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diff --git a/old/41122.txt b/old/41122.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4f22a53..0000000 --- a/old/41122.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7805 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rayton: A Backwoods Mystery, by -Theodore Goodridge Roberts - -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/license - - -Title: Rayton: A Backwoods Mystery - -Author: Theodore Goodridge Roberts - -Illustrator: John Goss - -Release Date: October 21, 2012 [EBook #41122] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAYTON: A BACKWOODS MYSTERY *** - - - - -Produced by D Alexander, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - RAYTON: - - _A BACKWOODS MYSTERY_ - - By THEODORE GOODRIDGE ROBERTS - - _Author of "A Captain of Raleigh's," "Comrades of the Trails," "Red - Feathers," etc._ - - - _Illustrated by - JOHN GOSS_ - - _BOSTON L. C. PAGE & - COMPANY MDCCCCXII_ - - _Copyright, 1910, by_ - Street & Smith - - _Copyright, 1910, by_ - La Salle Publishing Company - - _Copyright, 1912, by_ - L. C. Page & Company - (INCORPORATED) - - _All rights reserved_ - - First Impression, January, 1912 - - _Electrotyped and Printed by - THE COLONIAL PRESS - C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U. S. A._ - - - - -[Illustration: NELL HARLEY] - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER PAGE - -I. THE GAME THAT WAS NOT FINISHED 1 - -II. JIM HARLEY TELLS AN OLD STORY 17 - -III. DAVID MARSH DECIDES TO SPEAK--AND DOESN'T 33 - -IV. THE TRAPPER'S CONFESSION 46 - -V. DOCTOR NASH'S SUSPICIONS--YOUNG MARSH'S MISFORTUNE 61 - -VI. DAVID TAKES A MISFORTUNE IN A POOR SPIRIT 76 - -VII. MR. BANKS TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME 91 - -VIII. RAYTON GOES TO BORROW A SAUCEPAN 107 - -IX. RAYTON CONFESSES 122 - -X. RED CROSSES AGAIN 138 - -XI. AN UNFORTUNATE MOMENT FOR THE DOCTOR 154 - -XII. RAYTON IS REMINDED OF THE RED CROSSES 169 - -XIII. CAPTAIN WIGMORE SUGGESTS AN AMAZING THING 184 - -XIV. FEAR FORGOTTEN--AND RECALLED 200 - -XV. MR. BANKS IS STUNG 215 - -XVI. THE LITTLE CAT AND THE BIG MOUSE 230 - -XVII. AN ASTONISHING DISCOVERY 245 - -XVIII. DICK GOODINE RETURNS UNEXPECTEDLY 260 - -XIX. THE CAPTAIN'S CHARGE 275 - -XX. THE CHOSEN INSTRUMENT OF FATE 291 - -XXI. THE DEATH OF THE CURSE 302 - -XXII. IN THE WAY OF HAPPINESS 312 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - -PAGE - -NELL HARLEY _Frontispiece_ - -"JIM HARLEY SNATCHED UP THE CARD" 5 - -"HE ADVANCED SLOWLY, PAINFULLY, A PITIFUL FIGURE" 72 - -"PLUNGED AT RAYTON, WITH HIS FISTS FLYING" 165 - -"'IT IS BECAUSE--BECAUSE I CARE SO FOR YOU--'" 201 - -"THEN HE HALTED AND RECOILED, CLUTCHING AT THE COLD WALLS!" 233 - - - - -RAYTON: - -A BACKWOODS MYSTERY - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE GAME THAT WAS NOT FINISHED - - -Samson's Mill Settlement had, for the past fifteen years, prided itself -on its absolute respectability; and then came Reginald Baynes Rayton, -with his unfailing good humor, his riding breeches, and constant -"haw-haw"--and corrupted the community. So it happened that five -representative men of the settlement, and Mr. Rayton, sat and played -poker one October night in Rayton's snug living room. They had done it -before--only last week, in fact--but the sense of guilty novelty had not -yet worn off. Only Rayton and old Wigmore were absolutely at their ease. -White beans had to do in the place of the usual chips. The standard of -play was very moderate--a one-cent _ante_ and a five-cent _limit_--but -it seemed reckless to some of those representative citizens. - -"Jane questioned me pretty sharp, to-night," said Benjamin Samson, the -owner of the mill that sawed lumber and ground buckwheat for the whole -Beaver Brook valley; "but I give her a bagful of evasive answers. Yes, -sir-ee! I guess she suspicioned something. She's been kinder expectin' -me to fall from grace ever since she first married me." - -"Haw-haw!" brayed Mr. Rayton. "Mrs. Samson is a clever woman. She knows -a bad egg, Benjamin, without having to break the shell." - -The others chuckled. - -"She ain't as smart as you think," replied Samson, awkwardly shuffling -the cards, "for at last I said to her, 'I'm goin' to see Rayton,' says -I. 'He's started a kinder lit'ry club for his male friends.' 'Then -you'll learn no harm from him,' says she, 'for I'm sure his morals is as -good as his manners. The way he lifts his hat to me is a regular treat. -_He_ knows what's my due, even if some other folks don't,' says she." - -Five men, including Samson himself, roared at this; but Rayton's haw-haw -lacked, for once, its usual heartiness. - -"Oh, come now," he protested shamefacedly. "It's not just the thing -to--to be making fun of a lady. Of course I raise my hat to Mrs. Samson. -Proud to do it, I'm sure; and I'm glad she appreciates it. Harley, you -are banker, I think. Pass me over fifty beans. Benjamin, when you've -finished shoveling those cards about--I don't call it shuffling--give us -a chance to cut for deal." - -Jim Harley, a shrewd man of about thirty years of age, who farmed in the -summer and operated in the lumber woods, on a small but paying scale, in -the winter months, counted out beans to the company in return for -quarters and dimes. Samson shot the cards across the table, backs up, -and every one drew. Old Captain Wigmore won the deal. He brought the -cards together in a neat pile with one sweep of the hand, shuffled them -swiftly and skillfully, and dealt so fast as to keep three in the air at -once. It was a pleasure to watch him. Even Rayton was a fumbler with the -pasteboards beside him. - -The six picked up their cards and looked at them, each in a way -characteristic of him. Honest Benjamin, catching sight of two kings and -feeling Doctor Nash's prying glance upon him, struggled to hide a smirk -of satisfaction that was too strong for him. Rayton beamed; but that -might mean anything. Old Wigmore's bewhiskered face expressed nothing, -as usual. The other visages showed hope or disgust as plainly as if the -words were printed across them. Discards were thrown to the centre of -the table, and Wigmore distributed others. - -"What--?" queried young David Marsh, and immediately relapsed into -silence. - -"What _what_?" asked Rayton. - -"Oh, it will keep," replied Marsh. - -"Davy wants to know if four aces are any good?" suggested the doctor, -winking at Rayton. - -Benjamin Samson, torn with doubt, ventured three beans on the chances of -his pair of kings. That started things briskly; but on the second round -David Marsh went the limit. That brought things to a standstill, and the -pool went to David without a challenge; but he showed his cards for all -that. - -"What I want to know is, who's marked this six of clubs?" he asked. -"That's what I began to ask, a minute back," he added, looking at Doctor -Nash. - -"Four of a kind," murmured Samson enviously. - -"But look at the six of clubs," urged Marsh. "Look at the two red -crosses in the middle of it, will you!" - -All got to their feet and stared down at the card. - -"What's it for?" demanded David Marsh. "If it was marked on the back, -now, it might be of some use. I've heard of such things." - -"The marks weren't there last night," said Rayton, "for I was playing -patience with this very pack and would have seen them." - -At that moment Jim Harley snatched up the card and held it close to his -eyes. "Hell!" he exclaimed. "The red crosses!" - -[Illustration: "JIM HARLEY SNATCHED UP THE CARD"] - -They gazed at him in astonishment, and saw that his face was colorless -under the tan. The stout, excitable Benjamin laughed hysterically and -fingered a pocket of his curving vest to make sure that his watch was -still there. He felt very uneasy; but perhaps Jim was only playing a -trick on them? That was not like Jim--but who can say what a man may not -do who has fallen to poker playing? Old Captain Wigmore shared this -suspicion evidently. - -"Very amusing, James," he said. "You would have made a first-rate actor. -But suppose we go on with the game. Have you another deck, -Reginald--one that our smart young friend has not had a chance to monkey -with?" - -"Do you mean that I marked this one?" cried Harley. "What the devil -would I do that for? Why, you--you old idiot, I'd sooner break my leg -than see----But what's the good of talkin'?" - -Old Wigmore sighed patiently, sat down, and began to fill his pipe. The -others stared at Jim Harley in amazed consternation. They saw that he -was not joking and so thought that he had suddenly become insane. - -"Yes, I quite agree with you, Jim," said Doctor Nash soothingly. -"Captain Wigmore is an old idiot, beyond a doubt, and it is a most -remarkable thing that the card should be marked with two red crosses. -Sit down and tell me all about it, like a good fellow." - -"You go chase yourself, doc," returned the other unpleasantly. "You -think I'm off my nut, I guess; but I'm saner than _you_ are--by a long -sight." - -"I never knew you to act so queer before, Jim," complained Benjamin -Samson. "You give me the twists, you do. Wish I'd stayed home, after -all. This card playin' ain't healthy, I guess." - -"Have a drink, Jim. Something has upset you," said Rayton. - -Harley accepted a glass of whisky and water. Then he sat down and again -examined the six of clubs, the others watching him keenly. - -"Oh, of course it's all foolishness!" he exclaimed. "But it gave me a -turn, I must say--and it being dealt to Dave, and all that. Looked -queer, for a minute, I must say. But I guess Mr. Rayton just marked it -with red ink and forgot all about it." - -Rayton shook his head. "Sorry," he replied, "but there's not a drop of -red ink in the house." - -"Then some one else did it," said Harley. "It just _happened_, that's -all. No good in talking about it! Go on with the game, boys. I'll just -go home and get to bed." - -"No, you don't, my son," cried Doctor Nash. "You'll just sit where you -are and tell us what all this rot is about. You've interrupted our game, -and now you have to explain things. You hinted that it was strange that -the marked card should go to Davy Marsh. Now what did you mean by that? -You've got something on your mind, I'll bet a dollar." - -"I'm going home," repeated Harley firmly. "Are you stepping, too, Davy? -I want to have a word with you." - -"Yes, I'll come," replied Marsh. He turned to the doctor and whispered: -"Safer to have somebody along with him, I guess. He don't seem himself, -to-night." - -"I'm off, too," said Samson. "I don't feel right, I can tell you. Jim, -your queer actions has upset me. Wish I'd stayed quietly at home, with -Jane, and read last week's newspaper like a respectable Christian." - -"I'm stepping, too," said the doctor. "It's my duty to keep an eye on -him, Rayton," he added, in an aside to his host. - -The man who had caused the disturbance went over to Rayton and shook his -hand. His tanned cheeks had not yet regained the glow of health and -vitality that was usual to them. - -"I guess I've broken up your party by my foolishness," he said, "and I'm -all-fired sorry. I wasn't myself, for a minute--nor I don't feel quite -right, even now. I don't know that I'm free to explain my actions. If I -am I'll let you know just how it was, next time I see you." - -"Not another word, my dear fellow," returned Rayton. "I'm sorry you have -to go, of course--but don't worry about it. And hang explaining! Don't -tell me a word you don't want to. No doubt it's a private superstition -of some kind--or something of that sort. Why, there was my poor old -pater--and he was a parson--always got into a funk if three rooks -perched on top of his hat--or something of that kind. So I understand, -Jim. I'll look at the cards, next time, before we begin playing." - -Reginald Baynes Rayton did not often say so much in one burst. It cost -him a serious effort. - -"I believe you _do_ understand," said Harley gratefully. "You've shot -mighty close to the mark, anyhow. I guess you're smarter than some -people give you credit for, Mr. Rayton." - -It was not until four of his guests had been sped into the night with -kindly words, that Rayton realized Jim Harley's tactless but well-meant -remark. - -"Hah-hah!" he laughed. "That was too bad. Hah-hah!" - -"What are you braying about, now, Reginald?" asked old Wigmore, who -still sat at the table, smoking his pipe and gazing at the scattered -cards. - -"A joke of Harley's. It was quite unintentional, I think," returned -Rayton. - -The old man shot a keen glance at the other from under his shaggy -eyebrows. "Those marks on the card seemed to hit him hard," he remarked. -"I can't make it out. He is a prosperous, steady-going chap, without any -crazy notions or troubles, and very clear-headed, I have always heard. -Now, why should two red marks on the six of clubs cause him to make a -fool of himself? It was young Marsh, I believe, who had the card dealt -to him." - -"Yes, David Marsh got the card," replied Rayton. - -"Then why didn't he raise a row, if there's anything terrible in those -marks?" - -"It did not mean anything to him, evidently; but I'd swear it did to -Harley. I've heard of such things at home in England. I don't take any -stock in them myself." - -"Neither do I. But it's queer that the marks should have been there." - -"Yes," said Rayton, and stepped over to the table. - -"You needn't look for the card," said the old man. "Nash took it away -with him. Last fall he tracked a moose across a plowed field, and he has -considered himself something of a detective ever since." - -The young Englishman laughed with a preoccupied note. He stood in front -of the open stove, warming the seat of his London-cut breeches. - -"It is queer that those marks should be there," he said, "but it is -still queerer that they should put Harley in such a wax. Suppose _I_ had -put the crosses there, for instance--well, the thing would be just as -queer, wouldn't it? A knowledge of how the marks got on the card would -not explain Harley's behavior." - -"You are right," returned the old man dryly. "And Harley was right, too, -when he said that you are not such a fool as the people of Samson's Mill -Settlement think you." - -Rayton laughed frankly. - -"You spoke of not having a drop of red ink in the house; but you did not -mention--to me, at least--a drop of anything else," continued the other. - -"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Rayton. "This mystery has quite muddled -me. I'm awfully sorry, really." - -He bustled about and placed a bottle of whisky, a jug of fresh water, -and two glasses on the table. - -"Don't apologize, Reginald," said Wigmore, with a thin smile. "It is not -often you forget to offer hospitality. The fact is, you are a bit too -hospitable. You'll be giving away the clothes off your back next--even -those elegant looking pants, perhaps." - -"Oh, come now!" remonstrated the younger man, pulling at his -straw-colored mustache, and grinning sheepishly. - -"You must have a pot of money, Reginald," said the other. - -"Heavens! No!" - -"Then why did you give all that tea and sugar to that old squaw, Molly -Canadian--and two barrels of potatoes to Frank Gorman?" - -"How do you know that?" cried Rayton, astonished. - -The captain helped himself to whisky. "I keep my eyes about me," he said -complacently. "I know pretty much everything that goes on 'round this -settlement." - -"Then I wish you knew the secret of Jim Harley's queer behavior -to-night--and how that card came to be marked," replied Rayton. - -The old man laughed aloud--a thing that was rare with him. "That is -asking too much," he said. "I'm not a wizard, Reginald. But I venture to -say that, if I gave my mind to it, I'd have the mystery entirely solved -before that Smart Alec of a Nash has so much as picked up the right -scent." - -"I quite believe you," returned Rayton. "Do you know, captain," he -added, smiling frankly, "I wonder at your living in this place. You seem -to be--if you'll pardon my saying it--of quite another world than these -simple people." - -"And what about you, Reginald?" - -"Oh, I'm just an ordinary chap. Came out here to farm--and here I am. -All this suits me to the tick--working in the fields, fishing, feeding -cattle, and moose shooting. But you are not a farmer, and why you should -have selected Samson's Mill Settlement to live in, after the life you -must have lived, beats me. You have no relations here. I can't -understand it, captain." - -Old Wigmore got to his feet, his gray beard aquiver with anger. "Really, -sir," he cried, "what business is it of yours where I choose to live? -Damn it all!--really, I did not expect you, at least, of prying into my -affairs. Where are my hat and coat? Thanks for your whisky--which might -be better--and good night to you." - -"Oh, I say! Don't go, captain!" cried the good-natured Rayton; but the -old man had already stepped briskly from the room. In another moment, -the door banged behind him. - -"Now that's too bad, really," soliloquized the Englishman. "Gad! I -wouldn't have offended him, intentionally, for fifty dollars. But he is -a cranky old Johnny, I must say." - -He filled his pipe, cleared the cards from the table, and sat down -before the crackling stove. Old Wigmore's show of temper soon gave way, -in his mind, to the more startling and mysterious events of the evening. -The marks on the card were strange enough; but the way in which the -sight of those marks had affected Jim Harley was altogether -extraordinary. It was not what he would have expected from Harley--or -from any one in the settlement, for that matter. The incident smacked of -the Wild West of fiction rather than of the real backwoods of New -Brunswick. And Harley was such a sensible fellow, too; hard-working, -prosperous, with a fine wife, two children, and such a delightful -sister. Yes, a charming sister! And yet he had flown clean off the -handle at sight of two little red marks on the face of the six of clubs. -Really, it was preposterous! Idiotic! Perhaps the poor chap was ill--on -the verge of a nervous breakdown from overwork? Or perhaps some silly -old superstition was to blame for the distressing incident? - -"Well, it beats me to a standstill," he murmured, at last; "but I think -Jim Harley will feel like a fool when he wakes up to-morrow morning and -remembers what an ass he has made of himself. I hope the other fellows -have kept him from making a scene at home and frightening that fine -little sister of his--or his wife, either, of course." - -Then Mr. Rayton closed the drafts of the stove, fastened doors and -windows, and went upstairs to bed. - -In the meantime, Jim Harley had walked up and down the country roads for -an hour and a half before he had convinced Doctor Nash and Benjamin -Samson that he was not insane, not feverish, and not to be forced into -an explanation of his remarkable behavior at Rayton's. They went off to -their homes at last, Samson disheartened, Nash sarcastic. Then Harley -turned to young David Marsh. - -"Davy," he said, "I don't want you to think I have gone cracked in the -upper story; but I can't tell you, just now, why I've been acting so -queer to-night. I got a scare--but I guess there's nothing to it. -Anyhow, I want you to keep clear of my place for a day or two--to keep -clear of Nell." - -"What's that!" exclaimed Marsh indignantly. "Keep clear of your place, -is it? What the devil is the matter with me--or with you? You think I -ain't good enough for your sister, do you--because you've got some money -and I haven't. Damn your place!" - - - - -CHAPTER II - -JIM HARLEY TELLS AN OLD STORY - - -Jim Harley groaned. "Davy, you are all wrong," he said gloomily. -"Hang it all, man, don't be a fool! Don't go and make things worse -for me. I don't know just how Nell feels for you, but I like you -first-rate--pretty near as well as any young fellow I've ever met. -But--but it's for your own good, Davy. It's about that card going to -you, don't you see? That sounds crazy--but I'm not crazy." - -"The card? Dang the card!" returned David. "What d'ye take me for, Jim -Harley, to try to scare me with such fool talk as that? You acted darn -well to-night, I must say; but I guess I see your game. You've invented -some sort of fairy story to try to scare me away from Nell. And so you -marked that card. Red crosses on a card! D'ye take me for a darn, -ignorant Injun or half-breed? Oh, you can't fool me! You want to catch -that hee-haw Englishman for Nell, I guess." - -Harley grabbed the younger man by the shoulder with fingers like the -jaws of a fox trap for strength. "You blasted young idiot!" he cried, -his voice trembling with anger. "D'ye think I'd take the trouble to -monkey with cards, and all that sort of tommyrot, if I wanted to scare -you away from my sister? No, David Marsh, I'd just tell you to keep -clear--and if you didn't I'd knock the stuffin' out of you. I guess you -know me well enough to believe _that_." - -"I don't know what to believe," returned David sulkily, "except that -you're actin' more like a darn, crazy half-breed than a white man, -to-night. Let go my shoulder, anyhow, or maybe you'll learn that two can -play at that game." - -Jim loosed his grip, and let his arm fall to his side. For a full minute -they faced each other in silence in the chill half dark of the October -night, there on the desolate backwoods road. David Marsh broke the -silence. - -"I don't want to fight with you, Jim," he said, "but--but I must say -this talk of yours about that confounded card, and the way you are -actin' to-night, and--and what you just said about Nell--makes me mad as -a bobcat. If you can tell me what it is you're drivin' at, for Heaven's -sake tell me quick! I don't want to think you've gone nutty, Jim, and -no more do I want to think--to think----" - -"What?" asked Harley sharply. - -"That you're a liar." - -"If you think that, you'd better keep it to yourself!" - -"Well, then, I don't think it. But, jumpin' Moses, I must think -_something_!" - -"I've asked you to keep away from my house, and my sister," returned -Harley, "so perhaps I had better explain things to you, as well as I -can. Then you can judge for yourself if I'm doing right or not. You'll -laugh, I guess--and maybe I'll laugh myself, to-morrow morning. But, -first of all, Davy, you must give me your word to keep what I tell you -to yourself. Maybe I'll have to tell it to Rayton, if Nell don't object, -because of the row I kicked up in his house. That would be only polite, -I suppose." - -"I'll keep quiet, Jim." - -"Let's walk along, to keep warm," said Harley. "It's a long story, Davy, -and I guess you'll think it a mighty foolish one." - -"Fire away," returned Marsh. "Foolishness is in the air to-night, I -reckon." - -"Well," began the other slowly, "it starts with my mother's mother. -That's kind of a long jump backward, but it can't be helped. It's the -way it was told to me. My mother's mother was a pretty fine young woman, -I guess, and her parents weren't just the common run--they came from -Boston and settled in St. John about the time George Washington got up -and hit the other George that smack over the head which we've all read -about. Well, the girl grew up a regular beauty, to judge by the way the -young fellows carried on about her. Two men led all the others in the -running, though. One was a Spaniard, and t'other was an Englishman; and, -after a while, it looked as if the Englishman was getting along with the -girl better than the Spaniard. The Spaniard called himself a count, or -something of that kind. - -"One night, at one of those parties the men used to have in those days, -after they'd all eaten and drunk about as much as they could hold, they -sat down to play cards. I don't know what the game was, but I do know -that they used to bet a horse, or a gold watch, or a few acres of land -as quick as us fellows will bet five white beans. Well, it happened that -the Spanish count and the young Englishman--he was a navy officer, I've -heard--and two more were at the same table. Pretty soon the navy -officer got a card dealt to him with _two red crosses_ marked on it. I -forgot what card it was. - -"Well, they didn't make any fuss about it, and went on with the game; -but when they were thinking of going home the count got the young fellow -by the elbow and whispered something in his ear. The other men didn't -hear what it was that he whispered, but every one in the room heard the -navy officer's answer--and the lad who afterward married my mother's -mother was one of the fellows that heard it. What the Englishman yelled -was: 'That's what it means in your country, is it! The devil take you, -and your lies, and your damn monkey tricks!' Yes, that's what he yelled, -right into the count's yellow face. They drank a terrible lot of liquor -in those days. More than was good for them, I reckon." - -Jim Harley paused. "It sounds like a crazy sort of yarn to be telling," -he said apologetically. - -"Go ahead," said David Marsh. "It's a fine yarn, Jim--and your folks -must have been pretty big potatoes. It's better than a book. What was it -the count whispered to the navy officer?" - -"_That_ they never found out," replied Jim. "But the officer told a -friend of his--the fellow who got the girl, after all--that the Spaniard -was trying to bluff him out of the game--not out of the game of cards, -but away from the girl. Anyhow, the count up and let fly a glass of -liquor fair into the Englishman's face, just the way it's written in -stories. Then there was a rumpus, the Spaniard spitting like a cat, and -the other lad trying to smack him in the eye with his fist. But fists -weren't considered good enough to fight with, in those days, and it -wasn't polite just to pitch in when you felt like it. So they went right -out, and off to a field at the edge of the town, and fought a duel with -pistols. It was a moonlight night. It looked as if the Spanish count -fired half a second too soon--anyhow, he put a hole smash through the -Englishman's head. Well, that was too much for the other lads, drunk as -most of them were, and they went up to the count and told him that if he -wasn't out of the country before sunrise they'd hang him up by the neck -like any common murderer. So he went. And he never came back again, as -far as I ever heard." - -"I guess that happened quite a while ago," said Marsh. - -"Yes, a good many years ago. But I've heard that the old lady talked -about it to the day of her death." - -"And who was the man she married?" - -"Just my grandfather--my mother's father. He was a young lawyer, or -something of that kind." - -"Well," said Marsh, with a sigh of relief, "that's nothing but ancient -history. I wouldn't believe more than half of that even if I had been -taught it in school, out of a book. If that's all you've got to say -against the red crosses then they don't worry me a mite. Anyway, where's -the Spanish count? You'll have to dig up a Spanish count, Jim, afore you -can get any change out of me with little red crosses on a playin' card." - -"Yes, that is ancient history," replied Harley, "and I won't swear to -the truth of it. The duel is true enough, though, for my own father saw -it written down in the records. But you've not heard the whole story -yet, Davy. The real thing--the part that bothers me--is yet to come." - -"By the great horn spoon!" exclaimed Marsh. "And it must be near ten -o'clock! Hurry up with the rest of it, Jim--and if it's not any worse -than what you've told I'll think you've been makin' a fool of me." - -"The rest of the story is about my own father--and my own mother," said -Harley. "Nell and I don't talk about it, even to each other; and this is -the first time it's been told to any one outside the family. I'd almost -forgotten it--till I saw that card to-night. Then it jumped into my mind -like--like a flash from hell's flames." - -David Marsh felt a sudden embarrassment, and quick chill at his heart. - -"Maybe you'd rather not tell it, Jim," he said. "If it's anything bad -I'll take your word for it." - -"It is bad enough," returned the other, "but it is not disgraceful. I -must tell it to you, Davy, and then you can think over what happened -to-night and work it out for yourself. It's only right that you should -know all that I can tell you--and then, if you think it all foolishness, -it's your own funeral." - -David could not see his companion's face in the darkness, though he -fairly strained his eyes to make it out. He wet his dry lips with his -tongue. "I'm listening," he said, and forced an uneasy laugh. - -"My mother lived in St. John with her parents, until she married, and -moved over to the Miramichi," began Harley. "My father's home was in St. -John, too, when he was a young fellow; but he was a sailor in those days -and so spent most of his time at sea. He was a smart lad, and no -mistake--mate of a foreign-goin' bark when he was nineteen and skipper -when he was twenty-one. His schooling had been good, and he owned some -shares in the ship, so he wasn't one of the common run of shellbacks. - -"When he first met my mother he was layin' off a voyage to recover from -a dose of malarial fever that had got into his blood down in Brazil. He -saw her at a party of some kind; and, not being troubled with shyness, -he went right after her. She was a beauty, I guess, like her mother -before her--and, like her mother again, there was a whole bunch of young -fellows courting her. My father, though, was a fine, upstanding lad, -with good looks, fine manners, and a dashing way in everything he did. -So he sailed right in; but he didn't have everything all his own way, at -first. - -"I've heard my mother say that, Sunday evenings, as many as six young -men would call at her father's house--and she was the only girl, mind -you. But they'd all pretend to be pleased to see each other, and there -would be singing, and piano playing, and cake and wine--yes, and the old -gent would invite one or two of them into his library to smoke his -cigars, and the old lady would talk away to the rest of them about the -grand times in St. John when she was young. Sometimes she'd tell about -how the navy officer and the Spanish count fought about her--and, of -course, she'd mention the queer marks on the card. She called it a -romantic story. - -"Well, it wasn't long before my father thought he had the other fellows -beaten out, so he popped the question. My mother said 'Yes'--and so the -old people announced the engagement. They were pretty stylish, you see. -My father was all cured of his malarial fever, by this time, and ready -for sea again. About a week after my mother had given him her promise, -and only a few days before he expected to have his ship ready for a -voyage to the West Indies, he was walking home about ten o'clock in the -evening and met a bunch of his friends. They were going to have supper -at a hotel and then finish the night at card playing. Well, my father -was a light-hearted lad, with a pocketful of money and a taste for jolly -company; so he joined the gang. The game they played was whist. Suddenly -my father jumped to his feet, his face as red as fire, and tore one of -the cards into little bits and flung them on the floor. - -"'You may consider that a joke--whoever did it--but it's a damn poor -joke!' he cried. He was a good man, but sometimes he got boiling mad. -Some of the lads asked him what was the trouble, and one young fellow -picked up the scraps of the torn card and found the two red crosses. -'Some one here knows what the trouble is,' yelled my father, 'and if -he'll just stand up and confess to his ungentlemanly joke, I'll smack -him across the face for his trouble.' - -"Nobody stood up, you may bet your hat on that; but when the lad who had -picked up the scraps of card began handing them around, a lot of them -began to laugh and jeer, and make fun of the sailor. Most of them had -heard the old lady tell about the Spanish count, you know. 'Better make -your will,' said one. 'That's a dangerous family to monkey with,' said -another. 'Glad I'm not in your boots.' 'It's the Spaniard's ghost.' -'Better break it off, Tom, and look 'round for a safer wife.' 'The other -chap who got the red marks was a sailor, too.' - -"And so they shouted things at him until he was mad enough to kill -somebody. But he couldn't tackle them all. So he called them a lot of -hard names. He told them that the sailors aboard his ship had a better -idea of a joke and better manners than they had. They began to quiet -down, then, and some of them looked mighty red in the face, for every -lad there considered himself something pretty extra when it came to -style and manners. My father finished by saying that the trick they had -played and the things they had said to him were insults to two ladies -who had never done any of them a shadow of harm. Most of them jumped up -and yelled that they knew nothing about any trick, and hadn't meant to -insult any one; but my father just glared and sneered at them, and left -the room. He was just a skipper of a sailing ship, but he had been -brought up with pretty strict notions about manners, and insults, and -those kinds of things. - -"He had just reached the street when one of the others--a lad called -Jackson--came jumping after him and grabbed him by the back of the neck. -This Jackson was as white as paper, he was that mad. 'I'll teach you -your proper place, you damn fo'castle swine!' he yelled, striking my -father in the face with his free hand. Well, my father jerked himself -clear and give him one on the jaw that put him to sleep for an hour or -two." - -At this, Harley halted in his talk, and his walk, at one and the same -moment, and began to cut tobacco for his pipe. - -"Go ahead!" exclaimed young Marsh. - -"Well, all that row was kept quiet," continued Harley. "My father sailed -away--and then came a report that pieces of the wreck of his ship had -gone ashore on the Bahamas. Then people who knew about the marked card -began to talk. It looked as if what the Spanish count had said, in the -old days--or what people supposed he had said--had some truth in it. His -girl--she who was afterward my mother--nearly went crazy. Then, one fine -day, my father turned up, sound as a bell--the only survivor of the -wreck of his ship. He got his share of the underwriter's money, and -invested it in a one-third interest in another and smaller vessel. He -had no trouble in getting the job of skipper of her; but he had plenty -of trouble with his sweetheart and her parents, for they were all sure -that the red crosses were really the marks of the devil and had caused -the loss of his ship. My father laughed at them; and well he might, -since his ship had gone down in a hurricane that had wrecked half a -dozen other vessels, and he was the only man to be saved from all his -crew. 'If the devil had anything to do with it,' he said, 'he certainly -made a mess of it.' But it took him a whole week to calm them down and -get the girl's promise to marry him on his return from his next voyage. - -"On the very night before he was to sail, when he was on his way to the -ship from saying good-by to my mother and the old people, a man sprang -out from behind a pile of lumber on one of the wharves, and struck at -him; but my father jumped back in time and struck in return with a -loaded stick which he carried. The man let a yelp of pain out of him, -and ran up the wharf to the dark streets of the city. My father struck a -light and presently found something that he had heard drop on the planks -when the fellow yelped--a long knife with a point sharp as a needle. - -"He went aboard his ship, wrote a letter, packed up the knife in a box, -and first thing in the morning sent both letter and knife ashore to a -magistrate. Then he sailed away. He returned after three months, with a -cargo of sugar and molasses--and his left arm in a sling. He had been -stabbed, one night, in Bridgetown, Barbados. That was a thing that did -not often happen in Barbados. - -"Immediately upon his return, he made quiet inquiries for young Mr. -Jackson. But Jackson had gone away, months before. There had been some -talk about the police going to look for Jackson too, just about the time -my father had sailed away. My father never gave the red crosses two -thoughts; but he often remembered the look in Jackson's face that night -they had fought in the street after the game of cards. - -"Well, they married, and my father gave up the sea, moved to the mouth -of the Miramichi, and started shipbuilding. That was on my mother's -account. He did a good business, and they were happy. I was their first -child. Five years later, Nell came. About six months after that an -envelope was left at the house for him by a poor old half-witted -character in the town, who had once been a sailor. When my father came -home from the office he opened the envelope--and out fell a blue-backed -playing card onto the carpet. My mother went into a dead faint, without -waiting to see the face of it. When my father turned it over, there were -the two red crosses!" - -"Did they catch Jackson?" asked David Marsh. - -"No," returned Harley. "My father ran out of the house, maybe to find -the poor half-wit who had brought it to him, and he was shot dead within -ten yards of his own door." - -"By Jackson?" cried David, in a husky voice. - -"It must have been. No one was caught. The shock killed my mother. That -is the story, Davy. There wasn't much money for Nell and me, by the time -I was old enough to notice things--and we came here, as you know, nine -years ago." - -"But--who'd want to play the old trick on me?" asked Marsh anxiously. -"And who is there here that knows anything about it? Jackson? What would -_he_ care about Nell and me?" - -"Some rival, perhaps," suggested Harley. "The devil only knows! Perhaps -some one who dislikes you knows the old story; but--don't ask me," he -added nervously. - -"There is Dick Goodine, the trapper," said Marsh. "He is sweet on Nell. -But what does he know--and how could he do it? Hell! Jim, it beats me!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - -DAVID MARSH DECIDES TO SPEAK--AND DOESN'T - - -Jim Harley decided, before morning, that he must tell the tragic story -to Rayton. He also decided that there was no need, at present, of -telling either Nell or his wife of the mysterious advent of the two red -marks into Samson's Mill Settlement. - -Young David Marsh spent a restless night, going over and over all that -Jim had told him. He came to the conclusion, at last, that the red -crosses themselves were harmless, and utterly foolish, and that the real -danger and tragedy lay in the human fate that had always inspired their -appearance. Then his active mind quested far and near in search of an -enemy of his own to correspond with the Spanish count of the first -tragedy, and with young Jackson of the second--and not only that, but he -must find an enemy who was in love with Nell Harley, and who knew the -story of the red crosses. He thought of every man he had ever met, -young and middle-aged; but he soon saw that this was too wide a field -to explore. He could only bring to mind one man who, to his certain -knowledge, had paid any attention to Nell Harley--and this was Dick -Goodine. Likewise, he could think of only one man in the community with -whom he was not on fairly friendly terms--and this, too, was Goodine. - -Goodine had French blood in his veins, and was known to be eccentric; -but he had never been considered dangerous in any way. He was a -good-looking young woodsman who spent his summers in idleness, and his -winters in trapping furs. Sometimes he did a little business in David -Marsh's own chosen field, and guided "sports" into the wilderness after -moose and caribou. But this was not often, for Dick Goodine's pride was -even quicker than his temper. "It's not white men's work," he had said -to David, not long before, in the course of the very argument that had -caused the coolness that now existed between them. "It's Injun's -work--or nigger's. The guidin' is good enough; but when it comes to -cookin' for them, and pullin' off their wet boots at night--oh, t' hell -with it! It may suit you, but it don't suit me." - -But how should Dick Goodine know anything about the story of the red -crosses, even if the state of his feelings had become sufficiently -violent to incite him to make use of them? And he had not been at -Rayton's, last night. How could he have marked the card? So David -dismissed the trapper from his mind, for the time, and turned elsewhere -for a solution of the mystery. - -There was young Rayton, the Englishman. The thing had happened in his -house, and the marked card belonged to him. He was a stranger to the -settlement, for he had been only six months in the place. He seemed -honest and harmless--but that was not enough to clear him. The dazzling -smile, clear, gray eyes, and ready haw-haw might cover an unscrupulous -and vicious nature. What was known in Samson's Mill Settlement of his -past? Nothing but a few unlikely sounding anecdotes of his own telling. -He had traveled in other parts of the province, looking for a farm that -suited both his tastes and his purse, so he might very easily have heard -something of the fate of Jim Harley's father. - -So far, so good! But was he in love with Nell Harley? He had shown no -signs of it, certainly; and yet if he took an interest in any young -woman in the settlement, or within ten miles of it in any direction, it -would naturally be in Nell Harley. She was well educated--and so was the -Englishman, seemingly. No one had ever denied her quiet beauty. Any one -with half an eye could see that she and Jim came of a stock that was -pretty special. That would attract the Englishman, no doubt, for he, -too, looked and talked like something extra in the way of breed. But, in -spite of all this, David had to admit to himself that he had neither -heard nor seen anything to lead him to suppose that Rayton was his -rival. - -Well, who else, then? What about Doctor Nash? Nash was a bachelor, and a -great hand at making himself agreeable with the women. But David knew -that Nell did not like Nash; but, of course, a little thing like that -wouldn't bother Nash if he had taken a fancy in that direction. Yes, the -doctor might be the man. The idea was worth keeping in sight. David -could not bring any other suspect to mind. Benjamin Samson and old -Wigmore had been there when the marked card made its appearance, 'tis -true; but, in spite of his anxiety to solve the mystery, David put these -two harmless gentlemen from his thoughts with a chuckle. - -At last David Marsh was on the verge of sleep when a sudden, galling -question flashed into his mind and prodded him wide awake again. Why -should anybody who might be in love with Nell Harley look upon him--upon -David Marsh--as a dangerous rival? Why, indeed! He was sweet on Nell, -there was no denying it, and had been for the past three years or more, -and no doubt there had been talk about his frequent calls at Jim's -house; but had she ever treated him as anything but just a good friend? -Not once. He was honest enough with himself to admit this, but it hurt -his vanity. And had he ever told her that he loved her? No. He had meant -to, over and over again; but, somehow, things had never seemed to be -exactly in line for the confession. The fact is, there was something in -the young woman's frank manner with him, and in the straightforward -glance of her eyes, that always made him feel that next time would do. -He had never even found sufficient courage to try to hold her hand. - -"I guess she likes me, though," he murmured. "I'll go to-morrow and tell -her how I feel toward her. Yes, by thunder! I'll show the fellow who -fixed that card trick on me that I ain't scared of him--nor of her, -neither. Why should I be scared of her? I'm honest--and I'm making good -money--and Jim likes me, all right. That card trick settles it, by -ginger! I'll go and tell her to-morrow. I'll give that skunk a run for -his money, whoever he may be." - -As much in the dark as ever about the mystery of the marked card, but -fully determined on his course of action as regards Miss Harley, David -Marsh fell asleep at last. His alarm clock had been set for six, -however, as he had a busy day before him; so he was soon awake again. He -sat up, grumbling, and lit the little oil lamp that stood on a chair -beside his bed. There was no turning over and going to sleep again for -him, for he had to get a load of provisions and some kit in to his camp -on Teakettle Brook before night; for he was expecting a sportsman from -the States along in a few days. From the nearer camp he would have to -portage a lot of grub across a half mile of bad trail and take it up, by -canoe, to his shack on the headwaters of Dan's River. - -"I've got to hustle!" he exclaimed, and jumped courageously out of his -warm bed; but the instant his feet struck the cold floor, the queer -happenings and stories of the previous night flashed into his mind. -"Hell!" he exclaimed. "I must see Nell, I guess--but I've simply got to -get that jay of stuff in to the Teakettle by dark." - -He grumbled steadily while he dressed. Dawn was breaking, and the world -outside looked depressingly cold and rough. He had a hard day before him -and a hard to-morrow after that; but he must snatch a half hour for his -interview with Nell. He shaved in cold water, with a razor that needed -honing--and this did not lighten his spirits. "The devil take that -foolishness!" he grumbled. "Why can't things leave me alone?" He went -downstairs in his sock feet, pulled on his heavy boots in the kitchen, -and lit the fire. He was a handy young fellow--as a guide and woodsman -needs to be--and set briskly to work to cook his own breakfast. He was -sitting up to his tea and bacon, close to the crackling stove, and the -world outside was looking considerably brighter, when his mother entered -the room. - -"What is worryin' you, Davy?" she inquired anxiously. "I heard you -tossin' and turnin' last night." - -"Nothing much," he replied. "I was just planning things. I've a heap to -do before Mr. Banks lands here with his patent range finders, and -seventeen different kinds of rifles. He's not the kind to kick at hard -hunting, and he's generous; but he likes to have everything tidy and -handy." - -"I'm sure he'll have nothin' to complain of, Davy, so long as you look -after him," returned Mrs. Marsh. "But what kept you out so late last -night?" - -"I was talking to Jim Harley." - -"Oh, you were at the Harleys' place, were you? You seem to be gettin' -along fine in that quarter, Davy." - -The young man blushed. "I wasn't at the house, mother," he said. "I met -Jim over at Rayton's, and we went for a walk together. He had a regular -talking fit on, I can tell you." - -"I didn't know Jim was ever took that way," returned the mother. "So you -saw young Mr. Rayton, did you? And how is he?" - -"He's all right, I guess." - -"He's a very polite, agreeable young man." - -"Oh, yes, he's polite enough." - -Mrs. Marsh looked at him sharply. - -"What have you got against Mr. Rayton?" she demanded. - -"Nothing," replied David. "Nothing at all, mother. I don't know anything -about him, good or bad. But it's easy enough to be polite, I guess--and -it don't cost anything." - -The mother sighed and smiled at the same time. "If it's so easy," she -said, "then I wish more folks about here would try it." - -David drained his cup, and got to his feet. "Well, I must hustle along, -mother," he said. "I've got to run over to Harley's before I load up for -Teakettle Brook." - -"Jim goin' with you?" - -"No. Oh, no!" - -"You wouldn't go callin' on a young lady this time in the morning, -surely?" - -"Oh, quit your fooling, mother! I've simply _got_ to speak to Nell this -morning." - -The moment the door had shut behind David, Mrs. Marsh went to the foot -of the stairs. "Wake up, pa!" she called. - -"Wake up!" repeated a voice from above bitterly. "Bless my soul, I've -been awake an hour and up this last fifteen minutes; but I'm stuck for -want of my pants! D'ye expect me to chase 'round in the mud in my -Sunday-go-to-meetin's, ma?" - -"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Marsh. "I was patchin' them last night and -left them in the sittin' room." She ran and got her husband's required -garments, and threw them, flapping ungracefully, up the narrow back -staircase to him. - -Soon after that old Davy appeared. "Where's the boy?" he asked. - -"He's had his breakfast, and now he's run over to see Nell Harley," -replied Mrs. Marsh, beaming. - -"Then the more fool him!" said old Davy. "It's time he cut that out. -Ain't he got an eye in his head? He's got no more chance of marryin' her -than I'd have if I was into the game." - -"D'ye mean that she don't think him good enough for her?" asked the -other sharply. - -"I guess she don't think anything about him at all, from what I can see. -He's good enough for any girl--but he ain't got the _character_ to catch -Nell Harley. That's it--he ain't got the character." - -"He's got as good a character as any young man in the province--as good -as _you_ had, at his age, David Marsh!" - -The old man shook his head, smiling. "He's a good lad. I've nothin' to -say against our youngest son, ma. But he's all for his sportsmen and his -savings-bank account--all for himself. He's smart and he's honest--but -he's all for Number One. To catch a girl like Nell Harley a man would -want to jump right into the job with both feet, hell bent for election, -holusbolus and hokus-pokus and never say die--like I done when I went -a-courtin' you, ma." - -Mrs. Marsh's face recovered its usual expression of good humor. "Maybe -you're right, pa," she said. "He don't seem to give his hull mind to his -courtin', I must say." - -In the meantime, young David had tramped the half mile of road that lay -between the Marsh farm and Jim Harley's place. The sun had come up white -and clean in a clear sky, promising a fine day. A few vivid red and -yellow leaves still hung in the maples and birches, and the frost -sparkled like diamonds in the stubble, and shone like powdered glass -along the fence rails. The air went tingling to heart and head like a -wine of an immortal vintage. David felt fairly reckless under the -influence of it; but when he came face to face with Nell Harley, in the -kitchen door, his recklessness turned to confusion. - -"You are out early, Davy," said the young woman, smiling pleasantly. "Do -you want to see Jim?" - -"Well--yes, I guess I do, Nell." - -"Nothing the matter over at your house, I hope?" - -"No. Everything's all right." - -"Come in. We've finished breakfast, but Jim is not down yet. He was out -until late, last night, and I don't think he slept well." - -David followed her as far as the dining-room door, but there he halted. - -"I guess I won't trouble him, Nell," he said. "I'm in a hurry, too. I -have to get a load in to my camp on the Teakettle to-day." - -"Can I give him a message?" - -"Oh, no! It ain't important. Good morning, Nell." - -He was halfway home, thoroughly disgusted with himself, when a voice -hailed him. Looking up, he saw old Captain Wigmore approaching. - -"Good morning to you, David," said the captain, halting in front of him. -"Did James Harley explain his extraordinary behavior to you, last -night?" - -"Yes." - -"Ah! And what was the explanation?" - -"You'd better ask him yourself, cap. He told me not to tell." - -The old man drew himself up and rapped his stick on the ground. -"Confound his impertinence!" he exclaimed. "I shall ask him, certainly. -He owes me an explanation. Queer way to behave before a man of my age -and position! And he called me an old idiot!" - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE TRAPPER'S CONFESSION - - -Old Captain Wigmore returned to his lonely but well-furnished and -well-painted house, ate a reflective breakfast, smoked a cigar, and then -set out to find Jim Harley. Wigmore lived with a servant or companion--a -very old, grizzled, silent fellow, who did not seem to be "all there." -It was from this old chap, Timothy Fletcher by name, that the people of -the settlement had learned to give Wigmore the title of captain. As to -what kind of a captain he had been, opinions differed. - -Wigmore found Harley in the farm-yard helping a teamster get away with a -wagonload of pork, flour, and oats for his lumber camp on Harley Brook, -five miles away. As soon as man and load were gone, the captain -addressed the lumber operator. - -"James," said he, slowly and with dignity, "I feel that you owe me an -explanation of your strange behavior of last night." - -Harley sighed. "I can't explain it to you, captain," he said. "It has to -do with--with a purely family matter; but I beg your pardon for anything -amiss that I may have said to you in my excitement." - -"Granted, James! Granted!" returned Wigmore, with a fine gesture of the -left hand. "But I am sorry, of course, that you--but it does not matter; -I am old, more or less of a stranger, and of no importance. You -explained your agitation to young Marsh, I understand?" - -"Yes, I felt that I owed it to him." - -"Very good, James. Of course I am anxious, and fairly itching with -curiosity--but my curiosity does not matter in the least. It struck me -as a most remarkable thing, though." - -"I was foolish," said the other; "but should it happen that--that it -turns out to be serious--to really mean anything--may I confide in you, -captain? May I ask your advice?" - -"Please do so, my dear boy," replied Wigmore cordially. "I shall be only -too happy to do anything for you--or for any member of your family. But -now I'll not keep you from your work any longer, James. If I may, I'll -just step over to the house and pay my respects to the ladies. I have a -new book in my pocket that they may be interested in." - -"They'll be glad to see you, captain," said Jim sincerely. "They always -are." - -So the captain went to the house and Mrs. Harley and Nell were glad to -see him, in spite of the fact that it was rather a busy time of day for -them to receive a caller. But the captain could be very entertaining -when he took the trouble to try--and he always took the required amount -of trouble when he met the Harley women. Now he produced the new book -from his pocket, and laid it on the table. It was a volume of literary -essays; and Nell took it up eagerly. The captain talked a little of -books, lightly and gracefully, and a little of travel and big cities. He -had a pretty wit. Except for the gray in his beard and mustache and -neatly brushed, thick hair, he did not look to be more than middle-aged -while he talked. Though he always walked with a slight limp, now he -stood very straight. His bright, dark eyes turned to Nell when she -looked away from him. He remained for about twenty minutes, and then -went away, leaving a very pleasant impression in the minds of both young -women. - -"What a catch he would be if he wasn't so old!" said Jim's wife, -laughing. - -Nell shook her head seriously. "He is very entertaining," she replied, -"and has read a great deal and seen a great deal; but there is something -about his eyes that--well, that is not attractive." - -"Most eccentric people have eyes like that," returned Mrs. Harley--who, -by the way, was not a native of the settlement--"and I do not think them -unattractive. Now there is poor Dick Goodine. His eyes are like that, -too--so bright and quick." - -"But Dick's are honest--and Captain Wigmore's look sly." - -"Oh! You _like_ Dick's eyes, Nell? Well, I think you might find eyes to -admire belonging to some one more worth while than Dick Goodine." - -"Don't be silly, Kate, _please_!" cried Nell. "I am no more interested -in the eyes of the young men of this place than you are." - -"What about David Marsh?" - -"Poor David. He is not amusing; and, though he looks so simple, I must -say that I cannot understand him." - -Jim Harley went to see Rayton, and found him bringing his horses in from -the fields just at the fall of the dusk. The Englishman had been doing -a last bit of fall plowing before the frost gripped the land in earnest. -He was muddy, but cheerful; and as hospitable as ever. Harley stayed to -supper--a very good supper of his host's own cooking. Then they lit -their pipes and went into the sitting room, where a fine fire was -crackling in the open stove. Harley told Rayton the same story that he -had told, the night before, to young Marsh. - -"Good heavens! That is very tragic!" exclaimed the Englishman. "But I -must say that I think last night's incident was nothing but chance. The -card had become marked in some way, quite by accident--and there you -are." - -They talked for an hour or two, and Rayton would not give way an inch in -his argument, that the affair of the previous night had been nothing but -blind chance. He was much more impressed by the other's story of the -past, and felt a new interest in Jim Harley. - -"I wish I could look at it as you do," said Jim, as he was leaving for -home. "But it seems to be more than chance to me--it looks like that -same damnable hate that killed my father." - -"But why should it descend upon young Marsh? Surely he is not--that is, -Miss Harley does not----" - -"I don't know," replied Jim. "I don't think so--but I don't know. The -thing worries me, anyhow--worries me like the devil! I'll keep my eyes -open, you may bet on that; and I'd consider it mighty friendly of you to -do the same." - -"I'll do it, then, Jim, though I must say I'm not much of a hand at -solving mysteries or catching sinners. But I'll keep my peepers open, -you may gamble on that." - -Reginald Baynes Rayton returned to his warm chair by the fire, and fixed -his mind, with an effort, on the solving of the mystery. He liked Jim -Harley, so he'd get to the bottom of that card trick if it burst his -brain. Suddenly he slapped his hand on his knee. - -"I have it!" he cried. "By George, I have it! It's that blithering -bounder, Nash. He's always up to some rotten joke or other; and he's -heard that story about the mother and grandmother somewhere, and so -marked that card to take a rise out of Jim. He hasn't enough sense to -know if a thing is sacred or not. He's one of those dashed fools who -enjoy jumping in where angels fear to tread. That's it. By George, it -didn't take me long to work out that puzzle! But I'll just keep it to -myself for a while--to make sure, you know." - -So he put the incident of the previous night out of his mind, and -thought of Harley's story, and of Harley's sister, instead. He knew -Nell, of course, but had not talked with her more than half a dozen -times. He admired her greatly; and now, since hearing this story of her -parents and her grandmother, he felt an extraordinary stirring of -tenderness toward her. He sighed, lit another pipe, and went up to bed. -He wanted to be up in the morning at even an earlier hour than usual, -for he had planned a long day in the woods. He had arranged with a lad -on the next farm to tend the stock for him during the day. - -Rayton gave the animals their morning feed and breakfasted himself by -lantern light. Then, with the pockets of his shooting coat stored with -sandwiches and a flask of whisky and water, and with his grown spaniel, -Turk, wriggling about his feet, he set out for the big timber that -crowded right up to his back pastures from the hundreds of square miles -of wilderness beyond. A heavy frost had gripped the earth during the -night. The buckwheat stubble was crisp with it. - -Dawn was spreading over the southeastern sky as he came to the edge of -the forest. He halted there, called Turk to heel, and filled and -started his pipe. His equipment was remarkable, and it would bother -some people to say what game he intended to go after with a dog and a -rifle. But Rayton knew what he was about. He wanted to bag a few brace -of ruffled grouse; but he did not want to miss any good chance that -might offer at moose, caribou, or deer. And he could not carry both -shot-gun and rifle. The dog was well trained and could be depended upon -not to trail, rush, or startle any big game. So it was Rayton's method -to let Turk flush the birds from the ground into the trees, from which -he would then shoot them with the rifle. He always fired at the head. Of -course, he missed the mark frequently, in which case the bird flew away -uninjured, as it is almost impossible to catch sight of a flying bird in -the high and thick covers of that country, this was a good and -sportsmanlike plan; and then he always had his rifle with him in case he -came across something bigger than grouse. - -Rayton carried a compass, and was not above consulting it now and again. -Men have been lost in less formidable wildernesses than that--and have -never been found. By noon he had five grouse attached to his belt--each -minus its head--and had failed to get a clean shot at a bull moose. He -had crossed two small streams, and was now close to the Teakettle. He -sat down on a fallen hemlock, and brought a bone for Turk, and half the -sandwiches from his pocket. Suddenly the spaniel jumped to his feet with -a low, inquiring yap. Rayton turned and beheld Dick Goodine. - -"Hello, Goodine, you're just in time," he cried cheerfully. - -At that, Turk lay down again and gnawed at the bone. - -"Good day, Mr. Rayton," replied the trapper. - -He carried a rifle under his arm, and an axe and small pack on his -shoulder. He advanced, laid his axe and pack on the ground, and shook -hands with the Englishman. He was a handsome man, younger than the -farmer by a year or two, perhaps, and not so tall by a couple of inches. -His eyes were large and dark, and just now had a somewhat sullen light -in their depths. His face was swarthy and clean-shaven. He leaned his -rifle against an upheaved root, and sat down on the log beside Rayton. - -"Any luck?" he asked. - -"No," replied the Englishman, "How about you?" - -"I've shot my three head already. I'm just cruisin' now, keepin' an eye -open for b'ar and fixin' up a few dead falls. Plenty of signs of fur -this year." - -"Glad to hear it; but you don't look as gay as usual for all that. But -help yourself, Dick. Help yourself, and here's the flask." - -Goodine removed his wide felt hat, smiling reflectively. "Thank'e," he -said, and took up a sandwich. Half of it was gone--and he ate -slowly--before he spoke again. "Well, I don't feel gay," he said. - -"What's the trouble?" - -"Oh, I have my troubles--like most of us, I guess. But just for the -moment it's Davy Marsh is kinder stickin' in my crop." - -The other started, almost upsetting the flask which stood on the log -beside him. - -"What's the matter with Davy?" he asked. - -"I saw him this mornin', yonder at his camp on the Teakettle," replied -the trapper. "We had an argyment about guidin', a month or two ago--only -a word or two--an' he holds it against me. He was loadin' his canoe, for -Dan's River, when I sighted him. I sung out to him, friendly as you -please--and he didn't much more than answer me. Well, I've always put up -with Davy, because he can't help his manners, I guess, so I kep' right -along and helped him trim his canoe and get away downstream. But he was -sulky as a b'ar with a bee in his ear all the time, and kep' lookin' at -me as if I was dangerous. He was darn uncivil--an' that's a thing I -can't stand. I've bin sorter chewin' on it, ever since." - -"Cheer up, Dick," returned Rayton, and laughed heartily. "You mustn't -let Davy Marsh's bad manners hump you. Take a drink and forget it." He -offered the flask. - -Goodine shook his head. "I guess not, thank'e all the same," he said. "I -know your liquor is good. I've drunk it before, and there's no man in -the country I'd sooner take a _smile_ with than you, Mr. Rayton; but I'm -leavin' the stuff alone, now." - -"Right you are, Dick," replied the other, returning the flask to his -pocket without quenching his own thirst. - -"You see," said the trapper, "it makes a beast of me. If I got a taste -of it, now, I'd go out to the settlement and get some more, and keep at -it till I was a regular beast. So I reckon I'll cut it out." He looked -keenly at the Englishman. "Last time I was cornered," he continued, -"_she_ saw me!" - -"Ah!" exclaimed Rayton. "Who saw you?" - -"Nell Harley--the whitest woman on top the earth! _She_ saw me when I -was more like a hog than a man. I was shamed. I'm sick with the shame of -it this very minute." - -Rayton looked embarrassed. - -"Oh! I'm a fool to be talkin'," continued the other bitterly; "but I -can't keep wrestlin' with myself all the time. She's treated me -right--but I know she don't care a damn for me. And why should she? Oh! -I ain't _quite_ a fool! But I want her to think well of me--I want to -show her that I'm as decent as most men 'round these parts, and decenter -than some. Yes, I want her to see that--and I _can_ be decent, if I try. -I'm poor--but that's no disgrace in this country, thank God! My old man -was a drunkard; but my mother is a good woman, and honest. She is -French, from up Quebec way. I reckon some folks 'round here think that's -something for me to be ashamed of." - -"Think _what_ is something to be ashamed of?" - -"Bein' half French." - -"The devil!" exclaimed Rayton indignantly. "Then they show their -ignorance, Dick. French blood is glorious blood. I'm pure English -myself, but I say that and stick to it. What was your mother's name?" - -"Julie Lemoyne was her maiden name." - -"That was a great name in Quebec, in the old days," replied Rayton -enthusiastically; "and it may still be, for all I know. There have been -great soldiers by that name, and some famous scholars, too." He clipped -a hand on the trapper's knee. "So cheer up!" he cried. "Very likely you -are descended from soldiers and scholars. Take it for granted, anyway, -and act accordingly--and you'll be the equal of anybody in this -province. Never mind Davy's bad manners, but take them for a warning. -And if--if you care for some one you consider to be too good for you, -just show her, by your actions--and by your life--that it is an honor to -enjoy your regard and friendship." - -Dick Goodine looked at the speaker with glowing eyes. "You've done me -good!" he cried. "I feel more like a man, already. You're a wonder, Mr. -Rayton--a livin' wonder. Shake on it! I'm your friend, by damn! from now -till hell freezes over." - -"Thanks. And I'm your friend," said Rayton, shaking the proffered hand -vigorously. "And I hope you'll forgive me for preaching," he added. - -"Forgive you? I'll bless you for it, more likely," returned Dick. - -They were about to part--for the trapper meant to spend the night in the -woods and the farmer wanted to get home before dark--when Goodine turned -again, a daring and attractive figure with axe and pack on his right -shoulder and the rifle in his left hand. "But don't think that I'm even -expectin' to be good enough for her," he said. "I'll try to be decent, -God knows!--but I'll still be just a poor, ignorant bushwhacker. You are -more the kind she ought to marry." - -"Me! What are you thinking of, Dick?" cried Rayton. - -"That's all right," replied the trapper, and vanished in the underbrush. - -Rayton tramped and scrambled along with his mind so busy with thoughts -of Dick Goodine, of Nell Harley, and of David Marsh that, when he -arrived at his own pasture fence shortly after sunset, he discovered -that he had not added so much as one bird to his bag. - -"The devil!" he exclaimed. "That comes of woolgathering. But never mind, -Turk, we'll do better to-morrow." - -When he reached the house he found Doctor Nash's buggy in front of the -door, and the doctor inside. - -"I thought I'd drop in and have a talk over that queer business of a -couple of nights ago," said Nash. - -This dealt a blow to Rayton's suspicion. "Drive 'round and we'll put the -nag under cover, and give her a feed," he said. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -DOCTOR NASH'S SUSPICIONS--YOUNG MARSH'S MISFORTUNE - - -Doctor Nash was a gentleman blessed with the deportment of early and -untrained youth, and with the years of middle age. His manners were -those of a first-year medical student, though he considered himself to -be a polished and sophisticated man of the world. He had practised in -four different parts of the country, but had nowhere impressed the -people favorably by his cures, or his personality. He was a bachelor. He -was narrow and lanky of build, but fat and ruddy of face. His hair was -carroty on top of his head, but of a darker shade in mustache and -close-trimmed beard. His eyes were small and light, and over the left, -the lid drooped in a remarkable way. Whenever he happened to remember -the dignity of his profession he became ridiculously consequential--and -even when he forgot it he continued to make a fool of himself. - -These traits of character did not endear Doctor Nash to Mr. Rayton, but -they did not mar the perfection of the farmer's simple hospitality. He -produced a cold venison pie for supper, made coffee and buttered toast, -and flanked these things with a decanter of whisky on one side and a jug -of sweet cider on the other. - -"Cold meat pie," remarked Nash slightingly--and immediately began to -devour it. After saying that he had never heard of such a thing as -buttered toast for supper he ate more than half the supply. He lost no -time in informing the other that he had always _dined_ in the evening -before fate had thrown him away on a backwoods practice. - -Rayton haw-hawed regularly, finding this the easiest way of hiding his -feelings. - -"Whisky!" exclaimed Nash, after his second cup of coffee with cream. "I -believe you live for it, Rayton. I never have it in my own house except -for medicinal purposes." Then he helped himself to a bumper that fairly -outraged his host's sense of proportions. - -"I saw Miss Harley to-day," he said. "She told me that Jim had been to -see you, last night." - -"Well?" queried Rayton, puzzled. "She does not object, does she?" His -mind had been furtively busy with the young woman throughout the meal. - -"So I thought that he may have explained his queer behavior to you," -said the other. - -"Yes, he did." - -"What did he say?" - -"Really, Nash, I don't know that I have any right to repeat what he told -me." - -"Did he ask you not to?" - -"No; but perhaps he intended to do so and forgot." - -Nash laughed uproariously. "You are the limit!" he exclaimed. "You beat -the band! Why should he tell you a thing that he would not want me to -know?" - -Rayton suspected several reasons; but he did not want to offend his -guest by advancing them. - -"Have you seen Jim since that night?" he asked. - -"No." - -"But saw his sister?" - -"Yes. Jim wasn't at home." - -Rayton lit his pipe, reflected for half a minute, and then gave his -guest a brief and colorless version of the story. He told it grudgingly, -wishing all the while that Harley had asked him not to repeat it. - -Nash straddled his long, thin legs toward the fire. "So that's the -yarn, is it?" he sneered. "And do you believe it?" - -"Believe it? What Harley told me?" - -"Yes." - -"Certainly I do." - -"Then you are more of a fool than I took you for. Don't you see it's all -a game of Harley's to keep that young cub away from his sister? He -doesn't want to have such a lout hanging 'round all the time for fear it -may scare some one else away--some one who'd be a better catch. So he -rigged the card and invented the fine story." - -Rayton withdrew his pipe from his lips and stared at his guest blankly. - -"Oh! that was easy," continued Nash complacently. "I thought, until you -told me that yarn, that I really had hold of a problem worth solving. -But it is easy as rolling off a log. Here is the marked card. See, it is -marked in red chalk. A man could do that in two winks, right under our -noses." He handed the card to Rayton--the cross-marked six of clubs. -Rayton took it, but did not even glance at it. His gaze was fixed -steadily upon his guest. - -"I don't quite follow you," he said--"or, at least, I hope I don't." - -"Hope you don't follow me? What do you mean?" - -"I mean just this, Doctor Nash. When you happen to be in my house be -careful what you say about my friends." - -Nash stared. Then he laughed unpleasantly. "Are you bitten, too?" he -asked. - -Rayton got to his feet. "See here, Nash, I don't want to cut up rusty, -or be rude, or anything of that kind," he exclaimed, "but I warn you -that if you don't drop this personal strain there'll be trouble." - -"Personal strain!" retorted the other. "How the devil are we to talk -about that card trick, and the cause of it, without becoming personal?" - -Rayton was silent. - -"But you know what I think about it," continued Nash, "so you can make -what you please of it. I'll be going now. I'm not used to be jawed at by -a--by a farmer." - -The Englishman laughed, helped his offended guest into his overcoat, -followed him to the stable, and hitched-in the nag for him. - -"A word of advice to you," said Nash, when he was all ready to drive -away. "If you have your eye on Miss Harley, take it off. Don't run away -with any idea that Jim is trying to scare young Marsh out so as to clear -the road for you." - -Then the whip snapped and away he rolled into the darkness. - -Rayton stood in the empty barnyard for a long time, as motionless as if -he had taken root. "I'll keep a grip on my temper," he said at last. -"For a while, anyway. When I _do_ let myself out at that silly ass it'll -be once and for all." - -Then he returned to the sitting-room fire and thought about Nell Harley. - -"Goodine, Marsh, and Nash--they're all in love with her," he muttered. -"So it looks as if some one was up to some sort of dirty game with that -marked card, after all; but who the devil can it be? It's utter nonsense -to suspect poor Dick Goodine--or Jim; but it will do no harm to keep my -first idea about Nash in my mind. If he did it, though, I don't believe -it was in the way of a joke, after all." - -Now to go back to the morning, and David Marsh. At break of day the -guide had started the horses and wagon back along the muddy twelve-mile -road to the settlement, in charge of a young nephew. They had been gone -an hour when Dick Goodine appeared. At that appearance it had -immediately jumped into his mind that the trapper was spying on him; -but he had kept the thought to himself. He had been greatly relieved, -however, to get away from the trapper's company and unsolicited -assistance. There was plenty of water in the brook, so he paddled -swiftly down the brown current for a mile or two. Then, feeling that he -had got clear of Goodine, he let the heavily loaded canoe run with the -current and filled his pipe. - -"The more I see of that Goodine," he reflected, "the more I mistrust -him. And the cheek of him, poor and shiftless, to think about Nell. I -bet it was him put the marks on that card, somehow or other. The dirty -French blood in him would teach him how to do them kinder tricks. Why, -he ain't much better than a half-breed--and yet _he_ talks about bein' -above cookin' for sports, and lookin' after them in camp. He's too lazy -to do honest work, that's what's the matter. So long's he can raise -enough money to go on a spree now and then, he's happy. I don't trust -him. I don't like them black eyes of his. I bet he's been spying on me -ever since I got to the camp last night. Let him spy! He'd be scared to -try anything on with me; and if he thinks a girl like Nell would have -anything to do with a darn jumpin' Frenchman like him, he better go -soak his head." - -So as the stream carried him farther and farther away from the spot -where he had left the trapper, his indignation against that young man -increased and his uneasiness subsided. - -"I wish I'd up and asked him what the devil he wanted," he muttered, -"I'd ought to let him see, straight, what I think of him. But maybe he -was just lookin' for trouble--for a chance to get out his knife at me. -He wouldn't mind killin' a man, I guess--by the looks of him. No, he -wouldn't go so far as that, yet a while. That would cook his goose, for -sure." - -Three miles below the camp, the Teakettle emptied into a larger stream -that was known as Dan's River. It was on the headwaters of this river -that Marsh had his second and more important sporting camp in a region -full of game. On reaching Dan's River, Marsh swung the bow of his canoe -upstream, keeping within a yard or two of the right bank. He laid his -paddle aside, took up a long pole of spruce, and got to his feet, -perfectly balanced. For the first quarter of a mile it was lazy work, -and then he came to a piece of swift and broken water called Little -Rapids. This was a stiff piece of poling, though not stiff enough under -any circumstances to drive an experienced canoe man to portaging around -it. David Marsh had mastered it, both ways, at all depths of water, more -than a dozen times. The channel was in midstream. The canoe shot across -the current and then headed up into that long rush and clatter of -waters. The young man set his feet more firmly and put his body into his -work. - -The slim, deep-loaded craft crawled upward, foot by foot, the clashing -waters snarling along her gunwales and curling white at her gleaming -bow. Now David threw every ounce of his strength, from heel to neck, -into the steady thrust. The long pole bent under the weight, curved -valiantly--and broke clean with a report like a rifle shot. David was -flung outward, struggling to regain his balance; and, at the same -moment, the canoe swung side-on to the roaring water and then rolled -over. - -David Marsh fought the whirling, buffeting waters with frantic energy. -He was struggling for his life. That was his only thought. He struck out -to steady himself, to keep clear of the boiling eddies where the black -rocks seemed to lift and sink, and to keep his head above the smother. -The beating, roaring, and slopping of the rapids almost deafened him, -and filled him with a shuddering dread of those raging, clamorous -surfaces, and silent, spinning depths. Now he saw the clear, blue sky -with a hawk adrift in the sunshine--and now he glimpsed one shore or the -other, with dark green of spruce, and a spot or two of frost-bitten -red--and now black sinews and twisting ribbons crossed his vision, and -torn spray beat against his sight with white hands. The deathly chill of -the water bit into blood and bone. - -It seemed to him that he was smothered, spun and hammered in this hell -of choking tumult for hours. At last the roar and clatter began to -soften in his ears--to soften and sweeten to a low song. Wonderful -lights swam across his eyes--red, clearest green and the blue of the -rainbow. A swift, grinding agony in his right arm aroused him. He was -among the rocks at the tail of the rapids. For a minute he fought -desperately; and then he dragged himself out of the shouting river and -lay still. - -Marsh was young and strong, and had not swallowed a serious amount of -water. For ten minutes he lay under the leafless willows, unconsciously -struggling for his breath. Then he sat up, swayed dizzily, and screamed -suddenly with the pain in his arm. It was that excruciating pain, -burning and stabbing from wrist to shoulder, that brought him fully to -his senses. He staggered to his feet and gazed up and down the bright -course of the river. He shivered with cold and weakness. - -"Arm smashed!" he cried, almost sobbing. "Outfit lost! My God!" - -He sank again, easing himself to the ground by the willows with his left -hand. With the bandanna handkerchief from his neck, a piece of cord from -his pocket, a few handfuls of dry grass, and a thin slip of driftwood he -made a rough support for his arm and fastened it securely to his side. -This took him fully half an hour, and caused him intense pain and severe -nervous fatigue. He was shaking and gasping by the time it was -done--yes, and on the verge of tears. - -"The pole broke," he whimpered. "And it was a good pole--the best I -could find. It never happened before." - -He got to his feet again, and started painfully along the shore. The -bank was steep, with only a narrow fringe of rocky beach. In some places -the overhanging thicket forced him to wade knee-deep in the water. He -stumbled along, groaning with the pain of his arm. His cheeks were -bloodless under the tan, and there was a haunted look in his eyes. Fear -still gripped him--not the violent, sickening horror that he had felt -while struggling in the eddies of the rapid, but a quiet, vague fear -that he could give no name to. - -Marsh rested for a few minutes on a little grassy flat at the mouth of -the Teakettle. By this time the sun, and his own exertions, had warmed -him a little; but still the shadow of fear was in his eyes. "It was a -strong pole," he kept muttering. "I cut it myself--and tested it. How -did it come to break!" - -He found the footing along the smaller stream even more difficult than -that which he had left behind. Both banks were flanked with impenetrable -snarls of underbrush that overhung the gliding current, and so he was -forced to wade, knee-deep. The bottom was rocky and slippery, and the -swift water dragged mercilessly at his weary legs. He advanced slowly, -painfully, a pitiful figure. Sometimes he stumbled, almost fell, and -jarred his shattered arm in his recovery. Sometimes he groaned. -Sometimes he cursed aloud. "My luck's gone!" he cried. "The pole broke -on me--and it was a good pole. Never broke a pole before! Never got -spilled before! Something damn queer about that!" He was forced to rest -frequently, sitting on a stranded log or flat rock, or perhaps standing -and clinging to the alders and willows. His arm ached numbly now. Now -showers of silver sparks streamed across his vision, and again he saw -little blue and red dots dancing in the sunlight. - -[Illustration: "HE ADVANCED SLOWLY, PAINFULLY, A PITIFUL FIGURE"] - -It took him a long time to cover the three miles from the mouth of the -Teakettle up to the little camp that he had sped so swiftly away from -early that morning. It was long past noon when he dragged himself up the -steep path, unfastened the door, and stumbled into the shack. After a -few minutes' rest on the floor, he managed to light a fire in the stove -and put a kettle of water on to boil. He needed tea--tea, hot and -strong. That would pull him together for the twelve-mile journey that -lay between him and Doctor Nash. But he'd lie down until the water -boiled. He pulled off his moccasins and crawled into a bunk, drawing two -pairs of heavy blankets over him. He was too tired to think--too tired -even to continue his whimpering and cursing. After a minute he dozed -off. - -David Marsh was awakened shortly by a touch on his injured arm. He -yelled with the pain of it even before he opened his eyes. Then he -stared, for there stood a young woman named Maggie Leblanc, gazing at -him in astonishment. She was a fine-looking young woman in a striking, -but rather coarse red and black way. She was roughly dressed, and had an -old muzzle-loading gun by her side, and five partridges hanging at her -belt. She was the eldest of many children belonging to a worthless -couple who lived about two miles from the Marsh farm, in a poor -community called French Corner. It was in that same part of the -settlement that Dick Goodine's mother lived. - -"Hell!" exclaimed Marsh. "Where'd you come from, Maggie?" - -"What are you yelling about?" asked the girl. "An' what are you layin' -there for, this time o' day?" - -"I'm hurt," returned David. "My arm is broke, I guess." Then he told her -all about his morning's misfortune. - -"And Dick Goodine was here, was he!" cried the girl. "He helped you load -the canoe, did he! And then your pole broke! Are you good friends with -Dick Goodine?" - -David looked at her eagerly. "Not particular," he answered. "What are -you drivin' at?" - -"He's after your girl, ain't he?" she asked, her black eyes glistening. - -"Look here, what are you drivin' at, Maggie?" - -She came close to the edge of the bunk. "Maybe he knows what made the -pole break! I've heard o' that trick before. He put it in the canoe for -you, didn't he?" - -"Yes!" cried the young man furiously. "Yes, he did. Damn him!--if he -played that dirty trick on me." - -"You lay quiet," said Maggie Leblanc. "I'll cook you a bite o' dinner, -an' then I'll light out for Doctor Nash. You ain't fit to travel another -step." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -DAVID TAKES A MISFORTUNE IN A POOR SPIRIT - - -David drank tea, Maggie Leblanc holding the tin mug to his lips. The -pain in his arm became more intense as his strength returned. His temper -was raw. He refused the bacon which the girl fried for him. - -"Hell!" he exclaimed, "I feel too bad to eat. I feel like the very -devil, Maggie. Arm busted, canoe and outfit lost! Hell!" - -"I guess that skunk, Dick Goodine, done you pretty brown," remarked the -girl. "Dick's cute. Always was. He bested you just like he'd best a mink -or a fox. You ain't no match for Dick Goodine, Davy." - -David Marsh cursed bitterly. - -"That durn half-breed!" he cried. "Me no match for him! You wait and -see, Maggie. I'll get square with him, one of these days." - -"Dick ain't no half-breed," retorted the girl. "He's French and -English--and that mixture don't made a breed. Got to have Injin blood, -like me, to make a breed." - -"Injin blood's better'n his mixture," said David. "Hell, yes! Dick -Goodine's pure skunk. But I'll do him yet. You just watch, Maggie. Arm -busted! Canoe busted and outfit sunk! He'll pay me for that." - -"You think a heap o' yer money, Davy," said Maggie Leblanc. - -"You go get the doctor," returned the young woodsman sullenly, "and -leave my affairs alone. Money? Well, I guess I make it hard enough. You -go 'long now, Maggie, like a good girl, and get Doctor Nash--or maybe -I'll never have the use o' this arm again. It's stiffenin' up terrible -quick. I'll make it worth yer while, Maggie. Five dollars! How'll five -dollars do?" - -"I'm goin'," answered Maggie. "But you keep yer money. I don't want yer -five dollars. I'll fetch the doc, and I'll help you get square with that -skunk Dick Goodine, all for nothin'. You bet! Lay still, now, and I'll -light out for the settlement." - -"I thought you was sweet on Dick Goodine; but you don't seem much that -way now, Maggie. What's he bin doin' to you?" asked David. - -"Yer mind yer own business, Davy Marsh," retorted the young woman, "and -don't you give none o' yer cheek to me. I'm helpin' you, ain't I? Then -mind yer manners!" - -Then, with a toss of her handsome head, she hurried from the shack. - -Left alone under that low roof in the quiet forest, with the afternoon -sunshine flooding in by open door and window, David gave his mind -unreservedly to his accident, considering it from many points of view. -He had accepted Maggie Leblanc's suggestion without question--that -Goodine had caused the disaster by injuring his canoe pole in some way. -Now, alone in the silent forest, he thought of the marks on the card, -and remembered the story that Jim Harley had confided to him. It was -foolishness, of course, to set any store by two red crosses on a playing -card--and yet--and yet---- - -Queer things happen, he reflected. The devil still takes a hand in the -games of men. The idea of the blow being the work of a supernatural -agency, directed by the marked card, grew upon him. But even so, what -more likely than that Dick Goodine had cut his canoe pole--had been -chosen as the instrument of fate? One has strange fancies when lying -faint and hurt in a silent wilderness, in a golden, empty afternoon. - -The sunlight gradually died away from window and door. David thought of -his loss and counted the money that would slip from his fingers, owing -to the broken arm. This was bitter food for the mind of such a man as -David Marsh. Mr. Banks, the rich and generous American sportsman, would -soon be at Samson's Mill Settlement--only, alas, for the profit of some -other than the unfortunate Davy. It was a hard fact to consider, but at -last the sullen young man fell asleep with the weight of it on his mind. - -He dreamed of a life-and-death struggle with a Spanish count, who looked -like Dick Goodine dressed up in queer clothes. The Spanish nobleman ran -a knife into his arm and the pain was sickening. The count vanished, and -beside him stood a young man in a blue coat with brass buttons, whom -they called Jackson. This Mr. Jackson had a terrible leer on his face, -and a huge pistol in his right hand. Seizing David by the collar, he -hammered him with the pistol upon the wound made by the Spaniard's -knife. David yelled with the pain of it--and woke up! Above him leaned -Doctor Nash, holding a lantern, and with a finger on the broken arm. -"Quit it!" cried David. "Quit it, doc! That's the busted place yer -pinchin'." - -A painful period of twenty minutes followed, and at the end of it -David's arm was in splints and bandages, and David's face was absolutely -colorless. Nash brought him 'round with a long drink of brandy. - -"Hell!" said David. "That's all I want to see of you for the rest o' my -life, doc." - -The doctor grinned, mopped his heated brow, and set the lantern on the -table. "Oh, that's nothing," he said. "Booh! I've done ten times as much -as that before breakfast. Keep still, now, and give it a chance. Your -arm will be as good as new in a few months." - -David groaned. Nash built up the fire. - -"I'm hungry," he said. "Where d'you keep your grub? Got anything fit to -eat?" - -"I reckon yes," returned the woodsman. "There's plenty of grub in this -camp, and every durn ounce of it is fit for anybody to eat. Well, I -guess! There's eggs in that there box on the floor, and bacon in the -cupboard, and tea and coffee, and everything. Help yourself, doc. It was -bought to feed Mr. Banks--so I guess you'll find it good enough for -you." - -"Don't get excited, David," retorted the doctor. "Keep your hair on, or -maybe you'll keep your arm from knitting." - -He cooked a good meal, gave a little of it to his patient, and devoured -the choicer, and by far the larger, share of it himself. Then he lit his -pipe and drew a stool close up to the bunk in which David lay. - -"You are not fit to move to-night," he said, "so I'll stay here and take -you in to-morrow morning. I managed to get my rig through the mud-holes -without breaking anything, I guess." - -David moved his feet uneasily. - -"Guess you'll be chargin' me pretty heavy for this, doc," he returned. - -"Don't you worry," returned Nash. "I'll only charge what's fair, Davy. -Of course it was quite a serious operation, and a long drive--but don't -you worry." - -He drew at his pipe for a little while in silence. At last he said: -"Maggie Leblanc tells me it was Dick Goodine who worked the dirty trick -on you. Is that so?" - -"I guess so. Don't see what else. The pole was a good one, far's I -know." - -"What's the trouble between you and Dick? I didn't know he was that -kind." - -"Well, we had an argyment a while back. Nothin' serious; but he's a -spiteful kind of cuss. Dirty blood in him, I guess." - -Nash nodded. "And perhaps you think the marks on that card had something -to do with it. Isn't that so, Davy? I guess Jim Harley has told you what -those marks mean." - -"That's all durned foolishness. Marks on a card! How'd them little -crosses break my pole and upset me into the rapids?" - -"Sounds fine, Davy; but you are scared of that marked card, all the -same. Don't lie to me--for it's no use. I think the marks on the card -have something to do with your broken arm." - -"How, doc? No, yer foolin'! Yer tryin' to make game of me. I ain't a -scholar, like you, doc, but I ain't fool enough to believe in ghosts, -just the same." - -"I am not saying anything about ghosts, Davy. You just keep your hair -on, and I'll tell you what I think. In the first place, just remember -that I am a man with a trained mind and a wide knowledge of life." - -"Guess yer right, doc. Fire away!" - -"Jim Harley told you that long story of his about his grandmother?" - -"That's so." - -"Do you believe it?" - -"Maybe I do--and maybe I don't. What's that to you?" - -"Of course you believe it! That's because your mind is untrained, and -you don't know anything of the ways of the world." - -"You just leave my mind alone, doc. It ain't hurtin' you, I guess. You -talk as if I hadn't any more brains than a sheep." - -Nash grinned, and rubbed his long hands briskly together. He enjoyed -this sort of thing. - -"Right you are. You believe Jim's story--and I don't. What I think is -this: Jim Harley marked the card, dealt it to you, and then invented the -yarn. He is trying to scare you away--away from fooling around his -sister." - -"You just let his sister alone, doc! And mind yer own business, too!" - -"Keep cool, my boy. Well, he scares you a bit with his story. Then he -has a talk to Dick Goodine. He knows Dick and you are not very good -friends. So he fixes Dick, and Dick fixes your canoe pole--and there you -are! Jim and Dick do the busting, and I do the mending. What do you -think of that?" - -"Durned foolishness!" retorted David. "Maybe Goodine done it; but Jim -didn't set him to it. I guess I know Jim Harley a durn sight better'n -you do." - -"Oh, yes! You are a devilish clever chap, David--in your own opinion. -Just the same, my smart young friend, take the hint from me and stop -thinking about Nell Harley. You are not wanted 'round that vicinity, and -if Jim can't scare you away with his card trick and his silly story, -he'll scare you with something else." - -David Marsh was raging; but he was helpless in the bunk, with a broken -arm to remember. He swore like the proverbial trooper--and Doctor Nash -sat and smoked, with his sneering grin broad on his fat face. He did not -say a word in reply to the woodsman's tirade. At last David lay back -weakly, breathless, and empty of oaths. Nash re-filled his pipe. - -"Think it over quietly," he said. "Are the red marks after you? Or is -Dick Goodine after you, on his own trick? Or is Jim Harley working a -game on you? Think it over, Davy, and don't swear at your friends." - -David's reply was a grunt; but he spent half the night in thinking it -over. The harder he thought the more hopelessly confused he became. - -During the drive to the Marsh farm next morning, Doctor Nash carefully -avoided the subject of the marked cards and his suspicions. As there was -not much else to talk of in Samson's Mill Settlement, just then, the -drive was a quiet one. After helping his patient into the house the -doctor drove away. - -Jim Harley came over to see David in the afternoon. The sufferer -received him with open suspicion, but Harley's manner soon drove the -shadow away. He listened to the story of the accident with every sign of -distress, and was impressed by the fact that Dick Goodine had helped -load and launch the canoe. He knew that David and the trapper were not -on friendly terms, and he believed the latter to be dangerously -quick-tempered; but he could scarcely bring himself to believe that he -would carry a grudge so far as to endanger a man's life. - -"Have you and Dick had words about anything else?" he asked, "anything -more than that argument about guiding sportsmen?" - -"I guess he holds something else against me," admitted the guide. - -"What is it? What have you ever done to him?" asked Harley. - -David shifted about uneasily in his chair, and became very red in the -face. In the depth of his heart he feared Jim Harley. - -"I ain't done anything to him," he said falteringly. "I--I ain't said -one uncivil word to him, except that time we had the tongue fight. He -just don't like me, that's all. He don't like me because I'm a smarter -guide than him, and get hold of all the rich sports; and--and I guess he -thinks--well, he thinks----" - -"What? What does he think?" demanded Harley. - -"Well, you see, Jim, he--I guess he kinder thinks I've got the--the -inside track, so to speak." - -"Inside track? You mean with the sportsmen? You have the best camps, and -all that sort of thing. I guess he's right, Davy." - -"That ain't just exactly what I mean, Jim. I ain't talking about guidin' -and campin' now. Lookee here, you know as how I'm kinder--well, as how I -am almighty fond o' Nell. You know that, Jim, for I've told you before. -Well, Dick Goodine's struck a bit that way, too, far's I can make out. -Durned cheek; but that's the truth. So I guess that's maybe why he's got -an axe behind his back for me." - -Jim Harley sighed and shook his head mournfully. - -"I hadn't thought about that," he said; "but now that you mention it, -Davy, I see that it may be so. I've always found Dick a good-hearted -fellow--but I guess he goes on the rip now and again. Not extra -steady--and not the kind to marry my sister. He's not steady, you -see--and he's so danged ignorant." - -Jim made these last remarks in a low, reflective voice, as if he were -talking only to himself. Tone and words fanned David's old suspicions -into sudden flame. - -"Yes, he's danged ignorant!" he cried. "Danged ignorant, just like me. -That's what you mean, ain't it? You don't want Nell to marry a -bushwhacker like Dick Goodine--nor like me. That's about right, ain't -it, Jim? My first guess was right t'other night, I do believe." - -Harley stared at him in angry amazement. - -"You are talking like a blasted fool!" he exclaimed. "You were on the -same string before, and I went to a good deal of trouble to set you -right. Too much trouble, I see now. But I tell you again, if I objected -seriously to you, David, you'd damn soon know it. You make me tired." - -"I didn't mean to rile you, Jim," returned the guide, "but what with the -gnawin' pain in my arm, and--and that story you told me about them marks -on the card--and them marks being dealt to me--I tell you, Jim, I don't -feel easy. I feel jumpy as a cat. Here I am with my arm busted already, -and a canoe and outfit gone clear to the devil. I never lost a canoe -before--nor bust my arm before." - -"I am sorry, David. I am mighty sorry," said Harley. "It is hard luck, -no mistake about that, but all I can say is, I don't wish you any harm, -and never have. If you think Goodine is laying for you, keep your eye on -him. If you think there is anything in those marks on the card--well, -you know the story. Act as you think best for yourself, Davy." - -"Thankee. I'll keep my eye skinned; but I tell you now, Jim, I ain't -scart o' them marks on the card. I believe all you told me--but I guess -it was just luck that brought them marks to this settlement and handed -them out to me. I don't think fer one minute they busted my arm or -upset my canoe." - -After the evening meal, Jim Harley visited Rayton. The Englishman was in -his sitting room, writing letters before a good fire. He pushed his -papers aside and received his visitor with that manner of perfect -hospitality which was as natural to him as his frequent laughter. He had -already heard rumors of David's accident, but when Jim told the full -story, he replied in forceful terms that Dick Goodine had no part in it. - -"But it looks queer," persisted Jim Harley. - -"Looks!" retorted the Englishman. "My dear Harley, didn't a canoe pole -ever break before? Is this the first man who ever smashed his arm? Rot! -I know Goodine, and he's the right sort. He's a man." - -Harley had great faith in Reginald Rayton's opinions; but he could not -get his suspicions of the trapper out of his head. - -"Don't think any more about it," urged his host. "You might as well -suspect Ben Samson--or old Wigmore. Drop it--and have a drink." - -So Jim dropped it and had a drink. But he was worried and preoccupied -throughout the evening. When he was about to leave, however, he shook -himself together. - -"If you are ever lonely," he said, "come over and see us." - -"Thanks very much," returned Rayton, gripping his hand. "I get a bit -lonely, sometimes. Ah--perhaps you'll see me to-morrow night, if that -will be convenient." - -At that moment Turk jumped to his feet, uttered a low growl, and ran to -the window. Rayton jumped after him and snatched the curtain aside. -Nothing was to be seen, though a pale half-moon was shining clearly. - -"That's queer," said Rayton. "Turk never gives false alarms." - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -MR. BANKS TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME - - -Mr. Harvey P. Banks, of New York, was an angry and dejected man when he -arrived at Samson's Mill Settlement, only to learn that his guide of -several past seasons--in fact, the only available professional guide in -the district--was laid up with a broken arm. He poured the full stream -of his wrath upon the unfortunate David Marsh. He was a big man--tall, -thick, broad, and big of face and hand, big of voice, foot, and outlook -upon life--and his size seemed to fill the little farmhouse bedroom and -press poor David against the wall. After expressing himself at length, -he asked why the guide had not wired to him, so as to give him time to -make other arrangements. - -Now that was a question that David had asked himself, too late. He -answered truthfully, his courage reviving as he realized that his excuse -was a pretty good one. He told of his accident in detail, of his -suspicion of Dick Goodine, and then, after another question or two, he -went back and described the game of poker, the marked card, and told Jim -Harley's story. Thus he explained a state of mind that had turned big -business considerations into unimportant shadows and meaningless -whisperings. - -Through it all Mr. Harvey P. Banks sat in a splint-bottomed -chair--bulging generously over the edges of the seat--smoking a long -cigar, and gazing unblinkingly at the young woodsman. He nodded his big -head when David finished, and flipped a two-inch white ash from the end -of his cigar to the hooked mat at his feet. - -"That's good enough for me, Marsh," he said. "I take back the hard names -I called you a few minutes ago. No wonder you forgot to send me a wire." - -He turned his head and gazed through the window at a field of buckwheat -stubble, rusty-red, and a green-black wall of spruces and firs. - -"Jim Harley told you the story, you say?" - -"Yes, sir; Jim Harley. Doctor Nash don't believe it." - -"Nash be blowed! And you say Jim acted very strangely when he saw the -marks on the card in your hand." - -"Yes, sir; he acted mighty queer. Doctor Nash says it was all a bluff, -though." - -"T'hell with Nash! How did the others take the sight of the red -crosses?" - -"Quiet enough, sir. They was all took up with Jim's queer look and -words." - -"And Rayton?" - -"He just looked like an astonished horse, Mr. Banks. That's his natural -look." - -"And Captain Wigmore?" - -"Oh, it didn't bother him none, you can bet yer hat on that." - -Mr. Banks nodded again. "It wouldn't," he said reflectively. "A mark on -a card wouldn't interest that old clam, I imagine, unless it was on the -back, where it might be of some use to him." - -He asked several more questions about the chances of obtaining good -heads of moose and caribou in the Beaver Brook, Teakettle, and Dan's -River country this season, talked of past adventures which he had shared -with the young woodsman, and slipped in more than one query concerning -Maggie Leblanc. Then, promising to see David again in a day or two, he -lit another cigar and took his departure. - -Ten minutes later, on the road, Harvey P. Banks met Reginald Baynes -Rayton. The Englishman wore his oldest pair of breeches, but their cut -was undeniable. Banks' eyes were sharp, though their expression was -usually exceedingly mild. - -"You are Mr. Rayton, who is farming the old Bill Hooker place, I am -sure," he said. - -"Yes. And you are Mr. Banks, of New York, I'm quite positive," returned -Rayton, lifting a shabby felt hat, and laughing pleasantly. There was -nothing to laugh at--but Reginald had a way of laughing politely at -everything and nothing. It meant nothing, but it covered profound -meanings. - -Mr. Banks returned the unexpected salute with a fine gesture of his -tweed cap, and then the two shook hands. - -"I have just been to see poor David Marsh," said Banks. "I blew him up -pretty high, at first, but I melted when I heard what he has on his -mind." - -"Yes, he seems to be in a funk about one thing and another," returned -Rayton. "But it is rough on you, too. But--ah--I think I can help -you--if you don't consider it cheeky of me to--to make a suggestion." - -"Cheeky! My dear Mr. Rayton, I'll bless you for a likely suggestion." - -"Then let me put you on to some good shooting. I know this country -fairly well, considering I'm a new settler, and this is my slack season -on the farm. I can help you to a couple of good heads, I'm positive. We -can make my house our headquarters, for the game is very close in this -year. The house is snug, and I am something quite special in the cooking -line. What do you say?" - -"It sounds mighty tempting, but--well, Mr. Rayton, I am a business man, -and I like to see the business end of every proposition before I start -in." - -Rayton laughed freely, but politely. - -"Of course," he said. "I am a farmer--and I see what you mean. The -business end of some propositions is like the hinder end of a wasp, -isn't it? Hah-hah! But--if you don't mind--well, I don't see how we can -put any business end to this. Ah--if you will be so kind as just to -consider yourself my guest. Hope you don't think it cheeky of me!" - -"Well! 'Pon my word, Mr. Rayton, you are very kind. Why should you -befriend me like this? It is astonishing." - -"Not at all. We can have some good talks, you see. I am a bit lonely, -sometimes. It is all serene, isn't it? Good. Where are your traps? Come -along." - -So they turned and walked side by side along the road and across the -empty fields to Rayton's house. Mr. Banks glanced frequently and -wonderingly at his new friend. Never before, in all his wide and active -life, had his confidence been captured so quickly. - -"And he seems to take me quite as a matter of course," he reflected. - -That afternoon the two new friends, with Turk's assistance, shot a few -brace of woodcocks and grouse, in quiet swales and corners around the -outskirts of the farm. Then, together, they cooked supper. Shortly after -supper, while they were playing a game of chess, and smoking two of Mr. -Banks' long and superior cigars, old Captain Wigmore knocked on the -front door, and entered without waiting for it to be opened for him. -Rayton welcomed him as affably as if they had last parted on the most -polite terms. He introduced the small old man to the big middle-aged -one. - -"We have met before," said the captain. - -"Yes, I knew Captain Wigmore last year," said Banks. - -Wigmore accepted a cigar from the New Yorker's bulging case. - -"That is the real thing--the real leaf," he said. He looked at the -chessmen. - -"Reginald, when are we to have another game of poker? I am sure Mr. -Banks plays the game of his nation. We must sit in again soon. We must -not be frightened away from a harmless amusement by that silly trick Jim -Harley played on us a few nights ago." - -Mr. Banks feigned astonishment. "What was the trick?" he asked. "I -should never have suspected Harley of playing a trick--especially a card -trick. He has always seemed to me a very serious chap." - -"Rather a queer thing happened a few nights ago, while we were playing -poker, here," said Rayton. "Captain Wigmore thinks Harley was at the -bottom of it; but I don't. Tell about it, captain." - -So for the second time, Banks heard of the card marked with two red -crosses and dealt to young David Marsh. He watched Wigmore throughout -the telling as intently as he had watched the guide. - -"Very interesting? Jim Harley is not such a serious fellow as I -thought," he said, by way of comment. And that was all until after -Wigmore took his leave, at half-past ten. Wigmore had not mentioned the -tradition behind the two red marks. When the door had closed upon the -queer old captain, Rayton and Banks talked for nearly an hour about -Harley's story of the red crosses, and David Marsh's experience of them. -The Englishman convinced the New Yorker that Dick Goodine had played no -part in David's accident. Mr. Banks, like Jim Harley, found it natural -to accept Rayton's readings of men and things. - -Mr. Banks lay awake in his comfortable bed for a full hour after turning -in, his mind busy with the mystery of Samson's Mill Settlement. He -decided that whoever marked the card had known the tragic story of the -Harley family. He did not take much stock in David's accident. That had -been nothing more nor less than a piece of bad luck. Canoe poles break -frequently, owing to some hidden flaw in the white wood. But he felt -sure that the two red crosses on the face of the card were not matters -of chance. - -"I'll work this thing out if it drives me crazy. I have always had an -itch to do a bit of detective work," he murmured. - -Then he sank into deep and peaceful slumber. - -When Banks entered the kitchen next morning, at an early hour, he found -the porridge neglected and sullenly boiling over the brim of the pot -onto the top of the stove, and his host standing with drooped shoulders -gazing mournfully at a five-foot length of spruce pole that stood in the -corner. Banks jumped ponderously and rescued the porridge. - -"What's the trouble?" he asked. "Are you thinking of beating some one -with that stick?" - -Rayton laughed joylessly. "This is too bad!" he said. "Molly Canadian, -the busy old idiot, brought this in to me only a few minutes ago. Silly -old chump!" - -"What is it? And who is Molly Canadian?" - -"She's an old squaw--and a great pal of mine. This thing is a piece of a -canoe pole." - -"Ah! Piece of a pole. Why does it interest and depress you so?" - -"She found it at the foot of the rapids in which young Marsh came to -grief. Yesterday, she says. If you look at the broken end of it you'll -notice that the surface is remarkably smooth for about halfway across." - -"Ah! It has been cut! Cut halfway through! Do you think it is David's -pole?" - -"I am afraid it is the one he broke. It was found at the foot of the -rapids." - -Mr. Banks scratched his clean-shaven chin. - -"Looks as if you had put your trust in a lame horse," he said. - -"Yes, it looks that way," admitted the Englishman, "but I don't believe -Dick Goodine cut that pole! I know Goodine--but I'm not so sure of this -pole. Sounds silly; but that's the way I feel. I'm not much on reasoning -things out, but I've a few pretty clear ideas on this subject. From what -you tell me that Marsh told you, it is quite evident that Maggie Leblanc -is anxious to get Dick into a mess. Well?" - -"You think the girl cut the pole?" - -"Yes. Why not? She has Maliseet blood in her, you know--English, French, -and Maliseet. She is a fine looking girl, in her way and of her kind, -but I've seen two devils shining in her eyes." - -"Would she run the risk of killing one man, just on the chance of -getting another into trouble?" - -"I won't say that of her, Banks, but there'd be no need for her to run -that risk. Finding David in his camp, with a broken arm, evidently -suggested to her the chance of making trouble for Goodine. Then why -shouldn't she travel over to the rapids and hunt for the pole--or a part -of it? With luck, she'd find it. Then she could trim the broken end a -little, and leave it where it would be most likely to be found." - -"Where was it found? In an eddy?" - -"No. High and dry on top of a flat rock." - -"That certainly looks fishy!" exclaimed the New Yorker. "I'm with you, -Rayton, no matter how severely you test my--my imagination. Shake on it, -old man!" - -They shook. - -"I am greatly relieved," said the Englishman. - -"You see, unless I get outside opinion, I am never quite sure if the -things I think of all by myself have any sense in them or not. Well, I -am mighty glad you see it the same way I do. As soon as Molly told me -where she had found the piece of pole, I smelt a rat. Of course I'd -never have thought of all that about Maggie Leblanc, except for my -thorough belief in Dick Goodine. That set me to work. Now we had better -have breakfast." - -Mr. Banks nodded. - -"Why don't you set seriously to work to straighten out the marked card -business?" he asked. - -"I have; but it just takes me 'round and 'round," said Rayton. - -They had just finished their breakfast when Dick Goodine appeared, ready -to take them into the woods for a day, after moose. He brought a boy -with him to look after the place and the live stock, in case the -sportsmen should be kept out all night. The three left the house shortly -after seven o'clock. - -Early in the afternoon Banks shot an old bull moose carrying a fine pair -of antlers. They skinned and dressed it, and hung hide, flesh, and -antlers in a tree; they pressed forward, for they were near a great -square of barren land, where the chances of finding caribou were good. -They reached the barren, sighted a small herd, and Rayton dropped a -fair-sized stag, and after making packs of the antlers, hide, and the -best cuts, they struck the homeward trail. - -It was dark by the time the tree in which the remains of the moose was -hung was reached, so they made camp there for the night. At the first -break of dawn they were up and afoot again, and though heavily loaded, -they made good time. They halted only half an hour for their midday -meal, and reached Rayton's farm shortly after three o'clock in the -afternoon. Old Captain Wigmore was there to welcome them. They found him -in the sitting room, very much at his ease, with a decanter of the -Englishman's whisky on the table in front of him. Rayton laughed -good-humoredly, shook his hand cordially, and invited him to stay for -the remainder of the day. - -"Gladly, my dear boy," returned the captain. He seemed to be in a much -better humor than was usual with him. The sportsmen washed, changed, and -had a long and quiet smoke, and when the smoke was finished it was time -to get the evening meal. Rayton and Dick Goodine went to the kitchen, -and set to work. They were interrupted by Timothy Fletcher, the -captain's reserved and disagreeable old servant. Timothy's wrinkled face -wore an expression of intense anxiety and marks of fatigue. - -"Cap'n here?" he asked, looking in at the kitchen door. - -"Yes, he's here," replied Rayton, with a note of sharpness in his voice. -The soul of politeness himself, he could not stand intentional rudeness -in others. - -"Glad to hear it. I've been huntin' over the hull damn country for him," -remarked Timothy. - -"Do you want to speak to him?" asked Rayton. - -Before the other could answer, Wigmore himself darted into the kitchen. - -"What the devil do you want?" he cried, going close up to his servant, -and shaking a thin but knotty fist in his face. "Go home, I tell you." - -His frail body trembled, and his very beard seemed to bristle with -wrath. - -"But--but I thought you was lost," stammered the old servant. - -"Get out!" screamed Wigmore. "Go home and mind your own business." - -Timothy Fletcher stood his ground for a few seconds, staring keenly into -the captain's face. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out -of the kitchen. Old Wigmore glared around, swore a little, mumbled an -excuse, and followed his servant. - -"That old captain is a character," said Mr. Banks. "He's worth -watching." - -"He's a queer cuss, and no mistake," agreed Dick Goodine. - -"Not a bad sort at heart," said Rayton, dishing the fried potatoes. "He -has had his troubles, I imagine, but when he is feeling right he is a -very agreeable companion." - -"I like his room better nor his company," said the trapper. - -A couple of hours later, when the three were smoking lazily by the -sitting-room fire, they were startled by the sounds of a vehicle and -horse tearing up to the house at top speed. Rayton and Turk got quickly -to their feet. The front door flew open and heavy boots banged along the -uncarpeted hall. Then the door of the room was flung wide, and David -Marsh burst in. His right arm was bandaged and slung, but in his left -hand he held a heavy stick. - -"Have you seen that skunk, Dick Goodine?" he cried. "My camp on -Teakettle Brook's burnt to the ground! Oh, there you are!" - -By this time Mr. Banks and Goodine were also on their feet. Marsh -started forward, with murder in his eyes, and his mouth twisted. Rayton -stepped in front of him. - -"Kindly remember that you are in my house," said the Englishman quietly. -"Just stop where you are, please, and explain yourself." - -"Get to hell out of my way!" cried David. "I ain't talkin' to you. -There's the sneak I'm after--the dirty coward who cut halfway through -my canoe pole, and then set my camp afire, stores and all! Let me at -him, you pie-faced Englishman!" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -RAYTON GOES TO BORROW A SAUCEPAN - - -"What do you want of me, Davy Marsh?" demanded the trapper. "If you -think I cut your canoe pole, yer a fool, and if you say so, yer a liar!" - -"And what is all this about your camp?" asked Rayton, wrenching the club -from David's hand. "Keep cool, and tell us about it." - -"By----!" cried the guide, "I'd knock the stuffin' out of the two o' ye -if I had the use o' my arm! You call me a liar, Dick Goodine? That's -easy--now--with my right arm in splints. And as you are so damn smart, -Rayton, can you tell me who burnt down my camp? And can you tell me who -cut that pole? There's a piece of it standin' in the corner--proof -enough to send a man to jail on!" - -"This is the first I have heard of the camp," replied Rayton, "and I am -very sorry to hear of it now. When did it happen?" - -"Happen?" cried Marsh bitterly. "It happened this very day. Peter Griggs -was out that way with a load of grub for one o' Harley's camps, this -very afternoon, and it was just burnin' good when he come to it. Hadn't -bin set more'n an hour, he cal'lated, but it was too far gone for him to -stop it. So he unhitched one of his horses and rode in to tell me, -hopin' I'd be able to catch the damn skunk who done it. And here he is, -by hell!" - -"You are wrong there, Marsh," said Mr. Banks. "Goodine has been with us -since early yesterday morning, way over in the Long Barrens country--and -we didn't get home till this afternoon." - -"We made camp near the Barrens last night," said Rayton. - -"Is that the truth?" asked Marsh. "Cross your heart! So help you God!" - -"It is the truth," said Rayton. - -"Damn your cheek, Marsh, of course it is the truth," roared Banks. - -Dick Goodine nodded. "Cross my heart. So help me God," he said. - -The flush of rage slipped down from David's brow and face like a red -curtain. He moistened his lips with his tongue. - -"Then it's the curse of them two marks on the card!" he whispered. -"It's the curse of them two red crosses!" - -"Rot!" exclaimed Mr. Banks. "Just because Goodine didn't fire your camp, -you jump to the conclusion that the devil did it. Rot!" - -"There's nobody else would do it but Dick Goodine," returned David -sullenly, "and if you say he didn't, well then--but lookee here! Who cut -half through that pole? Goodine did that, anyhow! Molly Canadian told me -where she found it. You can't git out of that, Dick Goodine!" - -"That's so?" replied Dick. "You'd best go home and take a pill, Davy." - -"Molly told us where she found it, too," said Rayton. "I call it a -mighty clever piece of spruce, to crawl out of the eddy at the tail of -the rapid, and lie down on top of a flat rock. How does it look to you, -Marsh?" - -David frowned, and glanced uncertainly at Mr. Banks. - -"That's queer," he admitted, "but I guess it don't alter the fact that -the pole had bin cut. Look at it! It was cut halfway through! And -there's the man who cut it, say what you please! He was the last but -myself to take it in his hands." - -"I was the last, but you, to handle it afore it was broke," replied -Dick Goodine calmly, "but somebody else has bin at it _since it broke_. -Who fished it out o' the river and laid it on the rock, high and dry, -for Molly Canadian to find? When you know that, David Marsh, you'll know -who made the cut in it. But one thing I'll tell you--I didn't do it. If -I'd wanted to smash yer durned silly arm, or yer neck, I'd have done it -with my hands. So don't call me any more names or maybe I'll get so mad -as to forget yer not in shape to take a lickin'. That's all--except I'm -sorry yer havin' a run o' bad luck." - -"Keep yer sorrow for them as wants it," replied Marsh, and left the -house. - -"That young man shows up very badly when things go wrong with him," -remarked Mr. Banks mildly. "Trouble seems to rattle him hopelessly. -Suppose we turn in." - -"Guess I'll be steppin' home, gentlemen, if you don't mean to hunt -to-morrow," said the trapper. - -"Better stay the night, Dick. It is late--and a long walk to your -place--and we want you to help us skin and clean Mr. Banks' moose head -in the morning," said Rayton. - -So Goodine remained. - -On the following morning, while the New York sportsman and the trapper -were busy over the intricate job of removing the hide from the moose -head, and cleaning the skull, Rayton invented an excuse for going over -to the Harley place. Since Jim Harley's pressing invitation he had made -three visits and had talked with Nell Harley three times. Never before -had he ventured to show himself in the morning. Those three visits, -however, had fired him with recklessness. Clocks stop for lovers--and -Reginald Baynes Rayton was a lover. He was not aware of it, but the fact -remains. He did not know what was the matter with him. He felt a mighty -friendship for Jim Harley. So, having told Banks and Goodine that he -wanted to borrow a saucepan of a very particular size, he made his way -across the settlement by road and field, wood and pasture. He was within -sight of the big farmhouse when old Captain Wigmore stepped from a -thicket of spruces and confronted him. - -"Good morning, Reginald," said the captain. "Where are you bound for so -early?" - -"Good morning," returned the Englishman. "I'm out to borrow a saucepan." - -"So. Who from?" - -"I think Mrs. Harley has just what I want." - -"I haven't a doubt of it, Reginald. As I'm going that way myself, I'll -step along with you. But it's a long walk, my boy, every time you want -to use a saucepan. You had better buy one for yourself." - -Rayton laughed, and the two advanced elbow to elbow. - -"I hear," said the captain, "that poor young Marsh is up to his neck in -the waters of tribulation. His luck, in the past, has always been of the -best. It's a remarkably queer thing, don't you think so?" - -"His luck was too good to last, that is all," replied Rayton. "One -cannot expect to have everything work out right forever--especially a -chap like Marsh, who has a way with him that is not attractive. I think -he has an enemy." - -"I saw him this morning," said Wigmore, "and what do you think he is -worrying about now?" - -"Heaven knows!" - -"He has given up the idea that young Goodine is persecuting him, and now -lays all his troubles to the score of the devil. He broods over those -two little marks on that card that was dealt to him during our game of -poker. I don't believe he slept a wink last night. Jim's story -concerning the past history of those crosses has done its work. The -poor fellow is so badly shaken, that when he is out he's afraid the sky -may fall upon him, and when he's indoors, he is anxious about the room. -He is a coward at heart, you know--and it does not do for a coward to -consider himself in love with Nell Harley." - -Rayton blushed quickly, and laughed his polite but meaningless laugh. - -"I suppose not," he said. "None but the brave, you know." - -"Exactly, Reginald. You are not such a fool as you--well, we'll say -sound, for you don't look like a fool. No offense is meant, my dear boy. -Fact is, I'm your very sincere admirer, and I should like to hear what -you think of that marked card, that turned up the other night at your -little party." - -"I think it was nothing more than a queer chance." - -"You believe Jim's story? You believe all that about his mother and -grandmother?" - -"Yes, of course; but I think what happened the other night was just -chance." - -"But you must admit, Reginald, that David Marsh, who received the marked -card, has had a peck of trouble served to him since that night." - -"Yes. That is more queer chance--a very strange coincidence." - -"You are a firm believer in chance, evidently. Or is it that you call -everything chance that you can't explain?" - -Reginald sighed profoundly. "Chance," he said--"why, chance is chance. -It was chance that you and I met this morning. It was just chance that -David's luck should turn, or that some one with a grudge against him -should get busy, just after that marked card turned up." - -Old Wigmore smiled and nodded. - -"I, too, am a great believer in what you call chance," he said. "But -here we are, my boy. I see Miss Harley on the veranda, in a very -becoming and seasonable jacket of red wool. No doubt she'll be able to -find you a saucepan. Good morning, Reginald." - -Captain Wigmore lifted his hat to the young woman on the veranda, and -then turned aside and moved briskly away. Rayton also lifted his hat, -but he continued to advance. Upon reaching the steps leading up to the -veranda he uttered a choking sound of embarrassment and concern, for it -was quite evident that Nell Harley had been weeping recently. But the -right to refer to this lamentable fact was not his. He must hide his -pity and tender curiosity. - -"Good morning, Miss Harley. Isn't it a ripping morning for the time of -year?" he said. - -"I am afraid it is going to rain," she replied. - -"Of course," agreed Rayton, somewhat abashed, and glancing up at the -gray sky. "That's what I meant, you know. Rain's just what we need. It -will keep the frost off for a while longer, don't you think so?" - -"Oh, _please_ don't talk about the weather, Mr. Rayton. I feel too--too -worried to talk about the weather." - -"Worried!" exclaimed the young man. "I am sorry. Is there anything I can -do, Miss Harley? If so, just name it, please. I'd be delighted, you -know. May--may I ask what is the trouble?" - -"Please come in. There is a fire in the sitting room. Come in, if you -can spare the time, for I want to tell you all about it--though I -suppose you know already." - -Reginald followed her into the sitting room and took a seat across the -glowing hearth from her. He felt torn by her undisclosed trouble, and -bewildered by his own good fortune. He forgot to inquire after Jim and -Mrs. Harley, and the saucepan of very particular dimensions fled from -his mind. He sat in a low chair and gazed anxiously and expectantly at -Nell Harley. She sat with her elbow on her knee, her round chin on the -heel of her hand, and the shadow of retrospection over her bright, pale -face. Her eyes were lowered, but presently, and it seemed to him as -suddenly as a flash of lightning, she raised them to his glance. - -"It is about that card I am worrying so," she said. "I have heard all -about it--about the card that was dealt to David Marsh with the two -little red crosses drawn upon the face of it. Already he has broken his -arm, lost his canoe, and had his camp burned down. It is terrible--and I -am frightened. I know the tradition, and believe it fully. Jim does not -like to talk about it, and Kate thinks it is all nonsense, though she is -too kind to actually say so. But I _know_ that every word of the old -story is true. It frightens me. Do you believe that--that the curse is -still following us--or does it all seem utterly ridiculous to you?" - -Reginald turned his eyes away from her face with a visible effort, gazed -into the heart of the fire for a moment or two, studied the pattern of -the rug at his feet, and inspected the ceiling. His glance returned to -her face, held for a moment, then veered in panic to the window. - -"Of course I believe the story that Jim told to me," he said, "and I -consider it a--a very remarkable story--and terribly sad, too; but it -was the work of man, or men, of course. There was nothing supernatural -about it. An enemy--a rival--used those red marks on a card in each -case, as a warning. First it was the Spanish count, and next it was that -Mr. Jackson. But now, in Samson's Mill Settlement--why, I feel quite -sure it is nothing but chance. Nobody but Jim knew of that family story, -and he certainly did not mark the card. And--and the conditions are not -right. At least, that's how it looks to me." - -"The conditions?" she queried softly. - -Rayton shot a brief, but imploring glance at her. - -"What I mean is--ah--why should David Marsh get the card? I hope--I mean -I can't see--ah--I can't see any association between a chap like David -and----" - -He fell silent, became very red, and blinked at the fire. - -"Please go on," she whispered. "_Please_ tell me what you think, for I -know you are honest, fearless and sane, Mr. Rayton. You must forgive me -for speaking so frankly--but that is what Jim says of you. You were -saying that you cannot see any connection between David Marsh and--and -what?" - -Reginald took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. - -"Between Marsh and those others who received the marked cards," he said. -"First, it was the young sailor, the chap in the navy--the Spaniard's -winning rival. Next it was your father--a man of character and--and -breeding. Now David Marsh gets the card! That seems absurd to me. It -seems like a man going out to kill a partridge with an elephant gun. -It--it does not look to me like a continuation of the--the same idea at -all." - -"Why not? Please be quite frank with me. Why does it seem different?" - -"But really, Miss Harley, I--I have no right to air my--my opinions." - -"I want you to. I beg you to. I am sure your opinions will help me." - -"If anything I can say will make you feel easier, then I'll--I'll go -ahead. What I'm driving at is, that the navy chap was the kind of chap -your grandmother might have become--ah, very fond of. Perhaps she was. -He was a serious proposition. So with your father. The others who were -fond of your mother saw in him a real rival--a dangerous man. But--it is -not so with Marsh. He is not big. He is not strong. The truth is, if you -forgive me for saying so, there is no danger of--of your caring for a -chap like David Marsh. There! So the case is not like the others, and -the old idea is not carried out. Fate, or the rival, or whatever it is, -has made a stupid mistake." - -He glanced at the girl as he ceased speaking. Her clear face was flushed -to a tender pink, and her eyes were lowered. - -"There is a good deal of truth in what you say, Mr. Rayton," she -murmured. "It sounds like very clear reasoning to me. And you are right -in--in believing that I do not care at all for David Marsh, in the way -you mean. But may we not go even farther in disproving any connection -between this case and the other two?" - -For the fraction of a second her glance lifted and encountered his. - -"Even if David happened to correspond with that young sailor of long -ago, or with my dear father, the rival is missing," she said -uncertainly. "The rivals were the most terrible features of the other -cases." - -Rayton got nervously to his feet, then sank down again. - -"There would be plenty of rivals--of a kind," he said. "That is the -truth, as you must know. But like poor Marsh, none is--would be--worth -considering. So, you see, fate, or whatever it is that plays this game, -is playing stupidly. That is why I think it nothing but chance, in this -case--the whole thing nothing but the maddest chance." - -"You have eased my mind very greatly," she said. - -The Englishman bowed and rose from his chair. "I am glad," he said -simply. "Now I must be starting for home. I left Banks and Goodine -working over a moose head that Banks got yesterday." - -"You do not think Dick Goodine set fire to David's camp, do you? There -is bad blood between them, you know," she said anxiously. - -"He was with us all yesterday and the day before," he answered, "so I -knew he had nothing to do with it." - -At the door the young woman said, "I am very glad you came over this -morning." And then, with an air of sudden awakening to the commonplaces -of life, "Did you come for anything in particular? To see Jim, perhaps?" -she asked. - -"No. Oh, no," he answered, hat in hand. "I just came--that is, I just -happened along." - -He was halfway home when he remembered the saucepan. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -RAYTON CONFESSES - - -Old Timothy Fletcher, Captain Wigmore's servant and companion, was more -of a mystery to the people of Samson's Mill Settlement than the captain -himself. He was not as sociable as his master, kept to the house a great -deal, and moved with a furtive air whenever he ventured abroad. In -speech he was reserved to such an extent that he seldom addressed a word -to anybody but Wigmore, and in manner he was decidedly unpleasant. He -was neither liked nor understood by his neighbors. He did not care a rap -what the people thought of him, and yet, with all his queerness and -unsociability, he possessed many common human traits. He served the -captain faithfully, had a weakness for rye whisky and Turkish -cigarettes--weaknesses which he indulged on the sly--and spent much of -his time in the perusal of sentimental fiction. - -The afternoon of the day on which Mr. Rayton went across the fields to -borrow a saucepan was bright and warm. The morning had promised rain, -but a change of wind had given to late autumn a few more hours of magic, -unseasonable warmth and glow. Timothy Fletcher, shod with felt, went to -the door of the captain's bedroom and assured himself that the worthy -gentleman was deep in his after-luncheon nap. Then he tiptoed to his own -chamber, produced a paper-covered novel and a box of cigarettes from a -locked trunk, and crept downstairs again. In the kitchen he changed his -felt-soled slippers for a pair of boots. He crossed the garden, the -little pasture beyond, and entered a patch of young firs and spruces. He -walked swiftly and furtively, until he came to a little sun-filled -clearing, on a gently sloping hillside. Here he found his favorite seat, -which was a dry log lying near a big poplar. He seated himself on the -log, leaned back against the poplar, lit a fat cigarette, and opened the -book. - -For a whole hour Timothy read steadily, chapter after chapter, and -smoked four cigarettes. Then he placed the book face down upon his knee. -The sun was warm and the air soft and fragrant. He closed his eyes, -opened them with an effort, closed them again. His head sank back and -settled slightly to the left. The book slid from his knee. But he gave -it no heed. - -He awoke, struggling violently, but impotently. He opened his eyes upon -darkness. He cried out furiously, and his voice was beaten thunderously -back into his own ears by an enveloping blanket. He knew it for a -blanket by the weight and feeling of it. His back was still against the -familiar poplar tree, but now it was pressed to the trunk by something -that crossed his chest. His hands were bound to his sides. His ankles -were gripped together. - -Now it happened that a large widow, named Mrs. Beesley, came to the -little hillside clearing just before sunset. She had been hunting -through the woods all the afternoon for an herb that enjoys the -reputation, in this country, of being a panacea for all ailments of the -stomach. Now she was on her way home. - -Rounding the big poplar, she beheld a shapeless, blanket-swathed, -rope-bound form lumped against the trunk. She did not see the ropes -clearly, nor fully comprehend the blanket; in fact she received only a -general impression of something monstrous, bulky, terrific. She uttered -a shrill scream, and, for a few seconds, stood spellbound. A choking -sound, muffled and terrible, came from the shapeless bulk, and one end -of it began to sway and the other to twist and wag. Mrs. Beesley turned -and ran for her very life. - -Instinct, rather than reason, directed Mrs. Beesley's fleeing feet -toward the clearings and farmsteads of the settlement. She left the -haunted woods behind her, crossed a lumpy pasture at an amazing pace, -sprang into the middle of a brush fence, and fought through without a -halt, sighted a house with a male figure in the foreground, and kicked -her way toward these signs of protection with such high action that her -elastic-sided boots acknowledged themselves frankly, and Captain -Wigmore's suspicions of white stockings were confirmed. She arrived with -such force as to send the frail old captain reeling backward across an -empty flower bed. Following him, she reclined upon the mold. - -"Bless my soul!" cried the captain. "Why, it is Mrs. Beesley! My dear -Mrs. Beesley, what the devil is the matter with you? Allow me to help -you to your feet. You'll ruin your gown in that bed, I'm sure. Did you -see a bear?" - -She had no breath for words, just then, and her legs felt as if they had -melted. Wigmore possessed himself of her fat hands, set his heels in -the edge of the flower bed, and pulled. He suggested a small terrier -worrying a large and sleepy pig. Presently he desisted from his efforts, -retreated a few paces, and wiped his face with his handkerchief. - -"Collect yourself, my dear Mrs. Beesley," he pleaded. "I'm afraid you'll -catch your death sitting there. Come now, try to tell me all about the -bear--and try to rise." - -The widow found her voice, though she did not move. - -"It weren't a b'ar, captain," she cried. "Sakes alive! No b'ar 'u'd -scare me like that. Don't know what to call it, captain. The devil, I -reckon--or a ghost, maybe--or a annerchrist. You better git yer gun, -captain, and go back and take a look. Oh, lor'! Oh, sakes alive! I never -thought to see the day Mary Beesley 'u'd jump fences like a breechy -steer!" - -"Calm yourself, Mrs. Beesley," returned old Wigmore, "and tell me where -you saw this creature. Did it chase you?" - -"It was in the little clearin' where the spring is," replied the widow. -"No, it didn't chase me, captain, as far's I know. I didn't look 'round -to see. It jes' growled and wiggled--and then I lit out, captain, and -made no more to-do about a fence than I would about crossin' a hooked -mat on the kitchen floor." - -"Come in and sit down, Mrs. Beesley," said Wigmore. "I'll get my man -Timothy and go up to the spring and look 'round. I haven't a doubt about -it being a bear." - -Wigmore went through the house shouting vainly for Timothy Fletcher. -Then he went out to the road and caught sight of Benjamin Samson in the -distance. He whistled on his fingers and waved a hand violently to the -miller. Benjamin came to him as fast as his weight allowed. - -"What's bitin' you, cap'n?" he asked. - -"There is something by the spring up in the little clearing," said -Wigmore--"something that frightened Mrs. Beesley, and growled and wagged -itself. She is in the house, recovering from her fright. She ran like a -deer." - -"Then I'll bet it wasn't a man up by the spring," said Benjamin. - -The captain let this mild attempt at humor pass without notice. - -"I want to go up and take a look 'round," he said, "but I can't find -Timothy anywhere. It may be a bear--and I am an old man. Will you come -along with me, Benjamin?" - -"Sure. If you can lend me a gun," replied Mr. Samson. - -They found a shot-gun, slipped two cartridges loaded with buckshot into -the breech, bade Mrs. Beesley sit quiet and be of good heart, and set -out to investigate the little hillside clearing. It was now dusk. The -sun had slipped from sight, and the shadows were deep in the woods. The -captain carried a lighted lantern, and Benjamin the ready fowling piece. - -They soon reached the poplar tree and the blanket-swathed figure bound -against it. By lantern light it looked more grotesque and monstrous than -by day, and Mr. Samson came within an ace of taking a snap shot at it, -and then beating a hasty retreat. The captain was too quick for him, -however, noticed the twitch of the miller's arm, and gripped him by the -wrist. - -"It's tied fast, whatever it is," he said. - -"Don't you see the ropes? Come on, Benjamin, and keep a grip on your -nerve. Here, let me take the gun!" - -"I ain't scart," replied Samson thickly. "It gave me a start for a -second, that's all." - -They approached the shapeless figure cautiously. - -"Who are you?" cried Wigmore. - -The thing twisted and squirmed, and a muffled, choking, bestial sound -came from it. - -"I'll bet a dollar it's a man," said Benjamin. "Now what kind o' trick -is this, I'd like to know? Maybe there's bin murder done. There's bin -too many queer tricks 'round here lately to suit me." - -"It is tied up in a blanket," said the captain. "Feel it, Benjamin, and -find out what it is." - -"Not me," returned Samson. "I guess it's only a man, but I ain't -particular about feelin' of it. You go ahead, cap'n. I'll hold the light -for you." - -Old Wigmore stepped closer to the blanketed form and touched it gingerly -with his left hand. It squirmed beneath his fingers, and again gave -utterance to that amazing sound. - -"Yes, it's a human being," said the captain. And then, "Bless my soul, -look at his feet! It's poor Timothy Fletcher, by Heaven! Quick, -Benjamin, lend a hand here! Cut that rope, man!" - -In less than half a minute old Timothy was free. Lacking the support of -the rope that had circled his chest and the tree, he tipped forward and -slid heavily to the ground. The captain knelt beside him. - -"Run to the house and get some brandy," he ordered. "You'll find some in -my bedroom, behind the wardrobe. Make haste, Benjamin!" - -"Well," replied Benjamin Samson, "I reckon I don't have to, cap'n. Queer -thing, cap'n, but I happen to have a drop o' rye whisky in my pocket. -Ain't carried sech a thing for years and years--but I've had a spell o' -toothache lately and t' only thing does it any good's rye whisky. I hold -some in my mouth now and again--and always spit it out, of course. Here -you are, cap'n, and welcome." - -Wigmore twisted out the cork and held the bottle to Timothy's lips. -Timothy's eyes were shut, but his lips were open. His throat seemed to -be in working order. - -"He takes it like a baby takes its milk," said Benjamin. "I guess he -ain't bin murdered, after all. There! I reckon he's had about all that's -good for him. Wake up, Mr. Fletcher, and tell us all about it." - -"Tell me who did this, my good Timothy, and I'll make it hot for him," -said Wigmore. "When did it happen, my worthy friend?" - -"This here country's gettin' that lawless it ain't fit fer honest men -like us to live in no longer," said Mr. Samson. - -Timothy growled and sat up. He glared at Benjamin, then turned his gaze -upon his master. - -"Ah! You feel better!" exclaimed the captain. "I am glad of it, my -trusty friend. Tell me, now, when and how did this outrageous thing -happen?" - -"I'll trouble ye for another drop of that tonic, Mr. Samson," said -Timothy. - -"I reckon not," returned the miller. "Doctor Nash says as how too much -is a long sight worse nor too little." - -"Then where's my book?" demanded Timothy. "And my cigarettes?" - -"You have not answered my questions, my dear fellow," said the captain. - -"Chuck it!" returned the old servant. "I ain't in the mood for answerin' -fool questions." - -"I fear his nerves are badly shaken," whispered the captain to the -miller. "We must get him home and put him to bed." - -"But you ain't intendin' to leave the ropes and blanket behind, -surely!" exclaimed Benjamin. He stooped, picked up the blanket, and held -it to the light of the lantern. "Hah!" he cried. "It's my blanket! It's -my new hoss blanket, by gosh! I missed it fust, last Sunday. And the -rope's mine, too--my new hay rope, all cut to bits. I'll have the law on -whoever done this, sure's my name's Benjamin Samson." - -"_Your_ blanket?" queried Captain Wigmore. "_Your_ blanket and rope? But -no, Benjamin. I don't suspect you, my friend, for I know you to be an -honest man. But others--people who don't know you as I do--might think -you were the person who tied Timothy to the tree." - -"Chuck it!" growled Mr. Fletcher, picking up the lantern and limping -away. - -Thanks to Mrs. Beesley and Benjamin Samson, the story of the mysterious -attack upon old Timothy Fletcher soon spread to the farthest outskirts -of the settlement. Some inspired person connected this with the burning -of David Marsh's camp, and it became a general belief that some -desperate character was at work in the country. Samson suggested an -escaped convict, but where escaped from he could not say. Timothy looked -more unpleasant than ever, and kept his jaws together like the jaws of -a spring fox trap. He did not seem to enjoy his position in the -limelight. Mrs. Beesley found herself a heroine for a little while, but -this did not make amends for the speedy ruination of her dreams -concerning Captain Wigmore. - -She had expected a warm continuation and a quick and romantic -development of the friendly--aye, more than friendly--relations -commenced by that adventure. But, alas, it had all ended as suddenly as -it had commenced. The poor woman sometimes wondered if she had made a -mistake in sitting for so long in the captain's flower bed. - -"Men are queer critters," she said. "The late Mr. Beesley was touchy as -a cat about them little things, and maybe the captain's the same. But he -was that friendly and perlite, I really did think his intentions was -serious." - -Mr. Banks was keenly interested in Timothy's adventure. He talked to -Captain Wigmore about it for fully an hour. - -Two days after the mysterious, and apparently meaningless attack upon -Wigmore's servant, the first snow of the coming winter descended upon -the wilderness. Jim Harley had two full crews of lumbermen in the woods -by now, but was himself spending half his time in the settlement. David -Marsh's arm was still in splints, and Dick Goodine had not yet gone out -to his bleak hunting grounds, beyond the fringes of the made roads and -buckwheat-stubble belt. - -Dick spent much of his time with Mr. Banks and Reginald Rayton. As for -Mr. Harvey P. Banks, he seemed to have forgotten both his business and -his distant home. He had still one hundred of those long cigars, and a -tin box of fat cigarettes--and he knew he was welcome to his bed and -board. He felt a warm friendship for his host and the Harleys, and a -deep interest in all the other people of the place. Captain Wigmore and -his old servant excited his curiosity like the first--or last--volume of -an old-style novel. They suggested a galloping story; but Benjamin -Samson, David Marsh, and the others suggested nothing more exciting than -character studies. Doctor Nash did not interest the New Yorker at all, -but of course the doctor could not realize this fact, and persisted in -considering himself to be Mr. Banks' only congenial companion in the -neighborhood. - -On the day of the first snow Dick Goodine walked over to Rayton's farm -to borrow a drawknife. He was making an extra pair of snowshoes, and -overhauling his outfit for the winter's trapping. Banks and Turk were -afield, looking for hares and grouse; but Dick found the Englishman in -his red barn, threshing buckwheat. Rayton threw his flail aside and the -two shook hands. - -"Have you sech a thing as a drawknife, Mr. Rayton?" - -"Two of them, Dick. I use them mostly to cut my fingers with." - -"Can I have the loan of one for a few days?" - -"I'll give you one, Dick. You'll be doing me a kindness to take it and -keep it, old chap, for I am a regular duffer with edged tools." - -He found the knife and spent ten minutes in forcing it upon the trapper -as a gift. At last Dick accepted it. - -"But I tell you right now, Mr. Rayton," he said, "I'll git mad if you -try givin' me a horse, or a cow, or your farm. You've already give me -something of pretty near everything you own. It ain't right." - -Rayton laughed. Then his face became suddenly very grave. - -"See here, Dick, I've something serious to say to you," he said. -"Something I've been worrying over for the last day or two. You've -always been honest with me--the soul of honesty--so I must be honest -with you." - -"What have I bin doin'?" asked the trapper uneasily. - -"You? Oh, you haven't done anything that you shouldn't, old man. I am -thinking of myself. You told me, a little while ago, that you -were--ah--very fond of Miss Harley. But you told me in such a way, old -man, as to lead me to think that--that you didn't believe yourself to -have--much chance--in the quarter." - -"That's right, Mr. Rayton," replied the trapper frankly. "I knew there -wasn't any chance for me, and I know it still. I said that _you_ was the -kind of man she'd ought to marry, some day. I'm a good trapper, and I -try to be an honest friend to them as act friendly to me; but I'm just a -tough, ignorant bushwhacker. She ain't my kind--nor David Marsh's -kind--and neither is Jim. She's more like you and Mr. Banks." - -Rayton blushed deeply. - -"My dear chap, you must not talk like that," he said. "You live in the -bush, of course, but so do I, and so do all of us. But--but what I want -to say, Dick, is this: I am--I am in love with Miss Harley!" - -"Good for you!" exclaimed the trapper. He extended his hand. "Lay it -there! And good luck to you!" - - - - -CHAPTER X - -RED CROSSES AGAIN - - -"I am investigating the mysteries of Samson's Mill Settlement along -lines of my own," said Harvey P. Banks. "My system of detection is not -perfect yet, but it is good enough to go ahead with. So far I have not -nailed anything down, but my little hammer is ready, I can tell you. I -am full of highly colored suspicions, and there is one thing I am ready -to swear to." - -"What is that?" asked Reginald Baynes Rayton. - -"Just this, Reginald. I'll eat my boots--and they cost me twelve -plunks--if the burning of young Marsh's camp and the attack upon old -Timothy Fletcher are not parts of the same game. I don't see any -connection, mind you, but I'll swear it is so. I have two pieces of this -picture puzzle on the table, and I am waiting for more. I know that -these two pieces belong to the same picture." - -"And what about the marked card?" inquired Rayton. "Is it part of your -puzzle?" - -"Certainly. It is the title of the picture. But I want more pieces, and -just at this stage I need another game of poker. Can you get the same -bunch of players together for to-night--and Dick Goodine?" - -"I'll try. If we both set to work we can make the round this afternoon. -Jim Harley is home, I know. Why do you want Dick? I give you my word, H. -P., that you'll not find him one of the crooked pieces of your puzzle -picture." - -"Right you are, son! But he has sharp eyes, and as he is our friend it -would not be polite to give a party and leave him out. He needn't play. -Somebody must sit out, anyway, or we'll have too many for a good game, -but he can talk, and look on, and help burn tobacco." - -"Good! Then we must get Goodine, Nash, Wigmore, Marsh, Jim Harley, and -Benjamin Samson." - -"Never mind Samson. We don't need him. He is harmless and hopeless--and -one too many. Also, he has promised Mrs. Samson never to stay out again -after ten o'clock at night." - -"All serene. We'd better start out with our invites right after grub. -And as the roads are bad we may as well ride. You can have Buller and -I'll take Bobs. Who do you want to call on?" - -"I'll see Nash and Wigmore, and leave the others to you." - -So, after the midday meal, they saddled the two farm horses and set out. -Mr. Banks rode straight to Captain Wigmore's house. The air was still -mild and the sky was clouded. About four inches of slushy snow lay upon -the half-frozen ruts of the roads. The New Yorker hitched Buller in an -open carriage shed, and hammered with the butt of his whip upon the -front door. He waited patiently for nearly ten minutes, then hammered -again. This time the summons brought old Timothy Fletcher, looking even -more sullen than usual and with his gray-streaked hair standing up like -the crest of some grotesque fowl. His eyes had the appearance of being -both sharp and dull at the same time. They showed inner points, glinting -like ice, and an outer, blinking film like the shadow of recent sleep. -For several seconds he stood with the door no more than six inches ajar, -staring and blinking at the caller, his wind-tanned brow forbidding, but -his lower face as expressionless as a panel of the door. - -"Who d'ye want, sir?" he inquired at last, in a grudging voice. - -"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Banks. "I really thought you were asleep, -Timothy. I want to speak to the captain for a few minutes. Is he at -home?" - -Timothy Fletcher lowered his staring eyes for an instant, then raised -them again, blinking owlishly. The glint in their depths brightened, and -took on sharper edges. - -"What d'ye want to speak to him about?" he asked suspiciously. - -"I'll tell that to your master," replied Mr. Banks blandly. - -"He ain't at home." - -"Not at home? Guess again, my good man." - -"I tell ye, he ain't at home!" - -"Not so fast," said the sportsman coolly, and with astonishing swiftness -he advanced his heavily booted right foot, and thrust it across the -threshold. The door nipped it instantly. - -"It is not polite to slam doors in the faces of your master's friends," -he said. - -Then he threw all his weight against the door, flinging it wide open and -hurling Timothy Fletcher against the wall. - -"I don't like your manners," he said. "I intend to keep my eye on you. I -give you fair warning, Timothy Fletcher." - -The old fellow stood against the wall, breathing heavily, but in no wise -abashed. He grinned sardonically. - -"Warning?" he gasped. "Ye warn _me_! Chuck it!" - -Mr. Banks halted and gazed at him, noting the narrow, heaving chest and -gray face. - -"I hope I have not hurt you. I opened the door a trifle more violently -than I intended," he said. - -Fletcher did not answer. Banks glanced up the stairs and beheld Captain -Wigmore standing at the top and smiling down at him. He turned sharply -to the servant. "There!" he whispered. "Just as I suspected! You were -lying." - -The old fellow twisted his gray face savagely. That was his only answer. - -Timothy retired to the back of the house as Captain Wigmore descended -the stairs. The captain was in fine spirits. He clasped his visitor's -hand and patted his shoulder. - -"Come into my den," he cried. "What'll you have? Tea, whisky, sherry? -Give it a name, my boy." - -"A drop of Scotch, if you have it handy," replied the caller. "But I -came over just for a moment, captain, to see if you can join us -to-night in a little game of poker." - -"Delighted! Nothing I'd like better. We've been dull as ditch water -lately," answered the captain, as he placed a glass and decanter before -his visitor. "Just a moment," he added. "There is no water--and there is -no bell in this room. Timothy has a strong objection to bells." - -Wigmore left the room, returning in a minute with a jug of water. He -closed the door behind him. - -"Same crowd, I suppose," he said, "and the cards cut at eight o'clock." - -Banks nodded, and sipped his whisky and water. "Yes, about eight," he -answered. "We don't keep city hours." - -"Do you expect the marked card to turn up again?" asked Captain Wigmore, -fixing him with a keen glance. - -The New Yorker looked slightly disconcerted, but only for a fraction of -a second. - -"Yes, I am hoping so," he admitted. "I want to see those marks. Do you -think there is any chance of the thing working to-night?" - -"That is just what I want to know," returned the captain. "If the devil -is at the bottom of that trick, as Jim Harley would have us all -believe, I see no reason why he should neglect us to-night. But, -seriously, I am convinced that we might play a thousand games and never -see those two red crosses on the face of a card again. It was chance, of -course, and that the Harleys should have that family tradition all ready -was a still more remarkable chance." - -Mr. Banks nodded. "We'll look for you about eight o'clock," he said, and -then, very swiftly for a man of his weight, he sprang from his chair and -yanked open the door. There, with his feet at the very threshold, stood -Timothy Fletcher. Banks turned to the captain with a gesture that drew -the old man's attention to the old servant's position. - -"I'd keep my eye on this man, if I were you," he said. "I have caught -him both at lying and eavesdropping to-day." - -"Timothy, what the devil do you mean by such behavior?" cried Wigmore -furiously. - -Timothy leered, turned, and walked slowly away. - -Mr. Banks mounted his horse and set out for Doctor Nash's at a -bone-wrenching trot. - -"I'll bet a dollar old Fletcher is at the bottom of the whole business," -he murmured. "I wonder where Wigmore picked him up. He looks like -something lifted from the bottom of the sea." During the ride to the -doctor's, and throughout the homeward journey, his mind was busy with -Timothy Fletcher. When he reached home he told something of his new -suspicion to Rayton. - -"How could that poor old chap have got at that card?" asked Rayton. "He -has never been inside my sitting room in his life." - -"That is just what you think, Reginald," replied Mr. Banks. "But we'll -soon know all about it, you take my word. I am on a hot scent!" - -Jim Harley was the first of the company to arrive. He looked worried, -but said nothing about his anxieties. Next came young Marsh, with his -right arm in a sling and a swagger in his stride. Dick Goodine and -Captain Wigmore appeared together, having met at the gate. The captain -wore a cutaway coat, a fancy waistcoat, and a white silk cravat fastened -with a pearl pin. His whiskers were combed and parted to a wish, his -gray hair was slick as the floor of a roller-skating rink, and his -smiling lips disclosed his flashing "store" teeth. He was much merrier -and smarter than on the night of the last game. - -Doctor Nash was still to come. - -"We'll give him fifteen minutes' grace," said Rayton, "and if he does -not turn up by then we'll sit in to the game without him." - -"He is trying to be fashionable," said Captain Wigmore. "Poor fellow!" - -Banks produced his cigars and cigarettes. David Marsh drew his chair -close up to Dick Goodine's and began to talk in guarded tones. - -"D'ye know, Dick, I'm mighty upset," he whispered. "I'd feel easier if I -knew you'd done me dirt than the way I do now. I can stand up to a -man--but this here mysterious business ain't the kind o' thing nobody -can stand up to." - -"Scart?" inquired Dick. - -"No, I ain't scart. Just oneasy. D'ye reckon them little crosses will -turn up to-night?" - -"Guess not. That sort o' thing don't happen more'n once." - -"Will you swear you didn't cut my canoe pole, Dick--so help you God!" - -"So help me God, I didn't cut it nor harm it in any way. And I don't -know who did." - -"I believe you--now. I guess there's something worse nor you on my -trail. If that marked card turns up to-night, and comes to me, I'll git -out o' the country. That'll be the cheapest thing to do, I guess." - -"I wouldn't if I was you. I'd just lay low and keep my eyes skinned." - -Then Doctor Nash arrived, and all pulled their chairs to the table -except Dick Goodine. They drew for cards and Mr. Banks produced an ace. -The pack was swiftly shuffled, cut, and dealt. David Marsh put his left -hand on the table, touched his cards, hesitated for a moment, and then -sprang to his feet. His face was twisted with a foolish grin. - -"I guess not!" he exclaimed. "It ain't good enough for me." - -The captain, having settled down to business, had lost his sweet and -playful temper. - -"What's that?" he snapped. "Not good enough! What's not good enough?" - -"The risk ain't good enough," replied Marsh, sullenly and yet with an -attempt at lightness. "I don't like them red crosses. I've had enough of -'em, whoever works 'em--man or devil--he's cured me!" - -"Cured you?" queried Jim Harley, glancing up from his hand. - -"Yes, _cured_ me!" cried Marsh forcibly, "and I don't care who knows it. -I ain't 'shamed to say it, neither. I've broke my arm, lost a canoe, -and a camp--and a good job! Ain't that enough? I quit! I quit right -now." - -"Do you mean you'll quit playing cards?" asked Rayton. - -"I guess you know what I mean," retorted David. "And I guess Jim Harley -knows, too." - -"Oh, shut up!" snapped old Wigmore. "We came here to play poker, not to -listen to you. Who sits in and takes this heroic gentleman's place? -Goodine, it's up to you." - -"Don't care if I do," said the trapper; so he and David Marsh changed -seats. - -The game went on for half an hour without any fuss. Doctor Nash was -winning. Then, after a throwdown, Rayton gathered up the old pack and -replaced them with a new. - -"You are growing extravagant, Reginald," said the captain, glancing at -him keenly. - -Rayton laughed. - -"I hear Turk scratching," he said. "Excuse me for half a minute." - -He went into the kitchen, and threw the old pack of cards into the -stove. He returned immediately to his place at the table and the game -went on. Nash's pile of blue chips dwindled steadily and Dick Goodine -began to stack up the red, white, and blue. Mr. Banks seemed to be -playing a slack game. Captain Wigmore played keenly and snapped at every -one. Rayton left his chair for a few seconds and placed glasses, a -decanter, and cold water on the table. - -"Help yourselves," he said. "We'll have coffee, and something to eat, -later." - -Captain Wigmore waved the liquor aside, but the others charged their -glasses. Goodine displayed three aces and scooped in a jack pot that had -stood secure and accumulating for several rounds. - -"Hah, Davy, you dropped out too soon," said Nash. "You got cold feet at -the wrong time of day. Don't you wish, now, that you'd stayed in the -game?" - -"Wouldn't risk it, doc--not even for a ten-dollar pot," replied Marsh. - -"Bah!" exclaimed old Wigmore, as he cut the deck for Jim Harley. Jim -dealt. Rayton looked steadily at his five cards, then slipped them -together between thumb and finger, and tilted his chair well back from -the table. - -"You look as if you'd been given something pretty good," said Captain -Wigmore. - -"Not half bad," answered the Englishman quietly. - -"On the side," said Nash, "I bet you a dollar, even, that I hold the -best hand--pat." - -Rayton shook his head. "Not this time, Nash, if you don't mind," he -replied quietly. "I want to take cards." - -"That's easily managed," persisted the doctor. "I want cards, too; but -we can lay our discards aside and show them later. Come, be a sport! -Thought all Englishmen were sports." - -Rayton hesitated, flushing. - -"Right-o!" he said. "But I'll not be what you call a sport on one -dollar! Twenty-five is my bet, Nash--even money. Come! How does that -suit you?" - -"It doesn't suit me at all--thanks just the same," returned the doctor -sullenly. - -"Perhaps you'll leave the English sporting instinct alone, after this," -said Mr. Banks. - -"For Heaven's sake, get on with the game!" cried old Wigmore. - -All "came in" and took cards. Rayton asked for two, and though he did -not bet, he kept the five cards in his hand. Wigmore took the money, -this time. - -"Supper," said the Englishman quickly, and gathered up all the cards -with swift hands, his own included. He entered the kitchen quickly, and -they heard him clattering about the stove. - -After supper the game went on, with another fresh pack of cards. They -had been playing for about a quarter of an hour when Captain Wigmore -suddenly began to chuckle. - -"What's the matter with you? Have you laid an egg?" asked Nash -insolently. - -For a second the old man's face was twisted with white-hot rage and his -eyes fairly flamed upon the doctor. He trembled--then smiled calmly. - -"Some one has, evidently," he said, and spread his five cards face-up -upon the table. He pointed at the ace of clubs with a lean finger. It -was marked with two little red crosses! - -"You!" cried Jim Harley, staring incredulously from the card to the old -man and back again to the card. - -Nash and David Marsh began to laugh uproariously. Goodine and Rayton -looked bewildered, and Banks scratched his head reflectively. - -"That beats the band!" cried Nash, at last. "Jim, the spook who works -that family curse of yours must be going daffy. Good for you, captain! -There's life in the old dog yet! No wonder you are dressed up so -stylish." - -He leaned halfway across the table, guffawing in the old man's face. - -Wigmore's hands darted forward. One gripped Nash's necktie, and the -other darted into an inner pocket of his coat. - -"Here! Drop it, you old devil!" cried the doctor. - -Captain Wigmore sat back in his chair, laughing softly. He held -something in his hand--something that they had all seen him draw from -Nash's pocket. - -"Gentlemen," he said, "look at this. It is another card marked with the -two red crosses. I took it from the pocket of our worthy young pill -roller. Who'd ever have thought that he was the mysterious indicator of -trouble--the warning of the gods--the instrument of fate?" - -"You darned old fool!" cried Nash, "that is the same card that was dealt -to Davy Marsh last time we played. You know it as well as I do, you old -ape! Look at it. Look at the back of it. Here, Rayton, you take a look -at it." - -"It is the same old card," said Rayton. "Nash took it away with him that -night." - -"Ah! My mistake," said the captain mildly. - -When the company left the house, Rayton called Jim Harley back. - -"I can't make it out," he said, looking from Banks to Harley, "but I -want you chaps to know that two marked cards were dealt to me before -supper. I kept quiet and changed the pack each time." - -Harley clutched the Englishman's shoulder. - -"You!" he exclaimed, with colorless lips. "Twice! Is that true?" - -"Yes, it's true; but it is nonsense, of course," returned the -Englishman. - -"Don't worry, Jim," said Mr. Banks calmly. "The thing is all a fake--and -I mean to catch the faker before I leave Samson's Mill Settlement!" - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -AN UNFORTUNATE MOMENT FOR THE DOCTOR - - -The morning after the second card party found Banks and Rayton eating an -early breakfast with good appetites. If Rayton felt uneasy, face and -manner showed nothing of it. The big New Yorker was in the highest -spirits. He had found an unfamiliar sport--a new form of hunting--a -twisted, mysterious trail, with the Lord knows what at the far end of -it. He was alert, quiet, smiling to himself. He ate five rashers of -bacon, drank three cups of coffee, and then lit a cigar. - -"I'll have my finger on him within the week," he said, leaning back in -his chair. - -The Englishman glanced up at him, and smiled. - -"I do not think we should encourage the idiot by paying any further -attention to his silly tricks," he said. "Whoever he is, let him see -that he does not amuse or interest any one but himself. Then he'll get -tired and drop it. The whole thing is absolute foolishness, and the man -at the bottom of it is a fool." - -"I mean to trail him, and pin him down, fool or no fool," replied Banks. -"I'll make him pay dear for his fooling, by thunder! He is having his -fun--and I mean to have mine." - -Rayton laughed. "Go ahead and have your fun, old chap; but I tell you -that the more notice you pay his silly tricks, the more you tickle his -vanity." - -"I'll tickle more than his vanity before I'm done with him," promised -Banks. - -The two were washing the dishes, when the kitchen door opened, and Dick -Goodine stepped into the room. - -"We're in for another spell o' soft weather," he said. "It's mild as -milk this mornin'. This little lick o' snow'll be all gone by noon. It -don't look as if I'll ever get into the woods with my traps." - -He sat down, filled and lit his pipe, and put his feet on the hearth of -the cookstove. - -"That was an all-fired queer thing about old Wigmore," he said. "All the -fools ain't dead yet, I reckon. Since the captain got that there card, -the thing don't look as serious to me as it did. Not by a long shot! -What d'you say, Mr. Banks?" - -"You are right, Dick, according to your lights," replied the New -Yorker. - -The trapper looked puzzled. - -"He means that you don't know all the particulars of what happened last -night," said Rayton. "Captain Wigmore got the marked card, right enough, -after supper--but I got it twice, before supper. That is the puzzling -part of it, Dick." - -The care-free smile fled from Goodine's handsome and honest countenance. -His dark cheeks paled, and a shadow, starting far down, came up to the -surface of his eyes. - -"You!" he exclaimed. "Twice--before supper! That--that looks bad to me. -That's the worst yet." - -"My dear chap, if the silly thing was dealt to me every night, and -chucked into my bedroom window every morning, it wouldn't be a jot less -silly," replied Rayton. "Some idiot, who has heard Jim Harley's story, -is trying to have some fun out of it. That is all. It amuses him -evidently, and doesn't hurt us." - -Dick Goodine shook his head. "I guess it hurt David Marsh," he -said--"whatever it may be. It smashed his arm, an' pretty near drownded -him, an' burned his camp, an' about fifty dollars' worth o' gear an' -grub. That don't look much like fun to me--not like fun for the man who -gets the card, anyhow. I'll tell you right now, if ever it comes to me -I'll light out within the hour, an' hit the trail for my trappin' -grounds over beyond the back o' nowhere." - -"Don't believe it, Dick." - -"But that's just what I'd do all the same. It ain't natural. It's more -nor a game, I tell you--it's like something I've read about, somewheres -or other." - -"You're wrong there, Dick," said Mr. Banks. "It is a game--a dangerous -one, maybe, but a game, for all that. I'll show you the player, one of -these days, as sure as my name is Harvey P. Banks! In the meantime, -Dick, I'll bet you five dollars that if you happened to be picked out to -receive those red marks, as Reginald has been picked out--for the same -reason, I mean, according to the family tradition--you'd not budge an -inch or back water half a stroke. You'd just put your finger to your -nose at the warning, as Reginald does, even if you thought Fate, family -curses, Spanish ghosts, old Jackson, and the devil were all on your -trail." - -The color came back to the trapper's cheeks. He lowered his glance to -the toes of his steaming boots on the hearth of the stove, and shifted -uneasily in his chair. - -"I guess yer right," he said huskily. "I guess I'd be brave enough to -face it, devil an' all, if I had that reason to be brave. But I ain't -got that reason, an' never will have--so I'm scart. I'm a durned -ignorant bushwhacker, I reckon. Anyhow, I'm scart." - -Rayton placed a hand on the other's shoulder for a second. - -"That is like you," he said. "You are more frightened about your friend -than you'll ever be about yourself. But cheer up, old man! I don't think -Fate will break any canoe poles on me." - -"Fate!" repeated Mr. Banks, laughing merrily. "Oh, you are safe enough -from Fate, Reginald!" - -But Dick Goodine shook his head. - -During the morning, Rayton went over to the Harley place. The sun was -glowing with a heat as of September, and the snow was already a mixture -of slush and mud. Dick Goodine went about his business; and Mr. Banks -sat by the kitchen stove, smoking and struggling with his puzzle. Rayton -found Jim Harley in the barnyard. Jim's greeting was emotional. He -gripped the Englishman's hand, and looked steadily into his face with -troubled eyes. - -"I was just going over to see you," he said. "I'm glad you're here. I--I -feel pretty bad about you, Reginald--mighty bad, I can tell you!" - -"For Heaven's sake, Jim, what's the trouble?" asked Rayton. "What have I -done--or what d'you think I've done?" - -Harley flushed. "You know what the trouble is--what is worrying me," he -said. "You have not done anything. I am thinking of the marked card, as -you know very well." - -Rayton laughed, and slapped the other on the back. - -"Laugh, if you choose," returned Harley; "but I tell you it is no -laughing matter. Have you forgotten what I told you about those red -crosses? Have you forgotten the manner of my father's death? Great -heavens, man, it is nothing to laugh about! Those marks have brought two -men to their death. And there's Marsh! He came within an inch of being -drowned that day his pole broke. Of course, you think I am a fool. You -may call me one if you want to. But, for God's sake, get out of here -until the danger passes! That's all I ask, Rayton. Get out! Get away -from this settlement for a little while!" - -The smile left the Englishman's face, and he gaped at his friend in -utter astonishment. - -"Get out?" he repeated, in a dazed voice. "Get out? What for? What good -would that do to any one? What--in the name of all that's sensible--are -you driving at?" - -"Get away from here--away from me--and save yourself," replied Harley. -"Don't you understand? This trouble is all _our_ fault--all due to my -sister. Don't you see that? Then get away from us! Drop us, and clear -out!" - -"To save myself from the curse of the little red marks on the card, I -suppose?" - -"Yes, yes. Go away and save yourself. That is what I ask you, Rayton." - -"You really believe, then, in the power of those crosses? You really -believe that my life is in danger--that I have been marked by Fate?" - -"I only know what those crosses have done in the past. The evil is not -in the marks, though. Don't think I'm quite a fool! But they are sent as -a warning--by some unknown enemy of ours. Can't you see that, Rayton? My -father was murdered after receiving a card marked with those crosses. -David Marsh's life was attempted! Don't you see? We have a bitter, -hidden enemy!" - -"No, I don't!" retorted Rayton, with spirit. "I don't think Marsh's life -was attempted. Great heavens, Jim, didn't a canoe pole ever break in -this country before? And didn't a shack ever burn down before? Buck up -and look at the thing like a sensible man! What happened to that young -bounder Marsh was nothing but chance. You make me angry, 'pon my word -you do! But don't think for a minute that you can make me angry enough -to run away--or that you can scare me away. I stand pat; but if my house -catches fire, or anything of that kind happens, then I'll set to work -and dig up the fool who hands out those marked cards, and land him in -jail." - -"I have asked you to go, for your own sake. I can't do anything more," -returned Harley. - -Rayton gazed at him earnestly, eye to eye; but Harley kept his eyes -steady. - -"Jim, that sounds queer," he said. "It sounds like some rot that Nash -was talking, not long ago. Perhaps you know what I mean. Nash's idea was -that you dealt the marked card to Marsh, and then invented the story, -just to scare Marsh away from your sister. Now he will say that you are -trying to frighten me away." - -"He is a liar!" cried Harley. - -"I know your story is true," said the Englishman, "and I know you are -just as much in the dark about those cards as I am; but if you go on -like this, old chap, other people will think as Nash thinks. Nash is not -the only fool in these woods. - -"And I want to tell you that even if you were trying to frighten me away -from here you couldn't do it! That's my position, Jim. I am here--and -here I stay! Whoever marks those cards is a harmless idiot. I love your -sister--though she doesn't know it, yet--and the only thing that can -chase me away from her is her own word. So save your anxiety for me, old -chap, and keep your wind to cool your porridge. Also, think the thing -over quietly; and, if it continues to worry you, go hunting for the man -who makes a fool of you by marking those cards. Good morning." - -Reginald Rayton turned and strode away without waiting for an answer to -his last long speech. He was angry--hot and cold with it, from his head -to his feet. He had been excited into a premature disclosure of his -sentiments toward Nell Harley. He had been talked to like a fool--and -he had talked like a fool. He was furious. He felt the need of some one -to punch and kick. It was years since he had last been in such a wax. -And this was his mood when Doctor Nash appeared over the brow of a hill -in front, driving toward him in a mud-splashed buggy. Nash drew rein -within a yard of the Englishman. The Englishman halted. Nash leaned -forward, and grinned. - -"That was a good one, last night," he remarked. "A good joke on old -Wigmore; but I don't quite see the point of it. Do you?" - -"No. Is there supposed to be any point?" returned Rayton. - -"Sure! What d'ye think it's all about if there isn't a point to it? You -fellows are lobsters, I must say, if you are still cloudy on that -business. Those marks are warnings--oh, yes! But they are not sent by -Fate. They are sort of 'keep off the grass' signs issued and posted by a -very dear friend of yours. Last night he felt my eye on him, and so -threw the bluff. It worked pretty well, too. It had me guessing for -about an hour; and then I thought it over after I went to bed, and got -it all straight and clear." - -"I am glad that some one has it straight and clear," said Rayton. "I am -in the dark, myself; but I agree with you that the deal to Wigmore was -a bluff. I am positive about this because a marked card came to me twice -before supper." - -Nash uttered a derisive whistle, then slapped his knee with an open -hand. - -"I might have guessed it!" he cried. "So it's your turn, is it? Keep off -the grass, Reginald. Good old Jim! He knows what he's about." - -"What are you driving at?" demanded the Englishman. "What has Jim to do -with it?" - -He had heard the doctor's theory before, but wanted first-hand proof of -it--and he was looking for an excuse for letting loose. - -"What has Jim to do with it?" repeated Nash sneeringly. "Why, you -lobster, he has everything to do with it. He's _it_! What's your head -made of, anyway? A block out of the oak walls of old England, I -suppose." - -Rayton averted his face. - -"Do you mean that Jim has anything to do with the marks on those cards?" -he asked, in a faint and unsteady voice. - -"You lobster! He marks them, and he deals them!" cried Nash. - -Rayton faced him. - -"You are a liar," he said quietly. "Not only that, but you are a -bounder. Better whip up your nag and drive away, or I'll be tempted to -pull you out onto the road and give you what you need. You are a -disgrace to this settlement." He stepped back to the edge of the road. -"Drive along, fat head," he commanded. - -But Nash did not drive along. He had a great opinion of himself--of his -physical as well as his mental powers. He hung the reins on the -dashboard. - -"Do you mean that?" he asked. "Are you trying to insult me? Or are you -drunk?" - -"I am not drunk. Yes, I am trying to insult you. It is rather a -difficult thing to do, I know." - -"Steady, Champion!" cried Nash to his nodding horse. Then he jumped over -the wheel, threw aside his hat and overcoat, and plunged at Rayton, with -his fists flying. He smote the air. He flailed the sunlight. He punched -holes in the out of doors. At last he encountered something hard--not -with his fist, however, but with an angle of his face. With a futile -sprawl, he measured his considerable length in the mud and slush of the -highway. So he lay for a little while, one leg flapping, then scrambled -slowly to his feet. He gazed around in a dazed way, and at last rested -his glance upon Rayton. - -[Illustration: "PLUNGED AT RAYTON, WITH HIS FISTS FLYING"] - -"See here!" he exclaimed; "that--that's no way to do! Can't you fight -fair? What did you hit me with?" - -The Englishman lifted his right fist, and pointed at it with the index -finger of his left hand. - -"That is what I hit you with," he said in matter-of-fact tones. "But if -you don't think that fair, I'll land my left next time." - -"Don't trouble," replied Nash. "I'm no match for a professional prize -fighter. That's not my line." - -"Oh, cheer up! We've just begun." - -"I've finished." - -"In that case you can take back what you said about Jim Harley." - -"What did I say?" asked the doctor, making a furtive step toward his -trap. - -Rayton advanced. "Quick!" he cried. "Call yourself a liar, or I'll try -another prod at you!" - -"Leave me alone. D--n you! I'll have the law on you for this. Keep off! -Mind what you're about. Keep your distance, I say. Yes, yes! You're -right. I'm a liar. _I'm a liar!_" - -He jumped into his buggy, wakened Champion with a cut of the whip, and -drove away at a gallop, leaving his hat and overcoat on the side of the -road. For a minute Rayton stood and gazed after the bouncing vehicle. -Then he picked up the hat and coat, and placed them on the top rail of -the fence. - -"That is the worst thing I ever saw in the way of a doctor," he said. -"Most of them are mighty good fellows--and I didn't know before that any -of them were quitters. But that chap? Why, he's a disgrace to a pill -box. Hope he'll come back for his duds, though." - -Mr. Reginald Baynes Rayton turned, and continued on his homeward way, -swinging his feet well in front of him, and expanding his chest. But -presently he lost the air of the conquering hero. Misgivings assailed -him. He had picked a fight simply because he was in a bad temper. He had -called a more or less harmless individual names, and then punched him in -the jaw and forced him to call himself a liar. - -"I'm ashamed of myself," he murmured. "What has become of my manners?" - -He reached his house, and found Mr. Banks in the kitchen, still -reflectively consuming tobacco. - -"What's the matter with you, Reginald?" inquired the New Yorker. "You -look excited." - -"I am," replied Rayton, and told frankly but briefly of his talk with -Jim Harley and of his fight with Nash. - -"I am glad you punched Nash, for I don't like the animal," said Banks. -"But why in thunder didn't you trim Harley first? He insulted you." - -"He didn't mean to insult me. He believes in the potency of those red -crosses. It is a matter of family pride with him," answered Rayton. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -RAYTON IS REMINDED OF THE RED CROSSES - - -The snow vanished during the day, under the unseasonable glow of the -sun; but with evening came a biting frost and a choking, quiet wind out -of a clear sky. The next morning lifted bright and cold, with a glint of -ice over all the wilderness, but not so much as a patch or tatter of -snow anywhere. - -Banks and Rayton breakfasted by lamplight, for they had planned a -morning after ruffled grouse. The sun was just over the eastern forests -when they stepped out from the warm kitchen to the frosted open, -buttoned their fur-lined gloves, and turned up the collars of their -blanket "jumpers." They separated at a spur of spruces and firs that -thrust itself, like a green buttress, into the yellow-brown of a back -pasture. - -"You can have Turk. He may find you a belated woodcock or two," said -Rayton. - -So Banks swung to the left, and entered the forest, with the obedient, -eager dog at his heels, and a trail of fragrant smoke drifting over his -shoulder, pure blue in the sunshine. - -Rayton entered the woods to the right. He walked carelessly through the -underbrush, heedless of everything about him, and of the gun in the -hollow of his arm, grieving over his conversation the day before with -the brother of the woman he loved. Had Jim really expected him to behave -like a coward--to run away from the marked cards? Had Jim no better -opinion of him than that? He wondered if Nell knew that the cards had -been dealt to him? And if so, how she felt about it? Had Jim told her of -their heated argument, and of his--Rayton's--childish exhibition of -temper? That would not strengthen his chances with her. And what would -she think of him when she heard of his crude outbreak against Doctor -Nash? He trembled at the question. - -"Those red crosses may be my undoing, after all, in a sneaking -roundabout way," he reflected. - -A bird went whirring up from close in front of his trampling feet, and -got safely away. He halted, leaned his gun against a tree, and lit his -pipe. - -"I must keep my wits about me," he said, "and stop worrying about those -silly cards, or everything will get away from me--birds and -everything." - -He sat for about half an hour on a convenient stump in a patch of -sunshine, smoking, and working himself into his usual happy state of -mind. He dreamed of Nell Harley. He had visions of her--and he -discovered a golden trail of thought, and followed it into a golden -magical future. The cards, the argument with Jim, and the fight with -Nash were all forgotten. At the end of the half hour he continued on his -aimless way. - -The lanes and little clearings of the forest were comfortably warm, for -the sunlight filled them, and the wind was walled away from them. The -peace of the frost-nipped, sun-steeped wilderness soothed and healed his -spirit. He moved slowly, and halted frequently to spy out some -twittering chickadee or flitting blue jay, to gaze up at the purple -spires of the spruces, or down at some flaming, grotesquely shaped -toadstool. He loved it all--every stump, shadow, sound, and soaring wall -of it, every flickering wing and furtive call, every scent, tone, and -silence. - -He tramped onward, comforted, following his whim. At noon he halted -beside a brown brook, twisting among cedars here, alders there. He had -several thick slices of bread and butter in his pocket. He built a small -fire at the edge of the stream, skinned, in woodman's style, a plump -partridge that he had shot an hour before, broiled it to a turn, and -dined to a wish. After his meal, he spent a dozing hour between the red -fire and the brown stream, with the stem of his pipe between his teeth, -and great dreams behind his eyes. - -"This suits me," he murmured. "I'll make a day of it." - -He got to his feet at last, picked up his gun, and followed the course -of the stream downward, taking his time, and avoiding all tangles of -underbrush and difficult places. He waked up several grouse, and got one -clean shot. But he was not keen about making a bag. He was enjoying -himself in quite another way. Had there been paper and pencil in his -pocket, instead of feathers, crumbs of bread, and shreds of tobacco, it -is more than likely he would have tried to write a poem; for Mr. -Reginald Baynes Rayton was in love with a woman, and in love with nature -on one and the same golden day. Everything was forgotten but the quiet, -magical joy that steeped him to the soul. - -It was about mid-afternoon when Rayton altered his course for home. He -studied the sky and his compass, and then turned his back to the brown -brook. He calculated that this line would take him out to Samson's Mill -Settlement shortly after sunset. - -An hour later Rayton was still far from home, and among tall timber and -heavy underbrush. Red rays of sun flooded from the west, low and level, -and became tangled and lost among the black screens of the forest. -Rayton moved slowly, pushing his way through moosewood saplings. He -halted, drew his compass from an inner pocket, and reassured himself as -to his position. - -And then, on the left, a rifle shot rang out, sharp and vicious. Rayton -jumped, spun round on his heels, then dashed forward, shouting strongly -and angrily. He heard the swishing and crackling of flight ahead of him. -He halted, raised his fowling piece, and let fly both barrels. He -bellowed murderous threats after the retreating, unseen sniper. - -Then, quick as lightning, the strength went out of him. Voice and knees -failed together, and he sank silently to the forest loam. So he lay for -a minute, dizzy and faint, and stunned with wonder. In a dazed way he -set all his senses on a vague inquiry, searching for pain. But he felt -no pain--only a quick, strong pulsing in his left shoulder. He took -note of this cloudily. Then, of a sudden, his brain cleared, and anxiety -sprang alive in his heart. - -He sat up, and put his right hand across his body. His shoulder--the -thick blanket stuff that covered it--was wet and hot. He held his hand -close to his eyes in the waning light, and saw that it was reeking red -from finger tips to wrist. A gasp of dismay escaped him. Again he felt -all about the wet place with his right hand. Now the blood was streaming -down his arm. He discovered the wound--a tender spot, high up. - -"I must stop it," he muttered. "It's working like a pump. If I don't -plug it up, or tie it up, mighty quick, I'll be drained dry." - -A vision of his bloodless corpse prone on the forest moss flashed across -his mind. Then he set swiftly and cleverly to work to check the flow of -blood. First, he made a thick pad of dry moss and a handkerchief, and -bound it tightly over the wound with a silk scarf from his neck. Then he -removed his elastic suspenders, and twisted them over his shoulder and -under his armpit four times. The pulsing became fainter and fainter, and -at last could not be felt at all. - -"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "I do believe I've done the trick. Fine -thing, these patent Yankee suspenders." - -He got to his feet, swayed, and sat down again. - -"I must have lost a quart or two," he muttered. "No head--no knees--no -insides." - -He sat very stiff for a little while in deep but meaningless thought. -His mind felt like a feather--a puff of smoke--drifting dust. An impish -wind was blowing it, and would not allow it to settle. - -"This is queer," he said. "Is it loss of blood--or shock? Must do -something." - -He scrambled to his feet again, picked up his gun, and pressed forward a -distance of about twenty yards. He felt a tickling in his shoulder -again. It strengthened to a faint throbbing. The horror of bleeding to -death returned to him with a grip on his heart. Pain he could struggle -against, and perhaps dominate; but this was not pain. This was tender -and warm--this flowing out of life. - -He sat down again, and again the pulsing quieted and ceased. He saw that -he must make a night of it in the woods, unless help came to him. He -could not go forward in search of help. He must keep still--or bleed to -death. He saw this very clearly, as if written in great white letters -on a wall of blackness. And, more dimly, he saw the danger of freezing -during the long, cold night. Though warmly clothed, he had no blanket or -wrap of any kind. - -Fire was the only thing at his command that could keep the frost away. -Reaching about with his right hand, he pulled up a great quantity of dry -moss. Then he shifted his position a little, and repeated the operation. -His arm was feeling numb now, and he could not detect any hint of the -pulsing sensation. - -Twilight had deepened to night in the forest, and a still cold was -creeping in from the vast overhead and the wide, empty portals of the -north. Rayton felt about in the underbrush, and discovered plenty of dry -fuel, some of it even lying detached upon the ground. He piled his brush -and moss to one side of the irregular circle which he had cleared down -to the rock and soil, working with the least possible effort. With his -sheath knife he cut some living brush, some young spruces, and a few -small saplings. - -By this time, his left arm and side were aching dully, but his head felt -steadier. He placed a bunch of moss, twigs, and larger sticks in the -cleared space, and struck a match. The flame curled up, grew, crowned -the dry heap, and painted the crowding walls of the forest with red, -dancing shadows. There was no wind--nothing astir in the air but the -drifting frost. The smoke of the fire went straight up toward the high, -aching stars, and the heat spread around in a narrow circle. Rayton -squatted close to the fire, and fed it with more dry sticks, and soon -with some of the green wood. - -A sudden drowsiness came to him with the soothing glow of the fire. He -fought against it for a few minutes, and even nerved himself to crawl -away and drag in a large half-rotted stump. He placed this valuable -addition to his store of fuel fairly on the top of the fire, banked more -dry stuff beneath and around it, and then lay down on his couch of moss. -He felt comfortably warm, deliciously sleepy, and absolutely care free. -The pain in his arm was almost as numb as the arm itself. He scarcely -noticed it. - -"This isn't so very bad, after all," he murmured. "So long as that -pumping doesn't begin again, I really don't care." - -He lay on his right side, deep in the dry moss, and gazed into the fire. -He saw the red and yellow flames crawl up the flanks of the shattered -and hollow stump. - -"It will catch," he murmured. "It will be all right. That's--a -good--fire. I'll just lie--here--and watch it--burn. Don't think -I'd--better--go to sleep. Not sleepy--any--way." - -And then his lids slid down; and in his dreams he continued to watch the -red and yellow flames rise and fall, creep up, bring down, and mount -again. He dreamed that he did not sleep, but lay and watched the fire -crown the shattered stump and gnaw a dozen passages into its hollow -heart. That was all of his dream. It was no more than a picture, as far -as progress and action were concerned. It seemed to him that he lay deep -in the dry moss, on his right side, with his eyes wide open. So, for a -few minutes--and then the fire died down suddenly to blackness--so -suddenly that he sat bolt upright, and uttered a cry of dismay. - -It had been a dream. Rayton had dreamed the long night away, thinking -himself awake; and now the cheerless gray of a November dawn was sifting -through the forest. The fire was a patch of dead ashes. The air was -bitterly cold. Rayton felt stiff and sore. His hands and feet were like -ice. As he sank back upon his right elbow, a sharp pain stabbed him in -the side. He groaned pitifully. - -"This is worse than the bullet wound," he muttered. "And this is all my -own fault for going to sleep." - -His shoulder, fortunately, neither bled nor pained him. The blood in the -pad of moss was dry. The arm was stiff, owing largely to the grip of the -elastic suspenders and the bandages; but that was only to be expected. -This hot pain in the side, however, leaping inward with every breath and -movement, told him of a serious danger. - -"I'll just warm myself a bit, and then get out," he said. "I _must_ get -out, this time!" - -He managed to heap up an armful of moss and twigs, and set it alight. He -crawled close to the quick flames, almost embracing the mound of smoke -and fire. Little sparks flew out, and fell upon his heavy, frosted -clothing, scorched for a little while, and then blinked to nothingness, -unheeded. He piled on more fuel, and fairly breathed the heat into his -lungs. - -A shout rang strongly and hopefully through the silent forest. Rayton -sat up weakly, and gazed around him. The light was dim, and he saw -nothing but the soaring trees and crowding underbrush. He tried to -shout--but his voice was no more than a whisper. He tried again, with -desperate effort, and groaned with the hot agony that stabbed his lungs. -He put more dry fuel on the fire, for here was a signal more sure to -guide help to him than any outcry. Not content with this, however, he -crawled to his gun, inserted a loaded cartridge, and discharged it into -the ground; then crawled close to the fire again, lay prone, and made no -struggle against waves of flashing color and gigantic sound that flowed -over him, trampling him down, down fathoms deep. - -When Rayton returned to the surface of that mighty tide, he discovered -his head to be supported by a human shoulder and arm. A flask, gripped -by a big, familiar hand, was against his lips. On the other side of the -fire stood Dick Goodine, gazing across at him with haggard eyes. Among -the trees, the daylight was stronger, and held a hint of sunshine. He -sighed, and parted his lips, and the potent liquor from the tilting -flask trickled down his throat and glowed within him. - -"Thanks, you chaps," he muttered. "I'm mighty glad you found me." - -"Drink some more," said Banks tenderly. "You feel like a block of ice. -Swig away, there's a good fellow. Better be drunk than dead!" - -Rayton took another big swallow of the stinging brandy. Then, reviving -swiftly, he pushed the flask away. - -"That's better," he said. "But I'm afraid I've caught a whacker of a -cold. Let my fire go out, you know. Got shot--and built a fire--and went -to sleep. Very foolish. How'd you happen to find me so soon? Good thing. -My side feels like the devil!" - -"You just keep quiet for a while longer," said Banks. "We're going to -roll you up in this blanket, now, and feed you with hot beef tea." - -Dick Goodine, who had not moved or spoken before, now passed around the -fire, stooped, and took the Englishman's right hand in both of his. - -"I'm almighty glad you--you are awake, Reginald," he said huskily. - -Then he straightened himself quickly, and turned away. - -They rolled Rayton in two blankets, and placed him on a deep couch of -moss, close to the fire. They bared his feet, and rubbed them to a glow. -They filled him to the neck with scalding beef tea, strongly laced with -brandy. They built up the fire, until it roared like a burning hay -barn. Banks cut away the left sleeve of the blanket jumper, removed some -of the dry blood, and examined the wound. - -"Clean as a whistle!" he exclaimed. "In here and out there. That is -nothing to worry about, I guess--now that it has stopped bleeding." - -Goodine examined the shoulder in silence, and looked tremendously -relieved to see so clean a wound. Banks loosened the pinch of the -elastic suspenders over and under the shoulder. Then he put on fresh -bandages. - -"How is the side feeling now?" he asked. - -The Englishman smiled and nodded, mumbled some ghosts of words, and -then, under the spell of the beef tea and brandy inside him, and the -heat of the fire on his body, sank again to sleep. For a few minutes his -two friends sat and watched him in silence. Dick Goodine was the first -to speak. - -"D'ye think he'll pull 'round all right?" he whispered. - -"Of course he'll pull 'round," replied the New Yorker. "He is as strong -as a horse, and the bullet wound is not serious. His blood is clean, -thank Heaven!--as clean as his heart. He has got cold right into his -bones; but if the heat will drive out cold, I guess we'll thaw him, -Dick. Now is the time to try, anyway, before it gets set. We'll keep the -fire roaring. And in half an hour we'll wad more hot drinks into him. -We'll drive that pain out of his side, or bust!" - -The trapper nodded, his dark eyes fixed upon Rayton's quiet face with a -haunted and mournful regard. - -"We'll take him home before night," continued Mr. Banks; "and then we'll -go gunning for the skunk who tried to murder him!" - -"You bet we will!" replied Goodine huskily. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -CAPTAIN WIGMORE SUGGESTS AN AMAZING THING - - -Rayton's chest and side felt much better when he awoke from his second -deep sleep by the fire. It was noon; and though the air was frosty, the -sun was shining. Mr. Banks administered more beef tea to him, piping -hot. - -"How did you happen to find me so soon?" asked the Englishman. - -"Thank Dick for that," said Banks. "He dragged me out of bed before -dawn. He heard the shooting last night; but didn't think much about it -then. But when he learned that you had been out all day he began to -worry." - -Dick Goodine nodded. - -"That's right," he said. "The more I thought over them two shots, an' -the yellin' I heard, the queerer it all seemed to me." - -"Did you see any one, Reginald?" asked Banks. "Do you know who plugged -you--or can you make a guess?" - -Rayton shook his head. "I didn't see anything," he replied--"not even -the flash of the rifle. No, I can't guess. It was all so sudden!--and I -was so dashed angry and surprised, you know! I let fly with both -barrels--and then I fell down. Blood was just spurting, you know. I felt -very weak--and mad enough to chew somebody." - -"So _you_ fired the second shot, did you?" queried Banks. - -"Yes. I only hope I peppered the dirty cad. Of course, it may not have -been intentional. I haven't thought it out yet. Whoever fired the shot -may have mistaken me for a moose or deer. But it is pretty hard lines, I -think, if a chap can't walk through the woods without being sniped at by -some fool with a rifle." - -"That's what set me wonderin'--that second shot," said the trapper. "I -was a durned idjit, though! I might er known there wasn't any strangers -shootin' 'round this country now--any of the kind that hollers like all -git-out every time they hit something--or think they do. But I was a -good ways off, an' late, so I just kept hikin' along for home." - -"That's all right, old boy," said Rayton. "No harm done, I think. But -are you sure there are no strangers in the woods now? Who do you think -shot me, then?" - -"Certainly not a stranger!" exclaimed the New Yorker. "You may bet on -that, Reginald. The murderous, sneaking, white-livered skunk who shot -you is the same animal who set fire to young Marsh's camp--the same -vicious fool who is at the bottom of all this marked-card business." - -"Great heavens!" exclaimed the Englishman. "Do you really believe that? -Then the card trick is getting pretty serious. What do you think about -it, Dick?" - -"It beats me!" said Dick, in a flat voice. "I don't know--an' I can't -guess. It's a mighty nasty-lookin' business, that's all I can say. Looks -to me like a job for the police." - -"Not yet!" cried Rayton. "I can look after myself. Promise me to keep -quiet about it, will you? That will give us a chance to look 'round a -bit for ourselves. We don't want to start the whole country fussing -about." - -"But what about Nash?" asked Mr. Banks. "He is bound to know. You'll -have to tell him how you came by the puncture in your shoulder." - -"That is all right. It is only a flesh wound, and clean as a whistle. I -don't need Nash." - -"We'll not argue about that, Reginald," returned Banks. "Here, drink -this brandy, and then we'll start for home with you. I am bossing this -show." - -Two hours and twenty minutes later they had Rayton comfortably tucked -away between the warm sheets of his own bed. His two stalwart friends -had carried him every yard of the way, in a blanket, and he had not -suffered from the journey. Banks unbandaged his shoulder, and examined -the wound. He washed it in warm water, and moved the arm gently. The -blood began to flow freely. He bound the shoulder tightly, and nodded to -the trapper. - -"Where are you going?" asked Rayton, as Dick opened the door. - -"For Doctor Nash," answered Dick, and the door slammed behind him. - -Dick saddled one of the horses, and rode off at a gallop. He was lucky -to find the doctor at home in the farmhouse where he boarded. He -delivered his message briefly, but clearly. Nash rubbed his hands -together, and informed the trapper that there was another doctor at Bird -Portage, twenty miles away. When asked to explain this remark, he -blustered and swore, and at last said frankly that Rayton could bleed -to death for all he cared. - -"If you don't come peaceful an' quiet," said Goodine slowly, "then--by -hell!--you'll come the other way!" - -Their eyes met, and flared for a second or two. Then Nash wavered. - -"I'll come," he said. - -"I'll wait for you," said the trapper. "Git a move on." - -When they reached Rayton's house they found old Captain Wigmore in the -sitting room, smoking a cigar and smiling sardonically. Nash went -upstairs, but Wigmore beckoned the trapper to him. - -"I've wormed it out of them," he said. "I know all about it; and that -means that I know a good deal more about it than you do." - -"What? More about what?" asked Goodine anxiously. - -"Just this, my good trapper of foolish beasts! Nash is the man who put -the hole through the Englishman's shoulder!" - -Dick stared. At last he regained the use of his tongue. - -"You're cracked!" he exclaimed. "Nash didn't do it!" - -"What do you know about it?" - -"Well, I guess I know that much, anyhow." - -"Then who did it?" - -"Don't know." - -"But I do. You keep your eye on Nash when I tackle him. Then you'll -know." - -Dick shook his head. - -"I guess not," he murmured, and went upstairs, leaving the captain alone -with his thin smile and long cigar. - -"I do believe that old crow has a slat loose," reflected the trapper. -"I'd give a good lot to know what he's truly thinking about, anyhow." - -Doctor Nash, after brief greetings, set to work on Rayton's wounded -shoulder. He made a close examination, but asked no questions. He worked -swiftly for about half an hour. - -"That's done," he said. "All you have to do now is to keep still for a -while." He paused and turned to Banks. "Has he been insulting and -assaulting somebody else lately?" he asked. - -"Don't know," returned the New Yorker. "Why?" - -"Just an idea of mine," replied Nash. "Some men are not as good-natured -as I am, you know. Somebody took a shot at him--and I was just -wondering why. It does not often happen 'round here." - -"You are the only person I have behaved like that to," said Rayton, -"and--and--well, I am dashed sorry I lost my temper. I beg your pardon, -Nash. I am very sorry, honestly. I behaved like a cad." - -"You should have thought of that before," sneered Nash. - -At that moment old Captain Wigmore entered the room on the tips of his -neat little toes, smiling behind his whiskers. - -"I see you've brought your company manners with you," said Nash. "I -thought you saved them up for the ladies." He had the old fellow on his -black list. - -"Is that you, doctor?" returned the captain pleasantly. "So you have -been patching up this young man, I see. What do you think of your work?" - -"Of my work? Oh, I guess my work is good enough. Have you anything to -say about it?" - -"Why, yes, now that you ask me. Five or six inches to the side would -have done the job. Why didn't you do it when you were at it?" - -Dick Goodine guessed what was coming; but the other three stared at the -old man in frank amazement. Nash looked bewildered. - -"Six inches?" he queried. "Done the job? What the devil are you talking -about?" - -"There are none so blind as those who won't see," replied Wigmore, -leering. - -"What d'you mean? What are you grinning at?" - -"Don't get excited, doctor. Bluster and bluff don't frighten me." He -stepped close to Rayton. "Who d'you think put that hole through your -shoulder, Reginald?" he asked. - -"Haven't the least idea. Wish I had," replied the invalid. - -"Dear me! What a dull young man you are," jeered Wigmore. - -"Don't follow you," said the Englishman. - -"Same here," said Banks. - -Captain Wigmore chuckled. "I don't suppose you have an enemy anywhere -within five hundred miles of here?" he queried. - -"Not to my knowledge," said Rayton. - -"Then why did you and Nash fly at each other day before yesterday, in -the middle of the road? Why did you knock your dear friend flat in the -mud?" - -"Oh, give us a rest!" exclaimed Nash, flushing darkly, and scowling at -the old man. - -"That was nothing more than--than a sudden explosion of bad temper," -said Rayton. - -Wigmore nodded his head briskly, and turned to the doctor. - -"And I noticed," he said, "that you did not wait to be knocked down a -second time. You hopped into your rig, and drove away at top speed. He -who fights and runs away--ah?" - -"Really, captain, what is the necessity of all this?" protested Mr. -Banks. - -Wigmore waved his hand toward the big New Yorker, as if at a fly that -had buzzed in his ear. His keen, glinting eyes were fixed with a -terrible, rejoicing intentness upon Doctor Nash. - -"What were you doing in the woods yesterday afternoon?" he asked. - -"Confound you!" cried Nash furiously. "What are you talking about? What -do you mean to imply? You skinny little runt, you must be mad!" - -Wigmore laughed with a sound like the clattering together of dry bones. -Mr. Banks gripped him roughly by a thin, hard arm. - -"Enough of this!" cried the big sportsman. "Either speak out like a man, -or shut up!" - -"Very good," returned the captain, with another mirthless laugh. "All I -want to know is what Doctor Nash was doing in the woods to the west of -here yesterday afternoon, with a rifle. What game were you after, -doctor? I have always heard that you were not very keen on that kind of -sport." - -"I wasn't in the woods!" cried Nash. "You are a liar!" - -"Don't call _me_ a liar, _please_," protested the old man. "It is -Benjamin Samson who is the liar, in this case. He told me that you -borrowed his rifle yesterday, just before noon, and struck into the -woods." - -Nash gasped, and his face faded to the sickly tint of a tallow candle. -He stared wildly at Wigmore, then wildly around at the others. He opened -and closed his mouth several times noiselessly, like a big fish newly -landed on the bank. But at last his voice returned to him suddenly and -shrilly. - -"I forgot!" he cried. "I was out yesterday--with Samson's rifle--after -all. But what about it? Why shouldn't I go shooting if I want to? This -is a free country! But I know what you are--trying to make Rayton -think--you dirty little gray badger! You are hinting that I shot him! -I'll have the law on you for this, you--you----" - -"I'll not wait to hear the rest of it, though it is sure to be apt and -picturesque," said the captain, flashing his dazzling "store" teeth. -"Good-by, Reginald, Good-by, all. See you to-morrow." - -He bowed, skipped from the room, and hurried downstairs, and out of the -house. Doctor Nash sprang after him to the top of the stairs, trembling -and stuttering with rage; but he did not go any farther. He turned, -after a moment or two, and re-entered the room. He strode up to the bed. - -"Do you believe that?" he cried. "Do you believe that I shot you, -Reginald Rayton?" - -"Certainly not," replied Rayton promptly. "You wouldn't be such a fool -as to borrow a rifle to do it with, even if you wanted to kill me." - -Nash turned upon Banks and Dick Goodine. - -"And you two?" he cried. "Do you think that I tried to murder Rayton? -That I fired that shot?" - -Dick Goodine, who stood by the window, with his face averted, answered -with a silent shake of the head. Mr. Banks did not let the question pass -so lightly, however. For several seconds he gazed steadily, keenly, -inquiringly into Nash's angry eyes. He was very cool and ponderous. The -scene suggested to Reginald Rayton the judgment of a mortal by a just -but inexorable god. Only his ever-ready sense of politeness kept him -from smiling broadly. Nash glared, and began to mutter uneasily. At last -the big New Yorker spoke. - -"Circumstances are against you, Nash," he said slowly. "Nobody can deny -that. There is bad blood between you and Reginald. Reginald loses his -temper, and gives you a trimming. On the following day you borrow a -rifle, and go into the woods, and that evening the man who punched you -in the jaw is shot through the shoulder. It looks bad, Nash--mighty bad! -But--keep quiet!--but, in spite of appearances, I don't think you are -the guilty person." - -"Then why the devil didn't you say so before?" cried the doctor, -trembling. - -"Calm yourself," replied Mr. Banks, "and I'll try to explain to you my -reasons for naming you guiltless. In the first place, I believe you to -be a touch above shooting a man in the dark. Whatever you may be in -yourself, your profession would make you better than that. In the second -place, I don't think that you have any hand in the game of the marked -cards--and I am quite sure that the person who marks those cards knows -who put the hole through Reginald's shoulder." - -Nash looked startled. - -"I forgot about that!" he exclaimed. "Rayton told me that the card was -dealt to him--and then the--the subsequent argument we had kind of put -it out of my head." - -Banks smiled. "Quite so. I don't wonder at it," he said. "But tell me, -do you still believe Jim Harley to be at the bottom of the card trick?" - -Nash shot a glance at the bandaged man in the bed. "I do," he replied. -"I stick to that until some one proves it untrue, though every man in -this room gives me a punch in the jaw. It is a free country, and I have -a right to my opinion." - -"Of course you have," agreed the New Yorker; "but I'll show you the real -trickster within two days from now. In the meantime, I shall keep my -suspicions and plans to myself." - -Early that evening the snow began to fall, and by breakfast the next -morning it lay a foot deep over the frozen wilderness. Mr. Banks -prepared his own breakfast and Rayton's, and they ate together in -Rayton's room. Banks was washing the dishes in the kitchen when Dick -Goodine opened the door, and stepped inside. - -"I'm off," said the trapper. "If I don't get busy pretty quick, I won't -have one fox skin to show, come spring." - -He went upstairs, treading noiselessly as a bobcat, in his snowy -moccasins, shook hands with Rayton, asked considerately about the -shoulder, and then went out into the white world. - -"I like that man," said Banks. "He's true blue." - -"Right you are," replied the Englishman. - -The last pan was cleaned and put away, when Banks was aroused from deep -thought by a faint knocking on the front door. He pulled down the -sleeves of his shirt, wriggled into his coat, made a hurried pass at the -thin hair on top of his head, with a crumb brush, then took his way -decorously along the hall, wondering who the formal caller might be. He -opened the door, and found Nell Harley in the little porch. Her clear -face was flushed vividly, and her clear eyes were wide with anxiety. - -Mr. Banks mastered his astonishment before it reached his eyes. - -"Come in! Come in!" he exclaimed. "This is delightful of you, Miss -Harley." - -He seized one of her gloved hands, drew her into the narrow hall, and -closed the door. - -"Jim started for one of his camps--early this morning--before we heard," -she said. "So I have come to--to see Mr. Rayton. Is--he very--ill?" - -"Ill!" repeated Mr. Banks cheerfully. "My dear young lady, he is fit as -a fiddle. We broke up his cold yesterday, you know, and the scratch on -his shoulder is nothing. Please come in here. I'll just touch a match to -the fire." - -"Where is Mr. Rayton?" she asked, as he stooped to light the fire in the -sitting-room stove. - -"Oh, he's at home. I'll tell him you are here." - -"I'm sure he is in bed." - -"Well, so he is. It is the safest place to keep him, you know, for he is -always getting into trouble." - -"I--I want to see him--to speak to him," she whispered. - -"Then wait a minute, please. I'll run upstairs and try to make him look -pretty," said Mr. Banks. - -When Miss Harley entered Rayton's bedroom, she found the invalid sitting -up against a stack of pillows, smiling cheerfully, slightly flushed, -his shoulders draped with a scarlet blanket. He extended his hand. She -drew off her gloves, and took it firmly. Neither spoke for fully half a -minute. Mr. Banks left the room, light on his feet as a prowling cat. - -"It is the curse," she said, at last, unsteadily. "When you are strong -again you--you must go away." - -"Am I really in danger?" he asked very softly. "Under the old conditions -of the curse, you know?" - -Her eyes wavered. - -"Your life has been attempted," she whispered. - -"I mean to stay," he replied, somewhat breathlessly, "until that curse -has done its worst on me--or until you love me!" - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -FEAR FORGOTTEN--AND RECALLED - - -The color slipped away, then flooded back to Nell Harley's cheeks and -brow. Her fine eyes brightened, then dimmed sweetly. She withdrew her -hand from his, and turned away. - -"Until you love me," repeated Rayton, in a dry voice that strove to be -both commonplace and courageous. "If--if that is not to be," he -continued, "then I will go away." - -She whispered something; but because of her averted face he did not -catch the words. - -"I beg your pardon?" he queried fearfully. "I did not hear." - -Now she stood with her back to him; but not far from his one capable -hand hanging empty and hungry over the edge of the bed. - -"Can't you--pretend?" she asked very faintly. - -"Pretend?" he repeated, in wonder; for, after all, he was rather a -simple soul in some things. "Pretend? I am not pretending. I don't -think I am much of a hand at pretending. What--do you mean?" - -"If--you--care for me--please pretend that you do not like me at all. -Keep away from our place--you know, and--and when we meet by -accident--don't--don't look at me as--you do." - -Rayton did not answer immediately. - -"I couldn't do that," he said, after a brief but electrical silence. "Of -course I _could_--but it would be harder for me than--than being shot -every day of my life. I am rather a fool at pretending, I'm afraid. But -if you say so, if you say I--I have no chance, then I'll clear out--at -the double--without a kick!" - -"It is because--because I care so for you--that I ask you to do these -things," she whispered. - -[Illustration: "'IT IS BECAUSE--BECAUSE I CARE SO FOR YOU--'"] - -The Englishman gasped, then trembled. He gazed at the young woman's -straight, fur-clad back with an untranslatable illumination in his wide -eyes. His lips moved, but uttered no sound. Then a brief, wondering -smile beautified his thin face. He moved his shoulders on the pillow -furtively. He leaned sideways, and stretched forth his hand. The strong, -brown fingers touched a fold of the long fur coat, and closed upon it -tenderly, but firmly. She neither turned nor moved. - -"That curse is only a bad dream," he said, his voice gruff with the -effort of speaking in a tone below a joyous shout. "There is no curse! -Some misguided person is trying to make fools of us all. His game will -be spoiled in a day or two. Why should we fear him?--whoever he is! I do -not want to go away from you--even for a minute! I cannot hide my love -for you. You would think me a poor sort of man if I could. I love you! I -love you! I love you! Dearest--say that again!" - -He pulled gently, half fearfully, on the fur coat. Nell turned slowly, -and faced him. Her lips trembled, and her white throat fluttered. Two -bright tears glinted on her cheeks, all unheeded--by her. He took note -of them, however, and was enraptured with their beauty, as no fire and -gleam of diamonds could have enraptured him. She smiled slowly, with -parted, tremulous lips and shining eyes. She smiled at his illuminated, -awe-stricken, yearning face. She looked down at the hand clasping the -skirt of her coat so desperately. - -"Do you care--so much?" she asked. - -"I love you," he said gravely. - -"I wonder why you love me! I am not--beautiful." - -He pulled again, with a spasmodic jerk, on the fur coat. - -"Beautiful!" he cried. "You? You are the most beautiful thing God ever -made!" - -"Reginald!" she protested, in a whisper, gazing down at his hand so as -to hide her face from him. - -He was full of courage now. Even love could not frighten him. Daring -blazed in him. - -"Kiss me--quick!" he whispered. "I hear Banks on the stairs! Quick!" He -pulled at the coat, with fearless determination. For a fraction of a -second she resisted; and then, sudden, impetuous, whole-hearted, she -stepped forward, sank to her knees beside the bed, pressed her young -breast to his unwounded shoulder, and her lips to his. He felt the -moisture of her tears. The ascending Banks was forgotten. - -"Hem! Ah--I _beg_ your pardon!" exclaimed the New Yorker. - -The girl was on her feet, and two yards away from the bed in a flash. -Her cheeks and brow were crimson; but she faced the big sportsman with -something of defiance in her attitude. Reginald Rayton neither moved nor -spoke. He lay with his eyes closed, breathing quickly. Mr. Banks looked -the most guilty of the three. He shuffled his feet. His glance fell -before the glory and daring of the girl's face. He saw that it was -beautiful, now absolutely beautiful, and he knew love to be the -beautifier. He was abashed. For a few seconds he was utterly bereft of -his usual aplomb. Had he been the inspiration of that light on her face -and in her eyes, it is probable that he would have known exactly what to -do. At last he advanced, bowed ponderously, and lifted one of her hands -to his lips. Then he stepped over to the bed. - -"Reginald, you have all the luck," he said. "I congratulate you from the -bottom of my heart. I'd take on the risks myself for--well, for -one-tenth part of the reward." - -Nell came back to earth--to the lower levels where lives are lived out, -and fear stalks through sun and shadow. - -"The risks! I had forgotten them," she whispered. - -Mr. Banks completed his recovery at that. He turned to her, smiling, his -capable, bland self again. - -"If you are thinking of the card trick," he said, "I beg you to put it -out of your mind forever. There is a fool working that card trick--and -that is all it has to do with a curse. A fool is always a curse. So -don't worry! Reginald is as safe as I am, for I'll have the mask off -that fool, and the claws out of him before he can try any more of his -mad games. All you have to do, my dear, is trust Harvey P. Banks--and -love this calf, Reginald, I suppose." - -"You are very, very kind," she answered gently, "and I hope and pray -that you are right. I must go home now, or Kate will be anxious. -Good-by, Mr. Banks. Good-by, Reginald." - -When the New Yorker returned from letting Miss Harley out of the house, -he sat down in a chair beside his friend's bed, lit a cigar, tilted his -head far back, and smiled at the ceiling. For several minutes neither of -the men spoke. Then Rayton said, in a nervous voice: "You don't think -she'll catch cold going home, do you?" - -"No, my soft and addled lover," replied Mr. Banks. "She is not at all -likely to catch cold. She is wearing a long coat of mink skins, with -other things inside it, no doubt. Her boots are thick; her gloves are -lined with fur; her hat--ah, I am not sure of her hat. There is danger, -of course, that the sky may fall down on her, or that a rail may fly off -a fence and hit her on the head. But the chances are that she'll win -home safely, and live until to-morrow." - -"Those are not things to joke about," said Rayton reprovingly. - -The other laughed long and hard. Then: "Right you are," he said. -"Seriously, Reginald, I am sore with envy of you. I have lived a long -time, in many cities of the world, and have known many women--but I give -first prize to this girl of yours. I have loved many; but here, again, -Nell Harley takes first honors." - -"What? D'ye mean that _you_ love her, too, H. P.?" asked the Englishman -anxiously. - -"Sure thing," replied the New Yorker. "What d'you think I am made of, -anyway? D'you think I am blind, deaf, and heartless? Of course, I love -her!--but you needn't glare at me, Reginald. I'm not running. I know -when to sit down and do the delighted uncle act. That girl loves you; -and, if I have learned anything in my varied career, she'll keep on -loving you till the end of the game. You are a lucky dog, Reginald, and -I give you my blessing." - -"Thanks very much, H. P.," returned Rayton, with emotion. "I am a lucky -chap, and no mistake!" - -In the meantime, Nell Harley made a swift and glowing passage across the -field. She found Kate in the sitting room. - -"Is Mr. Rayton in a serious condition?" asked Kate. "Dear me, what a -splendid color you have! You look really beautiful. What has happened?" - -Nell began to laugh excitedly. She threw aside her gloves and mink-skin -coat. She cut several unclassified dancing steps on the rug in front of -the fire. - -"What on earth is the matter with you?" demanded the young matron -anxiously. - -"Nothing," said Nell. "I kissed him--that is all." - -"You kissed him? Good gracious! What for?" - -"He told me to." - -"_Told_ you to?" - -"Yes. Well, he asked me to. He--he said he would rather be shot through -the shoulder every day of his life than go away from--me. He said he -loved me--he said it over and over and over again. He says it is -nonsense--all about that curse. So it is. Then, all of a sudden, I -just----" - -"Fell into his arms," interrupted the young matron. - -"No, indeed! That would have hurt his shoulder. Anyway, he was in bed, -and bandaged. I just didn't care about anything or anybody in the world -except him--and then I kissed him. Then Mr. Banks came in--and caught -us!" - -"Nell!" - -"And as soon as he recovered himself he kissed my hand, and -congratulated Reginald, and promised to catch the man who shot him -before he has a chance to shoot him again." - -"Nell, you talk like--like a--I don't know what! You went away almost -frightened to death about that marked card and the old family curse--and -now you--you are absolutely brazen. I never heard you talk like this -before. I never saw you act or look like this before. What will Jim say -when he hears of it?" - -"I don't care what Jim says," replied Nell. "He can keep on believing in -that old curse if he chooses. Reginald is not afraid of it--so neither -am I--now. It is wonderful to be loved like that, Kate!" - -"Pooh! Teach your grandmother!" retorted Kate. - -Nell's excitement soon passed, and fear stole back into her heart--fear -that some new danger threatened the man she loved. And just as her love -was greater now than it had been before that first kiss, so was the fear -greater now. And her belief in the curse--the supernatural curse--of the -marked card, returned to her. She remembered her father's adventure and -tragic death. She went up to her own room, and knelt by the head of her -own bed, as she had knelt at the head of Reginald Rayton's. But now she -knelt to pray. - -Things continued to happen at Rayton's house during the remainder of the -day. Doctor Nash called just about noon, examined the wound, detected -and treated a slight cold in the chest, and stayed to dinner. He helped -Banks get dinner, and even made a show of drying the dishes afterward. -He was evidently doing his best to forget his quarrel with the -Englishman. Old Wigmore's accusation seemed to be worrying him -considerably. He referred to it frequently, and even accounted for -himself minutely during the season of his possession of the borrowed -rifle. Rayton laughed at him. - -"I know you didn't shoot me, so why explain?" said the Englishman. - -"It is just as well to explain the thing. Old Wigmore has a poisonous -tongue and a poisonous mind," returned the doctor. "I believe he is -cracked." - -Nash had not been gone more than an hour when Captain Wigmore himself -appeared. - -"I am lonely," said the old man, "and I am getting rather sick of doing -my own cooking." - -"Thought Fletcher did the cooking," said Mr. Banks. - -"So he did; but he has gone away," replied Wigmore. "He cleared out some -time or other night before last--the night you were shot, Reginald." - -"Where for--and what for?" asked Banks, getting interested. - -"He said, in a letter that he was good enough to leave behind him, that -he is tired of me and of the backwoods, and can do better for himself in -New York. I suppose he has set out for New York. He is a queer fish, you -know, is old Timothy Fletcher. He has been with me for years, and has -always been more trouble to me than comfort. But he was a handy man and -a good cook. I am sorry he took it into his head to go just now. It -makes it very awkward for me." - -"Did he take anything with him?" asked the would-be detective. - -"Only his own duds--and a little rye whisky." - -"Where was he the afternoon and evening before his departure?" - -"Where was he? Let me think. I am sure I can't say, Banks. Why?" - -"Oh, I don't know. He seemed to me rather an interesting old codger. His -manners were the worst I ever saw. I wonder what struck him to leave you -so suddenly." - -Captain Wigmore shrugged his neat shoulders and laughed harshly. - -"Perhaps the poor old chap thought he would be suspected and accused of -potting our young friend here," he suggested. "He is a prowler, you -know. He frequently wanders 'round in the woods for hours at a time, and -he usually carries firearms of some kind or other." - -Mr. Banks leaned forward in his chair. "I never heard of Fletcher as a -sportsman," he said. "But even so, how could he have heard of Reginald's -accident? You say he was gone by morning--and it was not until morning -that Goodine and I found Reginald. So there can't be anything in that -suggestion of yours, captain." - -"Very likely not," replied Wigmore. "I am not a detective and have no -ambitions that way. All I know is that Timothy went away in a hurry, -leaving a letter behind him in which he addressed me in very -disrespectful terms." - -"Is that all you know, captain?" - -"Not quite, after all. I had a rifle--and it has vanished." - -"Great heavens! You knew all this, and yet you accused Nash of having -wounded Reginald!" - -"Well, why not? Some one must have done it--and the circumstances are -more against Nash than Fletcher. Nash had a score to settle with -Reginald; but I do not think there was any bad blood between our friend -and Timothy." - -"But you say Timothy is queer?" - -"Oh, yes, he is queer. Always has been. He is mad as a hatter--if you -know how mad that is. I don't." - -"What about the marked card?" asked Rayton. "Don't you think it is -potent enough to pull a trigger without the help of either Nash or -Fletcher?" - -The old man laughed. "I am getting a bit weary of that card," he said. -"Whoever is playing that trick is working it to death. And now that I -come to think of it, it strikes me that I was the last person to receive -those red marks. So why hasn't the curse, or whatever it is, struck me?" - -"You were the last," replied Rayton, "but it was dealt to me that same -evening." - -"Bless my soul! D'you mean to say so?" exclaimed Wigmore. "That is -interesting. It looks as if there is something in Jim's story, after -all. Let me see! The marks were handed to Jim's father several times, -weren't they? And he came to a sudden and violent death, didn't he? Of -course it must be all chance, combined by somebody's idea of a joke--but -it looks very strange to me. I don't like it. But why do you get the -marks, Reginald? Are you sweet on Miss Harley?" - -Rayton laughed--and his laughter was his only answer. - -Banks and the captain played chess, and said nothing more about the -marked cards or Timothy Fletcher. Captain Wigmore won all the games -easily. Then he went home. Banks put the chessmen away, fixed the fires -downstairs, and then returned to his seat by Rayton's bed. He sat for a -long time in silence, with puckered brows. - -"Queer thing about old Fletcher," said the Englishman. - -"I believe you, my son," answered Mr. Banks. "It is so darned queer I -guess it calls for investigation. Fletcher is an exceedingly rude old -man--and his master is an exceedingly _uneven_ old man." - -"Yes. I don't understand either of them," admitted Rayton. - -Banks raised his heels to the edge of the bed, leaned well back in his -chair, and lit a cigar. - -"Who tied old Fletcher to the poplar tree, d'you suppose?" he queried. - -"Haven't the faintest idea." - -"But I have," said the would-be detective. "I'm on a double track now. -I'll have something to show you coming and going." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -MR. BANKS IS STUNG - - -Mr. Banks went over to the Harley place early on the morning after -Nell's visit, with a note from Reginald Rayton. The contents of the note -seemed to delight and comfort the girl. Banks saw violets on the -sitting-room table. He stared at them in astonishment. Mrs. Jim Harley -caught the look and laughed. - -"They belong to Nell," she said. "Captain Wigmore brought them last -night. I am sure he sent all the way to Boston for them." - -"Wigmore, too," remarked Banks reflectively. "Well, we are all in the -same boat." - -He remained for half an hour, and then went home with a fat missive for -Reginald, from Nell, in his pocket. The letter threw the Englishman into -a foolish glow. For a whole hour after reading it he lay without a word -and grinned. - -Banks went for a walk in the afternoon, and met Captain Wigmore. The -captain wore a new, fur-lined overcoat. His whiskers were brushed to the -last hair, and his manner was as dazzlingly polished as his false teeth. -He walked jauntily. The two exchanged a few commonplaces very agreeably. -Then Banks, prompted by a sudden inspiration, went to the house of one -Silas Long and engaged the eldest son of the family, Billy Long, aged -sixteen, to live at Rayton's for a month and attend to the wood and the -stock. He made the arrangements in Rayton's name. He told the lad to put -in an appearance before sunset, and then went home. He explained this -move to Reginald by saying frankly that he wanted to be absolutely free -to solve the mysteries upon which he was engaged. The Englishman had no -objections. - -Mr. Banks left the house again right after the evening meal. It was a -clear, starlit night. He walked slowly toward Captain Wigmore's -dwelling, and within a few yards of the gate came face to face with the -captain. - -"Hello!" exclaimed Wigmore. "Is that you, Banks? Are you coming to see -me?" - -"No, I was just strolling 'round for a bit of fresh air," replied -Banks. - -"Well, I am glad of that. I have an engagement for the evening." - -"An engagement--in Samson's Mill Settlement! You seem to lead a gay -life, captain." - -Wigmore chuckled. The New Yorker turned, and the two walked side by side -along the snowy road for a short distance. Then Banks said: "I'll leave -you now, captain, and cut home through the woods. Hope you'll have a -pleasant evening." - -"I look forward to a very entertaining one," replied the old man, -chuckling. - -Banks left the road, climbed a fence, and strode along through dry snow -that reached halfway to his knees. He was in a pasture dotted with -clumps of young spruce. - -"The conceited old idiot!" he muttered. "I see his game. I'll fix him!" - -He halted, behind a thicket, and stood motionless for a few minutes, -listening intently. Then he made a wide half circle to the right, and -soon came out again upon the beaten road but now about a quarter of a -mile beyond the captain's house. His feet were cold and he stamped -vigorously on the road to warm them. The night was windless, but bitter. - -Mr. Banks advanced stealthily toward the dark house. Not a glimmer of -light showed in any window. He opened the front gate cautiously, closed -it cautiously behind him, and went furtively up the narrow path between -the snow-banked lawns. On the step of the little front porch he paused -and listened. Then he grasped the knob of the outer door and turned it. -The door opened noiselessly. - -He entered the narrow porch and stood with his ear against the inner -door. He could not hear anything. He fumbled for the knob, found it, and -learned that the inner door was locked. He hunted under the mat and in -every corner of the porch for the key, having heard somewhere that keys -were sometimes hidden away in just such foolish places. He did not find -it. Again he listened at the door, this time with his ear against the -keyhole. The house was silent as a tomb. - -He left the porch, closed the outer door, and made his way to the left -along the front of the house and around the corner to the woodshed. -Knowing that he could not possibly avoid leaving a trail in the snow, he -shuffled his feet so as to make it an unreadable one. He did this so -artfully that not one clear impression of his big New York hunting boots -was left in his path. He opened the door of the shed without a check and -felt his way between piles of stove wood to the door of the kitchen. - -"I don't feel respectable," he murmured. "But I'll feel a darned sight -worse if any one finds me sneaking 'round like this. I must get in, -though, and have a look 'round." - -The kitchen door was fastened tight. Banks twisted the knob this way and -that, all in vain. In spite of his coonskin coat and fur cap he was -beginning to feel extremely chilly. He promised himself a husky pull at -a bottle of some kind or other should he ever manage to break into the -house. He left the shed and tried a back window. He could not get a hold -on the sash, however. He drew a heavy clasp knife from his pocket and -forced the strong blade between the sill and the bottom of the sash. In -this way he pried the sash up almost half an inch. The window had not -been fastened. He returned to the shed, and after a few minutes of -fumbling about in the darkness he found an axe. By using the thick blade -of the axe in place of the knife he soon had the window on the move. He -propped up the sash, put the axe back in its place, and returned to the -window. With a shove of his right hand he forced it up to the top. This -done, he paused for a moment and stood with every sense and nerve on -the alert. He heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing. - -"I wonder if my little idea is the right one," he murmured. "I wonder -what I shall find." - -He put his gloved hands on the sill, hoisted himself, tipped forward, -and wriggled through the window into the dark and silent room. His hands -touched the floor first. He pulled his legs across the ledge and was -about to stand straight when his knife slipped from the pocket of his -coat and clattered on the floor. Still crouched low, he groped forward, -found the knife--and then! - -It seemed to Harvey P. Banks that he had been asleep a long, long time -on a very uncomfortable bed in a very stuffy room. The greatest trouble -with the bed must be in the arrangement of the pillows, he reflected, -for his neck was terribly stiff and sore. He did not open his eyes right -away. There was a feeling in his head and eyes--yes, and in his -mouth--suggestive of other awakenings, in the years of his gay youth. So -he lay with his eyes closed, remembering that a too sudden opening of -the lids under certain once familiar conditions was decidedly -unpleasant. He tried to get his wits into line. Where was he? Where had -he been last night? What had he been drinking? His poor head only -throbbed in answer. So, at last, very cautiously, he raised his heavy -lids. He gazed upon darkness--against utter darkness on every side. No. -Directly above his head was a faint sheen of gray. That was a window, no -doubt; but what was a window doing above his head? That beat him, and he -closed his eyes again and tried hard to remember things. The far-away -past came clearly to him; but that did not help him. He knew that the -things he remembered were of months--even of years--ago. - -He was surprised to find that he wore heavy, fur-lined gloves, a fur cap -pulled low over his ears and forehead, and a coonskin coat. He put out -his right hand and touched a wall of ice-cold dusty floor. He judged -that the floor was not more than six inches below the level of his body. -He put out his left hand and touched a wall of ice-cold plaster. With a -grunt of dawning dismay he sat up, and though his neck ached, and his -head spun and throbbed with the effort, he leaned forward and touched -his feet with his gloved hands. He felt his heavy shooting boots and a -flake or two of pressed snow on their soles--and at that his brain awoke -and the memory of his informal entrance into Captain Wigmore's house -flashed clear. He uttered a low cry of wonder and consternation. - -"What happened?" he whispered. "Did I fall and stun myself as I climbed -over the window sill?" - -His head behaved so badly at this point that he lay prone again on his -hard couch. But now his brain was working clearly, though painfully. -Every incident of his attempt to enter the house, with a view to reading -the mystery which he was sure it contained, was now as plain as a -picture before his inner vision. He reviewed the whole adventure -minutely, from the meeting with Wigmore to the opening of the window and -the dropping of the knife upon the floor of the pitch-black room. But -what had happened after that? Something sudden--and hard! Yes, there -could be no doubt of the suddenness and hardness of the next occurrence. -But what was it? Had he toppled forward and struck his head against a -piece of furniture? Or had something possessed of individual initiative -hit him over the head? He sat up again, removed his gloves and cap, and -felt all over his head with chilly, inquiring fingers. He could not find -any lump or cut; but the back and top of the head were agonizingly -tender to the touch. - -"A sandbag--whatever that is," he muttered. "I have heard that they -effect one somewhat in this way, if properly applied." - -He laughed shortly and painfully. His head seemed to have recovered -something of its normal position and balance. It felt more solid and -steady, and the ache in it was duller. He fumbled through the pockets of -his fur coat and found a pipe, tobacco pouch, and box of matches. His -clasp knife was not there. Evidently he had not succeeded in picking it -up, that time. - -"Sorry for that," he muttered. "I could carve my way out of any place -with that knife." - -He opened the fur coat, and found the contents of his inner pockets -intact--his watch, cigar case, three rifle cartridges, the stub of a -pencil, a few pocket-worn letters, and a railway timetable. He knew each -article by the feel of it. He opened the match box, and was glad to -discover that it was full. Then he took out his watch and lit a match. -The hands of the watch marked the time as half-past two--and the fact -that the watch had not run down proved to him that the hour was of the -early morning. He had lain unconscious more than five hours. He wound -the watch and returned it to his pocket. Then he struck another match, -held it high, and gazed inquiringly around him. The match was of wax, -and held its flame for nearly half a minute. He saw a small room, white -and bare of walls, bare of floor, with a sloping ceiling, broken by the -square of a little skylight. The only article of furniture in the place -was a narrow couch upon which he sat. A door of unpainted spruce divided -the wall at that end of the room where the ceiling reached its greatest -height. - -Harvey P. Banks dropped the butt of the match to the floor and rubbed -the spark out of it with his foot. He knew that he was in some one's -attic; and he felt almost equally sure that it was the attic of Captain -Wigmore's house. But who had hit him over the head and then carried him -up and deposited him in this place? He had his suspicions, of course. -Perhaps the captain had sandbagged him. The old man might easily have -returned to the house immediately after parting with him on the road. Or -Timothy Fletcher? Why not Timothy Fletcher? Wigmore had been lying when -he said that Fletcher had run away to New York. Banks had felt sure of -that at the time the statement was made--and now he felt doubly sure of -it. Very likely they had both taken a hand in the game. Neither one of -them by himself could have carried Harvey P. Banks up to the garret. - -Mr. Banks felt cold and sleepy and sore. The soreness was of spirit as -well as of body and head. He had certainly made a mess of things. And he -felt anxious--decidedly anxious. Who was to make the next move? And what -was the next move to be? He would have paid high to find himself snug -and safe in his own bed in Reginald Rayton's house. What was Reginald -thinking? But he had proved one thing! He had proved, beyond a doubt, -that the inmates of Captain Wigmore's house were mysterious and -undesirable persons. - -He lit a cigar, lay back on his hard couch, and smoked reflectively. His -head was not yet steady enough to allow of action. After an inch or two -of the cigar had turned to ash, he sat up and got noiselessly to his -feet. He had not heard a sound since recovering consciousness. Perhaps -the house was empty? He lit a match and tiptoed to the door. He turned -the knob cautiously. The door was locked. - -"I guess it's not my turn yet," he murmured, and went back to the couch. -He drew his cap down about his ears, fastened his fur coat up to the -chin, and lay flat on his broad back. But before the cigar was finished -he was on his feet again. He lifted the couch and placed it with his -head against the door. Then he extinguished the butt of the cigar, lay -down, and went to sleep. - -Mr. Banks awoke suddenly. He was stiff and cold, but every sense was on -the alert. His head felt much better than it had before his sleep. The -room was full of gray light that filtered down from the snow-veiled -window in the roof. He looked at his watch. It was seven o'clock. He -listened intently, but could not hear a sound. - -"I can see well enough now to take a hand in the game," he said. "So I -guess it is my turn to play." - -He lifted the cot away from the door and set it down at one side without -a sound. Then he raised his right leg, drew his knee well back, -presented the heel of his big boot at the lock of the door, and drove it -forward with all the strength of his great hip and thigh. The lock -burst, and fell in fragments; and the door, having been constructed so -as to open inward, split, and tore itself from its hinges and flapped -wide. Thick muscles had bested thin iron in a single effort. - -"There! Confound you!" exclaimed Mr. Banks, staggering a little to -recover the balance of his big body. He saw, beyond the gaping and -twisted door, by the feeble light from his own room, a dark, bare hall -and the unpainted rails around the top of a narrow staircase. He -advanced one foot across the threshold, stooped forward, and listened -intently. His big body, in its big coat of coonskins, filled the width -of the doorway and shut out much of the feeble illumination that -descended from the skylight behind and above him. So he stood for a -minute or two before he heard a sound save that of his own breathing. -And then! What is that? A single, furtive tap, as of something hard on a -thin edge of wood, close in front of him. He turned sideways on the -threshold so as to let the light from behind him reach the floor in -front. - -What was that, thin and black, slanting up at him between the rounds of -the railing? It had a sinister look. It did not move. Behind it was the -black gulf of the stairway. Mr. Banks hesitated for a moment, then began -to edge forward. - -"Stop where you are!" commanded a voice--the voice of old Captain -Wigmore. "This thing is the barrel of a rifle. I am behind the rifle. If -I press on the trigger, my dear Banks, I am sure to hit you somewhere, -you are so unnecessarily large. In the belly, most likely. That's right! -Stand still." - -"You, Wigmore!" exclaimed the New Yorker. "What is the meaning of this? -What are you talking about? You must be stark mad!" - -The other laughed. It was a most discomforting sound. The laugh of a -land crab--if the beast _could_ laugh--would doubtless resemble Captain -Wigmore's expression of mirth. - -"You seem to be indignant, my dear fellow," he said, with exasperating -calm. "But what do you expect? I caught you breaking into my house when -you were under the impression that I was not at home. Do you think I -should have put you in my own bed, with a hot-water bottle at your feet, -and carried your breakfast up to you this morning? No, no, my dear -Banks! It is my duty to this country, and to society in general, to keep -a firm hand on you until the officers of the law relieve me of the -charge." - -"You old hypocrite!" cried Banks. "You scheming, lying, old devil! Bring -the officers of the law! The sooner they get here the better I'll be -pleased. I have something to say to them." - -Wigmore chuckled. "I haven't sent for them yet," he said. "I rather -enjoy the prospect of looking after you myself for a little while. I can -stand it--if you can." - -Mr. Banks watched the barrel of the rifle out of the corner of his eye; -but the menacing thing did not waver. - -"Where is Timothy Fletcher?" he asked. - -"So that is your bright suspicion, is it?" returned Wigmore cheerfully. -"He went to New York, I told you. Where do you think he is?" - -"In this house, you old ape!" cried Banks. - -Wigmore hooted. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE LITTLE CAT AND THE BIG MOUSE - - -The light was stronger, though still gray and thin. It was the light of -an unsunlit November day filtered through a small square of snow-drifted -glass into a chilly garret. The light alone was enough to drop a man's -heart to the depths; but it was not the only thing that depressed Harvey -P. Banks. He was anxious, cold, and hungry. He was sickened with disgust -of himself and hate of Captain Wigmore. His head ached, his neck and -shoulders were sore. To add to all this he could now see the face and -eyes of his jailer by the cheerless light. The sight was not one -calculated to dispel his anxiety or warm his blood. The eyes gleamed -balefully up from the gloom of the stairway, with a green gleam in them -like the eyes of a cat watching its helpless prey. In front of the eyes -showed the black barrel of the rifle. - -"How long do you intend to keep up this farce?" inquired Banks. - -"I can stand it as long as you can," was the crisp reply. - -"Very likely; but I don't see that I have any say in the matter just -now." - -"You are wrong, my big friend. You can have your liberty--qualified -liberty--this minute if you wish. All you have to do is swear to me, on -your honor as a Christian and a gentleman, that you will never mention -this little adventure to a living person. You must invent some story for -Rayton and set out for New York to-night. You must drop this feeble idea -of yours of playing the detective. In short, you must swear to mind your -own business in the future and leave me and mine alone." - -"I'll see you in hell first!" cried the sportsman. "I am on your trail, -and I'll stick to it. You'll pay heavily for this." - -Wigmore chuckled. "Pay?" he said. "Pay? You forget, you big slob, that I -am banker in this game--and I am not the kind of banker that pays." - -"What do you think you are going to do with me?" asked Banks, with -outward calm. - -"Lots of things," replied Wigmore. "I will reduce your flesh, for one -thing; and your fat pride for another. I'll make you whimper and crawl -'round on your knees. But just now I'll request you to come downstairs. -Since you have broken the door of that room, I must give you another." - -"I hope the other room will be an improvement on this." - -"Yes. A very comfortable room." - -"And what about breakfast?" - -"You will have a cup of tea in half an hour--if you behave yourself in -the meantime." - -Banks laughed uncertainly. - -"See here, captain, don't you think this joke has gone far enough?" he -asked. - -"Not at all," replied Wigmore. "My joke has just begun. Yours ended very -quickly, on the floor of my sitting room--but that was your own fault. -You are a blundering joker, Banks. You should have made sure that I was -not at home before you went round shaking all the doors, and then -crawled through the window. But that is a thing of the past, now, and so -beyond mending. I hope you will derive more entertainment from my joke -than you did from your own." - -Banks had no answer to make to that. He fisted his big hands and -breathed heavily. - -"I must ask you now to step back to the farther wall of your room," said -Wigmore. - -Banks hesitated for a moment, then backed across the threshold and -across the little room until his shoulders touched the farther wall. - -"Stay there until I give you the word," said the old man. - -Then face and rifle barrel vanished, and, at the same instant, Banks -moved forward noiselessly and swiftly, lifted the couch in his strong -hands, and dropped it down the dark well of the staircase. It crashed -and banged against the wooden steps and the plaster walls; and before -its clattering had ceased the big sportsman himself was halfway down the -stairs. Halfway--and then he halted and recoiled, clutching at the cold -walls! The couch had been a second too slow in following Wigmore, and -Banks a second too slow in following the couch. The captain stood at the -bottom of the stairs, a foot beyond the wreckage of the couch, laughing -sardonically and presenting the muzzle of the rifle fair at his -captive's waist. - -[Illustration: "THEN HE HALTED AND RECOILED, CLUTCHING AT THE COLD -WALLS!"] - -"That was a false start," he said. "But I was expecting it, -fortunately." - -Banks sat down on a dusty step, trembling violently. He felt -sick--actually sick at his stomach--with rage, chagrin, and terror of -that ready rifle and the sinister face behind it. The eyes of the old -man were more terrifying than the menacing black eye of the weapon. The -gleam at their depths was scarcely human. - -"Well?" asked Banks, at last, weakly. He passed a gloved hand across his -forehead. "Well? What are you going to do?" - -"That depends on you," said the captain. "If you throw furniture at me -every time I turn my back, I'll be forced to knock you out again and tie -you up. I can't risk being killed by you, for my life is valuable." - -"Do you intend to hit me again with the sandbag?" asked the New Yorker -thickly. - -"No, I don't mean to take that risk again," replied the other. "Another -crack like that might kill you--and I don't want to kill you just yet, -unless I have to. Perhaps I won't kill you at all, my dear fellow. I -may--of course; but I don't think so at the moment. I am whimsical, -however--a man of quick and innumerable moods. However, I do not expect -to thump you again with the sandbag. I have this rifle--for serious -work--and this queer-looking little pistol for the joking. It is a -chemical pistol--quite a new invention. I have tested it, and found it -to be all the manufacturers claim for it. Don't move! You can see and -hear perfectly well where you are! If I discharge it in your face, at a -range of twenty feet, or under, it will stun you, and leave you stunned -for an hour or more, without tearing the flesh or breaking any bones. -The thing that hits you is gas--I forget just what kind. It is pretty -potent, anyway--and I don't suppose you are particular as to what -variety of gas you are shot with. It is a fine invention, and works like -a charm. I am quite eager to test it again." - -"Don't! Don't! Great heavens, man, have you gone mad?" cried Mr. Banks. - -Old Wigmore raised the odd, sinister-looking pistol in his left hand. - -"I don't think it hurts very much," he said. "Feels like being -smothered, I believe. Of course the shock may be quite severe at such -close range as this." - -Banks closed his eyes. He was less of a coward than most men; but to sit -there on the narrow stairs, chilled and helpless, and wait for the -discharge of an unknown weapon in his face was more than courage and -nerves could stand. - -"Shoot!" he screamed. "Shoot, and be done with it!" - -He cut a queer figure, humped there bulkily, in his great fur coat, with -the fur cap pulled low about his ears, his eyes shut tight, and his big -face colorless with fatigue and apprehension--a queer, pathetic, tragic -figure. He waited for the explosion, every sense and every nerve -stretched till his very skin ached. His mind was in a whirl. The -thumping of his heart sounded in his ears like the roaring and pounding -of surf. - -"Shoot! Shoot!" he whispered, with dry lips and leathern tongue. - -And still he waited--waited. At last he could bear the strain no longer. -He uttered a harsh cry, stumbled to his feet, and opened his eyes, -leaning one shoulder heavily against a wall of the staircase. A gasp of -relief escaped him. Wigmore had retreated, and now stood several yards -away from the bottom step. The muzzle of the rifle was still toward his -victim, but his left hand, gripping that terrible, mysterious, little -weapon, was lowered to his side. He chuckled. His face looked like that -of a very old, very unhuman, and very goatish satyr. - -"Wipe your eyes, my dear Banks," he said. "I won't hurt you, you poor -little thing. Dry your eyes, and come down the rest of the way. I'll -stand here, at the head of these stairs, while you toddle into that -room. Then I'll lock the door, which is very strong, and get you your -cup of tea. Come along! Come along! I haven't the heart to hurt such a -white-livered whimperer." - -For a moment the big sportsman glared at him, contemplating a mad rush, -at the risk of a bullet through his breast--but only for a moment. -Something in the old man's leer told him that the finger on the trigger -would not hesitate, the muzzle would not waver. To attack now would be -suicide. He realized that he was at the mercy of a madman. - -"I'm coming. I'll be mightly glad of the tea," he said, with a painful -attempt at a smile. - -He made his way falteringly to the bottom of the steps, across the hall, -and into the room indicated by the old man. All the fight and all the -strength had gone out of him--for the time being, at least. The terrible -play on the stairs had taken more stamina out of him than a day's march -through a tangled wilderness, with a seventy-pound pack on his -shoulders. He staggered to the bed, and sat down dizzily on the edge of -it. Old Wigmore stood on the threshold, leering. - -"I hope you like the room," he said. "I spent most of the night in -fixing it up for you." - -"Thanks. It looks fine," replied Banks. And it really was fine, he -noticed, gazing around with reviving hope. There was a window--a real -window--in the wall. He could soon attract attention from that window, -or let himself out of it by a rope made of bedclothes. He had read of -that dodge a dozen times. The old fellow was mad certainly; but there -did not seem to be much method in his madness, after all. Banks turned -his face away so as to hide a wan smile. - -"Sit where you are, my boy, and I'll bring your tea in a minute," said -the old man. - -Then he stepped back and closed the door. Banks continued to sit on the -bed and gaze around the room, uncertain whether to go to the window now -or wait until Wigmore had brought the tea and again retired. He did not -want to bungle things by being in too great a hurry. With a little -patience and cunning on his part, his mad old jailer would soon be in -his power. He decided to wait where he was. The bed was soft, and he was -woefully tired. He turned sideways, threw his feet up, and sank head and -shoulders back upon the tempting pillows. - -With a sharp click, followed by a soft thud, the middle of the bed sank -to the floor, and the bulging sides folded inward upon the astonished -Mr. Banks. He shouted and struggled; but his head was lower than his -heels, and his arms were pinned firmly against his sides. At last he -twisted over until he lay on his left shoulder, and his right arm was -clear. In another minute he would have been out of the ridiculous trap; -but suddenly Captain Wigmore appeared, slipped a rope around the -imbedded ankles, and bound them tight; and another around the free arm, -and made it fast to the head of the bed. Then the old man stood and -leered down at him. - -"You are a terrible fellow for smashing furniture," he said. "You have a -very violent temper. Out you come! Out you come!" - -With incredible strength, the old man gripped the big, floundering -sportsman, and yanked him from the bed, where he lay helpless, with his -feet tied together, and his right wrist fast to the bed. - -"There you are!" remarked Wigmore briskly. "Now, will you be good? Sit -up, while I fix the bed. Sit up, do you hear? Then I'll give you your -breakfast. You don't deserve it--but I have a tender heart." - -He prodded Banks with the toe of his boot. Banks sat up without a word. -His rage clouded his mind and deadened his tongue. Wigmore dragged the -heavy bedding to the floor, and gazed with admiration at the bedstead. -All the slats, save a few at the foot, were hinged in the middle. - -"My own invention," said the old man. "Very ingenious, don't you think? -But it has done its work, so let it lie. Here are some blankets for you, -Banks. Hope you don't object to sleeping on the floor." - -He tossed an armful of blankets into his prisoner's lap, and walked -briskly from the room. He was back in half a minute, carrying a tray, -which he placed on the floor within reach of Bank's free hand. - -"Help yourself," he said. Then he went out, shutting the door behind -him. - -Mr. Banks sat motionless for a full minute, staring at the tray. A small -teapot stood there, with steam rising from its spout. It was flanked on -the right by a small jug of cream, and on the left by an empty cup. In -front squatted a round dish under a cover. At last Banks pulled off his -fur cap, and wiped the cold perspiration from his brow with the palm of -a grimy hand. - -"I suppose the old devil has doped it," he whispered, with a sigh. "Of -course he has! What's the good of supposing?" - -With an effort, he turned his face away from the teapot and the covered -dish. He shifted back a little, so that the rope did not pull on his -right arm. He gazed intently at the window, door, walls, and ceiling. - -"I must plan a way to get out," he muttered. "I must plan a way to fool -this old fiend." - -But he could not concentrate his thoughts, for most of them were with -his heart--yearning toward the teapot and the covered dish. At last he -gave way, and allowed his gaze to rest again upon the silent tempters. -His left hand went out to them, then came slowly back. He sighed, -unfastened his coonskin coat, and cursed old Wigmore huskily, but -heartily. Again the hand advanced. He lifted the teapot and poured some -of the steaming amber liquid into the cup. - -"It looks all right," he murmured. "But what's the use of looking at it? -Of course the old beast has doped it! Heaven help him when I get hold of -him!" - -He set the teapot down, and groaned. He told himself to turn away; to -forget the craving in his stomach; that he was not really hungry. He -assured himself that it is beneficial to go without food now and -then--for a day, or even for two days. Then he remembered having read -somewhere that smoking allays the gnawing of hunger. He produced a cigar -from the case in his pocket, and lit it fumblingly. While he smoked he -kept his eyes fixed upon the tray. Suddenly he leaned forward and lifted -the cover from the dish. - -"Buttered toast!" he exclaimed, in so tragic a voice that the sound of -it brought a smile to his dry lips. He replaced the cover with such -violence as to crack the dish. After smoking gloomily for another minute -or two, he again allowed his attentions to dwell upon the tea, toast, -and cream. He lifted the half-filled cup and sniffed it. Did he detect a -bitterness in the clean, faint fragrance of it, or was the bitterness -only in his imagination? He tilted the cup this way and that, searching -the clear liquid for some cloudy sign of danger. He was unsuccessful. He -sniffed it again, and this time could not detect the least suggestion of -bitterness. - -"I am a fool!" he muttered. "My nerves have gone to pieces!" - -With a quick hand, he slopped a little of the cream into the tea, and -raised the cup swiftly to his lips. But he did not part his lips. For a -moment he sat motionless, with the cup raised and tilted--and then, with -an oath, he replaced it on the tray, untasted. The momentary -gratification of thirst and hunger was not worth the risk. He turned his -back upon the tray, and puffed away resolutely at his cigar. He would -show the old devil that he was not entirely a fool! - -Banks finished the cigar; and still old Wigmore had not returned. The -tray still remained on the floor. Banks hitched himself to the head of -the bed, and set to work with his left hand to unfasten the knots in the -rope which bound him to that cursed, ingenious bedstead. The rope was -small, and the knots were hard; but at last the outer knot began to -loosen. He paused frequently in his work to glance over his shoulder at -the door, and to hearken intently. At last he was free from the bed, but -with the length of line still hanging from his wrist. Now he crawled -across the room to the door, stood up on his bound feet, and tried the -handle. The door was locked, as he had expected. Seated with his broad -back against it, he worried the cord at his ankles with both hands -until its three stubborn knots were undone. Then, moving on tiptoe, he -carried the heavy bedstead across the room, and stood it solidly against -the door. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -AN ASTONISHING DISCOVERY - - -The room was not elaborately furnished, but every piece was good of its -kind. Mr. Banks worked busily, moving about stealthily on the toes of -his great boots. He had shed his coat, by this time, and rid his right -arm of the dangling length of rope. Atop the hinged slats of the bed he -placed a substantial chest of drawers, thus reenforcing the barricade -and squaring himself with the ingenious slats by one and the same move. - -"It will take a bigger man than Wigmore to get in at me now," murmured -the sportsman. - -He was tremendously pleased with his job, but did not waste much time in -admiring it. Now that he was secure from interruption for a while, at -least, was the time to develop the possibilities of the window. He would -try to attract the attention of some passer-by. If there did not happen -to be any passer-by, which was frequently the case, in Samson's Mill -Settlement, for hours at a time--then he would join the pieces of rope -with which he had been bound, lengthen the result with a blanket, and -lower himself into the free outside world. Old Wigmore might shoot at -him through the panels of the door, but he was more than willing to take -the risk of being hit by such blind shooting. Once outside, he felt that -he would be safe. Not even the mad captain was mad enough to murder him -in open sight of the road and fields. These reflections occupied his -mind during the seconds in which he turned from his contemplation of the -barricade. He made one step toward the window, and then---- - -"Halt!" exclaimed the voice of Captain Wigmore, shrill, clear and -menacing. Banks halted, with a gasp, and turned his face toward the -hateful sound. To his dismay, he beheld the devilish face of the old man -leering horribly within seven feet of him, through a square and -unsuspected aperture in the door. With a low cry of defiance and nervous -fright, he tried to set his limbs in motion again. Would his feet never -move? He seemed to pass through a whole minute of terrific but futile -exertion. It was like a grotesque nightmare of childhood -days--grotesque, but horrible. He saw the old man's hand appear beside -the leering face. In the hand was that queerly shaped pistol. And still -his feet clung to the floor as if they were lead! A dull, feeble, -popping report came to his aching ears. And then something gripped his -windpipe with huge, hard fingers; some one struck him to earth with a -gigantic balloon; a blank wave curled about him, fell upon him, pounded -the life from his battling lungs, and dragged him, limp and dead, to the -unsounded depths. - -Captain Wigmore had discharged his chemical pistol in the big -sportsman's face. That is all. He had slipped the panel, cried halt, -raised his hand, and pulled the trigger, all within two seconds of time. - -When Mr. Banks recovered consciousness for the second time since -crawling into Wigmore's house, he felt much worse than he had on the -first occasion. He felt very, very sick at the very pit of his stomach. -His poor head was in a terrible way. At one moment his brains seemed to -be floating far above him, light and thin as smoke, and at the next they -lay heavily, but loosely, in his sore skull, like a fragment of iron, -sliding from side to side. He lay flat, and groaned. Half an hour passed -before he ventured to sit up and open his eyes. Absolute darkness -surrounded him. He felt about with his hands, and found that he was -lying on a folded blanket. He inquired further, and discovered that his -new lodging was nothing but a tiny closet, about seven feet deep, and -four feet wide, with a steeply sloping roof. The roof was made of a -series of sharp-cornered humps. He bumped his head against one of -them--and that enlightened him. He was in a closet under a staircase. -His fur coat had been left in the bedroom; but, fortunately, the closet -was not very cold. After another and briefer rest upon the flat of his -back, he decided to try a smoke. He thrust a hand slowly into one -pocket, less slowly into another, then swiftly and desperately into -pocket after pocket. All were empty! Not so much as a match had been -left to him; not so much as a crumb of tobacco. - -The rage which this discovery inspired in the breast of Mr. Banks was -out of all proportion to the seriousness of his loss. The effect upon -him was stupendous. Sandbagging, binding, and pistoling had all failed -to lift him to such a height of resentment at this. Why, even he could -not have explained. His big boots were left to him--and his voice, such -as it was. He began to shout and stamp his feet on the floor. His voice -limbered up, and grew in strength, until the dry-tongued cry became a -gigantic bellow. The feet pounded up and down until they encountered the -door; and then they began to swing back and forth. The door winced and -shook at every blow. It was a strong door, however, hung on massive -hinges, fastened with a big lock, and barred in three places with rods -of iron. Wigmore had taken no chances with this door. He had fixed -things this time so that his prisoner was put to stay. That was his -idea, anyway. - -At last, reeling and breathless from his exertions, Banks sank to the -floor, and lay still and silent. For a little while his head span -sickeningly, and his mind and senses lay torpid; but only for a little -while. This outbreak had done him good--had revived him to the finger -tips. He sat up presently and listened for the approach of his enemy. -Surely all that bellowing and thumping would bring him. - -"If he opens that door, pistol or no pistol, it'll be the end of him," -remarked the New Yorker. And he meant it. He was ready for murder. He -raised himself to his knees, ascertained the position of the door with -his hand, and faced it, waiting in savage expectancy. - -At last his straining ears caught a sound. It was a very faint sound, -and it came from the left instead of from the door. It was repeated--a -faint, furtive tapping, like the tapping of a flipped finger against -plaster. He moved cautiously toward the sound. It came again. He put out -his hand, and touched the rough lath and plaster of the wall. How frail -the barrier felt! He stood up very cautiously. "It may be a mouse--and -it may be Wigmore--but it is worth trying," he whispered. Then he swung -his right foot backward slowly, and brought it forward with all the -force that lay in that long and muscular shank. A sound of cracking -plaster and splintered laths rewarded and encouraged him. He steadied -himself, with one hand on the door and one on the slope of the -staircase, and settled down to kicking. His boot was thick, his leg -strong, and his heart in the job. Things cracked and smashed and -splintered. At last he knelt and advanced an inquiring hand. The -blackness was full of the dust of powdered plaster. He found a -ragged-edged break in the wall, and thrust his hand into it. - -Mr. Banks snatched his hand back to his own side of the pierced -partition, at the same time uttering a sharp cry of dismay. Nothing had -hurt him; but in the blackness beyond his own narrow blackness his -fingers had encountered flesh--the flesh of a human nose and eyebrow. He -sagged back on his haunches, limp and trembling. Whatever he had -expected to find, this was not it. - -"Who is there? Speak! Who is there?" he whispered. - -No voice answered him; but again he heard that thin rapping, like the -flipping of a finger against a hard, dry surface. It was a trifle louder -this time, but in exactly the same position. - -"Can't you speak? Speak, for Heaven's sake!" cried Banks. - -This time he was answered by a low, muffled, strangled groan. He -searched his pockets again, with shaking fingers; and, at last, in a -little roll of woolen dust in the corner of his match pocket, he found -one wax match. This first seemed such a great and joyful thing to him -that he had difficulty in restraining his laughter. - -"Wigmore, you old devil, here's where I have you at last!" he exclaimed. -"You're a fool! You should have picked my pockets thoroughly while you -were about it. This little match will prove your undoing--as sure as my -name is Harvey P. Banks!" - -He began to chuckle--and the sound of his chuckling quieted and steadied -him in a flash. "That won't do," he said. "That sounds downright -idiotic. I must keep a grip on myself." - -With his left hand he found a safe and suitable spot on the wall for the -striking of the precious match; and then, with his trembling right hand, -he struck it. The little flame hissed into existence, then caught the -wax, and burned clear and quiet. He crouched low, and thrust the burning -match through the hole in the lath and plaster, and into the chamber -beyond, by the length of his arm. The hole was about three feet long and -twelve or fifteen inches wide. He shuffled forward and thrust his head -between the jaws of ragged plaster and splintered laths. - -The match lit a closet even smaller than the one in which Banks lay. -Banks beheld rough walls, a sloping roof, a door, and, directly under -his hand, a small human figure, bound and gagged. - -"Timothy Fletcher!" he exclaimed. "So this is New York--for you!" - -The old man's bright eyes blinked like an owl's. He lay close against -the wall, and now Banks saw one finger--one free finger--dart out and -tap the plaster. - -"Roll away from the hole," said Banks. Then the match scorched him, and -he withdrew his hand and head. He sat back for a second or two, -considering the situation. - -"The old fiend!" he muttered. "He must be mad--or the devil himself. -This explains the other thing that happened to poor Fletcher--the attack -in the woods. Oh, the cunning old beast!" - -Now he set to work with his hands, tearing away the light materials of -the wall in strips and lumps. He put his hand through, found that -Fletcher had rolled away, and then wriggled through himself. It was a -tight passage, but at last it was safely accomplished. To remove the gag -from Fletcher's stiff jaws was the work of a few seconds. To untie and -unwind the complicated knots and cords that bound the old fellow's body -and limbs took fully half an hour. During that time, Fletcher did not -say one word. - -For a little while after the freeing of Timothy Fletcher, Banks sagged -weakly against the floor. His head was spinning again. He closed his -eyes against the blackness, and began to drift off into a delightful, -restful dream. He was all done--all in--down and out! What was the good -of worrying? What was the good of anything? He had escaped from his -cell. He had found Fletcher and set him free. He had earned his rest. - -Timothy Fletcher dragged himself over to where Mr. Banks sagged against -the door like a big, half-empty sack. Having spent half an hour in -moving his tongue up and down, and round and round in his mouth, he now -found himself in possession of a fragment of voice. Also, the blood was -beginning to move in his arms and legs again. His mind was as clear as -glass. He fastened his thin fingers in his rescuer's collar, and shook -that careless head until it flopped and knocked against the door. - -"Wake up!" he croaked. "Wake up! We got to get out of here." - -Banks opened his eyes, and, in the dark, grabbed Fletcher with his big -hands. For a moment he mistook the servant for the master, and, with a -sudden, furious surge of strength, he shook him as a terrier shakes a -rat. Fletcher yelled, and clawed the sportsman in the face. Then Banks -realized what he was doing. - -"Sorry," he gasped. "I was half asleep. How are we to get out?" - -Fletcher did not answer immediately, but lay panting in the dust. At -last he raised himself to his hands and knees. "This door," he -whispered. "It is locked--that is all. You are strong. We must get out! -Quick! Smash it!" - -Mr. Banks got to his feet, and found the position of the door. He moved -slowly. He laughed softly. - -"Stand out of the way--out of the danger zone," he cautioned. "I'm going -to kick. I can kick like an army mule." - -"Kick! Kick!" croaked Timothy Fletcher, crouching off to one side. -"There's drink downstairs. Food an' drink." - -Banks balanced himself, lifted his right knee high against his -waistcoat, and shot forward his right heel. With a rending of wood and -ripping of dislodged screws, the door flew open, letting a flood of -faint moonlight into the black closet. Banks staggered forward, fell -flat on the floor outside, then nipped to his feet again as nimble as a -cat. Weariness and sickness were forgotten. He felt superior to anything -old Wigmore might try to do. - -Fletcher staggered up, and reeled against the New Yorker. - -"He'll shoot--if he's home," he gabbled. "Get hold of a chair--to let -fly at him. Kill him if you see him! He's mad! Kill him like a rat!" - -"You bet," replied Banks. "If I see him--then God pity him! Ah!" - -He saw a heavy chair standing by the moonlit window. He ran forward, -seized it by the back, and lifted it. He whirled it around his head. He -felt strong enough to annihilate a score of maniacs. - -"This will do. Come on," he whispered. - -They went down a flight of heavily carpeted stairs to the lower hall. -The winter moonshine lit the place faintly. Banks went ahead, with the -big chair ready in front of him, and poor old Timothy crawling at his -heels. The house was quiet as death. They reached the hall. Banks' -anxious eye caught sight of the shadow of a curtain at the door of the -dining room. The big chair hurtled through the air, and burst against -the casing of the door. - -"My mistake!" he cried, and the next moment had armed himself with -another chair. They entered the dining room, found it empty, and closed -and fastened the door. They rifled the sideboard of apples, soda -biscuits, bread, butter, and a half bottle of sherry. Timothy Fletcher -wet his insides with a dozen great gulps of the wine, direct from the -bottle, and then crammed fragments of dry bread into his mouth. - -"Go easy," cautioned Banks, between mouthfuls. "Dangerous. Chew your -food." - -At last he got possession of the bottle. The wonder is that the meal did -not kill them. As it was, Timothy Fletcher lay down on the carpet, and -swore that he would not move another step until he was dashed well -ready, and felt a good deal better. Mr. Banks became indignant. - -"I save your life, and then you go and eat yourself to death!" he cried. -"It's enough to make any one angry. If you don't get up and come along -out of this cursed house, I'll go without you." - -Timothy rolled and twisted on the carpet. - -"Don't," he whined, changing his tune. "I feel terrible bad, Mr. Banks. -Don't leave me. He may come home soon. What time is it?" - -Banks had forgotten that such a thing as time existed. He heard a clock -ticking, tracked it to the chimneypiece, and carried it to the window. -The moonlight was strong enough to read the hands by. - -"Half-past nine," he said. "Half-past nine at night, of course--but of -what night? Can it be only twenty-four hours since I crawled into this -infernal house through a back window? I can't believe it! I've been -sandbagged, and shot, and starved! Twenty-four hours!" - -"I got an awful cramp," groaned Fletcher. "Get me some whisky! Quick! -Cupboard in the corner." - -"I told you not to make a pig of yourself," said Banks. But he found the -cupboard, brought the whisky, and held the decanter to the old man's -lips. He soon withdrew it, in spite of the other's expostulations. - -"Half-past nine," he said. "Do you get that? When does Wigmore usually -come home?" - -"When do he come home?" repeated Timothy. "Blast him! Just when you -don't expect him! That's when he comes home. After nine, you say? Then -he must be out for the evening. We'd better go--soon. Let's have another -drop of that whisky first." - -"No more whisky for you. How are the cramps?" - -"Bad! Bad! The soda crackers lay on my insides like bits of flint. I was -near gone, Mr. Banks. He left me days and days without bite nor sup--may -hell's flames scorch him!" - -"But we must get away! He may be back at any moment. Once outside the -house, we're safe." - -"He has that pistol in his pocket. We'd soon be back again, if he met -us." - -"Rot!" exclaimed Banks. "Come along! Buck up!" - -"Can't do it, sir. Not just now--anyhow. I feel that bad--I'd like to -die." - -The New Yorker relented, knelt beside him, and let him drink a little -more of the whisky. - -"Now, lie quiet until you feel better," he said. "I'll keep a watch out -for Wigmore--and if I see him coming, I'll meet him at the door--with a -chair. But you let me know as soon as you feel fit to move." - -He took his stand at a window beside the front door. The night was -almost as bright as day, and he could see clearly for hundreds of yards -up the white road. So he stood for fifteen minutes, and nobody came in -sight. - -"Never before in all my life did I put in such a day as this," he -reflected. - -Then he heard Timothy's husky voice. - -"I feel a mite better now. Maybe we'd best get out, Mr. Banks." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -DICK GOODINE RETURNS UNEXPECTEDLY - - -To hark back! After Mr. Banks' departure on his secret mission, Reginald -Rayton climbed out of bed and dressed himself as well as he could. As it -was hopeless to attempt a coat, he folded several blankets about his -shoulders, the red one outside. Then he went down to the sitting room, -where a good fire was burning, and shouted for his new stableboy. Bill -Long entered from the kitchen and sat down, when requested, on the outer -edge of an armchair. He answered a dozen questions concerning the horses -and cattle fluently; but when his employer asked him suddenly if he knew -of any one who held a grudge against him--Rayton--the youth rubbed one -gray-socked foot across the other and scratched the back of his head -uneasily. - -"You will be helping me out if you say what you think, Bill," encouraged -Rayton. - -"Well," replied Bill, "they do say as how you an' Doc Nash ain't any too -friendly." - -"That was nothing, Bill. Just a fit of bad temper. We are on very good -terms now. Who else, d'you think?" - -"There's Davy Marsh. He's got a mighty sore head. I hear him talkin' -pretty wicked about ye, one day." - -"But he don't mean it, you may be sure. It was just his trouble made him -talk like that. He and I are on a very friendly footing. He has nothing -to be sore at me about." - -"I guess he thinks he has, Mr. Rayton. You've cut him out--or he thinks -so. But he weren't never in to be cut out." - -"Oh, come now, Bill! I don't think you should talk that way about Marsh. -He means well enough. Who else?" - -"Well, Mr. Rayton, what about old Cap'n Wigmore? He be mighty sweet on -Miss Nell Harley--an' he's an all-fired wicked-lookin' old cuss. I guess -if you knowed his heart you'd find him yer enemy." - -Rayton laughed. "Poor old chap! I am sorry for him. But come now, Bill, -you are not serious?" - -"Yep. He be soft as mush on that girl. Father, he says so, too--an' so -does ma." - -"But you don't think he'd shoot me, do you?" - -"Guess he would--if he got a good chance. Guess he'd as lief kill a -feller as eat his supper--judgin' by the looks of him. Tell you what, -Mr. Rayton, if I was you I wouldn't trust that old gent no farther'n I -could chuck him over my shoulder. He's got a bad eye, he has, jist like -Jim Wiggins' old hoss had--an' it ended by chawin' off two of his -fingers when he wasn't lookin'." - -"Whose fingers, Bill?" - -"Jim's, in course." - -"Oh! Of course. But, see here, Bill; you surely don't think old Captain -Wigmore shot me in the shoulder?" - -"That's what I think, Mr. Rayton. It be jist the kinder skunk trick he'd -do. _I've_ watched him, many's the time--when he didn't know it. He -talks to himself--an' sometimes he laughs, an' dances 'round on his -toes. That's gospel, Mr. Rayton. An' he makes faces--lor'! I'll bet ye a -dollar, Mr. Rayton, that 'twas him shot you. He's bin a pirate, I -guess--an' 'u'd jist as soon kill a man as Jack Swim 'u'd kill a pig. -He's got a anchor thing inked in on his arm, anyhow--all red an' blue. I -seen it one day when he didn't know I was lookin'." - -"You seem to be greatly interested in him, Bill. You seem to have -watched him pretty closely." - -"That's right. First time I seen him and heard his name was Cap'n -Wigmore, I began to spy on him. He brought to my mind some other cap's -I've read about--Cap'n Kidd, an' Cap'n Flint. Yes, Mr. Rayton, I've -watched him, you bet--'cept when he was lookin' at me. I'd jist as lief -have a b'ar look at me as that old cuss!" - -"For all that," replied Rayton, smiling, "I don't think Captain Wigmore -is the man who shot me. He has an uncertain temper, I know, but I don't -believe he would try to kill a man in cold blood. I can't think of any -one who would try, deliberately, to kill me. It must have been an -accident, Bill. That's what I think, anyway." - -"Accident nothin'," returned Bill. "Pirates kill folks, don't they? You -bet they do! Mr. Banks ain't so soft as you, Mr. Rayton. He's nosin' -round, I kin see that. I'll bet he's spyin' on Cap'n Wigmore this very -minute. Smart gent, Mr. Banks. Most Yanks be smarter nor Englishmen, -anyhow, I guess." - -Rayton's laughter was interrupted by Turk. The dog jumped up from the -rug before the fire, stood for a moment, then ran into the kitchen, with -his plume waving. The kitchen door opened and closed, Turk yelped a -welcome, and next moment Dick Goodine entered the sitting room. The -trapper carried his snowshoes under one arm and his blanket-cased rifle -under the other. - -"You, Dick!" exclaimed Rayton. "Has anything gone wrong? What's brought -you back, old chap?" - -"Yes, it's me," answered the trapper, with an uneasy laugh. "Didn't make -much of a start, did I? But nothing's gone wrong. I made camp twenty -miles out, on Dorker Crick--an' then I lit out on the back trail--just -to tell you something that's on my mind." - -He leaned in the doorway, smiling at the Englishman and swinging his fur -cap in his hand. Snowshoes and rifle lay on the floor. Rayton gazed at -him with a puzzled shadow in his clear, kindly eyes. - -"Why, Dick, that's too bad," he said. "But pull off your togs and get -something to eat--and then let me hear what you have on your mind. If I -can help you, I'll do it. If it's money for more traps, I'm your man, -Dick." - -"It isn't money," said the trapper quietly. He threw off his mittens and -outer coat, and drew a chair close to Rayton. "It is something pretty -private," he said, "_and_ important. It brought me all the way out of -the woods, to see you." - -Rayton was more deeply puzzled than ever, and a sharp anxiety awoke in -him. Had this fate that had struck others also struck Dick Goodine? He -inspected his friend anxiously, and was relieved to find that he had -suffered no physical injury, at any rate. - -"Bill," he said, "skip out and make a pot of coffee, there's a good -chap. Shut the door after you." - -Bill Long obeyed with dragging feet. He took half a minute to cross the -threshold and shut the door. - -"Now, Dick, fire away," said Rayton. "Get it off your chest. I'm your -man, whatever your trouble may be." - -The trapper leaned forward. Though his lips smiled, there were tears in -his dark eyes. - -"Is the shoulder gettin' along all right?" he asked huskily. "And the -cold? How's it, Reginald?" - -Rayton laughed with a note of astonishment and relief. "Did you come all -the way out to ask about my shoulder and my cold?" he cried. "Well, you -are a considerate chap, I must say! But it was foolish of you, Dick. I'm -right as wheat; but it is mighty good of you to feel so anxious, my dear -old chap--and you may be sure I'll never forget it." - -Still the trapper smiled, and still the moisture gleamed in his dark -eyes. - -"I--I felt anxious--oh, yes," he said slowly. "I couldn't think o' -nothin' else all the time I was trailin' along through the woods an' all -last night in camp. That's right. So I just up an' lit out to tell -you--to tell you the truth. I was a fool an' a coward not to tell it -before. I'm the man who shot you!" - -"What?" cried Rayton, staring. "You? For Heaven's sake, Dick, don't be a -fool! Have you been hitting the jug again?" - -"It's the truth," said the trapper quietly. "I shot you--an' I was scart -to own up to it. I didn't know it was you until--until I _guessed_ it. I -thought I had come pretty near hittin' somebody--but not you. I didn't -know who. I heard the yells--an' they sounded strong enough. I'll tell -you just how it was, Reginald." - -He paused, breathing quickly, and brushed his hand across his face. -Rayton went to the door and turned the key. - -"Buck up, Dick," he said. "If you shot me--well, that's all right. No -harm done; but tell me all about it if it will make you feel any -better." - -"It was this way," began the trapper. "I was trailin' 'round, lookin' -for a buck deer or anything that might happen along--and after a while I -seen what I took to be the neck an' shoulders of a buck. The light was -bad, you know. The thing moved a little. I was sure I could see its -horns. So I let fly. Down he went--an' then I heard the durndest -hollerin' an' cussin'--an' I knew I'd made a mistake. But the cussin' -was that strong I thought I'd missed. I cal'lated the best thing I could -do was just to get away quietly an' keep my mouth shut; and just then -came a bang like a cannon an' half a peck of pa'tridge shot peppered the -bushes all round me. Then I was more'n sure I didn't hit the man, -whoever he was, so I just lit out fer home, runnin' as quiet as I could. - -"I got home all right, thinkin' it was all a mighty good joke on me, an' -turned in soon after supper. But I couldn't get to sleep. I began to -wonder if I'd missed the mark, after all. The light was bad, of course; -but I don't often miss a shot like that at two hundred yards. I -commenced workin' it out in my mind, an' thinkin' it over an' over every -way. - -"Moose an' caribou, an' even deer, run miles with these here nickled -bullets in them--aye, an' right through 'em; an' I've read about -soldiers fightin' for five or ten minutes after they was hit. Then why -shouldn't the man I fired at by mistake holler an' cuss an' let fly at -me, even if he was plugged? That's the way I figgered it out--an' pretty -soon I began to think I had hit him. - -"I couldn't get it out of my head. I saw him layin' out on the ground, -maybe bleedin' to death. I reckoned the thing to do was hike over an' -tell you an' Mr. Banks about it an' see what you thought of it. So, -after studyin' on it a while longer, I got up an' dressed an' sneaked -out of the house. When I got to your house there was a light in the -settin'-room window. That scart me, for it was past two o'clock in the -mornin'--pretty near three. I let myself in, quiet; an' there was Mr. -Banks in the things he goes to bed in--the cotton pants an' little -cotton jumpers--asleep in his chair by the settin'-room fire. That gave -me another scare. I woke him up. He jumped like I'd stuck a pin into -him. - -"'Hullo, Dick,' says he. 'I thought it was Reginald. Where is Reginald, -anyhow?' - -"'Well, where is he?' says I, feelin' kinder faint in my stomach. 'Maybe -he's gone to bed. It's three o'clock, anyhow.' - -"Then he told me as how you an' him had gone out gunnin' together that -mornin,' an' how you hadn't come home yet. Then I felt pretty sick; an' -I up an' told him what I was a feared of--but I was too scart and -rattled to tell him all I knew about it. It was only guessin', -anyhow--though I felt as certain I'd shot you as if I'd seen myself do -it. I made up a bit of a yarn for him. - -"I told him as how I was in the woods when, about sundown, I heard a -rifle shot, an' then a lot of hollerin', an' then a gun shot. I told him -what I thought--that maybe somebody had plugged somebody--and how that -somebody might be you. Well, he fired a few questions at me, an' then he -grabs the lamp an' hits the trail for upstairs. Inside ten minutes he's -down again; an' we get lanterns an' brandy an' blankets, an' out we -start. It took us a long time to find you--but we did--thank God! - -"That's the truth of it, Reginald; an' I couldn't rest easy till you -knew of it--an' until I'd had another look at you. What with all the -queer things goin' on 'round here of late--an' them cards dealt to -you--an' the bad name I have, I was scart to own up to it before." - -"I understand," said Rayton slowly--"and I don't blame you, Dick." - -He put out his free hand, and they shook heartily. - -"You're a rare one," said the trapper. "You're white, clean through." - -The Englishman laughed confusedly. - -"Now, we'd better let Bill Long in and try that coffee," he suggested. -"About what you've just told me, Dick--well, I think we'd better keep it -quiet for a few days. We'll tell Banks, of course; but nobody else. -Unlock the door, will you, Dick?" - -They drank coffee and smoked. Bill Long went to bed, yawning, before -eleven. - -"Where's Mr. Banks, anyhow?" inquired Dick Goodine. "Is he makin' a call -over to the Harleys'?" - -"He went out to find the man who shot me," replied Reginald, with a -smile; "but, as he has missed him, no doubt he is at the Harleys'. What -time is it? Eleven! He should be home by now." - -Half an hour later they both began to feel anxious. Banks was not in the -habit of staying out after eleven o'clock. There was nothing in -Samson's Mill Settlement to keep a man out late. - -"He went out lookin' fer trouble," remarked the trapper, "an' maybe he's -found it. Guess I may's well go over to Harleys' an' take a look -'round." - -"Perhaps he has gone to see Nash," suggested Rayton. - -"Or old Wigmore." - -"That's so. Better turn out Bill Long, too. He can go one way and you -another, Dick. Banks went out in search of trouble, as you say--and -perhaps he has found it. What sort of night is it?" - -"Cloudin' over. Looks like snow--and it's milder." - -Fifteen minutes later the trapper and Bill Long left the house, each -carrying a stable lantern. Bill Long returned within an hour. He had -been to Doctor Nash's, Samson's, and several other houses, and had -failed to see or hear anything of the New York sportsman. Twenty minutes -later Dick Goodine returned, accompanied by Jim Harley. Jim had come in -from one of his lumber camps early that evening, having heard of -Reginald Rayton's accident. He looked worn and anxious; but expressed -his relief at finding the Englishman alive. - -"It is more than I expected when I first heard you had been shot," he -said frankly. - -Goodine told of the unsuccessful search for Banks. At the Harley house -he had learned that Banks had not been there during the evening. Captain -Wigmore had been there, however, for a little while, and had mentioned -seeing Banks on the road. Then Jim Harley and Dick Goodine had called on -the captain to make further inquiries. - -By that time, it was snowing moderately. They had banged at the door for -fully ten minutes; and at last the old man, yawning and draped about in -a dressing gown, had let them in. No, he had seen nothing more of the -New Yorker. He had persuaded them to enter and sit down for a little -while, and had mixed hot toddy. He had suggested that Banks was safe -home by that time. Then the two had left the yawning captain to return -to his bed--and that was all. - -"Well, he's not here," said Rayton. "What's to be done now? What do you -suggest, Jim?" - -Jim had nothing to suggest. His anxiety was written large on his face. - -"Maybe he's gone into the woods an' got himself lost," said the -trapper. "Anyhow, I reckon the best thing we can do is turn out an' hunt -'round again. Maybe he's hurt himself." - -"That's right," returned Jim Harley. He laid his hand on Rayton's -shoulder. "And the best thing you can do is to go to bed," he added -solicitously. - -Harley, Goodine, and Bill Long went out again with their lanterns. The -snow had ceased, but the stars were still thinly veiled. - -"I can't understand this," whispered Harley to the trapper. "Mr. Banks -should be safe, anyway. He has never got the marked card." - -"Can't a man get into trouble without the help of them danged cards? You -seem to have 'em on the brain, Jim!" retorted Dick. - -Jim sighed resignedly. The fate that made, dealt, and followed those -little red crosses was a real and terrible thing to him. - -The three took different roads after agreeing to inquire at every house -they came to, and, if possible, to get others to help in the search. It -was now after one o'clock. - -Dick Goodine searched the sides of the road, the edges of fields, the -pastures, and every clump of bushes and of timber he came to. He -aroused the inmates of one house, made fruitless inquiries, and was -informed that the only adult males of the family were away in the lumber -woods, and so could not turn out to hunt for the missing sportsman. At -last he found himself standing again before Captain Wigmore's residence. -He could not say what influence or suggestion had led him back to this -spot. He had followed his feet--that is all. One window on the second -floor was faintly lighted. - -"I'd like to know what that old cuss is doin' up this time of night," he -muttered. - -He banged at the knocker of the front door until the captain came -downstairs. - -"You again, Richard!" exclaimed the old man. "Come in. Come in. Still -looking for Mr. Banks?" - -"Yes. He ain't turned up yet," answered the trapper, stepping into the -hall. - -"I'll dress and help you hunt for him," said the captain. "He is a -particular friend of mine. I can't get to sleep for worrying about -him." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE CAPTAIN'S CHARGE - - -Captain Wigmore lit a lamp in the sitting room, and then went upstairs -to dress. As soon as he was gone, the trapper commenced a noiseless tour -of the room, of the hall, and of the rooms in the front of the house. He -even searched beneath articles of furniture and behind every open door. -He explored the kitchen, the pantry, and the pot closet behind the -stove. - -"Guess I'm on the wrong track this time," he admitted at last, and when -Wigmore came down he was sitting patiently on the edge of his chair, -with his toes turned demurely inward and his hands on his knees. The -captain eyed him keenly for a moment. - -"Want anything?" he asked. "A drink, or anything?" - -"No; thanks all the same, captain," returned the trapper. - -"I heard you wandering around," said Wigmore. "I thought that perhaps -you were looking for something. You were admiring my pictures, I -suppose?" - -The trapper's face flushed swiftly. "Guess again," he answered calmly. -His gaze met the old man's, and did not waver. The captain was the first -to look away. He sighed as he did so. - -"I am afraid you do not trust me entirely," he said. "But we must go and -look for poor Banks. He may be freezing to death somewhere. Come along, -Richard. There is no time to lose." - -As the two passed from the house, Goodine was in front, and for a moment -his back was turned fairly to the captain. He heard a little gasp, and -turned swiftly. The captain withdrew a hand quickly from an inner -pocket, and stooped to lock the door. - -"What's the trouble?" asked Dick. - -"A twinge in my knee. I am growing old," answered Wigmore in pathetic -tones. And to this day, the trapper has never fully realized how near he -was at that moment to a sudden and choking oblivion. - -The old man began to limp after half an hour of tramping the frozen -roads and scrambling through underbrush and deep snow. At last he sat -down on a hemlock stump and confessed that he had reached the end of his -endurance and must go home. He was sorry; but it was better to drag -himself home now than keep at it a few minutes longer and then have to -be carried. Goodine agreed with him; and after a short rest the old man -set out on his homeward journey. As long as he was in range of the -trapper's vision he staggered wearily; but once beyond it he scuttled -along like a little dog. He was anxious to get home and assure himself -that none of his neighbors were exploring his house during his absence. - -Dick Goodine continued his unsuccessful searching of woods, roads, and -fields until dawn. He crossed the trails of other searchers several -times, but not once the trail of Mr. Banks' big and familiar hunting -boots. Upon returning to Rayton's, he found Jim Harley, Benjamin Samson, -Doctor Nash, and several other men drinking coffee in the kitchen. -Reginald had been driven off to his bed by Nash only a few minutes -before. An air of gloom and mystery pervaded the room. Doctor Nash alone -showed an undaunted bearing. He talked loudly, and slammed the back of -his right hand into the palm of his left continually. - -"Banks is no fool!" he exclaimed, for the tenth time. "Do you think -he'd walk out of this house and lose himself on a night like this? Rot! -Tell me who set fire to Davy Marsh's camp, who tied old Fletcher up in -that blanket, and who shot Rayton, and I'll tell you who knows where -Banks is. It may be one man, or it may be a gang doing the work; but -there's one man at the back of it all. Same with the marks on the cards. -At first I put it all down to you, Jim; but I couldn't see why you -should tie up old Fletcher. Now, I see it pretty straight. That Fletcher -business was all a bluff. He _let_ somebody tie him up--and, as I've -told you a dozen times, that somebody is old Wigmore. What do you say, -Dick?" - -The others all turned and stared at the trapper with anxious, -sleep-shadowed eyes. - -"I ain't sayin' yes or no yet a while, doc," replied Goodine. "What you -say sounds pretty reasonable; but I wouldn't swear to it. I ain't a -fancy detective, but when I see a lot of smoke I can guess at fire as -well as the next man. Old Fletcher's vanished, anyhow--an' so has Mr. -Banks. I don't hold that what happened to Reginald has anything to do -with the other queer business. Accidents will happen! But I guess -Captain Wigmore is lyin' when he says Tim Fletcher went to New York; -an' I guess he was actin' the goat when he let on as how he thought Doc -Nash marked them cards. But guessin' won't find Mr. Banks!" - -"Of what do you accuse Captain Wigmore?" asked Jim Harley, gripping -Dick's arm. "I've heard a lot of hinting, but no straight charge. Speak -up like a man and be done with it. Say what you mean. I'm sick of -listening to hints against the old man behind his back." - -In the silence that followed, the trapper looked steadily into Harley's -eyes, and gently but firmly unfastened the grip of the fingers on his -arm. - -"Keep cool, Jim," he said. "Keep a tally on yer words." - -"I'll keep cool enough, Dick. Don't worry about me," retorted Jim. "But -answer a few questions, will you? A few straight questions?" - -The trapper nodded. - -"Do you think Captain Wigmore had anything to do with the marks on the -cards?" asked Harley. "Give me a straight yes or no to that." - -"A straight yes or no! Right you are! Yes, I do!" - -"You do! Why?" - -"Because I do, that's all. Ask your other questions, an' be darned -quick about it. My temper's short." - -"Have you any proof that he marked the cards?" - -"No. And you haven't any proof that he didn't, neither." - -The others crowded close around Dick Goodine and Jim Harley. - -"And do you think he had anything to do with Davie Marsh's troubles?" - -"Can't say. Don't know." - -"Do you think he shot old Reginald Rayton?" - -"No, I don't." - -"Why don't you?" - -"Because I shot him myself." - -A gasp went up from the group of anxious and astonished men. - -"You!" exclaimed Harley. "I don't believe it." - -"It's the truth, anyhow. I mistook him for a buck. He knows all about -it." - -"Took him for a buck?" - -"That's what I said; an' if any man here thinks I'm lyin' he'd better -not say so, or he'll get his face pushed in." - -"It's a mistake that's bin made before," said Samson. - -Others nodded. - -"Well, there you are!" said Harley. "If you hadn't wounded Rayton -yourself, you'd say that Captain Wigmore did it. But all this talk won't -help Banks. What are we to do next?" - -"Have some breakfast and a nap, an' then start in huntin' him again," -said Benjamin Samson. "We simply got to find him, or there'll be -terrible things printed in the New York papers about this here -settlement." - -All left the house for their own homes except Goodine and Doctor Nash. -As Goodine busied himself at the stove, preparing breakfast, Nash said: -"That was a startler, Dick. Is it straight that you plugged Rayton in -the shoulder?" - -"Just as I said, doc," replied the trapper. - -"Does Wigmore know you did it?" - -"Guess not, or he would have said so before this. He put it onto you." - -"He did, the old skunk. But he knew he was lyin' when he said it. If it -wasn't you, Dick, I'd think Wigmore had paid some one to take a shot at -Rayton. My idea is that he works the cards and then gets some one else -to make the trouble." - -"Maybe so. He didn't get me to do that shootin', anyhow. I guess he's -the man who works the cards, all right; but I'd like to know what he -does it for." - -"My idea is that he had heard that story about the cards before and is -trying to scare people away from Nell Harley. The old fool is soft as -mush on her himself, you know." - -"Well, doc, what we'd best do now is to eat a snack an' then turn in an' -get a couple of hours' sleep; an' if we don't find Mr. Banks to-day -we'll just up an' ask old Wigmore the reason why." - -Two hours later Captain Wigmore himself arrived at Rayton's house. Nash, -Goodine, and young Bill Long were in the kitchen, pulling on their -moccasins and overcoats. The captain looked exceedingly tired, but very -wide awake. - -"I've found a clue!" he exclaimed. "Look at this knife! Did you ever see -it before, any of you?" - -He placed a big clasp knife on the table. - -"Why, it's Banks' knife," cried Doctor Nash. "I've seen it several -times. I'd swear to it." - -"Yes, it's his. And there's H. P. B. cut on the handle," said Dick. - -"I found it this morning, on the Blue Hill road," said the captain. - -"On the Blue Hill road? How far out?" - -"About three miles from my place. I've been hunting for Banks since -sunrise, and this is all I've found." - -"What in thunder would he be doing out there?" - -"That's what we must find out," said the captain. "Perhaps he was drunk -and didn't know where he was going. Or perhaps he was bound for Blue -Hill station to catch a train. Heaven only knows!" - -"How is the road?" - -"Very fair, as far as I went." - -"Then I'll hitch the horses into the sled, and we'll light out on his -trail," said the trapper. - -And that is what happened. Goodine and Doctor Nash set off at a brisk -trot in the sled, taking Captain Wigmore along with them as far as his -own gate. He gave them some exact information as to the place where he -had picked up the knife. He said that he was sorry that he could not go -along with them, but he was an old man and very tired. So they drove on -without him. Several teams had been hauling timber and cordwood that -way since the snow, so the road was in very good condition. - -They reached the spot--or as near it as they could tell--where Wigmore -claimed to have found the knife, and spent half an hour in searching the -woods on both sides of the road. Needless to say, they found no further -trace of Mr. Banks. Then they went on all the way to Blue Hill Corner -and the railway station. The distance was fourteen miles--fourteen long -miles. At the village and the station they made inquiries, but no one -there had seen the big New Yorker. He had not left by the morning train. -They remained to dinner at Blue Hill Corner, searched the surrounding -country after dinner, then set out on the homeward road, making frequent -stops to hunt about in the woods. It was close upon sunset when they -reached Samson's Mill Settlement. Dick Goodine was depressed, and Doctor -Nash was in a bad temper. - -"Darn this country, anyway!" exclaimed Nash. "It's full of a lot of -savages--and crooks. And what's to become of my practice if I have to -spend all my time hunting round for Banks? To hell with it!" - -Early in the afternoon of the same day, Nell Harley received an -unexpected visit. It was from Maggie Leblanc. Jim was away, still -searching for the lost New Yorker, and Kate was busy in the sewing room -upstairs. - -"I wanter tell'e somethin' very particular," said Maggie, in a faint -voice and with a flurried manner. "Let me tell ye all by yerself. It--it -be mighty particular." - -"Is it about Mr. Banks? Do you know where he is?" asked Nell anxiously. - -"No, it ain't about him," replied Maggie Leblanc. "I don't know nothin' -about him." - -Nell led the way to the sitting room, and motioned her visitor to a -chair by the fire. - -"Has--has anything happened to--Mr. Rayton?" she asked. - -Maggie shook her head. "No! No! It is about me--an' Dick Goodine." She -brushed her eyes furtively with the back of her hand. "I liked Dick," -she continued unsteadily; "but he didn't seem to care. Then I--begun to -feel's if I hated him. I knew him an' Davy Marsh was bad friends, so I -begun to try to get Dick inter trouble with Davy--an' maybe with the -law. After Davy's canoe upsot in the rapids that day, I went an' found -the broken pole in the pool, an' fixed an end of it so's it looked like -it had been cut halfway through. Then I put it up on a rock so's it -would be found. - -"I knowed folks would think Dick done it because he an' Davy wasn't good -friends, an' he was the last man Davy seen afore he started upstream -that day. Dick helped Davy to load the canoe. Then--then _I_ sot fire to -Davy's camp. But when Dick said as how he didn't fire the camp nor cut -the pole, most every one seemed to believe him. I was feelin' different -about Dick by that time--mighty sorry I tried to hurt him. But I was -afeared to tell anybody what I done. Davy Marsh is that mean an' small, -he'd have the law on me. Then Mr. Rayton, he got shot--an' then Mr. -Banks, he got lost; an' this mornin' Dick Goodine up an' tells yer -brother, an' Doc Nash, an' a whole bunch more, as how it was him shot -Mr. Rayton." - -"Yes. Jim told me of it. He mistook Mr. Rayton for a deer," said Nell. - -"But some folks don't believe as how he took him for a deer," said -Maggie. "It's the talk all over the settlement now--an' old Captain -Wigmore, he be makin' a terrible story of it all. He has started up -talk about what happened to Dave Marsh ag'in. He's makin' it look 'sif -Dick done everything--an' like 'sif he done something to Mr. Banks, too. -An' there be plenty of fools in this settlement to listen to him. So I'm -tellin' ye the truth about who sot fire to Davy Marsh's camp. Davy don't -know it himself. He says Dick done it--when Dick ain't lookin'. But I -done it--an' 'twas me doctored that piece of canoe pole that broke by -accident first of all--an' I'm willin' to swear to it on the book!" - -"You need not swear it to me," said Nell Harley. "I believe what you -have told me--every word of it--though it is a terrible thing! And I -believe whatever Dick Goodine says. What can I do to help Dick?" - -"I guess you like Dick pretty well," said Maggie Leblanc, with a swift, -sidewise glance of her black eyes. "An' Dick likes you. That's why I got -mad at him, an' Wigmore an' some other folks say that's why he shot at -Mr. Rayton." - -"Surely not!" cried Nell, in distress. "How can he say such things? Oh! -I am growing to detest that old man--with his everlasting smile. As for -Dick--why, he scarcely knows me. And he is Reginald's friend. And he -knows--of course he knows--that--that Reginald and I--love each other." - -Maggie Leblanc nodded her head vigorously and smiled. - -"Don't you fret yerself," she said. "If he don't know it, then I'll tell -him." - -Her eyes clouded again instantly. "I guess ye can help Dick by just -tellin' yer brother Jim what I told ye. Then he'll stand up fer -Dick--him and Mr. Rayton will--an' what old Cap'n Wigmore says won't -harm him much, I guess." - -"I will tell him. He will be on Dick's side, of course," said Nell. And -then, "But why is Captain Wigmore trying to get Dick into trouble? What -has he against Dick?" - -"Maybe he's just tryin' to keep folks from lookin' too close at his own -doin's," said Maggie. - -Nell Harley nodded, but said neither yes nor no. The thought was in her -own mind. Captain Wigmore, the recent troubles and mysteries, and the -marked cards had been associated in her thoughts of late. - -Jim Harley got home in time for supper. He told of a fruitless search; -and then Nell told of Maggie Leblanc's amazing confession. Jim sighed as -if with sudden relief. After a minute of reflective silence, he said: -"But, still, the accidents followed the cards--except in this last case. -How are we to explain that--and the cards themselves? First, it was Davy -Marsh, and then Rayton; but the card was never dealt to Mr. Banks!" - -"Which shows that your foolish old curse is going all wrong," said his -wife. - -"Reginald does not believe in the curse--and neither do I," said Nell. - -"Whoever did the injuries, and whoever dealt the cards, the injuries -have followed the dealing of the cards," said Jim gloomily. - -"Except in this last case," said his wife. "It looks to me as if Fate, -or whatever you call it, is getting itself mixed up." - -After supper, Jim, and his wife, and sister, all went over to see -Reginald Rayton. A fresh force of men had taken up the hunt for Mr. -Banks, and parties had started for every village and settlement within a -radius of thirty miles. The Harleys found Reginald in the sitting room, -in company with Dick Goodine and Doctor Nash. Rumor of old Wigmore's -campaign against the trapper had already reached them, and they were -talking it over. Nash was bitter. - -"The old devil tried to put it on me," he said, "and maybe he would -have succeeded if Dick hadn't confessed. Just wait till I see him! Dick -shot Rayton; but it was Wigmore himself who fired Marsh's camp--yes, and -who's at the bottom of many more of these tricks!" - -Then Nell Harley told them what Maggie Leblanc had confessed to her. The -silence that followed the story was broken by Dick Goodine. - -"She told you that!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "She told it -herself? To save me? Where is she now?" - -He was about to leave the room when the door opened and he was -confronted by Captain Wigmore. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE CHOSEN INSTRUMENT OF FATE - - -Mr. Banks and Timothy Fletcher stood in Captain Wigmore's hall, -breathing quietly and straining eyes and ears. All was silent. All -seemed safe. Banks opened the door. The little porch was empty. He -stepped across the threshold, followed closely by the staggering -Fletcher. They pushed open the door of the porch, and stumbled out of -that horrible house, into the frosty moonshine, onto the crisp snow. No -lurking danger confronted them. They were free. - -"Thank God!" cried Harvey P. Banks, hysterically. - -The air was bitterly cold, and the two fugitives were without overcoats. -They were so overjoyed to find themselves free men again, however, that -they felt no discomfort from the gnawing of the frozen air. The little -servant clung to the big sportsman; and so they moved down the narrow -path and through the gate onto the highway. - -"He's played his last dirty trick on me--or any one else," mumbled -Fletcher. "I've stood 'im too long--too long! Now, he'll go back where -he come from--the grinnin' snake!" - -He leaned heavily on Banks' arm and laughed shrilly. - -"Which way?" asked Banks. - -"Don't care," replied Fletcher. - -"We'll head straight for Rayton's, then," said Banks. "It seems a month -since I've seen Reginald. Then we'll smoke a cigar. Then we'll hunt up -our friend--and put the boots to him." - -The cold, clean air strengthened them, and they were soon stepping out -at quite a respectable pace. They even crawled over fences and took -short cuts across snow-drifted meadows and pastures. They did not meet -or see a human being, for by this time the searchers were all miles away -from the settlement. They rested for a minute against Rayton's front -gate, then went quickly up the long, twisting road toward the low house -and glowing windows. - -"There's company," said Timothy. "Maybe they're havin' another game o' -poker." He grinned at Banks. "Oh, you're easy! A baby could fool the lot -o' you," he added. - -"Right you are. That is the sitting-room window. The curtains are not -drawn tight. Let's look in and see who's there," said Banks. - -Banks took the first look. - -"Reginald and Nash," he whispered. "And the girl--yes, and Jim and Dick. -And who's that sitting with his back to the window?" - -Old Fletcher edged himself into the place of vantage. - -"It's _him_!" he whispered. "It's that snake!" - -"Quiet!" cautioned the other. "Look! He's on his feet. He's wiping his -eyes. There's been trouble. They have hurt his feelings, the poor, dear -old saint!" - -Old Timothy Fletcher trembled like a wet dog. - -"I'll saint 'im!" he hissed. "Come on! Come on!" - -They left the window, opened the back door noiselessly, crossed the -kitchen on tiptoes, and threw open the door of the sitting room. -Fletcher pushed past Banks, and darted up to within a foot of Captain -Wigmore. - -"You lyin', murderin', stinkin' old lunatic!" he screamed. "You thought -you'd leave me to starve, did you? It's back to the mad-house for -you--damn you!" - -Every one in the room was standing, staring breathlessly. For a moment -Wigmore gaped at his old servant, his mouth open, his eyes like stones. -Then, with a choking cry, he reeled aside. Mr. Banks gripped him by the -shoulder, and shook him furiously. - -"You devil!" he roared. "You smirking hypocrite! You've come to the end -of your deviltries!" - -Wigmore made a dash for the door. Timothy Fletcher sprang in front of -him, and was hurled to the floor. Then Mr. Banks jumped after Wigmore, -caught the back of his coat, and at the same moment tripped over the -prostrate Timothy and crashed to earth. The little room was now in -tumult and confusion. Nell Harley crouched in a corner. Rayton stood -guard in front of her, his sound arm extended. Jim Harley sat upon the -shoulders of the big New Yorker, crying: "No murder here! No murder -here! What d'ye mean by it?" - -Timothy, lying flat, clung to Wigmore's right leg. - -"Stop him!" he yelled. "Stop him! He's mad--a ravin' lunatic!" - -Wigmore kicked his old servant in the face, and wrenched himself clear. -In another second he would have been out of the room and away--but just -then Dick Goodine and Doctor Nash closed with the terrible old man, -crushed him to the floor, and held him there. They had their hands full, -but they continued to hold him down. - -There came a brief lull in the terrific tumult--but the excitement was -not yet over. Mr. Harvey P. Banks was indignant. A madman had tried to -starve him to death, and now a presumably sane man sat upon his back and -called him a murderer. All his natural blandness was burned -out--scorched to a flake of ash. The passions of fur-clad, pit-dwelling -ancestors flamed within him. He arose furiously, twisted around, and -flung Jim Harley aside. He gripped him by the breast with his left hand, -by the right wrist with his right. He was quick as a lizard and strong -as a lion. The lumberman was like a child in his hands. - -"You fool!" he cried, glaring. "What d'you mean by it? So you are on -Wigmore's side, are you?--on the side of the man who tried to murder his -servant and me--yes, and who marked and dealt those cursed cards! You'd -sit on _my_ back, would you? For two pins I'd pick you up and heave you -against the wall. Tell me--were you in league with this old devil? Tell -me quick--or I'll finish you! Did you know Wigmore was marking those -cards?" - -"The cards!" cried poor Jim. "No, no! On my soul, I didn't know it! So -help me God, I thought it was the family curse!" - -"You fool!" exclaimed Banks, loosening his grip and turning away. His -rage had also fallen to ashes, leaving his big face drawn and gray, and -his great limbs trembling. His eyes were dim. - -"That snake poisons the air," he muttered. - -He stepped across to where Goodine and Nash held down the squirming -captain. - -"Let him get up. He has a good many things to explain to us," he said -quietly. - -Just then poor old Fletcher raised his head, showing a cut and bleeding -mouth. Banks lifted him in his arms, and laid him on the couch. - -"Don't stand there like a wooden image!" he said to Jim Harley. "Your -inactivity has done quite enough harm already. This old man has been -gagged, bound, and starved for days. Get him some brandy." - -As Nash and Goodine removed their knees and hands from Captain Wigmore, -that old sinner began to laugh immoderately. Still laughing, he got -nimbly to his feet, bowed to right and left, and sat down in an -armchair. - -"Mad as a dog," mumbled Fletcher, with his bleeding lips. "He never was -rightly cured, anyhow!" - -"Mad?" queried the captain. "If you mean insane, my good fellow, you are -very much mistaken. That's right, Jim. Give him a drink--but first wipe -the blood off his lips. Don't spoil the flavor of good whisky with bad -blood." - -"If you are not insane," said Banks, "then you are utterly evil--a thing -to crush out like a poisonous snake. But to look you in the eyes is to -read the proof of your insanity." - -Wigmore frowned. "Banks," he said, "you are feeble. You have the mind -and outlook upon life of a boy of ten--of a backward boy of ten. But -even so, I believe you have more intelligence than our friends here. -However that may be, you managed to blunder across the right trail at -last. That's why I took you in hand." - -"You seem to forget that I have escaped you," said Banks. - -Wigmore nodded. "I made the mistake of underestimating your bodily -strength," he admitted. "I don't understand even now, how you managed -to get out of that closet. You couldn't kick down the door--even with -those boots." - -"Never mind about that!" exclaimed Jim Harley, white with excitement. -"Tell me about the cards! What do you know about the cards?" - -The old man gazed at him for a second or two with a face of derisive -inquiry, and then burst again into furious laughter. - -"Absolutely cracked," said Doctor Nash. "Absolutely, utterly, hopelessly -off his chump!" - -Wigmore ceased his wild laughter so suddenly that every one was -startled. - -"Jim," he said, with a bland leer, "you are so simple and unsuspecting -that I hate to tell you the truth. But I have to do it, Jim, just to -prove to Banks and the rest that I am not insane. Jim, my boy, _I am the -chosen instrument of Fate_." - -A brief, puzzled silence followed, which was broken by the croaking -voice of old Timothy Fletcher. - -"Forget it!" snarled Timothy. "D'you mind the time you was the Sultan of -Turkey?" - -Wigmore smiled at his servant, then glanced around the room, and tapped -his forehead suggestively with a finger. - -"Instrument of Fate? Sultan of Turkey?" queried Banks. - -Jim Harley leaned forward, clutched the old man's shoulder, and shook it -violently. - -"What do you know about those cards?" he cried. "Tell me that--quick!" - -"You seem to be in a terrible hurry, all of a sudden," replied the -captain. "Oh, well, it does not matter; but if you really knew just who -I am--if you fully realized who I am--you'd treat me with more -consideration. I am the chosen husband of your sister. I am her -_destiny_." - -"Who _are_ you?" asked Harley, scarcely above a whisper. - -"I am the instrument of the Fate that haunts the steps of your mother's -daughter," replied Wigmore. "I am the chosen instrument. I deal the -cards--and the blow falls. I do not have to soil my hands--to strike the -blows. I mark the cards, and deal them--and Fate does the rest, through -such tools as come to her hand." - -He leered at Dick Goodine. - -"Then you admit that you marked and dealt the cards!" cried Harley. - -"Certainly, my dear boy. It was my duty to do so--just as it was my duty -to quiet Banks when he came blundering into my affairs. I am the keeper -of the curse--the instrument of Fate--the--the----" - -He pressed both hands to his forehead, and sighed. - -"The star boarder at the Fairville Insane Asylum," snarled Timothy -Fletcher, "an' may the devil catch that fool doctor who said you was -cured!" he added. - -Wigmore lifted his face. - -"I am John Edward Jackson," he said pleasantly, as if introducing -himself to strangers, "Captain Jackson--the exile." - -"Jackson!" cried Jim Harley. "Jackson? What do you mean? Not _the_ -Jackson?" - -The old man nodded. "That's right, Jim. That's why I marked the cards. I -came here on purpose to look after Nell, you know. It was my duty." - -"He is mad," said Banks. "He is not responsible for what he says or -does. He must be taken back to Fairville." - -"Yes, I am Captain Jackson," continued old Wigmore. "I had to go away -from my home, so I took to seafaring for a while. What was the trouble? -Sometimes I remember and sometimes I forget. I got hold of a mine and -made money. Then I made a voyage back to my own country, on very -important business." - -"That's one of the stories he used to tell me when I was his keeper in -the lunatic asylum," said Timothy Fletcher. "Sometimes he was Jackson -an' sometimes he was the Grand Turk." - -"_You_ keep your mouth shut till you are spoken to," screamed Wigmore, -in sudden fury. - -Harley stooped and gazed anxiously at the old man. - -"Did you murder my father?" he asked, his voice shaking. - -For a second the other stared at him blankly. - -"Certainly not!" he cried indignantly. "All I have to do is place the -card! I engaged an old sailor, or something of the kind, to dispatch -your father. I indicate. Fate destroys." - -Then he leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE DEATH OF THE CURSE - - -Jim Harley's face twisted and stiffened like a grotesque and hideous -mask; his honest eyes narrowed and reddened; for a little while he stood -there, motionless as a figure of wood; then his tongue flickered out and -moistened his dry lips, and the fingers of his big hands opened and -closed several times. The strong fingers closed so desperately that the -nails furrowed the skin of his palms and came away with a stain of red. - -"Damn you!" he cried, in a voice so terrible and unnatural that it -startled his hearers like a gun-shot in the small room. "Damn you, you -accursed murderer! You tell me that you murdered my father--and you sit -there and laugh. You devil! I'll kill you where you sit--with my empty -hands." - -He sprang forward; but Banks threw out an arm like iron and grappled -with him in the nick of time. Of the others Rayton alone moved to help -in the protection of the old man who sat laughing in the chair. Dr. Nash -looked on with interest, Dick Goodine folded his arms and Fletcher -snarled, "Kill the old devil. Crazy or sane, he stinks to Heaven an' -cumbers the earth." - -Banks and Harley staggered like drunken men within a foot of the old -man's chair. Harley was blind with rage. Every drop of blood, every -muscle, leapt to be at the slayer of his father. Nell, who had fled from -the room a moment before, now returned and ran to her brother, crying -out to him to be reasonable. Rayton followed the stumbling and reeling -of the wrestlers, too weak to assist Banks but plucking constantly at a -coat or shoulder. This time Harley was no child in the big sportsman's -arms. He fought like a mad man, possessed and a-fire with the -determination to destroy his father's murderer. - -"It is a devil!" he cried. "Let me at him, I say," and twice he tripped -Banks and had him down with one knee on the floor. But he could not get -clear of the big fellow, nor overthrow him. And still Captain Wigmore -sat in the chair and laughed as if he should die of unholy mirth. - -The superior weight of Mr. Banks told at last. He crushed Jim Harley to -the carpet and held him there, staring down at him with a flushed, -moist face. Harley glared up at him, still squirming and wriggling. - -"Lie still," said Banks, breathlessly. "Do you want to add another -murder to the list of tragedies?" - -"That's what I want to do," gasped Jim. "But it wouldn't be murder to -clean the face of the earth of that devil. Let me up, you big slob." - -"You'll thank me for this, some day," replied Mr. Banks, sitting firmly -and heavily upon Jim Harley's heaving chest. By this time, Nell Harley -had subsided into Reginald's anxious and ready arms. - -Captain Wigmore stopped laughing suddenly and glanced from Banks and Jim -on the floor to the girl and her lover. - -"It's as good as a play," he said. "Banks, all this unseemly and -ungentlemanly struggle is thrown away. My young friend Jim was powerless -to do me any injury. I am beloved of the gods. I am the chosen -instrument of fate--of the fate of the Harley family. Reginald, you -silly young ass, I see you hold that lady in your arms with no other -feeling than that of pity for yourself. The fates have ordained that I -am to be her husband. Timothy, you glowering old fool, bring me a drink -of whisky. Don't stand there, sir! Step lively when I speak to you, or -I'll send for the bosun to put you in irons." - -"Forget it," snarled Timothy Fletcher. "You'll never set yer lips to -another taste of whisky in this world, you old reprobate. I see death in -yer eyes now--an' already the flare of hell fire. It's a drink of water -ye'll be hollerin' for pretty soon." - -"Let me up," said Jim Harley. "I promise you I won't touch him." - -So Mr. Banks and Jim arose stiffly from the floor. - -Captain Wigmore, or Captain Jackson, or the Sultan of Turkey--call him -what you will--glared at Timothy in silence for several seconds, with -hate and despair in his eyes. His long, slender fingers plucked at his -ashen lips. Again, as suddenly as a change of thought, he burst into mad -laughter; this laughter grew and thinned to shrieking, then fell -presently to sobbing and muttering. He seemed to crumple and shrink; and -slowly he slid from the low chair to the floor. The company looked on -without moving or speaking, some in a state of helpless horror, the -doctor and old Timothy Fletcher with harsh curiosity. Nell Harley hid -her face against Reginald's shoulder. - -The murderer squirmed on the floor, sobbing and muttering; and by the -time Doctor Nash had decided that he was really having a fit the old -devil had finished having it. He was dead! Nash turned him over and felt -for his heart. The heart was still. - -"The ugliest death I ever saw," said Nash, glancing up at the horrified -company. - -"And the ugliest life," said old Timothy Fletcher. - -Reginald led the girl from the room. They stumbled along the hall and -sat side by side upon the bottom step of the stairs. Then the girl began -to weep and the shaken young man to comfort her. - -Old Wigmore's secret had not escaped with his wild and twisted spirit. - -"Hoist him onto the sofa," said the doctor. "We'll sit on him here and -now." - -All agreed that the so called Captain Wigmore had died in a fit. Then -Dick Goodine left the house, saying that a little fresh air would make -him feel cleaner. Mr. Banks lit a cigar, remarking that he would -fumigate this chamber of horrors. Then Dr. Nash, as coroner, and Jim -Harley, who was a justice of the peace, agreed that they had the -authority to search the belongings of the deceased. Timothy Fletcher -said that he knew where the old devil kept all his private papers. So -Rayton took Nell home, and Nash, Banks, Harley and the old servant drove -over to the dead man's house, taking the shrunken and stiffened clay -along with them in the back of the pung. They entered the empty house -and Timothy lit a candle and led the way upstairs to the captain's -bedroom. He pointed to a large, iron-bound wooden chest which stood at -the foot of the bed. - -"There's where he keeps his ungodly secrets," he said. "Mind the corp, -gentlemen, or it'll turn over in agony when we unlock the box. Hell! how -I do wish the old sinner was alive to see it. I shouldn't wonder but -we'll find some bones of dead men in that box." - -"Where is the key?" asked Banks, shivering at Timothy's words and -puffing nervously at a freshly lit cigar. - -Timothy chuckled at the big man's discomfort and borrowed a strong knife -from Jim Harley. He went to a mahogany secretary which stood at the head -of the bed, opened the top drawer and applied the blade of the knife to -the front of a secret compartment within the drawer. He turned in a -moment and tossed a bunch of keys to Mr. Banks. Nash took the keys from -the New Yorker's hands and knelt down before the chest. Jim Harley held -the candle. The chest had three locks and each of the three called for a -separate key. At last the heavy lid was freed and lifted. The top of the -trunk was full of clothing. They lifted out a tray and found more -clothing. They lifted out another tray and found, in the bottom of the -chest, books, nautical instruments, a chart or two, a small bag of -English gold, a brace of revolvers and a small iron dispatch-box. In the -dispatch-box they found many documentary proofs of the old man's claim -to the style and title of Captain John Edward Jackson. They found his -ship-master's certificate, an appointment to the command of a gun-boat -in the Brazilian navy, title deeds to several mining properties in -Brazil, a yellow clipping from a St. John newspaper recording the -marriage of Captain Thomas Harley, and another reporting and commenting -upon Harley's sudden and deplorable death at the hands of an unknown -assassin. - -"This little snake was the murderer. There can be no doubt about it," -said Jim Harley. - -"He is answering for it now," said Mr. Banks, quietly. - -"I am afraid we must turn all these things over to the Crown," said -Nash. "I don't know anything about the law; but I imagine it is the -business of the Crown to take care of these things and look for heirs." - -Mr. Banks nodded. - -"I think the lawyers will find it a very pretty thing," he remarked. "As -for Samson's Mill Settlement, it will become known to the world." - -"But we'll burn these newspaper clippings," said Jim Harley, snatching -them up and crushing them in his hand. "The murderer is dead and the -curse is dead. We'll let the old story die, too." - -"I wonder if the title-deeds are straight," murmured Nash. "Can the -Crown collect, do you think? I'll make out my bill for professional -services, anyway." - -"Heaven only knows what the lawyers will make of it," said Banks. - -Harley thrust the scraps of old newspaper into the flame of the candle, -and as the blaze crawled up and threw red wavers of light around the -room, Banks and Nash jumped as if they were on springs, and old Timothy -Fletcher let out a yell. - -"I thought the old varment was a-fire already an' lookin' over my -shoulder," explained Timothy, a minute later. He lit several more -candles and led the way downstairs and into the dining-room. He got out -a decanter of whisky, glasses and water. All four helped themselves to -stiff doses. Nash took a sip, then raised his glass. - -"The old bounder started all manner of mischief in this place, between -friends and neighbors," he said, "but now he's dead we'll have a little -peace. Here's to peace! I wish Reginald Rayton was here to shake hands -with me." - -"A very proper wish," said Mr. Banks. "The old rascal made fools of -every mother's son of us." - -"He was a wonder," said Timothy Fletcher. "This place will be dull as -ditch water now. He was a great pot cracked, a great bottle busted. I -hope he stays dead, that's all. What yarns he used to tell me, when I -was his nurse at Fairville--afore he begun to pretend he was cured. I -used to think they was all lies; but now I guess they was true--the most -of them, anyhow. Of course I never stood for the Sultan of Turkey story. -An' he'd talk about the sea, an' foreign ports all smelly with sugar an' -rum an' spice, until I was pretty near ripe to run away an' sign on -with some skipper. An' the adventures! To hear him, gentlemen, you'd -swear that in all his v'yages he'd never gone ashore without savin' the -life of a beautiful woman nor glanced up at a window in the narrow -street without havin' a rose or a letter chucked out to him. He was a -wonder. Oh, yes, I admired his brains, even after I begun to hate him. -He was a good master to me for awhile after we left the mad-house--until -he commenced rollin' me up in blankets every now an' agin' an' jumping -on top of me when I was sound asleep, yowlin' like a moon-struck dog. I -should have spoke about all them things to one of you gentlemen, I know; -but I figgered as how he might grow out of them tricks some day an' -maybe remember me in his will. I'll miss him; but I ain't sorry to see -the last of him, damn him! I got my wages all safe--an' he paid me -well." - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -IN THE WAY OF HAPPINESS - - -Captain Wigmore was buried in Samson's Mill Settlement, in a little -graveyard on a spruce-sheltered slope behind the English church. A very -young parson drove thirty miles to bury him; and as a Baptist minister -had driven twenty miles for the same purpose a joint service was held. - -"The old joker is safe buried, anyhow; an' I'm glad to know it," was -Timothy Fletcher's comment at the side of the grave. - -"I'll never dig him up, you may be sure," said Mr. Banks. - -Mr. Banks returned to New York a few days after the funeral, but not -before he had learned the date set by Nell Harley for her wedding. He -promised to be on hand to give the groom away. Timothy Fletcher bought -three big dogs for companions and continued to occupy the late captain's -house as caretaker. The dogs always slept in the same room with him and -he burned night lights by the score. - -The Crown took charge of the late captain's properties and discovered -half a dozen heirs in the persons of Brazilian ladies who had considered -themselves widows for years past. The Crown had its troubles. The -Brazilian government stepped in generously to share these troubles. -Lawyers set to work in several languages and divers systems of -bookkeeping. What they made of it I don't know; but the wives were all -discredited and proven null and void--and Dr. Nash's bill remains unpaid -to this day. - -Nell Harley and Reginald Rayton were married in June. Mr. Banks attended -in a frock coat and silk hat that surpassed everything present in -novelty and glory except the head-gear and coat of the groom. It was a -wonderful wedding; and to top it, the young couple set out immediately -for England to visit Reginald's people. - -"That's what I call style, from first to last," said Mr. Samson. "Them's -the kind of folk I like to associate with, so long's they don't set in -to a game of cards." - -Dick Goodine married Maggie Leblanc in July. - -Poker is never played now in Samson's Mill Settlement. Timothy Fletcher -still lives in the house that nobody seems to own and that somehow has -been overlooked by the Crown, the Brazilian Government and the lawyers -in both languages. He works now and again for the Raytons or the -Harleys. Reginald has bought more land and built a new house and several -cottages. His farm is the largest, the best and the best-worked in the -country. Mr. Banks visits the Raytons every October, for the shooting, -and every June for the fishing. - -Davy Marsh is guiding over on the Tobique now. He never comes home to -the settlement. I have heard that he is the most expensive guide on that -river--but not the best, by a long shot. - -Dr. Nash is still a bachelor. He dines twice a week with the Raytons, as -a regular thing, and oftener when Mr. Banks is there. He is not a bad -sort, when you really know him well, and he knows you; but of course he -will always be something of an ass. - - -THE END. - - * * * * * - - - - - WORKS OF Theodore Goodridge Roberts - - - A Captain of Raleigh's - - A Cavalier of Virginia - - Captain Love - - Brothers of Peril - - Hemming, the Adventurer - - Rayton: A Backwoods Mystery - - Comrades of the Trails - - The Red Feathers - - Flying Plover - - - L. C. 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