 'round it. That +one unmarked grave got the most attention o' all, for they turfed it +over nice and built a little fence 'round it. I kinder callated how +'n' why it all come 'bout, 'n' feelin' I oughter do suthin, I +had a little stun sot up with Chip's mother's name on it." + +But time also went "kinder slow" for Old Cy, and as the date for +Martin's probable coming had now passed, he finally yielded to Levi's +suggestion and the call of the wilderness as well, and the two started +for Martin's camp. + +It was almost like a pilgrimage to one's boyhood home; for while scarce +a year had elapsed since Old Cy and Martin's party left it, Nature, +always seeking to hide human handiwork, had been busy, and the garden +was a tangle of weeds. Amzi's old cabin was almost hid by bushes, the +walks were choked with them, and a colony of squirrels frisked about, +and now, alarmed at human presence, added a touch of pathos. + +One act of vandalism was in evidence, for some wandering trappers had +apparently used the larger cabin the previous season. Its floor was +littered with all manner of debris, the bones of a deer mouldered in the +woodshed, and a family of porcupines had also found the premises +available. The impression conveyed by the entire spot and its +surroundings made even Levi gloomy, while Old Cy scarce spoke the entire +first day there, except to exclaim at "varmints" who would break +locks, use the cabin for months, and then leave a litter of garbage to +draw vermin. + +"It's curis how near to hogs 'n' hyenas a few humans are," he +said as he looked around and saw how these vandals had behaved. "They +wa'n't satisfied with burglin' the cabin, turnin' it into a pig-pen, +stealin' all they could carry off, but they was so durned lazy, they +smashed up the furniture to burn." + +For a few days only these two fine old backwoodsmen tarried here, and +then Old Cy proposed departure. + +"I can't take no comfort here, nohow," he said, "for the premises +seem ha'nted. Whichever way I turn I 'spect to meet Amzi with his moon +eyes, or see Chip watchin' me, or Angie steppin' out o' the cabin. +If I stayed here long, I'd see Chip's spites crawlin' out o' the +bushes soon ez it got dusky. I'm used to the woods, but this spot seems +like a graveyard. + +"I never done no prayin'," he added sadly. "I don't b'lieve in't. +But if I could set eyes on Chip this minit, I'd go right down on my +knees 'n' say, 'Thank God for this blessin'.' I'm 'fraid I never +will, though." + +The next morning these two friends left this abode of unseen forms, +more disconsolate than ever. They halted at Tim's Place long enough +to learn that no tidings of McGuire or the half-breed had even reached +that filthy station, and then returned to the settlement once more. Here +Old Cy waited until the summer waned, vainly hoping each day would at +least bring some word from Martin or Chip, and then bade Levi good-bye, +and departed. + +He had been gone a week, a wandering tramp once more, when Ray appeared, +bearing the glad news that Chip had been found. And also another and a +more astounding fact. + +But Old Cy was not there. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Life, always colorless at Christmas Cove, except in midsummer, now +became changed for Aunt Abby. For all the years since her one girlish +romance had ended, she had been a patient helpmate to a man she merely +respected. Religion had been her chief solace. The annual visit to her +sister's gave the only relief to this motionless life, monotonous as +the tides sweeping in and out of the cove; but now a counter-current +slowly flowed into it. + +Chip, of course, with her winsome eyes and grateful ways, was its +mainspring, and so checkered had been her career and so humiliating all +her past experiences, that now, escaped from dependence and feeling +herself a valued companion, she tasted a new and joyous life. So true +was this, that hard lessons at school, the regularity of church-going, +and the unvarying tenor of it all seemed less by comparison. + +Another undercurrent, aside from Chip's devotion, also swept into Aunt +Abby's feelings,--the strange emotions following the knowledge that +her former lover was still alive. For many years she had waited and hoped +for this sailor boy's return; then her heart had grown silent, as hope +slowly ebbed, and then, almost forgetfulness--but not quite, however, +for the long, lily-dotted mill-pond just above had now and then been +visited by them. A certain curiously grown oak which was secluded near +its upper end was once a trysting-place, and even the old mill with its +plashing wheel held memories. + +And now after forty years, during which she had become gray-haired and +slightly wrinkled, all these memories returned like ghosts of long ago. +No word or hint of them fell from her lips, not even to Chip, who was +now nearest to her; and yet had that girl been a mind-reader, she would +have seen that Aunt Abby's persistent interest in all she had to tell +about Old Cy meant something. Where he was now, how soon he would learn +that his brother was still alive after all these years, was the one +most pertinent subject oft discussed. + +How Chip felt toward him, not alone for the heritage he had secured +for her, but for other and more valued heart interests, need not be +specified. He had seemed almost a father to her at the lake. He was +the first of her new-found friends whose feelings had warmed toward her, +and Chip was now mature enough to value these blessings at their true +worth. + +A certain mutual expectancy now entered the lives of Chip and Aunt Abby. +Nothing could be done, however. Old Cy had gone out into the wide, wide +world, as it were, searching for the little girl he loved. No manner +of reaching him seemed possible; and yet, some day, he must learn what +would bring him to them as fast as steam could fetch him. + +"I know that he loved me as his own child there at the lake," Chip said +once in an exultant tone. "His going after me proves it; and once he +hears where I am, he will hurry here, I know." + +Whether Aunt Abby's heart responded to that wish or not, she never +disclosed. + +But the days, weeks, and months swept by, and Old Cy came not. Neither +did any message come to Chip from Greenvale. At first, rebelling at +Ray's treatment of her, Chip felt that she never wanted to see him +again. She had been so tender and loving toward him at the lake, had +striven so hard to learn and to be more like him, had waited and +watched, counting the days until his return, only to be told what she +could not forget and to find him so neglectful, so cool to her, when +her girlish heart was so full of love, that her feelings had changed +almost in one instant, and pride had made her bitter. + +Hannah had told an unpleasant truth, as Chip knew well enough; but truth +and confiding love mixed illy, and Ray's conduct, leaving her as he did +with scarce a word or promise, was an episode that had chilled and almost +killed Chip's budding affection. As is always the case, such a feeling +fades and flares like all others. There would now be a brief space when +Chip hoped and longed for Ray's coming, and then days when no thought of +him came. + +It was perhaps fortunate for him that Christmas Cove contained no serious +admirer of Chip the while, else his cause and all memory of him would +have been swept away. But that quaint village was peopled chiefly by old +folk, those of the male persuasion being quite young, with a few girls +of Chip's age. Few young men remained there to make their way, and so no +added interest came to vary Chip's life. + +The coming of summer, however, brought the annual influx of city boarders +once more. First came elderly ladies, more anxious about suitable rooms +and food than aught else, and then came the younger ones, whose gowns +and their display appeared the only motive for existence. A few young +men followed in their wake. Now and then a small yacht anchored in the +mouth of the cove. The long wharf became a rendezvous for promenaders, +tennis courts were established, and gay costumes, bright parasols, and +astounding hats were in evidence. + +It was all a new and fascinating panorama for Chip. Never before had she +seen such butterflies of fashion, who glanced at her and her more modest +raiment almost with scorn, and scarce conscious of them, she looked on +with awe and admiration. + +The old mill, the quaint house where she dwelt, and especially the +long pond, now sprinkled thickly with lilies, became a Mecca for these +newcomers, and not a pleasant day passed but from two to a dozen of +them came trooping about and around it. They peered into the mill, +exclaimed over the great dripping wheel, and almost shouted at the sight +of the white blossoms on the pond. + +One day a bevy of laughing and chattering girls with one gallant in +white flannels approached the mill while Chip in calico was kneeling +beside a flower-bed. She looked up at once and saw her erstwhile admirer +at Peaceful Valley, Mr. Goodnow. One instant only their eyes met, his +to turn quickly away, and then Chip, coloring at the slight, rose and +entered the house. Once safe in this asylum, womanlike, she hastened +to peep out at the arrivals. They halted for only a glance about and +then, their protector (?) still in the lead, vanished behind the mill. + +The next afternoon, just as Chip was returning from the village store, +she met Mr. Goodnow again, this time alone. + +With a bow and smile he raised his hat and halted. + +"Why, Miss Raymond," he exclaimed eagerly, "I am so glad to meet you +again. Are you visiting here, and when did you leave Peaceful Valley?" + +"I am living here now," returned Chip, coolly, continuing on her way, +"where you saw me yesterday." + +"Oh, yes," he answered, not the least abashed, "and you must pardon +me for not recognizing you then. It's been a year, you know, since I +saw you, and you have changed so in that time." + +"Of course," responded Chip, her eyes snapping, "you couldn't +remember me so long. Why don't you tell the truth and say you didn't +dare know me before those ladies?" + +"Why, Miss Raymond, you wrong me; but I admire your frankness--it is +so unusual among your charming sex!" + +"Then you did know me," she returned sarcastically, "I knew well +enough, and if they were with you now, you wouldn't know me. I'm no +fool, if I do wear calico." + +It was blunt. It was truthful. It was Chip all over; but this polished +rake never winced. + +"I never dispute a lady," he answered suavely; "it doesn't pay. +Besides, I have found they all prefer sweet lies instead of truth. And +now I will admit you looked so charming as you raised your face from +among the flowers that I was dazed and didn't think to bow." + +"You weren't so dazed but that you managed to get away in a hurry." + +"Why, of course, I was piloting my friends up to the lily pond," he +returned, still unruffled, "and much as I desired, I couldn't pause to +visit with you." + +They had now reached Chip's home. She halted at the gate, turned, and +looked at him. + +"I hope we may be friends, now that you have scolded me enough," he +added. "I had a delightful week with you last summer. I've lived it +over many times. May I not call here to-morrow, and you and I will gather +some of the lilies?" + +A droll smile crept over Chip's face at this. + +"Yes, if you will bring your lady friends also," she answered. And +with a "Thank you," and raising his hat once more, this smooth-spoken +fellow, impervious to sarcasm, turned away. + +"Who was the young man?" Aunt Abby queried, when Chip entered the house. + +"It's a Mr. Goodnow, who spent a week with Uncle Jud," she answered, +smiling. "He came by here yesterday with three ladies and was close to +me when I was working in my posy bed. He made out he didn't remember +me then, when I met him this afternoon. I guess I was saucy to him. I +meant to be. He wouldn't take it, and walked home with me." + +Aunt Abby looked surprised. + +"I hope you weren't really saucy," she answered, "that wouldn't have +been becoming." + +Mr. Goodnow appeared next day, not at all disturbed, and Chip, a little +more gracious, consented to gather lilies with him. The leaky punt +that had served for that purpose many years was bailed out. He manned +the oars. Chip bared one rounded arm, and, thus equipped, two really +enjoyable hours were passed. + +As Uncle Jud had said, he was a "slick talker." Truth was not +considered by him; instead, subtile flatteries were his stock in +trade, and Chip, for the first time in her life, felt their insidious +influence. She was in no wise deceived. Her woman's wit and good sense +detected the sham, and caring not one whit for him, she responded as +saucily as she chose. It was not, perhaps, quite ladylike, but Chip +was not as yet a polished lady; instead, she was a decidedly blunt-spoken +girl who enjoyed exasperating this fashionable Lothario. + +And never before had he met her like or one so fearless of speech. + +"You are the sauciest girl I have ever had the pleasure of meeting," +he said, as they drew up to the landing and began sorting the lilies. "I +didn't notice it so much last summer; and yet you are no less charming, +mainly because you are so frank. Most ladies whom I know are not so. +They are arrant hypocrites and not one assertion in ten can be taken +at its face value." + +"You seem to have been an apt scholar," Chip responded, smiling. "If +you like my blunt speech, as you say, why don't you imitate it and be +truthful for once in your life?" + +"I dare not. No man ever yet won a woman's favor by plain speech." + +"And so you want my favor. What for? I am not of your sort. I do not +spend my life playing golf and tennis and wearing fine clothes." + +"But you ought to. You have the face and form required, and once you +got into the swim of society, you would become a leader." + +Chip greeted this with a laugh. "Do you plaster it on as thick as that +with every one," she queried, "and will they stand it?" + +"Why, yes," he chuckled, "and almost beg for more. My ladies thrive on +flattery, and unless a man doles it out to them, they think him stupid." + +When he had helped her out of the boat, holding and pressing her hand +unduly long she thought, he gathered up the lilies and, with a graceful +bow and "Sweets to the sweet," offered them to her. + +"I don't want them," she answered bluntly. "Take them to your arrant +hypocrites and tell them a girl you couldn't fool sent 'em." And +nonplussed a little at this speech, but still smiling, he followed Chip +to the house. At the gate he halted and their eyes met. + +"I've had a most charming morning, for which I thank you," he said. +And drawing two of the largest blooms from the bunch of lilies, he laid +the rest on the gate-post. "You will have to take them," he added. +"And now I have something else to propose. I own a small yacht. It is +anchored down near the wharf. How would you like a sail to-morrow? I +shall be highly pleased to have you for my guest. Will you go?" + +But Chip was not caught so easily. + +"I'll go if you will ask Aunt Abby also," she answered, "not +otherwise." + +"Why, of course," he responded graciously, "that is understood." + +And still unruffled by this parting evidence of distrust, he bowed +himself away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + + "A girl with a new ring allus hez trouble with her hair." + --Old Cy Walker. + +_As_ might be expected, Chip gave Aunt Abby a full recital of her +morning's episode as soon as she entered the house, and with it her +comments upon this smooth-spoken young man. + +"He reeled off flattery by the yard," she said, "and no matter how I +took it, or how sharply I set him back, he kept at it. The way he piled +it on was almost funny, just as though he thought I believed it. Of +course I didn't, not a word, and what's more I wouldn't trust him +farther than I could see him. He's got shifty eyes, and Cy once told +me never to believe a man with such eyes. He wants me to go sailing +with him to-morrow, and I said I would go if you were asked. I knew you +wouldn't go, however." + +"Of course not," answered Aunt Abby, severely, "and his asking you in +such a way was almost an insult. If he had meant well, he would have +said he was taking other friends out and would have asked us both to +join them. I should not have consented to that even, however. These +summer people are not our sort, and to accept such favors from them is to +put ourselves in a fair way of being laughed at. I would advise, also, +that you have no more to say to this young man. It will not reflect +credit upon you if you do." + +That afternoon, while Chip practised upon her banjo, it being vacation +time, Aunt Abby called upon several neighbors with news-gathering intent. +She succeeded to the fullest, and that evening related it to Chip. + +"This Mr. Goodnow has been here about two weeks," she said, "and is +boarding at Captain Perkins's. He came in a small steam yacht he claims +he owns, and has been going about with three ladies who are stopping at +the Mix House. Two of them are sisters, the Misses Wilson, and a Mrs. +Simpson, a widow. He seems the most devoted to the widow. They have been +out driving quite often, and once or twice she has been sailing with +him alone. It's all right, of course, only she being a good deal older +than he is, makes it seem curious. When he calls here to-morrow, as I +suppose he will, I'd better see him." + +He called quite early the next morning, as may be guessed, and a more +picture-book yachtsman Aunt Abby never set eyes upon. His white duck +shoes, trousers, and cap, white flannel coat, dark blue silk shirt, +jaunty sailor tie and russet belt, all completed an attire so spick and +span that it seemed that he must have just emerged from a tailor shop. + +But Aunt Abby was not awed overmuch. She had seen his like before, and +met him at her door with serene self-possession. + +"I am Mr. Goodnow," he explained with easy assurance, "and Miss +Raymond has kindly consented to accept a few hours' enjoyment in my +yacht if you will also honor me." And he bowed again. + +"We thank you very much, sir," Aunt Abby responded stiffly, "but I +must decline for us both. We should hardly care to accept hospitalities +which we could not return." + +"I regret it very much," he answered in a hurt tone, "and assure you +I am the one to feel obligated." And then, as Aunt Abby drew back, and +the door began to close very slowly, he bowed and retreated in good order. + +But he was not to be thus checkmated, and from now on he began to watch +for chances to intercept and accost Chip. + +It was, and always had been, a part of her nature to be out of doors as +much as possible, and since the close of school she was out more than +ever. Somewhat akin to Old Cy in love of Nature, the fields, woods, and +streams had always attracted her, and at Christmas Cove the sea added a +new charm to which she yielded nearly every pleasant day. And her steps +led her far and wide. + +Down to the seldom-used wharf to watch the tide ebb and flow between its +mussel-coated piles, over the broad-rippled sands of the cove when the +tide left them bare, around to the long, rocky barrier beyond the cove +where the sea waves dashed, were her favorite strolls. + +The next afternoon she strayed to where the ocean spray was leaping. She +had scarce reached her favorite lookout spot, a shaded cliff, when she +saw Goodnow approaching. + +Her first impulse was to return home at once, the next to remain. + +She did not fear him, he seemed such an effeminate, foppish sort of man, +that lithe and strong as she was, she felt she could outrun him, or, if +need be, throw him into the sea. And so she waited, cool and indifferent. +Although conscious that he was nearing her, she never turned her head +until he was beside her. Then she looked up. + +"I beg your pardon," he said, raising his hat, "but may I share this +cliff with you?" And he seated himself near. + +"It isn't mine," answered Chip, rather ungraciously, "so there's no +need to ask." + +"But every lady has a right to decline a gentleman's company wherever +she is," he responded in his usual suave tone. "I saw you coming here, +and I'll admit I was bold enough to follow." + +"And what for?" she answered, in her blunt way, "I never invited you." + +"No, you didn't, and I never expect you will. But you are such a saucy, +fascinating little wood-nymph that I couldn't help it. I am sorry, +though, that you and your worthy aunt refused my yacht yesterday. I +wanted an opportunity to get better acquainted with her and yourself as +well, and thought that a good way. + +"Do you love the ocean," he continued, as Chip made no response, "and +is this village your real home, or do you reside at Peaceful Valley?" + +"I live here now," returned Chip, resolving to be brief in all her +answers and hoping he would betake himself away. + +She did not like him, nor his smooth, polished speech. She felt that +it was all affected, and that at heart he meant no good toward her. +Then his failure to recognize her when with his lady friends still +rankled. She knew well enough that he dared not admit acquaintance +with a calico-clad country girl at that moment. And what the gossips of +Christmas Cove insinuated about him and this widow awoke her contempt. + +Totally unused to the ways of fashionable society as she was, for him to +play court to a widow evidently ten or fifteen years his senior seemed +unnatural. + +His almost nauseating and persistent flattery of herself was equally +objectionable. All this flashed over her now while he was talking. + +"You must find it lonesome here," he said, in response to her +admission; "but perhaps you have a beau, a sweetheart, somewhere, whom +you care for." + +Chip colored slightly, but made no answer. + +"I'm sure you haven't here," he went on, "for I've not seen an +eligible fellow native to this village since I came." He paused a +moment, awaiting an admission, and then continued: "How do you pass +the time, anyway, and isn't life here monotonous? Don't you long for +some excitement, some fun, some color to it all? I've watched these +villagers now for three weeks and their lives seem so prosy, so dead +slow, it is painful. They get up, eat, chase the cows and chickens, hoe +in the gardens, mow hay, and every blessed woman wears the same calico +gown six days in the week. Sundays they all spruce up, go to meeting, +and the next week repeat the programme. Isn't it so?" + +"I presume it is," answered Chip, with rising ire; "but if folks here +weren't satisfied, they could move away, couldn't they? And if it's +all so dull, what did you come here for? Nobody asked you, did they?" + +"No," he responded, laughing, "no one did, and no one will miss me +when I go--not even you. The only redeeming feature is that they all seem +willing to take my money." + +"Would you stay if they weren't," she returned, still more hotly, +"would you sponge on us folks and sneer at us as well?" + +"Keep cool, my dear girl," he answered unruffled, "keep cool, and +let your lovely hair grow. I'm not sneering at you or any one. I am +merely stating facts. To us who live in the whirl of city life, a few +weeks here is a delightful change, and we are glad to pay well for it. I +am only speaking of how it must seem to live this way all the time." + +He paused a moment, watching Chip's face turned half away, and then +continued persuasively: "I am sorry you are so ready to believe ill +of me or to think I am sneering at all things. In that you have changed +very much since last summer. Then you seemed to enjoy talking with me; +now you blaze up into wrath at my pleasantry. I am very sorry you feel +as you do. I'd like to be better friends with you if possible, otherwise +I wouldn't have risked the rebuff I received from your excellent aunt +yesterday. I'd like very much to call on you, and nothing would give +me greater pleasure than to entertain you and your aunt on my boat. I +am an idle fellow, I'll admit, with nothing to do but spend my time +and money, but that is my misfortune, and you ought to have pity on me." + +And so this smooth-tongued, persuasive talker ran on and on while Chip, +fascinated, in spite of her dislike of him, listened. + +More than that, he grew eloquent and even pathetic at times in describing +his hopes and ambitions in life. He even asserted that he longed to +live differently and to become a useful man, instead of an idle one. It +was all hypocrisy, of course, but Chip was scarce able to detect it, and +lulled by his specious, pleading voice, she admitted that she had no +real reason for distrusting or disliking him. Also, that she would +enjoy a sail on his boat, and would try to persuade her aunt to accept +another invitation. + +This especially was what he most wanted, for shrewd schemer that he was, +he knew that if he could ingratiate himself with this guardian aunt, +permission to call must follow, and with that, some opportunity to make +a conquest of this simple country girl. + +Sated as he was with the society of more polished and therefore +artificial womanhood, _blase_ to all the purities of life and refined +society, a roue and rake conversant with all vice, this fearless, +wholesome, yet unsophisticated girl who seemed like a breath from the +pine woods, attracted him as no other could. + +And now he had her almost spellbound on this lonely shore, with the sea +murmuring at their feet and the cool winds whispering in the pine trees +shading them. + +It was Don Juan and Haidee over again, only this Juan was a more selfish +and heartless one, calculating on the ruin of this wood-born flower +without thought of consequences. + +He made one mistake, however, after he had lulled her into almost +believing him to be both honest and worthy,--he sneered at religion. + +"All that people go to church for is to see and be seen, ladies +especially," he said. "They live to dress and show off their new +gowns and hats, and were it not for the chance church-going gives +them, not one parson in a hundred would have a corporal's guard for +audience. As for the preaching, not one in ten understands a word of +it, and most of those who understand fail to believe it. I don't, I am +sure. I consider a minister is a man who talks to earn his money. A +few old tabbies, of course, are sincere and believe in prayer and all +that sort of foolishness, but the rest only make believe they do. +There may be a God and maybe there isn't--I don't know. I doubt it, +however. As for the hereafter, that is all moonshine. When we go, +that is the end of us." + +"And so you don't believe in spirits and a future life," answered +Chip, with sudden defiance. "Well, I do, and I know that people have +souls that live again, for I've seen them, hundreds of times. As for all +church-going people being hypocrites, that's a lie, and I know better. +The best woman I ever knew believed in praying, and so did my mother, +and I won't hear them called such a name." + +It was Chip, blazing up again, in defence of her own opinions, and this +smooth-spoken fellow saw his mistake on the instant. + +"Oh, well, you may be right," he admitted at once. "I wasn't +speaking of all womankind--only the fashionable ones whom I know. As +for soul life, I want to believe as you do, of course, and wish you +would convince me that it is true." And so peace was restored, and +once more the lullaby of his wooing talk began. + +For two hours he spun to Chip the web of his blandishments, and then the +sun warned her, and she rose to go. + +"It would be delightful to escort you home," he said, "but I fear I'd +better not. Your aunt might see us returning, and scold you. Now if you +will meet me here again to-morrow afternoon, and try to convince me that +there is a future life, I shall be most happy. Will you?" + +But Chip was alert. + +"No, I don't think I shall," she responded bluntly; "I am not running +after you--not a step. As for what you believe or don't believe, that +isn't my lookout," and with an almost uncivil "Good day, sir," she +left him. + +The farther away she got from this snakelike charmer, the more an +intuitive belief in his real intentions possessed her. She was unskilled +in the fine art of conversation, had only the inborn purity of her +thoughts to protect her; and yet she half read this specious flatterer, +and felt, rather than realized, his baseness. + +A change in her own convictions that now served as a mantle of protection +against his persuasions had come to her during these dreamy hours by the +sea. Accepting at first Old Tomah's superstitions, she had been led to +contemplate the great question of future life and the existence of +God. Aunt Comfort's unselfish character, combined with perfect faith +in the Supreme Power, had had its influence. Angie's kindness and that +first prayer Chip had heard in the tent were not lost. Aunt Abby's +consistent belief and devotion to duty also had had its effect; and all +these pertinent examples, combined with the impress of the vast ocean, +the solitude of this lonely shore, and the echo of its ceaseless billows, +had awakened true veneration in Chip's heart, and convinced her that +some Unseen Power moved all human impulse and controlled all human +destiny. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +After Chip had run away from Greenvale, concealment of her name and +all else had forced itself upon her. It was not natural for her to +deceive. She had kept it up for one unhappy year only under inward +protest, which ended in abject confession and tears. Now recalling that +unpleasant episode, she made haste to confess her long conversation with +this fluent fellow. + +"Mr. Goodnow followed me over to the point this afternoon," she +explained that evening to Aunt Abby, "and talked for two hours. He was +nice enough, but he made me sick of him, he flattered me so much." + +Aunt Abby looked at her with a slight sense of alarm. + +"He certainly has the gift of impudence, at least," she said, "in +view of the way I declined his invitation yesterday. I think you'd best +discontinue your long rambles for the present, or until he leaves here. +He is not our sort. He is not even a friend of ours, and if people see +you together, they will say unkind things." + +That was warning enough for Chip, and from that time on she never even +walked down to the village store except with Aunt Abby. + +A curious and almost ridiculous espionage followed, however, for a week, +and not a pleasant afternoon passed but this fellow was noticed strolling +somewhere near the old mill or past the house. + +Another amazing evidence of his intent was received a few days later, in +the shape of a five-pound box of choicest candies, that came by express +with his card. Aunt Abby opened this and saw the card, and the next day +she commissioned the stage driver to deliver the box, card and all, to +Mr. Goodnow at his boarding house. + +A long and adroitly worded letter to Chip came a day later, so humble, +so flattering, and so importuning that it made her laugh. + +"I think that fellow must have gone crazy," she said, handing the +letter to Aunt Abby, "he runs on so about how he can't sleep nights +from thinking about me. He says that he must go away next week, and +shall die if he can't see me once more. What ails him, anyway?" + +"Nothing, except evil intentions," responded Aunt Abby, perusing the +missive. "He must think you a fool to believe such bosh," she added +severely, after finishing it. "Honest love doesn't grow like a mushroom +in one night, and the difference between his position and yours gives +the lie to all he says. I hope he will go away next week, and never come +back." + +Whether Chip's studied avoidance of him, combined with the snubbing, +served its purpose, or he decided his quest was hopeless, could only be +guessed, for he was seen no more near the mill, and the next week his +yacht left Christmas Cove, and Chip felt relieved. + +It had been an experience quite new to her, and, in spite of its +annoyance, somewhat exciting. It also served another purpose of more +value,--it recalled Ray to her by sheer force of contrast. She had felt +hurt ever since the night she left Greenvale. She had meant to put him +out of her thoughts and forget all the silly hours and promises at the +lake; and yet she never had succeeded. Instead, her thoughts turned +to him in spite of her pride. + +And now, contrasting and comparing that honest, manly lad, a playmate +only, and yet a lover as well, with this polished, fulsome, flattering, +shifty-eyed fop, who sneered at everything good, only made Ray, with his +far different ways, seem the more attractive. + +Then conscience began to smite her. She had yielded to pride and put +him away from her thoughts. His uncle had almost pleaded for her to +return to Greenvale, if only for a visit. She knew Ray had spent weeks +in searching for her; yet not once in all the two years since they parted +had she sent him a line of remembrance. + +More mature now, Chip began to see her own conduct as it was, and to +realize that she had been both ungrateful and heartless; but she could +not confess it to any one, not even Aunt Abby. + +Chip's life had been a strange, complex series of moods of peculiar +effect, and her conduct must be judged accordingly. + +First, the dense ignorance of years at Tim's Place, with its saving +grace of disgust at such surroundings and such a life. Then a few months +with people so different and so kind that it seemed an entrance into +heaven, to be followed by weeks of a growing realization that she was a +nobody, and an outcast unfit for Greenvale. + +And then came the climax of all this: the bitter sneers of Hannah, Ray's +cool neglect, the consciousness that she was only a dependent pauper, +and then her flight into the world and away from all that stung her +like so many whips. + +But a revulsion of feeling was coming. Chip, no longer a simple child of +the wilderness, was realizing her own needs and her own nature. Something +broader and more satisfying than school life and the companionship of +Aunt Abby was needed; yet how to find it never occurred to her. + +With September came Aunt Abby's annual visit to Peaceful Valley. A +few days before their departure, Chip received a letter which was so +unexpected and so vital to her feelings that it must be quoted. + +It was dated at the little village of Grindstone, directed to Vera +McGuire, care of Judson Walker, by whom it was forwarded to Christmas +Cove. + + "My dear Chip," it began. + + "I feel that you will not care to hear from me, and yet I + must write. I know I am more to blame than any one for the way + you left Greenvale, and that you must consider me a foolish + boy, without much courage, which I have been, and I realize + it only too well now, when it is too late. But I am more of + a man to-day, I hope, and sometime I shall come and try to + obtain your forgiveness for being so blind. No one ever has + been, and I know no one ever will be, what you are to me. As + Old Cy says, 'Blessings brighten as they vanish,' and now, + after this long separation, one word and one smile from dear + little Chip would seem priceless to me, and I shall come and + try to win it before many months. + + "I am here with Uncle Martin's old guide, Levi. We are going + into the woods to-morrow to gather gum and trap until spring. + I have hired two other men to help, and hope to do well and + make some money. I think you will be glad to know that Old + Cy was here this summer and was well. He does not know that + you have been found, and is still hunting for you. Levi told + me that the people here are much interested in you, that they + have fixed up the yard where your mother is buried, and he + put up a small stone. + + "I wish I could hear from you, but there is no chance now. + Please try to forgive a foolish boy for being stupid, and think + of me as you did during those happy days by the lake. + + "Good-bye, + "Ray." + +How every word of this half-boyish, half-manly letter was read and +re-read by Chip; how it woke the old memories of the wilderness and of +herself, a ragged waif there; and how, somehow, in spite of pride and +anger, a little thrill of happiness crept into her heart, needs no +explanation. + +But she was not quite ready yet to forgive him, and what he failed to +say when he might, still rankled in her feelings. + +But Old Cy, that kindly soul, so like a father! Almost did she feel that +to meet him would be worth more than to see any one else in the world. +And to think he was still hunting for her, far and near! + +And now, quite unlike most young ladies, who deem their love missives +sacred, Chip showed hers to Aunt Abby. + +"It's from Raymond Stetson," she said, rather bashfully, "a boy who +was in the woods with those people who were kind to me, and we became +very good friends." + +Aunt Abby smiled as she perused its contents. + +"And so he was the cause of your running away from Greenvale," she +said. "Why didn't you write him a note of thanks after you learned +he had been searching for you? I think he deserved that much, at least." + +"I wouldn't humble myself," Chip answered spiritedly, "and then I +was ashamed to let any one know I had used his name. I hadn't time to +think what name to give when Uncle Jud asked me, and his was the first +that came to mind," she added naively. + +Aunt Abby laughed. + +"I guess Master Stetson won't find forgiveness hard to earn," she +said, and then her face beamed at the disclosure of a romance while she +read the letter a second time. + +But there was more to tell, as Aunt Abby knew full well, and now, bit by +bit, she drew the story from Chip, even to the admission of the tender +scenes between these two lovers, in which they promised to love each +other and be married. + +"It was silly, I suppose," Chip continued blushingly, "but I didn't +know any better then, and I was so happy that I didn't think about +it at all. I never had a beau before, you see, and I guess I acted +foolishly. Old Cy used to help us, too, and took us away so we could +have a chance to hold hands and act silly. I was so lonesome, too, for +Ray all that winter in Greenvale, and nobody knew it. I walked a mile +to meet the stage every night for a month, to be the first to see him +when he came. I guess he must have thought he owned me. I wouldn't +do it now." + +Once more Aunt Abby laughed, a good, hearty laugh, and then, much to +Chip's astonishment, she took her face in her hands and kissed it. + +"You dear little goose," she said, "and to think you ran away from +a boy you cared for like that! I only hope he is good enough for you, +for I can see what the outcome will be." + +That night when the tea-table had been cleared and the lamp lit, Aunt +Abby once more began her adroit questioning of Chip; but this time it was +of Old Cy, and all about him. For an hour, Chip, nothing loath, recited +his praises, repeated his odd sayings, described his looks and ways and +portrayed him as best she could, while Aunt Abby smiled content. + +"It makes me feel young again to hear your story and about Cyrus," she +said when all was told. "I was just sixteen when he first came to see +me. He was also my first beau, you know. I should judge he must have +changed so I would never know him, and maybe he wouldn't recognize me. +Forty years is a long time!" And she sighed. + +And now Aunt Abby closed her eyes, let fall her knitting, and lapsed into +bygones. + +No longer was she a staid and matronly widow--not young, it is true, yet +not old, but with rounded face, few wrinkles, and slightly gray hair. +Instead was she sweet Abby Grey of the long ago, and once more the belle +of this quiet village and Bayport, and the leader at every dance, every +husking, and every party. Once more she primped and curled her hair, +and donned her best, and waited her sailor boy's coming. Once more she +heard the bells jingle and saw the stars twinkle as they sped away to a +winter night's dance--and once more she felt the sorrow of parting, the +long years of waiting, waiting, waiting, and at last the numb despair +and final conviction that never would her lover return. + +And now he was still alive, though a wanderer, and some day he +might--surely would come to see her, just once, if no more. + +"Ah, me," she said, rousing herself at last and looking at Chip's +smiling, sunny face, "life is a queer riddle, and we never know how to +guess it." + +Then she sighed again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + + "The milk o' human kindness 'most allus turns out old + cheese, 'n' all rind at that."--Old Cy Walker. + +Some sneering critic once said that few young men ever start out in the +world until they are kicked out, and there is a grain of truth in that +assertion. It is seldom an actual kick, however, but some motive force +quite as compelling. + +In Ray's case it was his uncle's assertion that if he hoped to win +Chip he must first show the ability to provide a home for her, which is +excellent advice for any young man to follow. + +"It won't be a pleasure trip," Martin said when Ray proposed to go to +the wilderness and, with Levi and a couple of other assistants, make a +business of gum-gathering and trap-setting, "but you can't lose much +by it. You are welcome to the camp; Levi will see that you have game +enough to eat, and boss the expedition. I will loan you five hundred, +and with what you have, that is capital enough and you ought to do well. +It would be better if Old Cy could take charge, but as it is, you must +go it alone." And go it alone Ray did. + +Levi's services were easily secured. Two young fellows whom he knew +were hired at Greenvale. A bateau was purchased, together with more traps +and supplies, and after Ray had written Chip his plan, the party started +for Martin's camp. They had been established there a month and were +doing well. The first ice had begun forming in shallow coves when one +afternoon, who should enter the lake and paddle rapidly across but Old Cy. + +"Ye can't git rid o' me when trappin's goin' on," he said cheerily, +as Ray and Levi met him at the landing. "I fetched into the settlement +kinder homesick fer the woods last week. I heard the good news 'bout +Chip's bein' found 'n' you'd come here fer the winter, 'n' I +didn't wait a minute 'fore I hired a canoe 'n' started." And then, +in the exuberance of his joy, he shook hands with Ray and Levi once more. + +That evening, Ray, who had hard work to keep the secret so long, told +Old Cy who lived in Peaceful Valley. + +It was like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, a shock of joyful news that +made Old Cy gasp. + +"Why, I feel jest like a colt once more," he said after the exclamation +stage had passed. "An', do ye know, boys, I felt all the way comin' +in ez though good news was waitin' fer me. I 'spose 'twas from +hearin' Chip was all right ag'in." + +That evening was one that none who were in that wildwood camp ever +forgot, for Old Cy was the central figure, and told as only he could +the story of his year's wandering in search of Chip. + +It was humorous, pathetic, and tragic all in one, and a tale that held +its listeners spellbound for three delightful hours. + +"I had dogs set on me, hundreds on 'em," Old Cy said, in conclusion, +"an' I never knew afore how many kinds 'n' sizes o' dogs thar was in +this world. I uster think thar warn't more'n two dozen or so kinds. I +know now thar's two million 'n' a few more I didn't wait to count. +I got 'rested a few times on account o' not havin' visible means o' +support. I've been hauled over the coals by doctors tryin' to make me +out a lunatic, 'n' I'd 'a' done time in jail if I hadn't had +money to show. I tell ye, boys, this is an awful 'spicious world fer +strangers, 'n' the milk o' human kindness is mostly old cheese, +'n' all rind at that. I had a little fun, too, mixed in with all +the trouble, 'n' one woman who owned a place where I 'plied for +lodgin' jest 'bout told me she'd be willin' to marry me if I'd stay +'n' work the farm. She had red hair, hard eyes, 'n' bossy sort o' +ways, an' that's a dangerous combination. I watched my chance when +she wa'n't lookin', 'n' lit out middlin' lively." + +And now life at this wilderness camp, less restrained than when womankind +were here, became one of work, and persistent, steady, no-time-wasted +work at that. Martin had said that Levi could boss matters, but it was +Ray who assumed management instead. Two years had changed him almost +from boy to man. His new ambition was the controlling power. He was +here to make his mark, as it were, and the half-hearted, boyish interest +in work had changed into a tireless leadership. Then, too, an unspoken, +tacit interest in his ambition was felt by those who helped. They knew +what he was striving for, and that Chip was the ultimate object. Her +history, known as it now was to all who came into the wilderness, +influenced these woodsmen. She had been of them and from them, and as +an entire village will gather to help at a house-raising, so these +three, Levi and the two helpers, now felt the same incentive. + +Success usually comes to all who strive for it, and now, with four +willing workers to aid him, Ray was rapidly making a success of this +venture. Old Cy, the most valuable assistant, was indefatigable. He +not only kept the larder well supplied with game, but tended and set +traps, worked in the woods with the rest between times, and his cheerful +optimism and droll humor bridged many a stormy day and shortened many a +weary tramp. And he seemed to grow younger in this new, helpful life +for others. His eyes were bright, his step elastic, his spirits buoyant, +his strength tireless. + +With Chip safe and provided for, with Ray succeeding in manhood's +natural ambition, Old Cy saw his heart's best hopes nearing fruition, +and for these two and in these two all his interest centred. + +Only once was the bond of feeling between Ray and Chip referred to by Old +Cy, and then in response to a wish of Ray's that he might hear from her. + +"I don't think ye've cause to worry now, arter ye've sent her word +what ye're doin' 'n' who for," he answered. "Chip's true blue, not +one o' the fickle sort, 'n' once she keers fer a man, she won't give +him up till he's married or dead. I think ye'd orter sent her word +sooner,--ye know she run 'way out o' spunk,--but when ye go to her +like a man 'n' say, 'I've been workin' 'n' waitin' fer ye all the +time,' thar won't be no quarrellin'." + +"I'm not so sure about that," responded Ray, soberly. "From what +Uncle Martin said, my chance is gone with Miss Chip, and I don't blame +her for feeling so. Like every young fellow, I took it for granted that +she was in love with me and ready to fall into my arms on call. Then I +hadn't any plans in life, anyway, and, like a fool, believed it made no +difference to her. To mix matters up still more, Hannah crowded herself +into our affairs and said things to Chip, with the result that Chip got +mad, ran away, and you know the rest." + +"Wal," asserted Old Cy, his eyes twinkling, "the time to hug a +gal is when she's willin', 'n' ye orter spunked up that night +'fore ye come away 'n' told her ye was callatin' to make yer fortin +in the woods, an' that ye wanted her to wait 'n' share it--then +hugged 'n' kissed her a little more by way o' bindin' the bargain, +an'--knowin' that gal ez I do, she'd fought Hannah, tooth 'n' nail, +'n' walked through fire 'n' brimstun fer ye. I think, 'stead o' +hidin' herself fer two years, an' changin' her name, she'd 'a' +tramped clear to Grindstun jest to tell ye her troubles, 'n', if +need be, she'd 'a' starved fer ye. I tell ye, boy, wimmin like her is +scarce in this world, 'n' when ye find one young 'n' pretty ez she +is, hang on to her an' hang hard." + +"I know it now well enough," returned Ray, ruefully; "but that don't +help matters. Then that fortune you found for her makes my case all the +worse, and Chip quite independent." + +"It do, it do," chuckled Old Cy, as if glad of it, "an' all the more +need o' you hustlin'. It's a case o' woodchuck with ye now. But +don't git discouraged. Jest dig. Chip's worth it, ten times over, +'n' no man ever worked to win a woman 'thout bein' bettered by it." + +It was terse and homely advice, and not only convinced Ray that he had +neglected one whom he now felt meant home, wife, happiness, and all that +life might mean for him, but made him realize that all possible striving +and self-denial must be made in atonement. With whom and what sort of +people Chip had found asylum, he knew not. What influence they would +have upon her feelings was an equally unknown matter; and worse than +that, the ogre of another suitor for Chip's favor now entered Ray's +calculations, and the slang truism, "There are others," was with him +every waking moment--a much-deserved punishment, all womankind will say. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +One day while Aunt Abby and Chip were enjoying the newly furnished home +of Uncle Jud, a capacious carriage drawn by a handsome pair of horses +halted there and Martin and Angie alighted. + +"We are taking a cross-country drive for an outing," he explained, +after Angie had kissed Chip tenderly and greetings had been exchanged. +"We have waited for you, Miss Runaway, to come and visit us," he added, +turning to Chip, "until we couldn't wait any longer and so came to look +for you. We have also some news that may interest you. Old Cy has been +heard from at last. He spent a year looking for you. He has now gone +into the woods, to my camp, where Ray located for the winter, and when +spring comes, I can guess where they will head for." + +How welcome this news was to Chip, her face fully indicated; but neither +Martin nor Angie realized how much or for what reason it interested +this soft-voiced, gracious lady whom Chip called Aunt Abby. They knew +Uncle Jud was Old Cy's brother and that they had once been sailors +from Bayport, but the long-ago romance of Aunt Abby's life was unknown +to them. + +And now ensued a welcome to the callers such as only Uncle Jud and Aunt +Mandy could offer. + +"We sorter feel we robbed ye o' Vera," Uncle Jud explained, "though +'twa'n't any intention on our part, an' so ye must gin us some chance +to make amends. We callate 'twa'n't no fault of yourn, either, only +one o' them happenin's that was luck for us." + +That evening was one long to be remembered by all who were present, +for Chip's history, as told by Martin and Angie, was the entertaining +topic, and its humorous side was made the most of by Martin. Chip was +in no wise annoyed by Martin's fun-making, either. Instead, conscious of +the good-will and affection of the friends who had rescued her from +the wilderness, she rather enjoyed it and laughed heartily at Martin's +description of various incidents, especially her first appearance in +their camp, and the language she used. + +"I couldn't help swearing," she explained. "I never had heard much +except 'cuss' words. I think also now, as I recall my life at Tim's +Place, I would never have dared that desperate mode of escape had I not +been hardened by such a life. I wish I could see Old Tomah once more," +she added musingly, "and I'd like to send him some gift. He was the +best-hearted Indian I ever saw or heard of, and his queer teachings +about spites and how they rewarded us for good deeds and punished us +for evil ones was no harm, for it set me thinking. The one thought that +encouraged me most during those awful days and nights alone in the woods +was the belief that among the spites which I was sure followed me was +my mother's soul. I've never changed in my belief, either, and shall +always feel that she guided me to your camp." + +Uncle Jud also obtained his share of fun at Chip's expense, describing +his finding of her with humorous additions. + +"She was all beat out that night I found her on top o' Bangall Hill, +'n' yet when I asked her if she'd run away from some poor farm, she +was ready to claw my eyes out, an' dunno's I blame her. I was innocent, +too, fer I really s'posed she had." + +Martin's visit at this hospitable home was not allowed to terminate for +a week, for visitors seldom came here, and Uncle Jud, as big a boy as +his brother when the chance came, planned all sorts of trips and outings +to entertain them, and quite characteristic affairs they were, too. + +One day they drove to a wood-bordered pond far up the valley, fished a +few hours for pickerel and perch, and had a fish fry and picnic dinner. + +The next day they visited a strange, romantic grotto up in the mountains, +known as the Wolf's Den, and here a table was set, broiled chicken, +sweet corn, and such toothsome fare formed the meal, with nut-gathering +for amusement. + +Squirrel and partridge shooting also furnished Martin a little +excitement. When he and Angie insisted that they must leave, both +host and hostess showed genuine regret. A few remarks made by Angie to +her former protegee, in private, the last evening of this visit, may +be quoted. + +"I must insist, my dear child," she said, "that you make us a visit +in the near future. You left us under an entirely false impression and it +has grieved me more than you can imagine. There was never a word of +truth in anything that Hannah said. She was spiteful and malicious +and desired to get even with you for a hurt to her pride. We had no +thought of hurrying away to the woods to separate you and Ray for any +reason whatever. Of course, as you must know, I had no suspicion of any +attachment between you, and if I had, I certainly should not have tried +to break it off in that way. That is a matter that concerns only you and +him. My own life experience shows that first love is the wisest and +best, and while you were both too young then for an engagement, you must +believe me when I tell you that I had no wish to interfere." + +And so the breach was healed. + +This visit of the Frisbies to Peaceful Valley also awakened something +of repentance in Chip's mind, and more mature now, it occurred to her +that leaving Greenvale as she did, was, after all, childish. + +Then Angie's part in this drama of her life now returned to Chip in a +new light. Once she began to reflect, her self-accusation grew apace and +her repentance as well. Now she began to see herself as she was at Tim's +Place. + +"I think I treated my Greenvale friends very ungratefully," she said +to Aunt Abby one evening after they had returned to Christmas Cove once +more, "and what Mrs. Frisbie said to me has made me realize it. I know +now that few would have done what she did for me. I was an ignorant, +dirty, homeless creature and no relation of hers, and yet she took charge +of me, bought me clothes, paid all my expenses going to Greenvale, +clothed me there, and always treated me nicely without my even asking +for it. + +"The Frisbies certainly ran some risk by keeping me at their cabin when +they knew that half-breed was after me. I don't know why they should +have done all this. I was nothing to them. And yet when I recall the +night I stumbled into their camp, how Mrs. Frisbie dressed me in her own +clothes, shared her tent with me, and even prayed for me, I feel ashamed +to think of what I have done. I did think that Mrs. Frisbie despised me +from what Hannah said. I know now that I was wrong, and running away +as I did, was very ungrateful." + +"I think it was, myself," responded Aunt Abby, "and yet believing +as you did, Mrs. Frisbie ought not to blame you. I don't think she +does, either. She seems a very sensible woman, and I like her. You made +your mistake in not confiding in her more. You should have gone to her +as you would to a mother, in the first place, and told her just what +Hannah had said to you and how you felt about it. To brood over such +matters and imagine the worst possible, is unwise in any one. I think +from what you have told me, that this person who sneered against you so +much must have had a spite against you." + +"Hannah was jealous, I know," Chip interrupted, smiling at the +recollection, "and I hurt her feelings because I asked her why she +didn't shave." + +"Didn't shave!" exclaimed Aunt Abby, wide-eyed, "what do you mean?" + +"Why, she has whiskers, you see," laughed Chip, "almost as much +as some men--a nice little mustache and some on her chin. I told her +the next day after I got there I thought she was a man dressed as a +woman. I snickered, too, I remember, when I said it, for she looked so +comical--like a goat, almost--and then I asked her why she didn't +shave. I guess she laid it up against me ever after." + +"She revenged herself amply, it seems," answered Aunt Abby. + +When Christmas neared, and with it a vacation for Chip, new impulses +came to her: a desire to visit Greenvale once more and make amends as +best she could to her friends there; and her gift-giving desire was +quickened by the coming holidays. She now felt that she had ample means +to gratify this latter wish. Day by day, since meeting Angie again, +her sense of obligation had increased, and now it was in her power at +Christmas-tide to repay at least a little of the debt. + +Others were also included in this generous project: Uncle Jud, Aunt +Mandy, her foster-mother, Aunt Abby, as well; and then there was Old Cy, +whom most of all she now desired to make glad. That was impossible, +however. He was still an absent wanderer, and so, as it ever is and +ever will be, some thread of regret, some note of sorrow, must be woven +into all joys. + +A rapid and almost wonderful growth of this yule-tide impulse now swept +over Chip, so much so that it must be told. At first it took shape in +the intended purchase of comparative trifles,--a fishing-rod for Uncle +Jud, a pipe for Martin, gloves for Aunt Abby, and so on. Then as that +seemingly vast fortune, now hers to spend, occurred to Chip, and her +sense of obligation as well, the intended gifts increased in proportion +until a costly picture of some camp or wildwood scene for Angie and a +valuable watch for Miss Phinney were decided upon. + +Her plans as to how to obtain these presents also took shape. Riverton +was the only place where they could be obtained. To that village she +would go first, obtain the money needed, devote one entire day to making +her purchases, and then go on to Greenvale and astonish these good +friends from whom she was once so eager to escape. + +It was all a most delightful episode which was now anticipated by Chip. +Again and again she lived it over, especially her arrival in Greenvale, +and how like a Lady Bountiful she would present her gifts to her friends. + +So eager was she thus to make some compensation to them that lessons +became irksome, the day seemed weeks in length, and she could scarce +sleep when bedtime came. + +But the slow days dragged by at last, and then Chip, happier than ever +before in her life, dressed in her best, bade Aunt Abby good-bye and +started on her journey alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + + "A man braggin' gits riled if ye try 'n' choke him off." + --Old Cy Walker. + +Riverton, less provincial than Greenvale, was a village of some two +thousand inhabitants. A few brick blocks, with less pretentious +wooden buildings, formed a nucleus of stores. A brownstone bank, +four churches, two hotels, the Quaboag House and the Astor House were +intermingled among these, and a railroad with two trains in each +direction a day added life and interest to the place. Each of the hotels +sent a conveyance to meet every train, with a loud-voiced emissary to +announce the fact of free transportation. In each hostelry a bar +flourished, and like rival clubs, each had its afternoon and evening +gathering of loafers who swapped yarns and gossip, smoked and chewed +incessantly, and contributed little else to support the establishments. +Three times daily, at meal hours, each of the rival landlords banged a +discordant gong in his front doorway, without apparent result. + +At about eleven in the forenoon each weekday in summer, Uncle Joe Barnes +on his lumbering two-horse stage, arrived from Greenvale, paused at +the post-office, threw off a mail-pouch, thence around to the Quaboag +House stable, and cared for his horses. At two he was ready for the +return trip and mounting his lofty seat, he again drove to the front +of the hotel, shouting "All aboard!" dismounted to assist lady +passengers, but let masculine ones do their own climbing, and after +halting to receive a mail-bag, again departed on his return trip. + +A certain monotonous regularity was apparent in every move and every act +and function of village life in Riverton. At precisely seven o'clock +each morning the two landlords appeared simultaneously and banged their +gongs. At twelve and six, this was repeated. At eight o'clock the three +principal storekeepers usually entered their places of business; at +nine, and while the academy bell was ringing near by, every village +doctor might be seen starting out. At ten exactly, Dwight Bennett, +the cashier of the bank, unlocked its front door, and the two hotel +'buses invariably started so nearly together that they met at the +first turn going stationward. Even the four church clocks had the same +habit, and it was often related that a stranger there, a travelling man, +on his first, visit, made an amusing discovery. + +"What kind of a fool clock have you got in this town?" he said to Sam +Gates, the landlord of the Quaboag, next morning after his arrival. "I +went to bed in good season last night an' just got asleep when I heard +it strike thirty-two. I dozed off an' the next I knew it began clanging +again, and I counted forty-four. What sort of time do you keep here, +anyway? Do you run your town by the multiplication table?" + +The half-dozen chronic loafers who met every afternoon in the Quaboag +House office arrived in about the same order, smoked, drank, told their +yarns, gathered all the gossip, and departed at nearly the same moment. +Their evening visits partook of the same clocklike regularity. + +These of the old guard were also dressed much the same, and "slouchy" +best describes it. Gray flannel shirts in winter or summer alike. +Collars, cuffs, and ties were never seen on them, though patches were, +and as for shaving or hair-cutting, a few shaved once a week, some +never did, and semi-annual hair-cuts were a fair average. + +The worst sinner in this respect, Luke Atwater, occasionally called +"Lazy Luke," never had his beard shortened but once, and that was +due to its being burnt off while he was fighting a brush fire in spring. + +It was related of him, and believed by many, that once upon a time many +years previous he had had his hair cut, and on that occasion the barber +had found a whetstone concealed in Luke's shock of tangled hair. It was +also asserted that he admitted always carrying his whetstone back of his +ear while mowing, and so losing it that way. + +All the news and every happening in Riverton, from the catching of an +extra big trout to twins, was duly commented upon and discussed by this +coterie. Village politics, how much money each storekeeper was making, +crop prospects, the run of sap every spring, drouth, weather indications, +rain or snow falls, each and all formed rotating subjects upon which +every one of this faithful-to-the-post clique expressed opinions. + +Chip's arrival there with the Frisbie family, and her later history, +learned from Uncle Joe, furnished a fertile topic, her escapade in +running away from Greenvale a more exciting one, while Old Cy's +visit and deposit of a fabulous sum in the bank in her name had been a +nine days' wonder. That amount, hinted at only by the cashier as a +comfortable fortune, soon grew in size until it was generally believed +to be almost a million. + +This was Riverton and its decidedly rural status when late one December +afternoon the Quaboag free 'bus (a two-seated pung, this time) swept +up to that hotel's front door, where the porter assisted a stylish young +lady to alight, and he, stepping like a drum major, led the way into the +Quaboag's unwarmed parlor. + +"Young lady, sir, a stunner, wants room over night, sir," he announced +to the landlord in the office a moment later. "Goin' to Greenvale +to-morrer, she says." + +On the instant all converse in the office ceased, and the six constant +callers hardly breathed until Sam Gates hastened to the parlor and +returned. + +"It's that McGuire gal--lady, I mean," he asserted pompously; then to +the porter, "Git a move on, Jim, 'n' start a fire in Number 6, an' +quick, too!" And hastily brushing his untidy hair before the office +mirror, he left the room again, followed by six envious glances. Then +those astonished loafers grouped themselves, the better to observe the +passage between parlor and office. + +Only one instant sight of this important guest was obtained by them as +Chip emerged from the parlor and followed the landlord upstairs, and then +the hushed spell was broken. + +"By gosh, it's her!" exclaimed one in an awed whisper, "an' Jim was +right, she's a stunner!" + +"I 'member jest how she looked that fust day she came," asserted +another. "Saw her legs, too, when she shinned up top o' the stage." + +"Ye won't git 'nother chance, I'll bet!" declared a third. + +"What do ye s'pose she's here for," queried a fourth, "to draw the +int'rest on her money, or what?" + +It was precisely four-forty-five when Chip appeared before this judge and +jury of all Riverton's happenings. At five-forty-five they had agreed +that she was the handsomest young lady who had ever set foot in the +town, that she must be going to get married soon, and that her mission +there was to draw out a few thousand dollars for wedding finery. Then +they dispersed, and at six-forty-five, when they assembled at the Quaboag +again, half of Riverton knew their conclusions, and by bedtime all knew +them. + +By eight-thirty next morning, this all-observant and all-wise clique +had gathered in the hotel office once more, an unusual proceeding, and +when Chip tripped out, eight pairs of eyes watched her depart. Then they +dispersed. + +At nine o'clock Chip walked up the stone steps to the bank door, read +the legend, "Open from 10 a.m. until 2 p.m.," turned away, and once +more resumed her leisurely stroll up and down the street while she peered +into store windows. At ten precisely by the four church clocks she was +back at the bank again, and the cashier lost count of the column he +was adding when he saw her enter. + +"I would like three hundred dollars, if you please, sir," she said, +presenting her little book, and he had to count it over four times, +to make sure the amount was right. Then he passed the thick bundle of +currency out under his latticed window, seeing only the two wide-open, +fathomless eyes and dimpled face that had watched him, and feeling, as +he afterward admitted, like fifty cents. + +And now ensued an experience the like of which poor Chip had never +even dreamed,--the supreme joy of spending money without stint for +those near and dear to her. And what a medley of gifts she bought! +Two silk dress patterns, two warm wraps, three winter hats, a gold +watch for Miss Phinney, an easy-chair, two of the finest pipes she +could find, a trout rod, four pairs of gloves, and finally a gun for +Nezer. Then as her roll of money grew less, she began to pick up smaller +articles,--handkerchiefs, slippers, and the like. + +"Send them to the hotel, please," she said to one and all of whom she +purchased articles of any size, "marked for Vera McGuire." + +That was enough! + +Riverton had sensations, mild ones, of course. Now and then a fire had +occurred, once an elopement. Occasionally a horse ran away, causing +damage to some one. But nothing had occurred to compare with the arrival +of a supposed fabulously rich young lady who came without escort, who +walked into and out of stores like a young goddess, noticing no one, +and who spent money as if it were autumn leaves. + +A few of the Quaboag retinue followed her about in a not-to-be-observed +manner. Women by the dozen hastily donned outdoor raiment, and visited +stores, just to observe her. They crossed and recrossed the street to +meet her, and a battery of curious eyes was focussed on her for two hours. + +When she returned to the hotel, the old guard, recruited by every idle +man in town, filled the office, awaiting her. Uncle Joe, who had heard of +her arrival the moment he came, was among them, recounting her history +once more, and when she neared the hotel, he emerged to meet her. + +"Why, bless yer eyes, Chip," he said, extending a calloused hand, "but +I'm powerful glad to see ye once more. Whatever made ye run away the way +ye did, 'n' what be ye doin' here? Buyin' out the hull town? I've +got the pung filled wi' bundles a'ready wi' yer name on 'em." + +He beaued her into the parlor, like the ancient gallant he was. He +washed, brushed his hair and clothing, and awaited her readiness to dine, +without holding further converse with the curious crowd. He ushered +her into the dining room and made bold to sit and eat with her unasked, +and when he assisted her to the front seat in his long box sleigh, +crowded with her purchases, and drove away, he was envied by two dozen +observers. + +"Why didn't ye send us word o' yer comin'," he said as they left +Riverton, "so I cud 'a' spruced up some an' come down with a better +rig, bells on the hosses and new buffler robes?" + +"There was no need of that," answered Chip, pleased, as well she might +be. "I am just the same girl that I always was, only happier now that +I have more friends. How is dear old Aunt Comfort, and every one in +Greenvale? I am anticipating seeing them so much." + +And never during all the twenty years in which Uncle Joe had journeyed +twice each day over this road had the way seemed shorter, or had he been +blessed with a more interesting companion. + +The only regret Chip had, was that she had forgotten to buy Uncle Joe a +present. She made up for it later, however. + +At Greenvale, Chip met almost an ovation. Aunt Comfort kissed her and +cried over her. Nezer ran for Angie, who soon appeared on the scene, +and Hannah was so "flustered" she was unable to speak after the first +greeting. Martin, who had heard of Chip's arrival from Uncle Joe, +hastened to Aunt Comfort's, and had Chip been a real "millionnairess" +or some titled lady, she could not have awakened more interest or +received half so cordial a welcome. + +Hannah was the one who felt the most embarrassed, however, and guilty as +well. For half an hour, while Chip was the centre of interest, she could +only stare at her in dumb amazement. Then she stole out of the room, and +later Chip found her in the kitchen, shedding copious tears. + +"I'm a miserable sinner 'n' the Lord'll never forgive me," she +half moaned, when Chip tried to console her. "An' to think ye feel the +way ye say, 'n' to bring me a present, arter all the mean things I +said. It's a-heapin' coals o' fire on my head, that it is." And the +shower increased. + +"I have forgotten all about them, Hannah, truly I have," Chip assured +her, "and I wish you would. You didn't understand me then, perhaps, +or I you, so let us be friends now." + +The next afternoon Chip, who had learned that Miss Phinney's school was +to close the day following, set out to call on her in time to arrive at +its adjournment. + +No hint of her return had reached Miss Phinney, no letters had been +exchanged, and not since that tearful separation had they met. + +And now as Chip followed the lonely by-road so often traversed by her, +what a flood of bitter-sweet memories returned,--each bend, each tree, +each rock, and the bridge over the Mizzy held a different recollection. +Here at this turn she had first met Ray, after her resolve to leave +Greenvale. At the next landmark, a lane crossing the meadows, she had +always parted from her teacher, the last time in tears. And how long, +long ago it all seemed! + +Then beyond, and barely visible, was the dear old schoolhouse. She +could see it now, half hid in the bushes, a lone and lowly little brown +building outlined on the winter landscape and apparently dwarfed in +size. Once it had awed her; now it seemed pathetic. + +The last of its pupils were vanishing as Chip drew near, and inside, and +as lonely as that lone temple, Miss Phinney still lingered. + +That day had not gone well with her. A note of complaint had come +from one parent that morning, and news that a dearly loved scholar was +ill as well, and Miss Phinney's own life seemed like the fields just +now--cold, desolate, and snow-covered. + +And then while she, thus lone and lonesome, was putting away books, +slates, ink-bottles, and all the badges of her servitude, Chip, without +knocking, walked in. + +How they first exclaimed, then embraced, then kissed, and then repeated +it while each tried to wink the tears away, and failed; how they sat +hand in hand in that dingy, smoke-browned room with its knife-hacked +benches, unconscious of the chill, while Chip told her story; and how, +just as the last rays of the setting sun flashed from the icicles along +its eaves, they left it, still hand in hand, was but an episode such as +many a schoolgirl can recall. + +Of the few friends Greenvale held for Chip, none seemed quite so near +and dear as Miss Phinney, and none lived longer in her memory. They had +been for many months not teacher and pupil, but rather two sisters, +confiding, patient, and tender. Life swept them apart. They might never +meet again, and yet, so long as both lived, never would those school +days be forgotten. + +With Sunday came Chip's most gratifying experience, perhaps, for her +arrival was now known by the entire village and the fact that she was +an heiress as well. Her fortune (also known) was considered almost +fabulous according to Greenvale standards, and when Chip with Angie +entered the church porch, it was crowded with people waiting to receive +them. Chip, of course, now well clad and well poised, was once more the +cynosure of all eyes except when the pastor prayed. At the close of +service a score, most of whom she knew by sight only, waited to greet +her and shake hands with her in the porch. The parson hurried down the +aisle to add his smile and hand clasp, and, all in all, it was a most +gratifying reception. + +And here and now, let no carping critic say it was all due to that bank +account, but rather a country town's expression of respect and good-will +toward one whom they felt deserved it. + +That it all pleased Angie, goes without saying. That Chip well deserved +this vindication, no one will question; and when her visit ended and she +departed, no one, not even Miss Phinney, missed her more than Angie. + +Only one thread of regret wove itself into Chip's feelings as she +rode away with Uncle Joe, whose horses were now decked properly for +this important event. She had received a most cordial reception on +all sides--almost a triumph of good-will. Her gifts had brought an +oft-repeated chorus of thanks and a few tears. On all sides and among all +she had been welcome, even receiving a call and words of praise from +Parson Jones. She was a _nobody_ no longer; instead, a _somebody_ +whom all delighted to honor and commend. + +But the one whose motherly pride would have been most gratified, she for +whom Chip's heart yearned for oftenest, would never know it. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +With the birds and flowers once more returning to Christmas Cove, came +outdoor freedom for Chip again. Like the wood-nymph she was in character +and taste, the wild, rock-bound coast outside and the low, wooded +mountain enclosing this village were her playgrounds where she found +companionship. Other associates she cared but little for, and a few +hours alone on a wave-washed shore, watching the wild ocean billows +tossing spray aloft, or a long ramble in a deep, silent forest, appealed +to her far more than parties and girlish enjoyments. + +The wood-bordered road, leading from the village to the railroad ten +miles away, was now a favorite walk of hers. It was suited to her in +many ways, for it was seldom travelled; it followed the sunny side of +the low mountain range back of Christmas Cove, not a house stood along +its entire way, and to add charm, a brook kept it company, crossing +and recrossing it for two miles. That feature was the most especial +attraction, for beds of watercress waved beneath the limpid waters in +deep pools, bunches of flag grew along its banks, their blue flowers +bending to kiss the current; its ripples danced in the sunlight; its +music was a tinkling melody, and these simple attractions appealed to +Chip. + +There was also another reason for now choosing this byway walk. She knew, +or felt sure, that Ray would visit Christmas Cove on his return from +the woods. He must come in the old carryall,--about the only vehicle +ever journeying along this road,--and now, like a brownie of the forest, +she watched until she spied it afar and then hid in the bushes and +peeped out until it passed each day. + +A curious and somewhat complex feeling toward this young man had also +come to her. At first, like a child, she had loved him unasked. She had +known no different. He had seemed like a young god to her, and to +cling to him was supreme happiness. Then had come an awakening, a +consciousness that this freedom was not right and must be checked. +Following that also--a bitter lesson--it had come to her that she +was a kind of outcast, a child of shame, as it were, whose origin +was despicable, and who was dependent upon the charity of others. +This awakening, this new consciousness, was like a black chasm in +front of her, a horror and shame combined, and true to her nature, she +fled from it like one pursued. + +But two years had changed her views of humanity. She had learned that +money and social position did not always win friends and respect. That +birth and ancestry were of less consideration than a pure mind and honest +intentions, and that fine raiment sometimes covered a base heart and vile +nature. + +Toward this boyish lover, also, her feelings had been altered. A little +of the old-time fondness remained, however. She could not put that +away. She had tried and tried earnestly, yet the wildwood illusion still +lingered. She had meant, also, to put him and herself quite apart--so +far, and in such a way, that she would never be found by him. That had +failed, however; he knew where she was. He had said that he was coming +here. Most likely he would expect to renew the old tender relations; +but in that he would be disappointed. She was sure she would be glad +to see him for old times' sake, however. She would be gracious and +dignified, as Aunt Abby was. She wanted to hear all about the woods and +Old Cy again, but caresses must be forbidden. More than that, every +time she recalled how freely she had permitted them once, she blushed +and felt that it would be an effort to look him in the face again. + +But she was anxious to see how he would appear now: whether the same boy, +with frank, open face, or a commanding, self-possessed man. + +And so each pleasant afternoon she strolled up this byway road. When the +ancient carryall was sighted, she hid and watched until it passed. + +But Captain Mix, its driver, also had observing eyes. He knew her now as +far as he could see her, as every one in the village did, and he soon +noticed her unusual conduct. He also watched along the wayside where she +left it, and slyly observed her peeping out from some thicket. Just why +this odd proceeding happened time and again, he could not guess, and not +until a strange young man alighted from the train one day and asked to +be left at the home of Mrs. Abby Bemis, did it dawn on him. + +Then he laughed. "Friend o' Aunt Abby, I 'spose?" he inquired in his +Yankee fashion, after they had started. + +"No," answered Ray, frankly, "I have never seen the lady. I know some +one who is living with her, however. A Miss Mc--Raymond, I mean." + +Captain Mix glanced at him, his eyes twinkling. "So ye're 'quainted +with Vera, be ye," he responded. "Wal, ye're lucky." Then as +curiosity grew he added, "Known her quite a spell, hev ye?" + +But Ray was discreet. "Oh, three or four years," he answered +nonchalantly. "I knew her when she lived in Greenvale." Then to +check the stage-driver's curiosity, he added, "She was only a little +girl, then. I presume she has changed since." + +"She's a purty good-lookin' gal now," asserted Captain Mix, "but +middlin' odd in her ways. Not much on gallivantin' round wi' young +folks, but goin' to school stiddy 'n' roamin' round the woods when +she ain't. Purty big gal to be goin' to school she is. I callate her +arly eddication must 'a' been sorter neglected. Mebbe ye know 'bout +it," and once more this persistent Yankee glanced at his companion. + +But Ray was too loyal to the little girl he loved to discuss her further, +and made no answer. Instead, he began inquiries about Christmas Cove, and +as they jogged on mile after mile, he learned all that was to be known +of that quiet village. When they had reached a point some three miles +from it, a kindly thought came to the driver. + +"If Vera ain't 'spectin' ye," he said, "mebbe ye'd like to +s'prise her. If so be it, ye kin. She's 'most allus out this way +'n', curislike, hides 'fore I get 'long whar she is. If I see her +to-day, 'n' ye want to, I'll drop ye clus by 'n' let ye." + +And so it came to pass. + +Chip, as usual, had followed her oft-taken walk on this pleasant May +afternoon. When the carryall was sighted also, as usual, she had hidden +herself. With beating heart she saw two occupants this time, and looking +out of her laurel screen, she saw that one was Ray. + +Then she crouched lower. The moment she had waited for had come. + +But now something unexpected happened, for after the carryall passed her +hiding spot, Ray, brown and stalwart, leaped out. The carryall drove on, +and she saw him returning and scanning the bushes. + +She was caught, fairly and squarely. One instant she hesitated, then, +blushing rose-red, emerged from the undergrowth. + +And now came another capture, for with a "Chip, my darling," Ray sprang +forward, and although she turned away, the next moment she was clasped +in his arms. + +In vain she struggled. In vain she writhed and twisted. In vain she +pushed him away and then covered her blushing face. + +Love, fierce and eager, could not be thus opposed. All her pride, anger, +resentment, shame, and intended coldness were as so many straws, for +despite her struggles, he pulled her hands aside and kissed her again and +again. + +"My darling," he exclaimed at last, "say you forgive me; say you love +me; say it now!" + +Then, as she drew away, he saw her eyes were brimming with tears. + +"I won't," she said, "I hate--" but his lips cut the sentence in +two, and it was never finished. + +"I did mean to hate you," she declared once more, covering her face, +"but I--I can't." + +"No, you can't," he asserted eagerly, "for I won't let you. You +promised to love me once, and now you've got to, for life." + +And she did. + +When the outburst of emotion had subsided and they strolled homeward, +Chip glanced shyly up at her lover. + +"Why did you pounce on me so?" she queried; "why didn't you ask me, +first?" + +"My dear," he answered, "a wise man kisses the girl first, and asks +her afterwards." Then he repeated the offence. + +[Illustration: "I did mean to hate you, but I--I can't."] + +And now what a charming summer of sweet illusion and castle-building +followed for the lovers! How Aunt Abby smiled benignly upon them, quite +content to accord ample chance for wooing! How many blissful, dreamy +hours they passed on lonely wave-washed cliffs, while the marvel of +love was discussed! How its wondrous magic opened a new world whose walks +were flower-decked, whose sky was ever serene, where lilies bloomed, +birds sang, sea winds whispered of time and eternity, and where Chip was +an adored queen! How all the shame and humiliation of her past life +faded away and joy supreme entered on the azure and golden wings of this +new morning! Even Old Cy was almost forgotten; the spites, Old Tomah, +and Tim's Place quite so; and all hope, all joy, all protection, and all +her future centred in the will and wishes of this Prince Perfect. + +"Blind and foolish," I hear some fair critic say. Yes, more than that, +almost idiotic; for selfish man never pursues unless forced to do so, +and an object of worship once possessed, is but a summer flower. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + + "A man'll hev all the friends he kin keer for if he tends to + his own knittin' work."--Old Cy Walker. + +Quite different from the meeting of the lovers was that which occurred +when Old Cy reached Peaceful Valley. There were no heroics, no falling +upon one another's necks, no tears. Just a "Hullo, Cyrus!" "Hullo, +Judson!" as these two brothers clasped hands, and forty years were +bridged. + +Aunt Mandy, however, showed more emotion, for when Old Cy rather +awkwardly stooped to kiss her, the long ago of Sister Abby's sorrow +welled up in her heart, and the tears came. + +That evening's reunion, with its two life histories to be exchanged, did +not close until the tall clock had ticked time into the wee, small hours. + +All of Old Cy's almost marvellous adventures had to be told by him, +and not the least interesting were the last few years at the wilderness +home of the hermit. Chip's entry into it and her history formed another +chapter fully as thrilling, with Uncle Jud's rescue of her for a +_denouement_. + +The most pathetic feature of this intermingled history--the years while +sweet Abby Grey waited and watched for her lover--was left untold. Only +once was it referred to by Aunt Mandy, in an indirect way; but the quick +lowering of Old Cy's eyes and the shadow that overspread his face, +checked her at once. Almost intuitively she realized its unwisdom, and +that it was a sorrow best not referred to. + +Old Cy evidently felt it a subject to avoid, and not until the next +day did he even ask how Aunt Abby looked or what had been her life +experiences. A little of this reticence wore away in due time, however, +and then Aunt Mandy once more referred to her sister. + +"I kinder feel you blame Abby somehow, Cyrus, the way you act," she +said, "and yet thar ain't no cause for it. She'd waited 'most seven +years. We'd all given you up for dead, and life in Christmas Cove +wa'n't promisin' much for Abby." + +"I don't blame her a mite," Old Cy answered quickly, "an' no need +o' yer thinkin' so. I don't blame no woman fer makin' the best shift +they kin. They've got to hev a home 'n' pertecter, bless 'em, or +be nobody in this world. Comin' here and findin' how things are, sorter +makes me realize how much I've missed in life, though, an' how much +sorrer I've had to outgrow. I don't lay up nothin' 'gainst Abby, not +fer a minit. Only I hated to hev ye tell me what I knew ye'd hev to, +that fust night." + +"But you're goin' to see her, ain't ye, Cyrus?" Aunt Mandy asked +anxiously. "Ye won't shame her by not goin', will ye?" + +"Wal, mebbe," he answered slowly, and after a long pause. "I wouldn't +want to hurt her knowin'ly. I callate I've done more grievin'n she +has, though, ten times over, an' seein' her now's a good deal like +openin' an old tomb--a sorter invitin' ghosts o' old heartaches to +step out. Abby's outgrowed the old times, 'n' I'm sartin, too, +won't be the happier by seein' me ag'in. I may be wrong, but I've a +notion she'll sorter hate to see me. 'Twas to keep her from feelin' +'shamed 'n' miserable 'n' spoilin' her life, I've never let +her nor nobody that knew her find out I was alive. I'm doubtin' I +would now if she hadn't larned it from Chip." + +He relented a little from this strange and almost cruel whim a week +later, and after visiting the Riggsville store and obtaining what really +amounted to a disguise in new garments, he announced his plans. + +"I've got to see Chip," he said, "an' see how she 'n' Ray's +gittin' on. I've got to see Abby, I s'pose. I want to, an' I don't +want to, both in one. Then ag'in, these two young folks--Chip 'n' +the boy--hev sorter got tangled up in my feelin's, 'n' I can't rest +content till I've seen 'em settled in life. I'm goin' to Christmas +Cove fer a day. Then back here till they hitch up, 'n' then--wal, +then mebbe I'd better go to the woods ag'in. I ain't fitted by natur +fer dressed-up folks." + +No opposition to this unseemly outcome was made by Uncle Jud or Aunt +Mandy. They knew, or hoped, the leaven of bygone memories and association +would change the hermit-like impulse of Old Cy, and all in good time a +better ending of his life would seem possible to him. To argue it now +was apparently useless. A man so set in his ideas as to remain a homeless +wanderer for almost a lifetime, was not to be changed in a month, or +perhaps in a year. + +Neither did Old Cy seem in a hurry to visit Christmas Cove. + +"I don't look nat'ral or feel nat'ral in them new clothes," he said +to Aunt Mandy one day, "an' while I want to see Abby, I've lived in +the woods so long I'm sorter 'shamed to go 'mongst respectable people. +Then I look like one o' them wooden men dressed up in a store winder +with that new rig on, an' jest know folks'll all be laughin' at me. +I've got to go, I callate, but I'd like to make the trip in a cage. +I'm sartin sure Abby'll laugh at me arterwards." From which it may be +seen how hard it was for Old Cy to fit himself into civilized life +once more. + +He nerved himself for the trip to Christmas Cove in a few days, however, +and how he met and renewed acquaintance with his old-time sweetheart +shall be told in his own words. + +"Abby hain't changed near so much as I callated," he said on his +return; "a leetle fuller in figger, but jest the same easy-spoken, sweet +sorter woman I always knew she'd be. She was 'lone when I called, +an' fer a minit arter we shook hands neither on us could speak ag'in. +Then she kinder bit her lip 'n' swallered her feelin's, keepin' +her face turned away, an' then we sot down 'n' begun talkin'. It +was techin', too, the way she acted, fer she kept tryin' to smile, +'n' all the while the tears kept startin'. It was like one o' them +summer days when the rain patters while the sun is shinin'. I don't +think she noticed my clothes much, either, an' we sot up till 'most +midnight talkin' over old times. It all turned out 'bout the way I +'spected--a sorter funeral o' old hopes with us two fer mourners. +She's powerful considerate, too, Abby is, for all the time we was +talkin' she never once spoke o' Cap'n Bemis, 'n' I didn't. It +was jest ez if we started in whar we left off, 'n' skippin' the gap +between. She 'lowed she hoped she'd see me soon ag'in, that she felt +like a mother to Chip; an' when I bid her good-bye, she kinder choked +once more. + +"I didn't see much o' Chip, either, which sorter hurt me. Take it all +in all, my visit thar upsot me more'n I callated, 'n' I guess when +Chip's settled, I'd best go to the woods 'n' forgit all that's past. +My life's been a failure, anyway." + +And Old Cy was right; but it was grim and merciless Fate that made it +so, and for that he was not responsible. + +Love in youth is a sweet song of joy and hope and promise. But love +that spans a lifetime, that reaches and caresses our heartstrings once +again as we enter the final shadows, has only the pathos of parting +and the tender chords of almost forgotten melodies in it. Vainly do we +strive to enter the enchanted garden once more. Vainly do our heart +throbs beat against its adamant walls. Vainly do we hope to catch just +one more of the old bygone thrills. It is useless, for none can live +life over, and once age has locked the portals of youth and fervor, they +are never opened again. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + +With September came a supreme event in the lives of Chip and Ray, when +Mr. and Mrs. Frisbie, Aunt Comfort, Miss Phinney and Hannah, Uncle +Jud and Aunt Mandy, and Old Cy, all gathered in Aunt Abby's quaint +parlor to see her aged pastor join their hands and lives. Then came the +kisses, the congratulations, the rice, and old-shoe throwing, and then +solitude and tears for Aunt Abby. All the wedding guests except Old Cy +hied themselves away with the new pair, and he left for Bayport. + +And thus closes the history of Chip McGuire, waif of the wilderness and +slave of Tim's Place. + +Bless her! + +Two days later Old Cy returned. + +No one was in the house when he knocked at Aunt Abby's door, and then, +led perhaps by the invisible chord that spanned forty years, he slowly +strolled up the path beside the old mill-pond, which he and she had often +followed in the old, old days. + +His heart had led him aright, for there, at the foot of the ancient oak +that had once been their trysting-place, she sat. + +"I thought I'd come over 'n' bid ye good-bye, Abby," he said gently, +as she arose to meet him. "I've been doin' a good deal o' biddin' +good-bye to-day. I bid good-bye to the old graveyard whar my folks +is; it's all growed up to weeds 'n' bushes, I'm sorry to say. But +that can't be helped. It's the way o' natur. I've been down to the +p'int whar you 'n' I used to go, an' I bid that good-bye," he +added, seating himself near her. "Ye 'member it, don't ye, Abby, +'n' them days when we went thar to watch the waves?" + +"I do, Cyrus," she answered, her voice trembling. "I remember all the +old days only too well." + +"They all come back to me, too," he continued in a lower tone, "an' +I wish I could skip back to 'em, but I can't. I'm an old man now, +an' no use to nobody, 'n' not much to myself. I've been a wanderer +many years--ye know why, Abby. I've had a short spell o' joy, kinder +helpin' this boy 'n' gal into sunshine 'n' a home. They've gone +their way now 'n' sure to forgit me an' you. It's nat'ral they +should, 'n' all that's left me is to go back to the woods 'n' stay." + +He paused a moment, glancing up the narrow pond to where it ended in +shadow, and then continued: "It's curis, Abby, how life begins with +how-de-do's 'n' smilin' friends 'n' cheerin' prospects, 'n' then +ends with good-byes 'n' bein' forgot. It's what we must callate on, +though, an' a good deal like a graveyard is left to weeds and bushes." + +Once more he paused, closed his eyes, and remained silent for a time. + +"Wal, I might as well be goin'," he said finally, rising and extending +his hand, "so good-bye, Abby. I wish ye well in life." + +"But is there any need of it?" she answered, turning her face to hide +the tears as his hand clasped hers. + +"Why, no, only to fergit my sorrer," he answered; "I can't do it +here." + +"But who will care for you there--at last--and--must you go?" Then she +turned to him again. + +And then he saw, not the gentle, saddened face upraised to his, but the +tender face of sweet Abby Grey of the long, long ago. + +"Must you leave us--me?" she whispered once again. + +"Wal, mebbe not," he answered. + +THE END + + + + +NEW POPULAR EDITIONS OF MARY JOHNSTON'S NOVELS + +TO HAVE AND TO HOLD + +It was something new and startling to see an author's first novel +sell up into the hundreds of thousands, as did this one. The ablest +critics spoke of it in such terms as "Breathless interest," "The high +water mark of American fiction since Uncle Tom's Cabin," "Surpasses +all," "Without a rival," "Tender and delicate," "As good a story +of adventure as one can find," "The best style of love story, clean, +pure and wholesome." + +AUDREY + +With the brilliant imagination and the splendid courage of youth, she has +stormed the very citadel of adventure. 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Brown, formerly city editor of the +Denver Tribune, and an intimate friend and associate of the poet during +the several years in which he was on the staff of that paper. + +This volume resurrects a literary treasure which has been buried for +many years in the forgotten files of a newspaper, and it is, as nearly +as it has been possible to make, an absolutely complete collection of +the hitherto unpublished poems of the gifted author. + +These poems are the early product of Field's genius. They breathe the +spirit of Western life of twenty years ago. 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