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diff --git a/old/53220-0.txt b/old/53220-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4d0dce6..0000000 --- a/old/53220-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4164 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The House of Cariboo and Other Tales from -Arcadia, by A. Paul Gardiner - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The House of Cariboo and Other Tales from Arcadia - -Author: A. Paul Gardiner - -Illustrator: Robert A. Graef - -Release Date: October 6, 2016 [EBook #53220] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOUSE OF CARIBOO, TALES FROM ARCADIA *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Susan Theresa Morin and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - See Transcriber’s Notes at end of text. - - - - - [Illustration: “Lucy * * * watched intently a boat pushing out from - a bay farther up the shore.” (Page 159.)] - - - - - _The House of Cariboo - - AND OTHER - - Tales from Arcadia, - - BY - - A. PAUL GARDINER. - - Author of “Vacation Incidents,” “The Fifth - Avenue Social Trust,” etc. - - Illustrated by Robert A. Graef. - - A. P. Gardiner, Publisher, New York. - - 1900._ - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY - A. P. GARDINER. - - - - - _CONTENTS._ - - - PAGE - - THE ARCHIPELAGO, 11 - - ALONG THE FRONT, 16 - - THE HOUSE OF CARIBOO. - - CHAP. I. THE CAMERONS AT THE FRONT, 31 - - CHAP. II. BARBARA AND DAN AT HOME, 43 - - CHAP. III. ON THE WAY TO THE GOLD FIELDS, 46 - - CHAP. IV. INTO THE CARIBOO MOUNTAINS, 50 - - CHAP. V. AT THE FOUR CORNERS, 54 - - CHAP. VI. DONALD VISITS THE GOSSIP CLUB, 63 - - CHAP. VII. IN THE MINING CAMP, 72 - - CHAP. VIII. LECLARE’S STORY: THE INITIALED TREE, 80 - - CHAP. IX. LECLARE’S STORY: THE CHRISTMAS TREE, 89 - - CHAP. X. ADIEU TO THE MINING CAMP, 96 - - CHAP. XI. NICK PERKINS THE MONEY LENDER, 101 - - CHAP XII. BARBARA IN THE CHILCOTEN VALLEY, 110 - - CHAP. XIII. THE MORTGAGE COMES DUE, 115 - - CHAP. XIV. BLAKELY CONSULTS CAMERON’S LAWYER, 121 - - CHAP. XV. CAMERON’S RESOLVE, 126 - - CHAP. XVI. THE RETURN OF THE GOLD DIGGERS, 131 - - CHAP. XVII. CAMERON OUTLINES HIS POLICY, 136 - - CHAP. XVIII. THE ICE RAFT, 143 - - CHAP. XIX. LECLARE TO PROSPECT IN ARCADIA, 153 - - CHAP. XX. LUCY VISITS THE ARCHIPELAGO, 157 - - CHAP. XXI. UNDER THE INITIALED TREE, 166 - - CHAP. XXII. THE MYSTERY OF THE CORNER STONES, 171 - - CHAP. XXIII. FRASER CONFERS WITH PERKINS, 175 - - CHAP. XXIV. PERKINS AGAIN OUTWITTED, 182 - - CHAP. XXV. DONALD BAN AT THE FRONT, 188 - - CHAP. XXVI. CAMERON’S TASK COMPLETED, 195 - - THE GROWING MASKINONGE, 200 - - - - - List of Full Page Illustrations. - - - “Lucy * * * watched intently a boat pushing out - from a bay farther up the shore.” (Page 159.) _Frontispiece._ - - - “I had run across Jimmie, one day, while prospecting - for water lilies,” 22 - - “‘Now, Nick Perkins, if you have got anything to - say to me personally, just come down here in - the road and I’ll talk to you,’” 68 - - “‘Speak, Edmond!’ gasped Cameron. ‘What have - you behind your back? It’s gold! gold!—I - know it!’” 76 - - “As the hour of the sale approached, they assembled - at the east end of the broad veranda,” 188 - - “‘Well, it’s pretty bad,’ said Du Ponté, ‘but Ribbon - needs you the worst of any of us,’” 212 - - - - -_The Archipelago._ - - -As the eagle stirs up her nest upon the crags and forces her young -over the confines of the inadequate abode, it is then that they spread -their wings and soar away to freedom and independence. So is it with -the great river of rivers, the St. Lawrence. Born among the Northwest -Lakes, and sheltered there for a time, resenting intrusion, it steals -away unnoticed from the watershed expanse. Threading its course through -the marshes and lowlands, it gathers momentum as it speeds onward, -till, the volume growing too great for its confining banks, its waters -rebel, and breaking from control, spread forth into the boisterous -storm-tossed Erie. Here they are disrupted and buffeted about, driven -by the winds and carried onward by a terrible undertow. Now drawn -through a narrow, deep channel, swiftly they pass the cities on the -shore. Too quickly they are speeding to heed or be disturbed longer -by the warring of the elements. Down to the very brink of the awful -precipice ahead they charge with ever-increasing speed, then over the -Niagara, pouring far beneath into the seething, boiling caldrons. - -After surging still onward through jagged, walled raceways, then -emerging into a lake of whirling eddies, till finally fought out -to exhaustion, the once rampant waters of the tumultuous Erie flow -peacefully into the haven of the Lake of Ontario. Here at rest, -landlocked by the grape-bearing vineyards of the Niagara and the -peach groves of the Canadian Paradise of the West, the St. Lawrence -is again reinforced, and again its voyage onward to the sea is begun, -this time marked by the dignity of a well-organized body. The blue -waters, through their separate channels, glide majestically down their -course, passing the islands in their midst with a happy smile and -ripples of sunlight laughter. Touching at the wharfs of the numerous -cottagers and lapping the white shining sides of the pleasure craft -among the Thousand Islands, onward heedlessly flows the beautiful river -increasing in strength. - -Once more before reaching the haven of the Archipelago, the water -channels of the great river are bidden to struggle with one another, -to fight for supremacy and swiftness, and demonstrate to the other -creatures of nature the mighty forces hidden at other times beneath the -tranquil surface of her smiling face. The rapids of the Sioux are now -left behind and we come to that part of the majestic river included -in these sketches, which territorial lines have placed within the -borders of our friendly Canadian ally, the Lake St. Francis. Beginning -immediately after the subsiding of the waters from their turbulent -passage through the rapids of the Sioux, the river spreads out till -its confining banks are in places ten miles apart. There in this wide -expanse stretching across toward the blue irregular mountain line of -the Adirondacks, far to the southward, then eastward till the vision -meets the water line, lie the islands grouped for beauty by nature’s -gardener, called by the writer the Arcadian Archipelago. - -The very atmosphere of this enchanted region compels the thoughts of -peace and freedom. A restful idleness pervades the life of its people; -and while they fish and row about through the islands of the group, -picnicking with their friends of the Cameron or McDonald Clan from the -“Gore,” little do they care for the tending of the farm, the harvesting -of the crops, or the speeding of time. The only “walking delegate” -whose ruling they recognize, is the rising or setting sun. Upon the -interval of time, for them there are no restrictions. - -Free from the cares of business, ignorant of the affairs of political -intriguing, and shielded by happiness from all social strife, these -primitive inhabitants of the Archipelago live on as does the flowering -plant-life of the district. They bask in the sun of the Spring and -Summer seasons, only to hide away again for months from the Winter’s -snows and the icy winds of December and March. As life among the people -of Glengarry and the settlers at the “Front” over on the mainland, -goes happily on, unchanged by the passing social fads of the century, -so also upon the St. Francis Islands nature still retains her original -tenants and social customs. The Indians from the tribe of St. Regis at -the reservation on the mainland guard with a jealous care their coveted -hunting grounds from possession by the white men; and neither thus far -has the woodsman’s axe nor the painted cottage of the “first settler” -succeeded in gaining an entree into the sacred confines of the St. -Francis Archipelago. - - - - -_Along the Front._ - -[Illustration: _ALONG THE FRONT_] - - -Along The Front the north bank of the river skirting the Arcadian -Archipelago is high and terraced up from the water’s edge to the -roadway, which follows the indentations of the shore line westward to -the county seat of Glengarry. Over this road the country folk from the -interior townships make their weekly pilgrimages to market the products -of their farms. Facing this road also, and looking out upon the broad -river, dotted with wooded islands, are the farm-houses, the small -church, and the dilapidated remains of what was once a prosperous boat -landing called The Front. In the palmy days of river freighting this -little weather-beaten hamlet had some excuse for a hope of life, but -now that river navigation all over the world has been paralleled with -the modern steel-winged carriers, time and neglect have stamped their -impress upon the deserted buildings and docks, which at one time in the -long ago had shown fair signs of a prolonged life. - -From Castle Island, as we look across the boat channel and over the -intervening strips of rush banks to the mainland, the remains of the -business part of The Front present a deserted and uninviting appearance. - -First we see the dilapidated dock; then a disheveled freight building; -near by in a small bay, is a broken-down boat house, sadly twisted by -the “ice shoves” in the Spring of the year. Next we can see the old -brown, weather-discolored tavern with an extension reaching out toward -the east. A dance hall it was, and below, the beaux of old Glengarry -stabled their horses, while they danced overhead to the music of the -bagpipes until dawn of day. Sad, as he views the scene, must be the -thoughts of one of these gallants returning to his native home. In the -palmy days of The Front he had proudly escorted the farmer’s comely -lassie through the corridors of the tavern and up the broad stairs -to the dance hall, pleased with his choice of a partner and happy in -the simplicity of his surroundings. To-day, the name on the sign-board -over the entrance is no longer readable. The plank steps, once strong -and unbending, have rotted away at the ends and the centre, until -now, for the use of the laborer’s family who occupy the old shell as -their living apartments, broken pieces of plank for steps are held up -by stones placed one upon the other. The dance hall in the extension -presents the sorriest appearance to the visitor approaching from the -water’s side. A woodyard with jagged, uncut logs and little heaps of -chips picked up here and there from the chopper’s axe, fills the yard -and what was once the stabling-shed for the chafing steeds of the -Glengarry lads. The gable end of the hall is all awry; the archways -beneath and the supporting posts have leaned over, tired as it were, -of the long, weary wait against the time when they will be no longer -asked to support their useless burden. Doves, unmolested, fly in and -out through the broken panes of the windows, and strut and coo along -the weather-checked vane of the roof. Where once the droning of the -bagpipes re-echoed through the full length of the building, it is now -the buzzing of the bumble-bee and the tenor singing wasps that we hear -as they swarm around their hive-nests suspended from the rafters. -Gone forever from the old tavern are the good times of yore, and like -the business prosperity at the landing, they have followed the noisy -rivermen down the stream to return again no more to The Front. - -To describe the surviving enterprises at The Front—there are, first, -the government post-office; then the buckboard stage line plying -between The Front and the station to the railway two miles inland; and, -lastly, the boat builder’s plant in the bay. It would seem that the -traveling public were charitably inclined toward the ancient buckskin -mare and the driver of the mail coach, for daily the old nag is hitched -to the buckboard; the canvas mail-sack is rolled up and tucked into -the pocket of the driver’s linen-dusterlike coat, and without ever a -passenger to tax the strength of the old mare or the comfort of the -driver, they jog along together to the station, then back. The return -pouch is extracted from the folds of the accommodating coat, handed -over to the official postmaster, and the business event of the day at -The Front is closed. - -Down by the water’s edge, with one corner of its base, as if from -a misstep, dipping down into the stream, is the plant of the boat -builder. Across at Castle Island each season his couple of boats, -the result of his Winter’s employment, are disposed of; then after -re-calking the two which he had sold the previous season, and had -re-purchased at secondhand prices, he awaits through the long Summer -days, the arrival of trade. - -Each day as I looked across at The Front, my field glasses refused -to change the sameness of the scene or setting by even discovering -a venturesome pedestrian sauntering down the dusty road, or a child -running an errand for an industrious housewife to the post-office -or general store. Curiosity had about decided me to make a visit of -investigation, but before an opportunity to act came, I was told a -caller wished to see me. - -“I am from The Front, aye, sir, just yonder acrost, and three farms -up from the post-office is where I live. Jimmie MacPherson—James T. -MacPherson is my right name, but they call me Jimmie around here. Of -course, I mean,” he added apologetically, “they do over at the cheese -factory and the wheelwright shop. You city folks here on the island, -from New York, don’t know me, so I’m telling you my full name, but you -can call me Jimmie, too, if you like that better.” - -“All right, Jimmie,” said I, “that sounds more like getting on -together. Have a seat here on the veranda, or we will go down on the -dock, just as you say.” I thought the presence of ladies near by might -interfere with the free discussion of the subject about which Jimmie -had thought it necessary to call. - -[Illustration: “I had run across Jimmie, one day, while prospecting for -water lilies.”] - -“On the veranda,” replied Jimmie, and a mischievous twinkle was in -his eyes, as he shaded them from the glare of the morning sun with -the rough fingers of his right hand. “You will see by my complexion,” -he continued in a humorous strain, “that I am not used to being out -in the sun. The field corn grows so fast along The Front that we are -constantly in the shade while out promenading.” Then he turned his -shining countenance on me to confirm what he had said. An honest face -it was, covered with an unkempt, fiery red beard. His skin was burned -and blistered in spots extending from the shade mark on the forehead -made by his greasy felt hat till lost in perspective in the dense -undergrowth of the lower chin and neck. - -I had run across Jimmie one day while prospecting for water lilies, at -the mouth of a small creek which emptied its waters by a circuitous -route into one of the channels of the large river, to be found over -in the region of Hoag Island and the Dead Channel. Jimmie on that -morning was cocked up in the stern seat of his flat-bottomed punt. Two -wooden pins acting as oar locks, stuck into the sides of the boat and -recently whittled to a whiteness of the wood, were the only relief in -color to that of the boat and crew. Jimmie was the captain and the -crew consisted of the spaniel dog, whose brown coat corresponded so -closely to the coloring of the metal and stock of the beautiful modern -shot gun, and the entire costume of Jimmie and his river craft, that as -he lay alongside of a reed-bank filled with dried cat-tail I had nearly -run him down before making the discovery. - -“Good morning, stranger,” said Jimmie, in a calm, well-inflected voice. -A smile seemed to be playing all about his face. Bristling in the -sun was his red kinky beard, shining his face as though rubbed to a -polish, the shabby felt hat reaching out modestly to the line in the -middle of his forehead. He was perched on the seat, crowded back into -the stern of the boat, and the water spaniel, proud and important, -moved with ease between the rowing seat and the perch upon which his -master sat making observations. Looking more closely at my discovery -before making any reply to his salutation, I saw on his feet a pair -of “contract-made” shoes, rivets and buckles prominently in sight, -which had from long usage taken on a shape resembling an elephant’s -foot in miniature, all instep and few toes; a pair of blue jeans, a -negligee shirt, a leather strap making upward and diagonally across -the chest for a wire nail on the band of the trousers at the back, and -a four-in-hand tie of undefinable pattern, the quilting of which had -suffered a sad displacement and was clinging in shreds to the original -band encircling his neck, which had been tenderly preserved by the -spinach-fringe of unfading brightness. - -“Hello,” said I, in return of salute. “Shooting out of season?” - -At that instant I was not conscious of the significance of my remark, -which had popped out spontaneously with my first sight of Jimmie and -his crew. - -“No,” he replied. “I heard up along The Front that there were some good -dory holes in this channel, so I thought I would come up in here and -see if I could find the fish weeds. Then I would know for myself.” - -“Oh, I see!” said I. “Good scheme, isn’t it?” Then we each laughed a -little and seemed to understand each other better after that. My boat -had drifted up alongside, and curiosity led me to ask permission to -examine the modern gun of beautiful finish and workmanship, a striking -contrast to the attire, at least, of the owner. - -“A good gun, stranger,” remarked Jimmie. - -“Yes, and an expensive one, I should think, any way. What use have you -for such a gun?” I said, as I returned it to him. - -“Well, you see,” began Jimmie, “a gun is like some other things. When -you need one, you need it pretty bad, and then you can’t have too good -a one, and that’s why I have one like this.” For an instant I imagined -I was out in the Pan Handle country of Texas and that the advice of -my friend would be good to follow. But, no! Here I was in a boat in -Arcadia on the peaceful Lake St. Francis. Then looking again quickly -toward the boat and crew at my left, I was met by a broad grin from its -occupant. - -“Jimmie,” I said, “you’re the sort I always want to know. Come over to -Castle Island to-morrow and we will ‘talk it over.’” - -Since meeting Jimmie down in the rush banks, I had heard more about him -from the guides on the Island, and I knew his call this morning would -prove both interesting and entertaining. - -Jimmie, they told me, had at one time directed the political affairs -of the County Glengarry. That is, he had been employed as secretary -by the representative in Parliament from his district. This gentleman -could neither read nor write nor compose a speech to be delivered -before his constituents. With him Jimmie spent several months at the -Canadian Capital, where in his capacity as secretary, he had been -writing speeches for his chief which were supposed to be delivered -before the representatives in Parliament, but which instead, his wily -employer had directed should be sent home for publication in the county -newspaper for the edification of the voters who had made him their -representative. Jimmie had schooled his charge “The Member” in the -civilities and court etiquette necessary to be employed toward his -brother “members.” He had also trained him, the while exercising great -tact and patience, how to make use of the most approved mannerisms -and figures of speech while addressing the speaker of the house. The -extent of the oratorical effort, Jimmie insisted with his pupil, must -not exceed the few phrases necessary for the seconding of a motion put -by a colleague, or a perfunctory motion to adjourn. - -Then with the “spread-eagle” speeches he had prepared for the press -agents of the counties which he and his employer were representing, -affairs at the Capital, Jimmie had congratulated himself, were going on -swimmingly. - -One night, however, as the Quixotic member came to Jimmie’s room -for final directions as to his movements in Parliament for the next -day’s session, he found his instructor boisterously delivering before -an imaginary audience, one of his pet political speeches. Paying no -attention to his caller, Jimmie proceeded with the speech—the needed -appropriations which he demanded from the government to benefit the -industries situated in the great manufacturing town, The Front, which -he had the honor to represent, and the extensive dredging operations -which were necessary to widen the channel to accommodate the lake and -river craft, constantly increasing their volume of business, which -could be proven by the congested condition of the docks, to be seen any -day in the boating season at The Front, etc. - -Poor Jimmie! The strain on his mental faculties had been too great. -“Crazy,” the doctors were cruel enough to say. So they took him back to -The Front, gentle of manner, but the enlarged idea he had created in -his brain of the condition of the business affairs at The Front never -parted company with him. - -“I have come over this morning,” began Jimmie, after we had seated -ourselves by the woodbine, “to extend to you a welcome and the -courtesies of the people of The Front. I have been instructed by -the members of the Board of Trade to offer you and your friends the -free use of the docks of the port opposite here. The use of the -Assembly Hall attached to the Hustings has been unanimously granted -by the members of the Town Council, and also arrangements have been -consummated whereby passes can be secured to visit the extensive -boat-building plant situated directly opposite on the mainland. I -am also authorized to say that between the hours of ten and twelve, -morning, the cheese manufacturing industry, during week days, and -the church at Glen Water, Sundays, will be open to visitors from the -Island. Now, my friend,” continued Jimmie, rising and placing his -hand upon the back of the chair for good oratorical effect, “come -over to The Front. You are welcome, we are not too busy a people to -miss seeing you when you do come. In fact, I can assure you that you -will feel well repaid for the effort. Why, stop and think, my dear -sir,” he went on, his eyes snapping with excitement and his features -twitching with nervousness, “progress and prosperity are within our -grasp. The grandest water-way of the whole world passes our very door. -Manufactories are already at work in our midst, and the eye of Capital -is upon us. Great, I say, yes, wonderful are the inducements we offer -for visitors coming among us. Again I say, come over to The Front. You -will not find yourself alone. Leading capitalists from all over the -world have been to see us. The truth is you can’t tell whom you may -meet while you are over there.” - -“Thank you, Jimmie, thank you. Good morning,” I said. “You can expect -me.” Then bowing and hesitating as though he had received an unexpected -check from the Speaker of the House of Parliament, he seemed to wish to -say more, but with a rare courtesy of manner, he bowed himself out of -my presence, then joining his brown spaniel dog, who awaited his master -on the shore, they got into their boat and rowed back to The Front. - -[Illustration] - - - - -_The House of Cariboo._ - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -_The Camerons at the Front._ - - -On a rise of ground at “The Front” called the “Nole” stands the Cariboo -House, conspicuously alone. - -There, fronting the river channel which separates Castle Island from -the mainland, its tinned mansard roof and the golden ball on the summit -of the flag-staff blazing in the morning’s sun, the marble castle of -the Archipelago shares with the mighty St. Lawrence, the admiration of -the tourists. - -Then as the guests at the Island gather upon the quay at sunset, the -tall marble columns and overhanging gables of the House of Cariboo, -frown down upon the waters of the placid river, casting shadows of -ugly proportions that reach across to the very pier upon which the -spectators are standing, and as they linger, fascinated by the glories -of nature, they look again, and behold! outlined against the gold and -copper edged clouds strewn over the horizon, they see projecting itself -heavenward, the green-latticed observatory, and from its vane reaching -up into the clouds is the gilded sphere on the flag-pole still blazing -from the setting sun, while all else on earth below has grown dark and -silent. - -Years have passed since the older inhabitants of Glengarry paused -and looked in bewilderment as they traveled the roadway on The Front -past the House of Cariboo. Even now, after listening to the preceding -generation tell and retell stories of Aladdin interest of the House of -Cariboo, the children of the countryside pass hurriedly on their way to -the district school, never once turning to gaze at the mansion, brought -as if from fairyland and put down in the midst of their unpretentious -rural surroundings, till at a safe distance, when they loiter and, -looking backward, unconsciously relieve their disturbed little minds by -breaking off the heads of the bobbing daisies, till urged further along -on their way by the passing of time. - -There are in Glengarry County, as you might reasonably suppose, many -families whose direct ancestors, if you cared to trace them, would lead -you at once to the lochs, lowlands or mountain passes of the Scottish -Isle. The Clans of the McDonalds, the Camerons and the MacPhersons, -have each sent a goodly representation to sustain in the new land of -the Canadas the glory of their families in the Scottish hills of their -fathers. - -There were in the beginning, at The Front in Glengarry, one Andy -Cameron, and his two brothers, called “Andy’s Dan,” and “Laughing -Donald Cameron.” Many another family of Camerons lived in Glengarry, -but there was no mistaking these three brothers. Dan, who made his home -with Andy Cameron and his wife, never left the premises of the little -farm on the “Nole” unless Andy and his wife went along too, and this -becoming the understood thing among the neighbors at The Front and the -storekeepers at the county town of Glengarry, Dan Cameron came to be -known as Andy’s Dan. The distinction was understood, his pedigree was -recorded in the minds of the people of the neighborhood, and he was -forever out of danger of being confused with the other Dan Camerons of -his neighborhood. Simple Dan, kind-hearted Dan, and most of all Andy’s -Dan. - -Laughing Donald had taken up a small farm from the government when he -and his timid, frail wife first came to Glengarry, and poor Donald -never seemed to be any more successful in getting clear from the taxes -levied each year upon him than he was in clearing the few acres he -possessed of the tree stumps, that were the bane of his life during -seed-time and harvesting. - -A few years of land holding by Laughing Donald in Glengarry had been -an added expense to Andy, who loaned from his own little store of -savings each year to keep his brother from the long-reaching clutch of -the county tax gatherer; but always laughingly indifferent when he knew -his crop yield was miserably poor, Donald became known to the country -people, and at the village where he and his sickly wife went to trade -their dried apples and carpet-rags for groceries, as Laughing Donald -Cameron. He laughed if he was greeted kindly, and he also laughed with -the same apparent degree of happiness if a hard-hearted merchant told -him his produce was not worth the buying. So Laughing Donald filled -a niche, whose personality was all his own, and neither was he ever -confounded with others of his name in the County Glengarry. - -Tilling the ground on his small farm on The Front seemed very hard -work to Donald Cameron. His gentle wife, since their coming to the new -land of the Canadas, had pined for the associations of her Scottish -hills; her health had failed with the broken spirit till she was now -pronounced an invalid. For her, the delicacies of life could not be -provided, and sickness and misfortune speedily came to their humble -home. Soon two of the children of Laughing Donald were buried in the -churchyard at The Front and the illness of his wife continued. - -Andy Cameron had noted with increasing solicitude the inroads being -made by sickness and death into the home of his brother. Unpaid bills -were accumulating and the hand of misfortune was close upon the head of -the luckless Donald. Andy had seen his lawyer friend up at the county -village, then consulting his wife Barbara, a mortgage was first made on -his own farm at the “Nole,” and Donald’s obligations were paid in full. -But then the doctor’s bill came next to Donald, for weeks and months of -medical attendance upon his invalid wife, and, still laughing in his -childish way, he brought it, as if amused at the impossible amount, and -handed it to Andy. - -“Go back home, Donald,” was Andy’s reply. “Take good care of your poor -wife. The doctor must be paid.” And then Andy made another trip up to -the village. At the lawyer’s he arranged for the money and then for -the mortgage which was this time to be placed upon Donald’s little farm. - -That night, as Andy journeyed homeward from the town, he recalled how -he and his wife and Dan, his simple-minded brother, had struggled to -clear their little farm of debt; how they had stumped the land and -builded barns and stables, and fenced in the meadows for their cattle; -how happy they had been when they had paid off the last of the tax -debt; and how proudly he walked up the church aisle upon a Sunday, -and sat in the end of the pew at the head of his little family and -afterwards greeted his neighbors around the church door, as they stood -gossiping after service. But now to think what he had been compelled to -do. Donald was his brother, though, and was not poor Donald in trouble? -And his invalid wife—Andy well knew that if a few of the luxuries of -life and the tender care which her timid, shrinking nature cried out -for, could only be given to her in ever so slight a degree, she would -no longer be a suffering invalid. - -“Two years,” Andy remarked to himself, “was the time set before the -lawyer could foreclose on his own homestead, and the same time was set -for his brother, Laughing Donald.” Andy recalled as he rode slowly -homeward, that the storekeeper hesitated as he gave him the pound of -tea to be charged as before, and when he had asked for a dollar’s worth -of brown sugar, he had only been given half that amount. It was to be -charged also. - -“Who were they that dared to think a Cameron would not pay a just bill! -Was not he a Cameron, the eldest of his brothers, and from the proudest -clan of all the Highland Tartans?” - -Andy felt as he had never felt before. The latent pride of his -forefathers was stirred within him. Should they take the farm from his -brother Donald? Should they take his farm and that of his wife and the -home of his simple-minded brother Dan? “No, never!” determined Andy, -“not while I live to protect the innocent,” the cry went up from his -very soul. There was money to be had, wealth to be gotten, for life -must be preserved. To the gold fields of California, to the mountain -passes of the Rockies, or the far British Columbias, he would go, and -before the expiration of the mortgages he would return, and in the eyes -of his neighbors in Glengarry and among the storekeepers of the town, -the name of Andy’s Dan, Laughing Donald or Andy Cameron would stand -good for a great deal more than the pound of tea or the paltry dollar’s -worth of sugar they had refused him this very night upon which he had -made his resolve. - -A day or two following the last trip Andy had made to the county town -in the interest of procuring more money, he thought it next important -that he consult his loyal but none too assertive spouse concerning the -execution of the resolve he had settled upon, through which he hoped to -clear the good name of Cameron in the county from the insults which had -been offered him, even so slightly, by the storekeepers in the town. - -Barbara Cameron, the faithful wife to whom Andy went for encouragement -when he found that the burdens heaped upon him by the unfortunate -members of his family were greater than the resources of the combined -farms could support, listened with a heart full of sympathy while her -husband unfolded the plan by which he hoped to retrieve their waning -fortunes. Quietly, at first, he began to tell of the circumstances -which compelled him to place a mortgage upon their own little farm and -homestead. Then, arising in his excitement, he proceeded to relate -to her the cruel indignities heaped upon his unfortunate brother by -the avaricious tax gatherer, who seemed to take a special delight in -hunting him to earth; and how, to satisfy his demands, and to meet the -bills of the doctors and druggists, he had last of all been compelled -to mortgage Donald’s home. For, he explained, as he sadly looked -from the window over in its direction, he could not remain a passive -onlooker while the cruel hand of fate still pursued the family of the -helpless Donald, and a low fever slowly burned out the wick of life in -the feeble frame of his gentle wife. - -Finally, with a rising inflection in his voice and a righteous -indignation of manner, Andy explained to his wife the nature of the -insults which he had had offered to him in the town, and that he, as a -Cameron, and the head of their little colony must resent the wrongs, -and maintain the dignity and pride of his forefathers. He would leave -her for perhaps two years, he said—he was going to the gold fields of -the Canadian Rocky Mountains. There in the Cariboo Hills, in the Canons -of the Rockies and in the shifting river beds of the melting glaziers, -he would dig for gold. He would hunt the shining flecks of dust, the -gold colored nuggets, seeking the wealth by which he hoped to retrieve -his darkening fortunes. - -“We will sell our cows, Barbara.” His voice was lowered almost to a -whisper. “You and Dan shall have the money. The team of roans we must -part with, too, Barbara. Laughing Donald and his frail wife, you will -be kind to—and poor Dan, tell him always, Barbara, that Andy is coming -back soon—coming soon.” - -With confiding faith, though she did not quite understand, Barbara felt -that if her husband said all this, it must be right for her to believe -it. Andy had brushed away with the back of his hand the tears upon his -weather-beaten cheeks awaiting her reply. She in her characteristic -way, made only this comment: “When will you start, Andy, think ye?” - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -_Barbara and Dan at Home._ - - -After wishing Godspeed to her venturesome husband, Barbara, with Andy’s -Dan, was returning to their little homestead. Barbara sat upright in -the wagon, now and then glancing backward over her shoulder toward -the railroad station they had just left behind. This act she quickly -excused by an attempt to arrange the shawl which she held tightly -clasped about her. No tears were in her eyes when she bade farewell -to her husband. Believing it to be her wifely duty to sustain him in -the extraordinary undertaking he was engaging in, she had strengthened -her courage to meet the final parting. From the neighbors’ gossip she -had come to understand that the chances were many that he might never -return to her alive, and she had said to him: “Do not stay to starve -in the mountains. Come away home, mun; there is nae place better than -Glengarry to dee in.” And he promised her to return. - -Andy’s Dan, faithful in his simple devotion to his brother, had -understood only in a vague sort of way the cause for his leaving home -and the reasons which made it necessary to sell the stock of the farm, -which for years he had loved as his only companions. They were gone, -taken from him, and so was his brother and protector. For weeks after -Andy’s departure he would be seen each evening at sunset, leaning over -the pair of horse bars at the back of the house, gazing absently toward -the western horizon. In that silence, too sacred to be disturbed, the -expression upon his soulful face answered all questions of the curious. - -Time wore slowly along at the farm on the “Nole.” Barbara each day -went industriously about her housework, and just as if her husband had -been home and the care of the dairy was still necessary, she washed -and rubbed to a polish the milk pans, and stood them on edge upon the -bench at the side of the woodshed, to glisten in the sun. At evening -time, Andy’s Dan would regularly take from its hiding-place on the -sill under the slanting roof of the milk-shed the crooked staff, and -whistling for his faithful collie dog, go down the lane to the pasture, -calling to the imaginary herd of cattle feeding upon the sloping -hills, then sadly return with the one lone cow reserved by Andy for -the faithful watchers left at home. The Summer advanced, and he mowed -the grass and weeds from the dooryards and dug down to the roots of -the pesky burdocks growing about the fences which inclosed the unused -farm-yards. Then as Autumn approached, poor Andy’s Dan silently awaited -the return of his beloved brother to commence again at harvest time the -duties of the husbandman. - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -_On the Way to the Gold Fields._ - - -A year passed and no word came to the anxious hearts in the home -Cameron left behind when he went to hunt for gold in the far western -wilds of the British Columbias. - -Taking from the small store of money received from the sale of the farm -stock, just enough to pay his passage to the terminus of the railroad, -still a few hundred miles distant from the mountain ranges across which -he was to make his way, he soon found himself thrown upon his resources -face to face with the difficulties of the undertaking. Arriving at the -mountain pass of Ashcroft from Winnipeg, whence he and several other -venturesome companions bent upon the same mission had come by wagon -train over the prairies of Northwestern Canada, his meagre supply of -money nearly gone, it looked as if he was about to experience a defeat -from the very first set of difficulties which arose to beset his way in -reaching the gold fields. - -At Ashcroft, the most arduous and dangerous mountain climbing of the -entire trail presents itself. A supply of food for days must be carried -along, and pack mules and guides at an enormous wage are an absolute -necessity. Among the party of gold seekers which included Cameron, -was a young man of apparent culture and refinement, also from one of -the Eastern provinces. His reason for being found as a member of such -a daring and reckless band of prospectors, may have been simply for -the love of adventure, perhaps the healing of a broken heart, or for -the committing of a youthful indiscretion considered by his family a -sufficient reason for sending him to the undiscovered gold fields of -the far West. Thrown together during the tedious voyage of the pack -train across the plains, a natural inclination, a bond of sympathy, -had brought this young, inexperienced adventurer and Andy Cameron, -the tender hearted but determined emigrant farmer, into a congenial -acquaintance, and later into forming a partnership. The personal -capital of the new concern when inventoried showed these assets: that -put up by the latter, courage, strength, determination and honesty, -against that of his companion, money, mules, provisions, supplies, -and himself as a volunteer prospector. With this understanding, the -somewhat remarkable partnership was formed, and after the mules were -packed, the climb over the mountains began. - -Following the leadership of the guides, the small company made their -way slowly over the mountain trails and around the edges of the -precipices, avoiding only by careful footing a plunge to certain death -below. Sore of foot and wearied from climbing, the two prospectors -arrived at Quesnell Forks, the first station in the long tramp to the -Cassiar district of the Cariboo Mountains. Joining here a wagon train, -they pushed on again through the Chilcoten country. Passing Horse Fly, -a village of a vascillating population, they then proceeded up Soda -Creek till the aid of the caravan came abruptly to an end. Travel -by that method being no longer possible, Cameron and his companion -shouldered their rough mining kit and taking with them what provisions -they could carry, struck off into the mountains for a hundred miles -more, down through ravines and along Slate Creek bottoms, always -heading for the Cariboo. Buoyed up by the secret motive which had -driven each to endure such hardships in their hunt for the golden -reward they hoped to find in quantities when they should reach the land -filled with Aladdin riches, they struggled fearlessly onward. At the -head of Soda Creek they had labeled their surplus supplies and stored -them with a friendly native, promising to pay for the shelter, should -they ever return that way again. - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -_Into the Cariboo Mountains._ - - -Four days distant from this camp, Cameron and his companion unloosed -their mining kit for the first time. Nowhere had they found any -evidences that human beings had ever before penetrated into this -region. They climbed the steep mountain sides only to descend again -through the darkest ravines. Unaccustomed to the points of the -compass, they were obliged to watch their course by the sun. Each -with his secret burning within his heart, they encountered bravely -the difficulties of their task. Many times on this hazardous journey -they were almost overcome by fatigue, and often saved from instant -death over the side of some unseen precipice by only the margin of a -step. Finally, as they emerged from the forest-clad mountains upon a -slight plateau, they reached the first slate bottoms, which gave the -well-nigh disheartened prospectors new courage, and the first view of -the uninterrupted rays of the sun that they had encountered since their -hunt through the wilderness. Here on this promontory, which sloped -gently down westward to what seemed to be a dried-up water course, Andy -and his companion built their miners’ cabin. Water they had discovered -trickling down the face of a steep rock at one side of the site they -had chosen for their home. And game they knew in the mountains was -plentiful, for at their approach the flight of the wild fowl had shaken -the overhanging branches of the evergreens and strange-looking animals -scudded beneath the underbrush and sprang into hiding behind the rocks -and boulders. - -Here at the close of the day, standing before the door of their -rudely-constructed hut, the two hopeful miners, already fast friends, -silently watched the setting of the sun. Neither had told of the -friends left at home; Andy had kept sacred within his heart the need, -the incentive, which drove him forward facing the desperate chances of -death by starvation or sickness, to discover the hidden treasures of -this almost impenetrable region, and his companion was equally reticent -as to his own counsels of the past. Willing to lead in the trail where -almost certain death seemed ahead, he had proved himself many times -in their short acquaintance a man of reckless daring. The look each -encountered in the other’s eyes upon this eve, as they watched the sun -go down behind the opposite hills, plainly said: “My secret is a sacred -one; ask me nothing.” - -On the morrow they were to begin their task of digging for the yellow -nuggets, in the search for which thousands of others had gone into the -same ranges, many to join the bandit gangs of roving miners, never -again to return to their loved ones, others to sicken and die with -the malignant fevers of camp life, and a few—a very few—to realize -their dreams, and return again to their homes, bearing with them the -shining golden nuggets, at the sight of which a new army of inspired -prospectors would soon be started upon its way to repeat the same acts -in the great drama entitled “The Hunt for Gold.” - - * * * * * - -And here we leave for the present, Andy and his youthful partner to -dig for the elusive golden specks which had drawn them onward with a -terrible fascination for thousands of miles. They are now securely -hidden away in the mountain fastnesses where never a human voice nor -the tread of man had yet fallen. - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -_At the Four Corners._ - - -In the Arcadian neighborhood of our story, as is true of all rural -sections, there are at the four corners of the road the indispensable -blacksmith’s shop, the general store, the wheelwright’s place and the -creamery or the cheese factory. As places of business they always -flourish, not because of the enterprise or business tact of the -proprietors, but because, for the most part, of the natural demand -created by the wear and tear of implements used in pursuit of the -absolute necessities for the maintenance of life by the populace of the -district. - -First, at the four corners of the road at The Front, and a short -distance from the Cameron farms, is Davy Simpson’s blacksmith shop. -Adjoining this is the wheelwright’s place. The front of this building -when new had been partly painted a dull red color, and then left, -as though the workman had become disgusted with the color effect, -and had abandoned the task as an artist might a shapeless daub on a -half-finished canvas. The general store, with its lean-to porch, up to -which the farmers’ wagons drive and unload their produce to exchange -for merchandise, occupies at the four corners a conspicuous frontage on -the main road. - -Another industry of even greater moment to the community at The Front -is the cheese factory, which stands just past the corners and fronting -the road, jagged up on the side of a steep embankment, and resting -unsteadily upon crazy-looking standards. At the foot of the incline, -winding in its very uncertain course, is a small stream. Into this the -whey, escaping from the cheese vats, filters down the abutment spiles, -reeking in the Summer sun, to be gathered finally into the stream, -whose waters push quietly along beneath the overhanging weeds, then -crossing the roadway extending along its course, passes in the rear of -the farms of the adjoining township, The Gore. - -Unpretentious and surely uninviting is the cheese factory at The Front, -but in local history, in the stories of the feuds waged between the -clans of the farmers at The Front and those at The Gore, it plays a -vitally important part, for through the lands of the latter flow the -waters of the whey-tainted creek, endangering the products of their -dairies by polluting the source of the cattle’s water supply. - -At the close of each Summer’s day, regularly assembled in front of the -door to Davy Simpson’s blacksmith shop, the official gossips of the -neighborhood. - -Easy is the task to picture in one’s mind this group of characters. -Seated around the doorway of the smithy, and perched upon the cinder -heap, an accumulation of years from Davy’s forge, they discussed the -affairs of their neighborhood. There in his accustomed place was -William Fraser, the country carpenter, a bent-over, round-shouldered -little man with a fringe of red whiskers extending from ear to ear and -a mustache chopped off even with the mouth as if done by a carpenter’s -adze; a pair of blue eyes peered out at you from overhanging eyebrows, -and when in motion he glided along with a walk of meekness. A long -service among the families in Glengarry, while building for them a new -barn or stable, had taught him that an agreeable opinion to whatever -were their politics or views would greatly facilitate his comfort and -pleasure. He listened intently to all that was told him of the family -troubles of his employers, and with equal interest retailed for their -entertainment the latest gossip of their neighbors. It was because of -this accomplishment that William Fraser, the carpenter, could always -be relied upon to add a few words of interest to any subject up for -discussion at the shop. - -Another familiar figure was Angus Ferguson, he who had bought the -McDonald place, next to the cheese factory, a well-meaning and very -respectable man, whose wife insisted that he be back at the house each -night at eight o’clock, and she never hesitated, when he failed to -obey, to go out into the middle of the road fronting their house, and, -with her arms akimbo, call to him to “come away home.” Angus was tall, -slender and awkward. His features were kindly and the mutton-chop cut -to his whiskers and his high, bald forehead gave him more the look of a -clergyman than of a Glengarry farmer. Angus Ferguson was at all times -a listener only in the councils before the blacksmith’s. If he had -opinions, he never expressed them, and when his time would arrive to -go, without a good-night wish to his companions he slid down from the -plank placed upon the coal barrels, which was his particular seat, and, -crushing his straw hat down upon his head, started up the road, his -long, awkward arms and legs as he retreated through the darkness making -a pantomime figure in the gathering shadows. - -Old Bill Blakely was the unique figure in these nightly councils of -the gossips. He came originally from no one knew where; was not of any -particular descent; knew no religious creed and respected no forms -of social etiquette. His remarks at the discussions held before the -blacksmith’s shop were always emphatic and punctuated with copious -expectorations from tobacco, followed by a line of adjectives admitting -of no uncertain meaning. Old Bill lived at quite a distance from -the meeting place of the gossip club and was always late in putting -in an appearance. He was never counted upon, though, as one of the -“regulars,” and only came when he thought there might be a chance of -picking a row with some visitor happening along from The Gore. He -would walk deliberately into the councils of the assembled habitues at -the shop, and, totally ignoring the courtesy due from a late arrival, -would proceed to act in direct violation of the club’s established -rules. Looking down upon the group of loungers, his blue eyes twinkling -and his tobacco-moistened lips quivering with a cynical smile, he -would steady himself by placing his legs at a wide angle apart, the -yellow-stained goatee of his chin bobbing an accompaniment to the -twitching of his tightly-compressed mouth. - -“Well,” he would begin, “hae ye lied all there is to tell aboot your -neighbors, William Fraser? And you, Angus,” motioning with his head -toward down the road, “had better gang your way home, fer I’m goin’ to -lick the first red-head that comes over from The Gore; the night.” - -Then Bill would let go a string of oaths that invariably brought the -frowning face of Davy Simpson from out of the darkness of the shop to -greet the newcomer. Dave at such times had nothing more to say than, -“Bill, that’s you, I see,”—but all was in the way he said it. The two -men appeared to understand each other very well, at least they did -since the time Dave ducked the incorrigible Bill head-first into the -puncheon of water by the side of the forge, just to show, as he said, -that there was no ill-feeling between them. - -Bill’s hair was as white as that of any patriarch the county could -boast; as an excuse for a cap he wore a faded brown affair, whose -shapeless peak was as often pointed sidewise and backward as it was -straight ahead. Always blinking with a mischievous twinkle in his -eyes, his lips moistened with the tobacco he was so fond of chewing, -and quivering as though he were about to address a remark to you, -his hands pushed down deep into his pockets, his square shoulders and -well-rounded body supported by a stocky pair of legs,—imagine all this, -and you will see Bill Blakely. - -For many Summers the feud of the creek existing between the men of the -two towns required the personal attention and made frequent claims -upon the fistic powers of Blakely. All the trouble had been caused by -the whey-tainted waters of the creek, which menaced the dairies of the -men at The Gore. Chuckling with great glee, old Bill would listen to -his neighbors repeat the story current over at The Gore, how upon a -certain dark night he (Blakely) had pulled the plug from the whey-tank -at the cheese factory on The Front and allowed its soured contents to -course slowly down through the stream. In the controversies with his -enemies following the perpetration of these midnight escapades at the -four corners Bill Blakely had heretofore by his convincing arguments -successfully combatted their charge. After one of these discussions -with him the men from The Gore returned to their clansmen bearing to -them, besides a pair of discolored optics, the best wishes of the men -at The Front. - -But of late the tables seemed to be turning. A new condition of affairs -had developed, and the arguments which hitherto had stood Blakely in -critical times successfully failed now to give him the same degree of -satisfaction over his foes from The Gore. - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -_Donald Visits the Gossip Club._ - - -Up to this time the absence of Andy Cameron from The Front formed only -a topic of minor discussion before the smithy’s. It was on one of the -evenings which marked the end of the outdoor sessions of the gossip -club when Laughing Donald presented himself shyly at the outskirts of -the group. Weeks had elapsed since he had appeared there before. Until -of late, each night of the weary months and years of waiting for the -return of the absent brother, he had haunted the blacksmith’s shop, -where the group of news-gatherers met to exchange notes. At first they -welcomed him as a valuable addition to their circle. William Fraser, -the carpenter, found in him an attentive listener to the “small talk” -he gathered from the country side. The remarks Donald overheard upon -his early visits at the four corners concerning his family he carried -to his invalid wife, and then to Barbara and Dan up at the Nole. - -Upon this night he came slowly down the hill along the road which -partially hid the blacksmith’s shop from view. The group around the -smithy’s door was surprised at his coming. The timid nature of the man -showed itself in each hesitating step, while in his large, fawn-like -eyes was an appealing look, as if he were a pet animal wishing to be -taken by his master from the tormenting pranks of a gang of youthful -bandits. In his nervous excitement Donald always laughed—not loudly, -but in showing his perfect, white teeth, he gurgled softly the sound -which was responsible for the distinguishing feature of his name in -Glengarry, Laughing Donald. - -“Well! if here ain’t Laughing Donald,” exclaimed Fraser, the carpenter, -in an insinuating whisper, and a hush fell upon the group. “I wonder -if he would like to know,” he continued, in an undertone, “that Nick -Perkins, the tax collector, says all the Camerons on The Front will be -working the ‘county farm’ in six months’ time?” At that moment a large, -curly head, crowned by the remnants of a straw hat, was protruded -through the jamb of the half-opened door of the shop. - -“Well, now, you just be the first to tell that to Donald,” drawled -out Davy, the blacksmith, looking straight at the cringing little -carpenter, “and I’ll crimp your red whiskers with the hot tongs of my -forge.” Here was a friend to Donald and the missing Andy, till now -unannounced. No end of gossiping by the tattler of the neighborhood had -failed to prejudice the mind of the honest smith. - -Angus Ferguson had already humped off from his seat upon the coal -puncheon, and with his awkward strides was making rapidly toward the -scared Donald, extending his hand in such an enthusiastic welcome -that the poor fellow nearly mistook the demonstration for one of -unfriendliness. “How de doo, Donald! I am a-goin’ to tell you I am -a-comin’ over to-morrow to help ye draw in that grain over yonder by -the woods. It’s been there now nigh onto two weeks in the sun.” - -“Is it dry, Angus, think ye?” inquired Donald, brightening at the show -of friendship. Then an awkward silence followed. - -“Got a new horse, Donald,” blurted out Angus. - -“Aye,” returned Donald, the broad grin covering his face. - -“Want to see him?” urged Angus. Then they both started down the road -like the two overgrown country lads that they were. This spontaneous -act of kindness by Ferguson was prompted by his heart’s sympathy, -which had been penned up for weeks, rebelling constantly against the -insinuating remarks repeated by the carpenter. - -Fraser nursed his displeasure alone. Angus Ferguson, the silent, had -outwitted him. Davy Simpson had exposed his deceitfulness, and in a -short time his supposed strength as a member of the gossip club had -crumbled in a humiliating climax. - -At that moment, as he was regretfully acknowledging to himself the -failure he had made in gaining the confidence and respect of his -associates, his attention was drawn to a familiar vehicle which had -approached silently in the gathering darkness, and now stood in the -roadway before the blacksmith’s shop. “Good-evening, William Fraser,” -began Nicholas Perkins (for it was the polite tax gatherer, who lived -near The Gore), and Fraser walked out with his meekest walk to the side -of the wagon. Perkins patronized the shop over at The Gore, and like -all the rest from his town, halting before Davy’s place, kept upon -neutral ground, remaining in the middle of the road. - -“Fraser, I am told,” continued Perkins, as he hitched himself along to -the end of the wagon seat and leaned out over the wheel, to strike a -confidential attitude, “that there is no news from Cameron.” - -“Well, that’s about true, Mr. Perkins; no news, and they say that the -mortgage time is about up, too.” A little more encouragement, and the -carpenter’s sympathies were at once enlisted with the newcomer. - -“Well, it’s very bad, isn’t it, Fraser? They have been left to go to -the poorhouse. We didn’t think that of Cameron over at The Gore, but, -then, the expense will fall on your town, on The Front, of course,” -said Perkins, turning to get the full effect of his wise remark upon -Fraser. - -The two deceitful maligners were unconscious of the presence of a -figure which had come stealthily upon them in the darkness, and -standing in the shadow of the vehicle, was now listening to the -conversation. - -“Well, you ought to know, Mr. Perkins,” replied the carpenter in a -patronizing tone. “You will probably have the say in what will have to -be done,”—but before he could finish his remark, he had leaped into the -air, precipitated upon the toe of a heavy boot. - -[Illustration: “‘Now, Nick Perkins, if you have got anything to say to -me personally, just come down here in the road and I’ll talk to you.’”] - -“Oh, he _will_ have the say about whom they take to the county farm, -will he!” and Bill Blakely danced in a howling rage around the wagon of -his hated foe. “You hypocrite! You prowling tax-gatherer! You hunter of -the weak and homeless!” he yelled, and half climbing into the wagon, he -shook his fist in the face of the surprised tax collector, shouting -right into his ear, “Not while Bill Blakely lives and Andy Cameron is -away from The Front will you ever hitch your ring-boned and spavined -outfit to a post before the home of a Cameron on The Front! Now, Nick -Perkins, if you have got anything to say to me personally, just come -down here in the road and I’ll talk to you.” Bill was rolling up his -gingham shirt sleeves and again dancing around bear fashion, while the -discomfiture of the astonished Perkins was being hugely enjoyed by -the group, now enlarged by the return of Angus Ferguson and Laughing -Donald. Davy Simpson stood in the door of his shop watching the -proceedings over the rims of his spectacles. - -“Oh, you ain’t a-comin’ down, be you! Well, I didn’t expect you,” -retorted Bill. “Your kind fight the women only. You’re sneaking around -now to see if they ain’t a-gettin’ hungry, some on ’em over here. But -we’ll fool you, Perkins. Laughing Donald is a better man dead than -anything you can produce alive in your hull county at The Gore. And -Andy Cameron won’t let the wind blow a whiff of ye to the lee side -of his place when he comes back, neither. And that won’t be long from -now,” and old Bill threw his quid of tobacco after the retreating -wheels of the vehicle as Perkins drove away amid the jeering laughter -of the group. - -As soon as the tax gatherer was out of hearing distance, Bill turned to -Donald, and in a tone serious for him, said, “Donald, I am a-speakin’ -fer you. The Camerons are from The Front. Your brother Andy is a good -man; he is a friend of mine. He will be back soon, for that I am -telling ye. William Fraser, the carpenter, he’s been telling ye what -‘_they say_.’ Tell yer wife, Donald, when ye go home, what I say, -what Davy says, and what Angus’ wife says for him to say, and don’t -you worry about the mortgage.” Then Bill went over to the shop door, -and they thought he was going to confide something to Davy, but he -hesitated, finally bit off an enormous quid of tobacco and sauntered -slowly down the road homeward. - -Donald climbed the little hill by the shop, going away happier than he -had been in months. Angus Ferguson still stood in the road watching -him; then, looking behind him and catching sight of the carpenter -closing the door to the wheelwright shop, he turned his face to the -open meadow at the opposite side of the road, and slamming his straw -hat down upon his head, struck into his rapid circular gait down the -road, past the cheese factory toward his home. - -The quietness outside seemed unusual. Davy looked out of his shop door, -scanned the cinder heap, glanced at the puncheon seat, then at the -wagon parts: nothing was moving, nothing was doing, all was darkness. -The club had gone. He closed the door, put the bar across the staple, -inserted the padlock, turned the key, then climbed the hillside to the -back door of his house; his day’s labors were done. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -_In the Mining Camp._ - - -Time has sped all too swiftly at the little mining camp in the Cariboo -Valley. There is now only a month left of the two years set by Andy -Cameron for his return to his family, and all indications thus far -point to a tragic ending for the ambitions and loves of the unfortunate -Glengarry farmer. - -All this while the two persistent miners had worked with an unlessened -zeal at their unproductive diggings. Each night, by turn, one took from -the sluices the ore while the other climbed the hill overlooking the -scene of their daily toils and cooked before the cabin door the simple -evening meal. Many times since their coming into this mountain-locked -valley had the prospectors shifted the site of their gold diggings, -but to the little cabin, which stood at the foot of the steep rock -looking down into the gulch, they clung, held fast by many endearing -associations. Edmond LeClare,—for that was the name of Cameron’s -associate—had made a few excursions up the valley to another camp of -prospectors, who had come into the hills farther to the north, soon -after he and Cameron had settled upon their claim, now safely marked -from intruders by the evidence of their active operations. With these -new friends LeClare arranged that for an exchange in gold dust he was -to obtain from them the needed supplies of bacon and flour to replenish -from time to time the cuisine department of their household. - -Each night before the door of their cabin the miners discussed the -possibilities of their undertaking. Perhaps it was that they builded -their hopes upon the returns from a certain new lead they had struck in -the mountain’s side. The deposits of gold taken from the sluices that -day, if they should continue to be found, would surely bring to them -the wealth each sought so diligently. But alas, upon exploiting to -the finish each newly discovered vein of ore, the hopes of the unlucky -miners tumbled as did the castles builded by them with the toy blocks -of their childhood. - -Not a word of complaint was uttered by Andy in the presence of his -companion. His disappointment over the failure to obtain the coveted -wealth with which he had hoped to redeem his home and the happiness of -his wife and family was hidden within the recesses of his own breast, -though to the watchful eyes of the sympathetic Edmond the wretched -straits into which his friend had been thrust by the yet unprofitable -workings of their gold diggings were as easy to read as though they -had been in print upon the pages of an open book. While Andy toiled to -live and preserve his happiness, LeClare worked and courted hardships -and discouragements to deaden the misery of his soul. He had hidden his -secret well, but with Andy, as the end of the time of their compact -approached, the heart-breaking lack of success, the fading hope of his -cherished dream of wealth, the thought of having only a bitter tale of -failure to bear back to his faithful wife, Barbara,—each one of these -emotions had stamped their relentless impress upon his honest, bronzed -face, and while not a word had passed between the two prospectors on -the subject ever uppermost in the thoughts of each, yet for Edmond -LeClare, the unhappy plight of his companion was now the daily -inspiration which drove him on in renewed efforts. - -A few days more, thought Cameron, and he should tell his friend all. -Then they must divide the paltry store of gold dust between them, and -sadly at their parting and with a broken heart he would retrace his -steps as best he could to his home at The Front, and there tell of his -disappointment. - -[Illustration: “‘Speak. Edmond!’ gasped Cameron. ‘What have you behind -your back? It’s gold! gold!—I know it!’”] - -Thus Cameron argued as he sat upon the wood block before the cabin -stirring the fire, cooking the evening meal. He had thrown upon the -coals some dry branches, and through the gray smoke which enveloped him -he saw the figure of his companion coming toward him up the hill. “He -is early,” thought Andy, and he looked again, stepping aside out of the -blinding smoke. Edmond had paused down the hill a few rods from the -cabin, his right hand behind him, his head thrown back and eyes wide -open, glaring with excitement. - -“Speak, Edmond!” gasped Cameron. “Speak to me, boy. My God, speak! -What have you behind your back? It’s gold! gold!—I know it!” Rushing -together, the two companions sobbed in each other’s arms. - -“Look, Andy!” cried LeClare, through his tears of joy. “There are two -of them,” and he held up nuggets of gold larger than their combined -fists, “and there are plenty more of them in the same spot where these -came from.” - -Poor Andy sobbed in his happiness upon the shoulder of his mining -partner, and then, clutching him by the arm as though awakening from -a dream, he half sobbed, half cried: “He won’t get them now, Edmond; -he won’t get them now! Laughing Donald stays on where he is, and his -invalid wife will have a servant to wait on her. And Barbara—my wife, -Edmond, my wife, do you hear?—she shall have a new silk dress, a new -straw bonnet, Edmond, with red posies in it, and a new yarn carpet to -put in the parlor, my boy. And you shall come and live at The Nole. -You and Dan can go fishing, rain or shine, and I will get my lawyer -friend from the village to come out and see us; I’ll hire a carriage -for him, too, Edmond. And Nick Perkins, the tax collector——” Then, at -the mention of that name, Cameron slowly regained his composure, and a -stern, cold look passed over his features. “What day of the month did -you say it was, Edmond?” He had lowered his voice almost to a whisper. -Then, as LeClare answered, he continued: “The time will soon be up. -To-morrow, Edmond, to-morrow we must start for home—to-morrow we must -go.” - -LeClare half carried his companion, who was exhausted by the excitement -over the discovery, to the seat by the cabin door. The sun had now -gone down behind the mountain opposite, and in the autumn glow of this -golden sunset, alone with their Maker, they offered a silent prayer -over their evening meal. - -The miners sat facing each other at their scant repast. Their menu, at -all times limited, had now become stale and unappetizing. The salted -meats and hard, dried breadstuffs, to which was added the badly mixed -coffee, would no longer suffice. - -“We are rich, Andy,” laughed LeClare. “We haven’t much to boast about -on top of the table, but there’s a hundred thousand beneath it, old -fellow, and in the morning I will show you a crevice in the rocks down -there on the side hill where there’s twice as much more as we have here -waiting for you to take it out.” - -Cameron was at once happy and sad. Now that the great wealth in gold -had been found, his thoughts of home were strangely affecting him. “Two -years,” he murmured over and over again to himself. “Could his wife, -Barbara, have kept their little colony together during his absence? Had -Nick Perkins, the money lender, harassed his brother Donald or annoyed -Barbara for the payment of interest money, or could any of his beloved -have died?” A shudder at this thought shook his frame. Looking across -the table he encountered the kind, inquiring smile on the face of his -companion. “You are coming with me, my boy. Edmond, this is no place -for you;” but he saw the smile on the handsome, youthful face before -him fade into an expression of sorrow. “Cheer up,” he continued. “I -have no fine words for telling you what it’s in my heart to say, but, -though you never have told me why you came out here, I know you could -never have done wrong to anybody, and to Barbara’s home and mine you -are welcome as long as you can find it comfortable.” Tears were in the -eyes of the two strong men, but the darkness had hidden the signs of -their emotions. - -“Why, Andy, my old friend, I have never told you, have I?” suddenly -exclaimed LeClare. - -“No, I guess you never did,” replied Andy. - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -_LeClare’s Story: The Initialed Tree._ - - -“It’s only a boy and girl story, but, all the same, that’s why I’ve -been a gold digger. At our first meeting on the plains I said I was -from the Eastern provinces. That was all right for the time. The truth -happens to be, though, that our native homes are separated only by the -fifteen miles of intervening water channels of the Archipelago. When -you look to the southward from your farm on The Front, across the great -expanse of water, dotted here and there with wooded islands, and then -extend the view to the sloping sides of the irregular mountain range -which meets the eye, you may perhaps see there, reposing sleepily upon -the banks of the winding Salmon, a small American village. Four miles -down the river, after traversing for the full distance the cranberry -marshes of Arcadia, its waters are gathered into one of the nearest -channels of the St. Lawrence. The approach is so unpretentious that the -coming of its added volume is only recognized by the idler drifting in -his canoe along the shores of the Archipelago from the blue and gray -color line made by the mingling of the waters. For it is just here at -this line that the now docile mountain cataracts of the Adirondacks are -greeted by the turquoise-blue waters flowing seaward from the Great -Lakes. - -“In Darrington, this village on the Salmon, lived Lucy Maynard. Two -miles to the eastward, upon one of the fertile farms in the valley of -the St. Lawrence, was my home. There I was taught the law of the Ten -Commandments, living in the midst of sunshine and happiness and blest -with the love of a devoted father and mother. This is only a childish -romance, Andy, and perhaps you don’t care to hear it.” - -“Go on, Edmond,” came the reply. “You know my story. Now tell me -yours.” - -“At the age of seventeen I had been considered by my parents a graduate -from the district school, and at the beginning of the Autumn term I was -entered in the intermediate grade of the high school up in the village -of Darrington. This was an auspicious event in my hitherto uneventful -career. Living always upon the farm, my playmates and acquaintances -were of the neighboring farm children. Tramping the same way to the -district school-house, we had pelted the croaking frogs in the ditches -by the roadside, and fired stones at the rows of swallows swinging -upon the telegraph wires, and in the season we picked the daisies from -the nearby fields, handing them roughly, almost rudely, to the girl of -our choice amongst the strolling group of school children; while in -the Autumn, in the groves by the roadside, we hurled sticks high into -the chestnut trees, then scrambled upon our hands and knees at a lucky -throw we had made, each to pocket his catch. Simple and healthful were -our sports. Barefooted we stubbed our toes in the game of ‘tag’ and at -ball games in ‘Three Old Cats,’ where ‘over the fence is out.’ We were -each a star player of the national game. Happy children of the country, -Andy, primitive in thought, with gentle rural manners, acquired in the -religious homes of a Scotch Presbyterian settlement. Once a week upon -the Sunday, since childhood, I attended with my father and mother the -church at Darrington, and there wistfully, shyly, I looked across the -high backs of the family pews at the children of the villagers. In my -childish mind their lot in life was greatly to be envied and admired, -compared with mine. Their ‘store’ clothes and their pert, familiar -manner placed them in my estimation so far above my station in the -social scale that my deference toward them amounted to something like -worship. - -“In one of the family seats, across and several pews advanced from -ours, moving restlessly about between her father and mother, was a -handsome, large-eyed child, forever looking backward, and, of course -I fancied, often glancing in my direction. She was Lucy Maynard. For -years, and until I entered the village high school, we had seen each -other upon Sundays, across the backs of the seats, never a word -from either, nor a smile of recognition, Lucy’s large, brown eyes -looking toward me as she knelt on her knees upon the seat; then, as I -returned her wistful gaze, she would sink slowly down upon her mother’s -shoulder, burying her face from view. I saw her grow to be a young -lady, a village lady; she saw me an awkward country boy. In childhood I -dared to return her glances. As a boy of seventeen, when I found myself -that autumn in the village high school, in the same class with the girl -always before me in my youthful day dreams, I had not the courage even -to look in the direction of the seat which she occupied. - -“Everything seemed strange to me, Andy. I knew nothing in common with -the village boys. They played ball differently; they called their game -of ‘hide and seek’ by another name, and they didn’t even throw stones -at a mark as we had done in the country. Some of the boys tolerated my -backwardness and others turned up their noses at my awkward attempts -at being agreeable. But one silent champion I felt I always had during -those first weeks of my introduction into that school. Standing near -in the hallways, with others girls in our class, at recess, Lucy -Maynard, with that soulful look from those large, brown eyes, reproved -the boy whose rude remark was aimed at the defenseless, or the one -slowest at repartee in the gossip under discussion. - -“A few weeks of the Autumn term had passed, and the class in -mathematics had been requested to remain after the grades had been -dismissed, to receive further instruction from the professor. A board -walk extends the full length of the campus from the school-house, -ending in a turnstile at the street. The class dismissed, I hurried out -of the building. Rustling behind me in a quick step came a young lady. -I knew instinctively it was Lucy. - -“‘Don’t you think it is about time you had something to say to me, Mr. -LeClare?’ she said, as she came beside me. ‘I won’t think you are a bit -nice if you go on like this.’ I felt my face turning red, and I forgot -everything I had learned a thousand times before to say to her. Then -I begged her pardon for nearly stepping upon her, and I felt that I -was about to collapse. The turnstile came to my assistance, and, as -Lucy lived in an opposite direction from that in which I had to go, we -parted. I had regained enough of my scattered senses, though, to thank -her for having spoken to me. - -“The Winter term of school had come and gone, and the Summer closing -was at hand. The other boys in my class had soon overlooked my -misfortune, as they considered it, of having lived in the country, and -I was proud of the devotion of Lucy, whose name was now paired off with -mine, as were the other boys and girls paired off in our same class. To -celebrate the close of the school, the class proposed a basket party -to be held upon the bank of the St. Lawrence, each male member of the -party offering to row his share of the ladies in his separate boat down -the winding Salmon, a five miles jaunt. With Lucy at the helm, my craft -sped down stream propelled by a youthful spirit of pride and enthusiasm. - -“Dinner under the trees on Tyno’s Point was quickly over, and the young -admirers soon found some interesting object to engage their attention -in pairs. Lucy and I, always quieter when alone, had realized that -very shortly we would not see each other as often, and that perhaps in -the next year we should be sent away to different colleges. - -“And thus it came about that as we knelt carving our initials, one -above the other, on the trunk of a basswood tree, we queried: ‘Shall -we always grow up together in life as our names will always remain -together on this tree?’ Lucy said: ‘I will cut one stroke in the -frame to inclose our names which says we will,’ and she cut a strip -in the bark over the initials. Then she looked into my eyes with that -soul-pleading look, and I at once cut a line down one side. Lucy -immediately cut the mark for the opposite side, and three sides of the -frame were then formed. It was my turn, and I hesitated, for I knew -what it meant to both of us. I thought it too early for an engagement. -Lucy sank slowly down by the side of the tree, as she used to do from -the back of the seat in church upon her mother’s shoulder, and waited -for me to say something. I was wrong, Andy. I said we’d better wait -before we made the other stroke to complete the frame. There was an -awkward silence; Lucy toyed with the penknife she held in her hand, but -looked no more at the initials cut into the bark of the tree.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -_LeClare’s Story: The Christmas Tree._ - - -“The next Autumn she went away to the State Normal School, and -at vacation time a strange young man visited her at her home in -Darrington. Then, at the end of the Spring term, when she returned, one -of the boys in my class of the year before wrote me to the city where I -had gone to acquire a business training, that Lucy was engaged, and was -to be married in the fall. How many times I cannot tell you during my -first year in the city I had composed the letter to Lucy which I never -sent. At night, seated at the small stand I used as a writing table, in -the hall room, top floor, back, I went over for the thousandth time -the thought uppermost in my mind. Should I write to her and say, ‘Wait -for me, Lucy. I am working hard for the position in business which -will give me the right to claim you from the comfortable home of your -parents. You are my constant inspiration. For you I toil the whole day -with ceaseless energy. For you, to claim as my prize at the end, I have -sacrificed the associations of home, accepted the challenge thrown down -before me by the ambitious who, like myself, are striving to gain that -same position which would give to them the opportunity to say, “I have -won the race, I have reached the goal first, now I am entitled to the -prize.” For you, Lucy, one day I hope to return, and then to the music -of the old church organ, which we both have known from childhood, to -walk arm in arm from the scene of our innocent love-making to brave -together life’s voyage.’ - -“But no, Andy, I never sent this letter. Was it pride, I wonder,—were -my acts of silence dictated by an over-cautious mind, or were the -subtle workings of my heart’s emotions stayed by the reports which -had reached me that Lucy, my loved one, my ideal, could so doubt my -integrity, could so disregard the sacred ties of our friendship, -hallowed by the memories of sweet, childish innocence, as to accept the -attentions of another? I could not return at the Christmas holiday and -see another at the side of my beloved. At the summer vacation I still -clung to my work, mastering the details of the business with such an -alarming rapidity that the management would soon be forced to place -me in control of more important affairs. My incentive now for greater -efforts had changed from that which first had inspired me. Now I worked -to accomplish great successes, that, indirectly, Lucy might come to -hear my name mentioned, that she might be proud to say, if only in her -own heart, that she had once known me, and as boy and girl we had been -sweethearts. - -“True enough, Andy, she was married that Autumn. My invitation to -their wedding came, and with it a short note saying to try and come if -possible, and if not, she wished me all success in business, and that -my share of happiness might be as great as she had heard my career -was proving successful. Love with pride was contending in my heart. I -should not attend the wedding, I finally decided. She had heard about -my success. Did she not know I had done all this for her sake? Why, -then, could she not have waited a short two years? - -“Then love would steal quietly to the door of my troubled heart and -say, ‘You never told her of your resolves. You have never explained the -reason why you wished to postpone the carving of the line which would -have fully inclosed the initials in the bark upon the basswood tree -at Tyno’s Point. You have asked her to guess too much. You have been -unreasonable.’ - -“But pride would return, and, roughly pushing love out of the door, -proclaim in a loud, harsh voice, ‘She took up with another while I have -been true to her, and I am through. I have no care. One day she shall -hear, she shall know of my prominence, of my success.’ Then pride was -joined by selfishness within the chambers of my heart. The door closed, -and there they held control for a whole year. - -“Lucy and her husband were now living in Darrington, at the home of her -parents. Mother wrote me that the Sunday school to which I had belonged -all the years I had spent at home would celebrate the eve of Christmas -with the unloading of a Christmas tree, and wouldn’t I come home for -that and gladden the hearts of my father and mother, now growing old so -fast without me? That evening, the same day upon which I had received -the letter, love came tapping again at the door of my heart. This time -I opened to welcome the timid caller. ‘We are going home together,’ it -said, ‘to mother and to father, to Lucy and her husband. We will bring -the good words of cheer. This Christmas shall see a reunion at the old -home. It will seem good to be there, and to meet Lucy with her husband -at the church, and to see them happy in their love for each other will -put my soul at rest, and give me another chance to meet happiness -should the fates favor me.’ - -“A three years’ absence from the old place had made changes, and -most of all in myself. The change of dress from country to city, -the mannerisms acquired by constant mingling with strangers, had -given me the air which in the country is interpreted as being akin to -presumptuousness. My school friends approached me with an uneasiness -of manner, while the conversation with the older members of families -was limited to a few questions concerning my arrival and departure. -The ladies of the committee in charge of the entertainment flitted -about the Christmas tree, which was placed in front of the pulpit at -the head of the main aisle and at the end of the edifice opposite the -entrance. I had not yet removed my great coat, and, hat in hand, was -strolling with mother up the aisle to the family pew. We were very -early, and but a few had taken their seats. Some one of the group of -ladies surrounding the tree had called the attention of her co-workers -to the approaching stranger. At the instant one of their number darted -down the aisle. A cry of joy had escaped her lips, and in a frenzy of -hysteria she fell into my arms. It was Lucy Maynard. Tenderly I placed -her in the very pew from where I had so often stolen the childish -glances at the same brown, curly head and beautiful eyes of my Lucy, -who now lay in a dead faint upon the cushions. - -“‘You must care for her, mother,’ I said, as I turned hastily to leave. -‘I am going away; and, now that you know my secret, you must always -pray that my happiness may some time be returned.’” - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -_Adieu to the Mining Camp._ - - -“Soon after I gave up my position in the city. The money which I had -accumulated I determined to spend in trying to forget, to stamp out of -my life the truth of the love which existed between Lucy and me. She -was married—I was a gentleman. It was too late. God might right the -wrong which had been done, but in the meantime two souls were to suffer -apart. For another two years I kept away from home, my dear old parents -never urging me to return. I was successful in my business ventures. -Then sad news again came to me. A fatal illness had attacked my father. -I reached his bedside in time to hear him say, ‘Edmond, I would have -done the same were I in your place.’ We buried him in a plot by the -church, in the shadow of the steeple at the bidding of whose bell he -had so many years come to meeting, and now from the old belfry tower it -tolled the last sad notes for the departed. - -“Lucy and her husband had been traveling for her health, under the -advice of the old village doctor. A change of scene, he told her -husband, would do her good. A month I spent at the old homestead. -Mother had taken my hand in hers one evening, as we sat under the -porch, I in the same chair where, at the same time of the evening, -father read the weekly paper, and many a time, with his spectacles -pushed up on his forehead, and in his shirt sleeves, had engaged in a -heated discussion with mother over some editorial comment favorable -to his views on one of his pet subjects. ‘Stay with me, Edmond,’ she -said. ‘It won’t be long now. For nearly sixty years we have never been -separated for more than a day—your father from me. It—won’t—be—long.’ -I felt her grasp of my hand loosen, and she sank back into her chair. -Her left hand lay limp in the folds of her dress, an ashy whiteness had -suffused her face, a sweet, heavenly smile rested over her features. -Then I knew she had joined my father. Side by side their bodies rest in -the shadow of the village church, while their spirits have joined the -angels and are looking down at us now. - -“No one at the homestead nor in the village of Darrington knows of my -whereabouts, and to them I am as though I had joined my father and -mother. Now, Andy, you know my story. If you think I should return -with you to your home, I will—but on one condition—that my secret, my -identity, be sacred between us.” - -Andy promised. They arose to seek their couch of cedar boughs, but a -strange gray light was creeping through the valley. “Look, Andy,” cried -LeClare. “It’s morning!” - - * * * * * - -LeClare at once piloted his partner down to the cave-like opening in -the cliff. There he drew from a ledge in the shelving rocks at his -side, the loose earth and small stones he had placed there the night -before, covering from sight the rich deposits which were now plainly -to be seen fastened to the solid rock in great pockets of nearly pure -gold. Cameron was stunned at the sight. Wealth of such magnitude he -could not comprehend. Two days they worked to take from the ledge their -treasure. Then, having made ready, they bid adieu to the scenes of -their recent struggles and hastened on their way. They chose the same -direction through the mountains as that by which they had reached the -Cariboo Valley, heading, of course, for the house of the native at the -head of Soda Creek with whom they had left a part of their belongings -upon entering the ranges nearly two years previous. - -Cameron had explained to his friend the necessity that haste govern -their every act in their exit from the mountainous district, that even -at great inconvenience to themselves they must hurry with all possible -speed, first to overtake the wagon trains going down through the valley -on the western side of the range to the passes at Ashcroft; then, after -crossing the Rockies to the eastern slope, to join the pack train, this -to carry them farther homeward, till at Winnipeg they would reach the -railway. Then upon fleeing steeds of winged steel they would soon reach -home. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -_Nick Perkins the Money Lender._ - - -There is in every rural community one individual who in himself -represents an institution hated alike by the rich and poor, a necessary -evil, so to speak, and one for whom the law has had to define the -limits to which he may carry his questionable practices. The going and -coming of such a man in the community in which he lives is tolerated by -one class of residents who are familiar with his tactics, because of -the fear that some day they may be compelled to ask assistance from him. - -There is yet another class of the same populace by whom he is called -a great and good man; it is because of the power and influence the -possession of wealth has put in his hand, which he uses for his own -selfish advancement. Although these same people may at the very time -be paying him usury rates upon a valuation not half the true worth of -security, should they ask for a further advance, this suave citizen, -parading under the guise of a public benefactor, refuses them, and -continues subtly after the blight is upon them to weave his drag net -closer about the unwary victims, strangling them at last; then with a -well-feigned show of reluctance, he gathers in their property, which he -has obtained at one-half its correct value. - -Nicholas Perkins was the worthy exponent of this system in the Arcadian -district of which we are writing, and it was from him, through his -friend, the lawyer, that Cameron secured the loans of money for which -both his farm and that of his brother were pledged. - -Perkins lived over at The Gore, and through his office, as Government -tax collector for the county, he was afforded an excellent opportunity -to know of the business affairs of the people within his jurisdiction. -As a farmer at The Gore he was known to be prosperous. As a money -lender, there were many, both in his own town and through the county, -who had occasion to know of his shrewd bargaining, and as a Government -agent for the collection of the land-holders’ dues, his promptness and -diligence were unquestioned. He drove about the county in an open-back -light wagon, drawn by a bob-tailed, cream-colored nag. Behind the seat -a rope halter was traced diagonally across from side to side, fastening -to the iron braces which gave it support. A slightly corpulent man -was Perkins, and while jogging along the country roads his favorite -position was on the edge of the seat, one hand grasping the reins at -which he tugged at frequent intervals, and the other holding the iron -braces surmounting the seat’s back. He wore a faded brown derby hat, -and a few scattered reddish side-whiskers adorned his face. There was -no mustache which should have been there to hide the stingy, straight -lips, and an insinuating smile from which the children invariably -shrank played at the corners of his mouth. - -A social call from Nick Perkins was not taken as a pleasant surprise -in any of the homes throughout the county, and least of all in those -of the families at the rival town to his own, The Front. Perkins had a -very bad way about him, the neighbors said, because of the circumstance -that when a note he held—or it might be a mortgage upon a farm—was -overdue, they were sure to see the cream-colored, bob-tailed nag and -its owner driving slowly past, taking note of the condition of the land -and out-buildings. They said he counted the fence-rails so that he -would be sure they were all there when he got possession. Close with -his family and servants, a gift for charity’s sake would have been -considered a huge joke with him. A diversion in which he seemed most -to delight was that of keeping alive the dissensions existing between -the farmers of his own village and those whose lands met the river at -The Front. He was not a participator in any of their Saturday night -brawls,—not he,—and but for the suave, insinuating remarks he dropped -artfully in the hearing of certain ones at the two towns, their feuds -would long before have died out for lack of fuel. - -The rebuff administered to Perkins by Bill Blakely before the smithy -had smouldered in his mind, not dying out, but fanned by more recent -reverses to his plans till it had now blazed upward, determining to -consume for his personal satisfaction and the discomfiture of The -Front, the Camerons’ homesteads. With the head of the family away, and -no news of him in nearly two years, Laughing Donald unable at any time -to contend against him for his rights, and the stock and dairy sold -from the farms, he had figured, despite the fact that Barbara, the wife -of Andy Cameron, had paid the interest money promptly, that there could -be very little money left, and in a month more he himself would be in -possession. Thus he argued, but he reckoned alone and without a friend -of the absent Cameron, who lived a short distance from the smithy, -and to whose words of caution the self-important Perkins had given no -hearing. - -Almost daily now since the beginning of the month which marked the -end of the two years of the mortgage and the absence of Cameron, Nick -Perkins and his horse and buggy, known to every school child in the -country, drove along The Front. Turning upon the edge of his seat, -his disengaged arm extended along the brace surmounting its back, he -would deliberately look about him with that insolent proprietary air -so common among men of his class. Barbara Cameron witnessed this scene -for about a week. Laughing Donald, in his innocent way, had come over -from his place and inquired of her if she had any business with Nick -Perkins, because, he said, he drove past so often, he thought he might -have some “dealin’s with her.” - -[Illustration] - -The next day Andy’s Dan, simple-minded, but scenting trouble when he -saw Perkins drive past, hurried down to the gate at the road, and -closed and latched it securely. Inside of the house at the kitchen -table sat the silent figure of Barbara. Spread out before her was a map -of the British Columbias, showing the ranges of the Rocky Mountains. -Two years before, her husband had studied the same map, and hundreds -of times within the last few weeks she had pointed out to herself the -mountain passes through which he said he would journey in going to the -gold fields. For the thousandth time the thought came to her, Was he -dead? If he were alive and had found the hidden treasures he would have -returned to her before now. The cruel rumors which had reached her from -the neighbors that her husband had deserted her, she never allowed a -place in her troubled mind. If dead, she argued, then she could not -live there and see the poverty which must come to their families. She -would be happier to live anywhere else. Yes, happier to know for a -certainty that he was dead. - -Then the thought had come into her mind in a more definite form,—Why -not go to him? Perhaps, too, Andy were sick. A new thought this. A -strange light was now in the eyes of Barbara. Sickness she herself had -ever known, but the possibility of her husband’s robust constitution -succumbing to disease she had never imagined. Again she said over in -her mind. “He may have been on the way home. He may be lying with a -fever in one of those camps in the mountain passes he told me about, -which is here on the map.” - -In her excitement she arose and paced the floor: her features, set and -always stern, were now drawn hard. Looking from the window down to the -road, there she saw Nick Perkins passing, and looking, as she was able -to tell her husband later, as though he owned the farm already. She -stopped in the middle of the floor. With a quick movement she untied -the strings to her gingham apron, hung it on the peg by the kitchen -stove, told Dan to watch the biscuits baking in the oven, then retired -to her room. Soon she reappeared. Dan saw she had put on her Sunday -bonnet and her best frock. She held a tightly-rolled bundle under her -arm. Glancing quickly at the clock, as though her time was short, she -hurriedly told Dan to care for their one cow, and when he needed more -biscuits, to go down to Laughing Donald’s. Then, casting another hasty -glance around the rooms of the house, she went out at the back door and -down the road which led to the station. - -Dan did not watch her going. He knew where she had gone. - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -_Barbara in the Chilcoten Valley._ - - -The Autumn rains had now set in, and all the way up through the -Chilcoten Valley from Quesnel, the wagon train groaned and pitched -from side to side. The wheels rolled in mud up to the very hubs, and -the horses lagged in their traces, wearied by the excessive burden -they were urged to drag. Sandwiched in with the baggage, providing for -their comfort as best they could, were the several passengers. Upon the -front seat with the driver sat the only woman passenger of the company. -A figure tall and spare, a face thin and drawn, lines that were deep -cut, marked the features of a determined character. Her manners -were not engaging, and her fellow travelers soon understood that she -preferred to be left alone, not to talk. But they had observed through -the tedious journey up from Quesnel to the terminus at the head of -Soda Creek, that she had at intervals questioned the driver, each time -making him confirm his answer by repeating it a second time. - -“Yes,” said he, “I am sure that I brought your husband up this valley. -It must be nigh two years ago this Fall, and if I ain’t mistaken, him -and another man left some truck over at Dan Magee’s place, across the -bridge at the head of the trail. If ye want, mum, I’ll take ye over -that soon as I put the horses up.” They had now reached the end of the -wagon route and the passengers had dismounted in front of the building -which served as a lodging house, but Barbara sat awaiting the return -of the driver, who by his positive answers to her questionings, had -kindled the dying flame of hope in her heart, and already through her -weak frame new life coursed with a quickened throb. Up to this time, -over the trails by which she had come no definite information could -she obtain that her husband had passed that way. No encouragement had -she received to inspire within her that fortitude which would aid her -to withstand all fatigue, knowing that at the end of the journey she -should meet her beloved; and now she sat transfixed, afraid to discover -the truth of the report, fearing there might be a sudden ending of the -hopes she had allowed to spring up in her heart, that soon she should -see her husband, and the longing of her soul to be at his side would be -satisfied. - -She was presently rejoined by the driver of the van, which was left -standing at the side of the hotel, the team of four horses having been -detached for stabling. Together they went toward the home of Magee. The -dim lights were beginning to show through the gathering darkness from -the cabins of the scattered settlement. A thin mist was rising from the -dampness, and but for the feeble rays which filtered through nothing -would have been visible to mark the exact location of the house. To one -of those lights, coming as if from out the side of the hill, Barbara -and her guide came. - -“This is the place, mum. Dan Magee is a friend of mine, so you needn’t -be afraid to tell him what you have come about.” The door opened -cautiously in answer to the knock. “It’s all right, Dan,” said the -driver of the stage wagon. “Here’s somebody wants to see you.” The door -opened wide. Barbara and her friend advanced into the light. - -Seated around a table at the side of the room opposite the door were -two men, one young, bronzed, but handsome, the other older and weather -beaten, his beard untrimmed and hair unkempt. They looked toward the -door as the strange visitor of the night entered, then quickly, as if -from a sudden impulse, the older man stood up. His hand shook, as it -rested upon the table, and his eyes stood out as if they would leap -from their sockets. The tall figure of this silent woman had advanced -to the middle of the room, her eyes fastened upon the man standing -by the table. Slowly her two arms were raised, and stepping quickly -forward, in a dreadful whisper she ejaculated, “Surely, Andy, it is -ye!” Cameron also had recognized his wife, but he caught her in his -arms only to lay her tenderly upon the couch, for she had swooned away. - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -_The Mortgage Comes Due._ - - -On the first of October—at least so they said back at The Gore—Nick -Perkins was to take over as his own the Cameron farms at The Front. - -Since the flight of Barbara early in September Perkins had patrolled -the roadway almost daily, surveying from his wagon, as was his custom, -the home of Laughing Donald. Then continuing his round of inspection, -he would ride along past the farm at The Nole. There at the closed -gate, mute but defiant, guarding the house like a faithful dumb animal -in the absence of his master, Perkins found Andy’s Dan each time that -he passed. - -The cool evenings of the approaching Autumn had broken up the meetings -of the Gossip Club before the smithy, but the depression weighing upon -the sympathizers of their luckless neighbors at The Front was like the -ominous quiet preceding a storm which leaves disaster and despair in -its wake. - -Angus Ferguson had frequently lent a helping hand in the putting -away of the Winter’s supply up at Laughing Donald’s, and of late the -silence existing between Davy the blacksmith and Bill Blakely, and -their intense thoughtfulness whenever they met at the shop, was proof -positive to the observer that they understood that the responsibility -of averting the approaching trouble to their neighbor—which was also an -indignity aimed at the clans at The Front—devolved wholly upon them. As -the days passed the confident look on the face of Perkins so asserted -itself that at length while passing the shop he stared into the -blackness of the open door with the insinuating smile of the hypocrite. -Davy watched him from the grimy window nearest the forge, and by one of -his severe quieting looks he persuaded Bill Blakely to let him drive on -unmolested. After Perkins and his cream-colored nag had disappeared -up the roadway along The Front, Bill walked uneasily around the shop, -kicking about the floor the loose horse-shoes and fire tongs lying -at the foot of the anvil. Davy glanced at his friend over the steel -rims of his spectacles, awaiting an expression on the subject each had -silently argued for weeks, as he rounded the while on the anvil’s arm -the curve of a shoe to fit the farm horse lazily resting in the corner. -During the last minute before leaving Davy, the frowning wrinkles in -the face and forehead of Old Bill had disappeared, and encountering -the smith as he carried in the tongs, grasping by the red hot toe cork -the shoe to fit to the mare in the corner, his lips were copiously -moistened from the weed to which he was a pronounced slave. His goatee -was moving rapidly up and down, and Davy halted, for he knew a decision -had been reached. - -“To-morrow is the last day, Davy,” said Bill. “I’ll be on my way to -the town in the morning. If there’s no news from Andy Cameron it won’t -take you long to tell it to me when I’m passing.” Then he looked Davy -straight in the eye, winked his own blue eyes a few times, drew out -from his trousers pocket the plug of chewing tobacco, and was gone in -an instant. Davy made no remark to the neighbor who was the onlooker at -this little episode, the termination of a month of silent conferences -held between these two men, sturdy types of rural loyalty. - -“I thought Bill would do it,” mused the smith to himself. “He’s got -the heart, and a whole lot of other things that the people round here -don’t know much about. But Bill knows I know it, and that’s why he’s -been a-hanging around here a-wantin’ of me to say something. But I -knowed he’d say it all right,” and in his pleasure Davy hammered the -nail-clinches with double energy into the hoofs of the docile mare. - -Next morning, before the rays of the Autumn sun had changed the -whiteness of the hoar frost, shining like a coat of silver upon the -shingled roofs of the buildings, and covering with a mantel of gray the -green shrubbery and grass by the roadside, the smith unlocked the door -to his place, and stepped within its darkness. At the same early hour, -coming along by the cheese factory, down the side hill and through -the hollow, then over the plank bridge which crossed the whey-tainted -creek, the innocent cause of so much contention, now past the store at -the four corners, steadily there sounded in the early morning quiet the -echoing thump, thump, thump of the tread of Old Bill’s cowhide boots -on the hard roadbed. Davy recognized the step as it came nearer. Now -it was past the wheelwright’s place—he could see his old friend in the -roadway. - -“He’s not a-goin’ to stop,” thought Davy, but when nearly up to the -rise of ground just to the west of the shop, Bill half turned, and -with his hands deep into his trousers pockets, the peak of his faded -cloth cap pushed to one side, he stood half listening, half looking -for a sign from Davy. Anticipating the man, the smith had in his -characteristic way upon critical moments thrust his head around the -side of the open door, and with a nod motioned Bill onward. There was -no word from Cameron. - -Later in the day, driving along the road which turned at the four -corners into that which passed the smithy, was the familiar sight of -Nick Perkins and his bob-tailed horse. He sat as usual upon the edge -of the seat, his disengaged arm grasping the brace which formed its -back. He had put on his Sunday coat, and as he passed the door of the -shop Davy could see from his window by the forge the insolent smile of -triumph which Perkins cast in his direction. - -“When he meets Bill Blakely up there at the lawyer’s,” thought Davy, -“perhaps he’ll change that smile.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -_Blakely Consults Cameron’s Lawyer._ - - -In rooms upon the second floor of a business block, whose windows -looked down on the main thoroughfare of the country town, were the -offices of Cameron’s lawyer friend. The ground floor of this building -was occupied by firms in various lines of business, and for the -accommodation of the occupants overhead there was on the outside of -the building a stairway leading up from the street. Standing upon the -landing at the head of this stairway, outlined in shadow by the morning -sun against the whitewashed bricks of the wall, was the picturesque -figure of Bill Blakely, awaiting the lawyer’s arrival. - -“Ah, good morning, Bill!” said the latter as he reached the landing, -curiously eyeing his early caller. - -“Mornin’, Donald Ban,” returned Bill, as he followed him through the -door. Donald Ban was curious as to the nature of the business which -prompted this unexpected call from Bill. Often, to the discomfort of -Blakely, this same lawyer had opposed his counsel in the settlement -in court of the encounters he had figured in while disposing of the -men who came over from The Gore to argue the cause for the tainted -condition of the creek. Donald Ban had many times convinced the judge -and jury that Blakely had been the offender and must pay the costs, -at least, of the litigation. The lawyer had been impressed with the -candid, matter-of-fact way in which Bill had accepted these verdicts. -His manner upon each occasion seemed to indicate,—“Well, if the judge -and jury say so, I’m willing to pay the fees of a lawyer smart enough -to make them say so. Besides, I have had my fun out of it, too.” Then -he paid up without an objection. - -“Sit down, Bill,” said the lawyer in an encouraging tone, for down in -his heart he liked the man. Bill had removed his peaked cloth cap, -showing an intelligent head, covered with a heavy crop of unkempt, -straight, white hair. Donald Ban moved about the room making comments -on general topics, calculated to put his visitor at ease, but still -he was at a loss to account for the appearance of Bill at his office. -Suddenly Bill blurted out this question: “You are a friend of Andy -Cameron, ain’t you, Donald Ban?” - -“Yes,” replied the lawyer. “He is a client, and a friend of mine, also.” - -“Well, so am I a friend of Cameron, and you can write that in the -papers, too, when you make them out,” and Bill turned in his chair -facing the lawyer, who had now seated himself at the opposite side of -the office table. “Nick Perkins from The Gore,—you know him, too, I -suppose, don’t ye?” - -“Yes, I know him,” answered the other, still waiting for his clue to -the situation. Bill during his last question had reached down into -the lining of his vest and had taken therefrom an oblong package, -inclosed in a wrapping which showed the signs of much handling and -tied about with a soiled string. He laid it on the table before him, -then continued: “Donald Ban, you are a good lawyer, and for that reason -I never wanted you on my side. Mine was always the wrong side, and I -was a-feared that you would make the jury say it was the right side, -when I knew all the time it wasn’t. This is the time, though, Donald -Ban, that I am here to see you the first thing.” Bill had risen and -was leaning forward, his two hands resting upon the table. “In these -papers,” he continued, “these papers that Nick Perkins holds against -Andy Cameron, do they mention ‘on or before,’ or only mention that it -is ‘on’ the certain day they are due?” The lawyer, noting the intense -earnestness and excitement of Blakely, answered at once that the form -of the mortgage held by Perkins against the Cameron properties read -that “on or before the first day of October of that year, they were due -and payable, and——” - -“That’s enough, Donald Ban—all I wanted to know. It is now one day -before, and you write it down in the papers and tell Andy when he comes -back that a friend of his—you needn’t mind putting it down there as -who it was—put up the cash and beat the hypocrite Perkins out at his -own game. Count out what you want from that package, Donald Ban, and -give the rest to me. Perkins will be along pretty soon now, and when -he comes I want you to have it all ready for him to sign off his claim -against the Camerons on The Front.” The lawyer, taken so completely -by surprise, was at a loss to know what to say. “Cameron will be back -soon, mark what I am telling you,” Bill continued, “and if he has -made nothing, I will be a safer man for him to owe money to than Nick -Perkins.” - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -_Cameron’s Resolve._ - - -It was the end of September. The wind blew violently, the faint light -of the pale moon, hidden every other instant by the masses of dark -clouds that were sweeping across the sky, whitened the faces of the two -silent watchers in the chamber of the sick. Under the same hospitable -roof where Barbara had fallen exhausted at the feet of her husband, -she now lay prostrated by a raging fever. Standing near the foot -of the couch, alert for a sign of returning consciousness, Cameron -watched by turns with his friend the passing of the life of his devoted -wife, which now hung in the balance by only a slight thread. In her -rational moments during the days when the burning fever would be -lowest, Barbara had told the story of the persecution of the Cameron -family by Nick Perkins, the insinuating gossip set afloat by Fraser, -the carpenter, the defense in their behalf made by Bill Blakely and -the kindnesses offered them by Angus Ferguson and Davy Simpson, the -blacksmith. LeClare had divined the truth long before his friend -Cameron, that the relentless fever raging in the brain and body of the -proud, determined woman must soon burn her life’s taper to the end. - -All the available medical skill and the tenderest nursing would not -arrest the progress of the fever, and Cameron, too, at last despaired -of the life of his beloved. The doctors had told him that the end -was nearing, and now he sat by the side of the couch, never for a -moment removing his gaze from the face of the sick one. As the hour of -midnight approached, the eyes of the patient opened slowly, and the -look of intelligence brought a ray of joy to his heart. Feebly she -murmured as he bent over her to catch every precious syllable. - -“I am going now, Andy,” she whispered. “Say good-bye to Dan for me. I -loved you too much to hear them say you had deserted me, and that’s why -I came to find you. You won’t blame me, will you?” and he answered her -by smoothing her feverish brow. “Make me only this promise, Andy,” she -continued with great difficulty, for her strength was quickly going, -“that you take me back with you. And if Nick Perkins has taken our home -from us, then go direct to the graveyard by the little church.” - -Then the soft love light in her eyes faded out as she sank quietly -away into the pillows, her lips slightly parted and the long eyelashes -drooping from the half-closed lids. The proud spirit had taken its -flight. It was in the twilight of that mysterious country called -Death, and for a moment, as Cameron stood by the side of the cot, the -veil seemed to part from before the throne of Glory, and beckoning to -him to follow, he saw the spirit of his loved one borne safely hence -by the angels of peace. A great sob shook his frame, and as he stood -up, gazing at the lifeless form of his devoted wife, he exclaimed in -indignant agony: “Murdered! Their infernal gossip has done this, and -here, in the presence of the angel of death, I vow that I shall live to -avenge this innocent soul.” - - * * * * * - -Together they journeyed homeward. LeClare was greatly concerned over -the change which had taken place in his friend. The transformation so -suddenly accomplished in the man reminded him of the instances told of -how, from a terrible fright at the sudden approach of danger, reason -had been restored to the unbalanced mind. In the case of Cameron, -however, where before he had been content to follow, acquiescing -without objection or comment to the conditions which surrounded -him, awaiting always a suggestion from his partner to act out the -inclination which had arisen in his own mind, he had now suddenly -assumed the rôle of leader, and so naturally, it appeared, that no -indecision was manifest because of his recent acquirement of the -office. That primitive charm of manner, that honest, simple style -of the Glengarry farmer, which had so won the confidence of LeClare -when traversing the same route in going to the gold fields, had now -upon their return trip given place to personal traits of even greater -significance. The new development of character in his friend showed -LeClare at every turn the master mind awakening. Grief had rudely torn -away the mask from the uncharitable, had laid bare the deceit of the -untrue and the wickedness of the hypocrite. The death of his wife, -Barbara, had removed the object of his unselfish love, and to LeClare -it was very evident that the future had in store for those who figured -in the events consequent to Cameron’s leaving The Front, a destiny more -or less happy, according as they should be judged upon the return of -the prospector to his home. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -_The Return of the Gold Diggers._ - - -They were now nearing the station at a mile back from The Front. -Cameron had acquainted LeClare with the simple funeral arrangements -he wished carried out as soon after their arrival as possible. One -precaution he insisted must be taken, and that was, to allow no -indication to appear of their possession of wealth. The significance -of this request LeClare well understood. At the call of the station -stop for The Front, the two men alighted, and hurrying forward, -superintended the removal of the copper-lined casket beneath whose -sealed cover was the body of the courageous woman that so lately had -gone in search of the husband who now would live to do for those in -kind who had done for the departed. - -Cameron stood by the side of the rough box upon the platform, as the -noise from the fast disappearing express train grew faint and died away -in the distance. For a moment he was lost in thought. Knowing him to -be in the company of Cameron, the keeper of the small depot approached -LeClare, and with a jerk of his head toward a farm wagon and driver -cautiously nearing, as if fearing to obtrude, he said in a hushed -voice,— - -“It’s Andy’s Dan. He’s been a-waitin’ fer ’im.” - -Twice a week and sometimes oftener during the October month, so Cameron -was afterward told by the neighbors, Andy’s Dan was seen regularly to -drive back to the railroad station, and there remaining at a respectful -distance, watch for a passenger who might alight from the through train -from the West. Then seeing no familiar face to reward his coming, he -would turn away and drive back to the farm at The Nole to come again -another day. - -Startled from his reverie by the remark of the station master, Cameron -turned to see the conveyance drawn up by the platform at his side. -Andy’s Dan alighted from the vehicle and clasped the outstretched hand -of his bereaved brother in silence. Still without exchanging a word, -they walked over to the side of the long box. Then, as if suddenly -remembering, Dan looked into his brother’s face, a sad smile playing -upon his features. - -“We can take her home, Andy,” he said. “Bill Blakely told me to tell ye -that when you come.” - - * * * * * - -In the centre of the burying-ground, set back from the roadway and -raising its spire heavenward above the tombstones at either side, -the church at The Front reposes among the graves. One by one these -monuments had been reared, till now they marked a place where a loved -one had been taken to rest from each of the families at The Front. - -A mound of freshly dug earth, thrown up upon the sod in one corner of -the inclosure, told of a newly made grave. A cold November rain had -been falling, accompanied by a chilling wind, which came in fitful -gusts. The over ripe, deadened stalks of the golden-rod beat against -the board fence, rapping at intervals like the weather strips upon a -deserted house. The drops of water fell aslant from the eaves of the -church roof, and a horse, meagrely covered, shivered beneath the shed -at the rear. Bill Blakely had placed in a convenient corner of the -shed the pick and shovel he had been using, then backing his horse -from under cover, he drove over to the farm at The Nole. Information -had spread among the neighbors that Cameron had returned to The Front -bringing with him the remains of his wife. No further news were they -able to gather, but to Davy Simpson, Angus Ferguson, Bill Blakely and a -few others, Cameron had sent a special message, saying that as friends -to himself and the departed he wished them to be present at the funeral -to take place from The Nole the following afternoon. - -Meanwhile Cameron had also dispatched his friend LeClare with Dan -as his driver, bearing a note to his lawyer friend up at the county -village. To them the import of the note appeared to be nothing more -than a request for his friend to attend upon the following day, but -later, at the farm, as he saw the lawyer place upon the coffin in the -front room a beautiful wreath of the purest white lilies, LeClare -knew that Andy’s orders had been telegraphed to the city. The best -undertaker the county afforded was in charge of the details, with -instructions to slight nothing in the arrangements and the assurance -that his bill of expenses would be promptly met. - -Cameron greeted his friends by a cordial grasp of the hand. A new -dignity of manner impressed itself upon his old neighbors. His bearing -at this time was that of a man of a great reserve force, softened -through the medium of sorrow. Kindly he thanked the few friends who -had come to him, and together upon the arrival of the clergyman -they assembled in the front room to fulfill the last request of the -departed—that, surrounded by her friends and family, her pastor should -offer a prayer, and then in the graveyard by the small church near her -home they should lay her at rest. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -_Cameron Outlines His Policy._ - - -The Winter drew on apace. At Laughing Donald’s carpenters and workmen -had been busily employed within and without the house for weeks. Soon -the premises took on a finished look, and the workmen departed as -mysteriously as they had come. In the new home, the wife of Laughing -Donald presided, directing her servants with that natural grace and -dignity which is the certain indication of a lady born. Andy Cameron -since his return had not spent a night at his house at The Nole, and -now LeClare and Dan also joined the family at Laughing Donald’s. - -Soon after the return of Cameron, Bill Blakely and he drove to the -county town and to Donald Ban’s, the lawyer’s. Together they climbed -the stairway to the office each had sought before. Bill leading the way. - -“Morning to ye, Donald Ban,” said Bill, in a voice unusually soft for -him. The lawyer asked his callers to be seated. “You know, don’t ye,” -continued Bill, as he clutched his cloth cap, “that I said he’d be back -soon,”—nodding toward Cameron, who had seated himself comfortably by -the table, apparently having no uneasiness about the outcome of the -consultation. - -“Yes, Bill,” answered Donald Ban. “You have the right stuff in you to -make any man proud to be called your friend, and you not only outwitted -your old acquaintance, Nick Perkins from The Gore, causing him the -most bitter disappointment of his unenviable career, but you performed -a service which, at the time, you did for a poor but honest neighbor. -We have all understood your motives thoroughly, and in acting for Mr. -Cameron, when I return to you the amount of money which you advanced -to save for him his home and good name, I can truthfully say that with -it you have the gratitude of the wealthiest and most distinguished -citizen of the County Glengarry.” - -Blakely looked from one to the other, not knowing whether he had heard -or understood aright. Cameron smiled assuringly as he slapped his old -fighting friend upon the shoulder. “Bill,” he said, “we will be very -busy this Winter and all next Summer, you and I. We will let the waters -of the creek flow on to The Gore unmolested. We will let Fraser, the -carpenter, go on with his tattling about the neighbors. We will keep -them all guessing, Bill. My friend LeClare and I want to see you very -soon at Laughing Donald’s—and, by the way, Bill, don’t mention the -remark you heard Donald Ban make about some friend of yours having a -little spare money.” - -Bill looked at Andy with the old mischievous twinkle in his eye, his -goatee began to move up and down, and he was in his old time mood -again. “Well, Andy,” he replied, “they say these lawyers often tell -more than the truth, but anyhow, when you and your friend run a little -short, you know where Bill Blakely lives,” and he went out of the door, -telling Cameron he could find him at the grocery when he was ready to -return. - -Cameron and his friend were left to themselves for the first time since -their home-coming. His visit to the lawyer was for a twofold purpose: -the first, to fulfill the legal requirements necessary in discharging -his money obligations to Blakely; that disposed of, he proceeded to lay -before the lawyer the plans he intended at once to put into execution. - -“Donald Ban, with your approval and under your suggestion, and also -urged by necessity, I made the venture against overwhelming odds which -fate has seen fit to reward by giving me the possession of a great -wealth in gold. You also know that in the obtaining of one coveted -means by which I am enabled to relieve the suffering and discomfort -of others, I have sacrificed the companionship of her through whom -the blessing to accrue from this new-found wealth would have been -dispensed; and now that my life has been clouded by sorrow, and -I shall no longer enjoy the home where together we strove in an -atmosphere hallowed by an unselfish love to help carry the burdens of -our fellow beings, this same injustice of things—the uncharitableness, -the unkindness from those of whom we expect comfort while in reverses, -only to be by them the most neglected—has aroused within me emotions -that have been the means of bringing before you to-day a different Andy -Cameron from the one who before was acting merely by the suggestion of -others. My purpose in the future at The Front and in Glengarry will be -to see justice charitably dispensed: the weak shall be made strong, and -from him at The Gore, who has grown powerful by his artful practices -against the unfortunates in our community, I will take and return to -them whom he has so oppressively wronged.” - -Donald Ban was astonished at the change in the man before him, but he -was quick to recognize the genius of a quickly developing brain. - -“I presume, Cameron, you have made reference to Nick Perkins, who has -been more or less successful in bringing a great deal of unhappiness -into the families residing in your neighborhood.” - -“Remarkably true you have guessed, Donald Ban, and as my legal adviser, -you are entitled to my confidence in so far as it pertains to the -expenditures I have in contemplation at my homestead on The Nole and -among some of my neighbors at The Front. Roughly speaking, you have -deposited for me in the several banks down in the city three hundred -thousand dollars. As nearly as LeClare and myself can figure, that -amount represents our individual worth. Donald Ban,” continued Cameron, -thoughtfully tapping the leathern topped desk at which they sat, “Nick -Perkins has extracted from the people of our town at The Front in the -neighborhood of thirty thousand dollars. That amount he shall pay back -to these same farmers during the present Winter and the coming Summer. -With fifty thousand dollars I can erect a mansion upon the site of my -farmhouse at The Nole. Upon its completion Nick Perkins will buy this -palace. He shall buy it, Donald Ban!”—Cameron banged the table with his -clenched fist—“and eighty thousand dollars will be my price. At that -time thirty thousand of the amount will already be in the pockets of -the people whom he has harassed for years, and the actual cost of the -house you will deposit for me again in the bank from which we will draw -for expenses during construction. This much you are to know from me, -and I am aware my confidence in you leaves it a secret between us. I -will bid you good morning, and thank you, Donald Ban. My home is with -Laughing Donald.” - -[Illustration: You know where Bill Blakely Lives.] - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -_The Ice Raft._ - - -The beginning of Winter found Cameron and LeClare comfortably settled -in the refitted home of Laughing Donald; and under the gentle yet -queenly direction of his wife the members of the new household lived -amidst surroundings of comfort and domestic happiness. - -In one end of the house a small room with windows looking out upon the -great river had been furnished as an office for business. In this room -many conferences with strangers to The Front had been held of late, and -here LeClare and the architect from the city carefully examined the -plans from which would be builded the House of Cariboo. To his friend -Cameron had given in charge that part of his project which required -the experience of one who was familiar with the accompaniments of homes -builded for beauty of architecture, displaying a refinement of taste; -but for himself, as he explained, he wished to reserve the privilege -of dispensing among his neighbors the expenditures for materials which -could be supplied from their farms while building the mansion as -proposed. - -In this same little room during the Winter days Cameron and LeClare -often visited together. They talked of their plans for the future, of -the task before them in the Springtime, but never of the camp in the -Cariboo, nor their returning, which so sadly had been ended. At one -of these conferences, on a stormy day of early Winter, as LeClare, -seated before the fire in the grate, was reading from a selection of -new books he had bought while upon one of his recent trips to the city, -he was suddenly interrupted by his friend, who till then had been idly -standing, one hand upon the window pane, the other fumbling the watch -chain at his vest. - -“I have just thought, Edmond,” he began, “as I have looked out upon -this icebound expanse, this great river which for months of the year -is the busy highway of so much traffic, that now it is bound, like -ourselves, to await the pleasure of the season, inactive, only waiting. -Perhaps you may think my deductions commonplace, Edmond; but hear me -through. Since the beginning of Glengarry’s history there have been, -to my knowledge at least, no innovations to disturb the serenity of -the established customs of our people, and these customs are few to -relate. In the Summer we labor a little and house our crops, that in -the Winter we may comfortably live to consume them. The following year, -and the years to come, the same highly exciting programme is certain to -be followed. For the coming Summer we have provided the diversion of -the building of our mansion, but for the lonesome days of our snowbound -season we have not provided. Why not advertise our Summer engagement at -The Nole, and interest our friends in advance?” - -Soon after the conversation held in the library at Laughing Donald’s -a team hitched to a farmer’s sled was slowly passing in the roadway. -The driver, carefully selecting an opening between the deep snowdrifts -piled high on the river embankment, turned his horses abruptly to the -left and drove them down the incline and out upon the frozen river. -Quickly he dumped the load of cobblestones in a heap upon the snow and -ice. Thus returning at intervals of an hour each day, Bill Blakely -was engaged throughout the week, till irregular lines of stone heaps -covering a considerable area of the river fronting Cameron’s house -stood as monuments to his labors. - -Since Cameron and LeClare had taken up their residence with Laughing -Donald speculation over their reported doings was at fever heat in -the neighborhood. Fraser, the carpenter, was frequently called on by -his friends from The Gore, but his own lack of information concerning -Cameron’s future plans aroused to a greater curiosity the contingent -from the adjoining town, of which Nick Perkins was the acknowledged -leader. Still smarting from the humiliating blow over his failure to -secure the Cameron homestead, Perkins nursed his wrath in silence. -A resolve had already formed in his evil mind to pursue even to the -finish the destinies of the Camerons at The Front, and already his -machinations could be seen at work in the questions he directed at -those he met as he drove along the snow-heaped roads. - -It was on a Saturday, and Perkins was on his way to the county town, -when he met Bill Blakely coming up into the roadway, after having -deposited a load of stones upon the ice. Filled with wonderment at what -he saw, he inquired of Bill in his blandest tones what he was drawing -the stones for. - -“Well, Perkins,” replied Bill, “to be truthful with you, it’s for a -dollar a load I am doing it principally, but another good reason is -that Cameron has asked me to do it. If you think you’d like the job, -go ask Cameron. They say his credit is good. Even you ought to know -that, Mr. Perkins,” and Bill passed on without saying good-day to him. -Perkins bit his lip and made no reply, but drove on to the village. - -Other farmers from the neighborhood soon began hauling to the dumping -grounds on the river facing the farm at The Nole. Angus Ferguson had -hauled to Cameron’s ice raft, as he called it, the old stone wall which -had for so long disfigured the view in front of his house. Stopping -each evening at the little office at Laughing Donald’s, he received, -like the rest, a dollar a load for the number of trips he had made -during the day. - -The work of the farmers whom Cameron had seen fit to employ, and who -seemed to vie one with another in quickly disposing of the useless -materials collected about their farm-yards and disfiguring their homes, -progressed so rapidly that ere long whole acres of the frozen river -front resembled a congested lumber yard. The fabulous prices paid to -them by Cameron for the worthless accumulations of their farm-yards, -which he had placed upon the ice to be carried away with the floods in -the Spring, caused a storm of comment, the echo of which came over from -The Gore in volumes of inquiries. - -“Where did Cameron get his money?” they queried. “And why can’t we get -a share of it while it lasts?” For Nick Perkins was heard to remark -that “a fool from his money was soon parted.” - -While the commotion among those engaged in hauling at The Front -was still in progress, Bill Blakely and Cameron were paying their -respects to certain residents of The Gore. To many of these gentlemen -favored by a call Bill was attached by tender recollections of former -fistic encounters at the four corners. His welcome, of course, was -not always the most cordial, but when Cameron announced very quietly -that Mr. Blakely wished to buy a few thousand of their best cedar -fence posts at a price which could not be disputed, they soon became -more communicative. “Deliver the posts at Mr. Blakely’s, beginning -to-morrow,” said Cameron, continuing without any further parleying: -“You will be paid by the hundred. We will drive, Bill,” and Cameron was -through with the bargaining. - -During the next week or two, from his old-time enemies at The Gore, -Blakely had purchased for himself, for Angus Ferguson and for Davy -Simpson a supply of the best fence posts the county could boast. -“Enough,” as Bill said, “to keep Nick Perkins busy for three months -a-countin’ them, the next time he found a mortgage due on a Cameron’s -farm over by the way of The Front.” - -In all the transactions of Cameron thus far since his return Nick -Perkins was able to discover a piercing dart, truly thrown at the -hypocrisy of his own career. The subjects he had chosen from among -the people upon whom to lavish such expenditures of money were always -certain to be those who had either been oppressed by him in the past -or else considered themselves his natural enemies. Perkins knew of -the housebuilding to commence in the Spring at The Nole, for already -Blakely was completing the contract he held to supply the stone for -the masonry of the foundation walls. Another fact which galled Perkins -to madness was that the farmers who had been kept constantly employed -were, in every case, those against whom he himself held a mortgage, and -he saw very plainly his prospects for eventually gaining their property -daily slipping more surely from his grasp. - -The Spring season had now arrived, and up at The Nole a small army of -workmen were engaged in removing the buildings which had once been -occupied by Cameron as his home. The return of April’s hot sun and warm -winds had loosened the grip which for months held the icebound river -captive between the islands and shore, and suddenly one day, as the -workmen had quit for midday lunch, the long-delayed alarm was sounded -that the river was breaking up. Down the main boat channel, as far as -the eye could see, a forward movement was on. Great squares and chunks -of ice lunged and dipped, then plunged forward again like the wheeling -and turning of an army of soldiers. Over on the shores of Castle Island -mammoth cakes the size of the roofs of the buildings climbed upward -till they broke and toppled over by their own weight, crunching and -thumping and groaning, till a dull, rumbling noise like the approach of -an earthquake could plainly be heard. - -Opposite to The Nole, extending in a zig-zag course through the piles -of debris, ran gaping cracks in the ice. All the Winter the irregular -heaps of ugliness which composed the freight on what was now called -“Cameron’s Charity Raft” had reminded those who passed that way of -the original methods employed by one man to relieve the condition of -his brother workers. The useless stone heaps served no purpose upon -the farms from whence they were taken, and the discarded wagon parts -and dilapidated farm implements which Cameron had purchased from his -neighbors had served them only as an encumbrance and nuisance. Now they -soon would be beyond annoying the sight, and their last opportunity for -usefulness had brought joy and peacefulness into many a home along The -Front. As the immense ice floe passed almost intact down the channel, -beating its way amidst the warring, jamming ice cakes, a ringing cheer, -led by old Bill Blakely and joined by the company of workmen, went up -for the man who had brought fortune and good cheer into their midst. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -_LeClare to Prospect in Arcadia._ - - -In the early months of Spring, LeClare was busily engaged with the -architects and builders at work upon the mansion at The Nole. He viewed -the undertaking from day to day, which for weeks seemed but a shapeless -pile of board and scantling; but, as the work progressed, from out the -chaos and confusion could be seen the growing outlines of the stately -columns and the extending roofs of many gables. - -Nature had spread her mantle of green abroad, and from the islands -of the Archipelago nearest the shore LeClare saw each evening, as he -strolled along The Front, the shadows of the dense foliage mirrored -upon the placid waters of the river. Then, as the sun sank lower in -the west, and in the gathering twilight, as the evening advanced, the -boats of the fishermen stole out from their sheltered coves and headed -for the spearing grounds away upon the shoals to the southward. - -Andy’s Dan was little concerned about the building operations going -on upon the site of his former abode. He held aloof from the workmen, -who were strangers to him, and in his silent, reticent way he resented -the intrusion upon the quiet and primitiveness of the neighborhood. In -LeClare, however, he had found a congenial companion, and upon several -occasions he had confided to his new friend, whom he bound over to -secrecy, the exact spot over by the dead channel where he hooked the -shining maskinonge as he rowed near the rushes by the deep waters. - -At this time in their undertaking LeClare was finished with the details -of the work upon the mansion which he had agreed with his friend to -superintend. A few days since a beautifully designed river skiff had -come up from the city, and as Cameron and LeClare stood talking upon -the veranda at Laughing Donald’s, they could see at a distance of a few -boat lengths from the shore Andy’s Dan rowing the new craft up and down -the channel. Now it flew through the waters in answer to the long, low -sweep of the spoon-shaped oars, and now like a race-horse, responding -to the spurs in his side, it sprang ahead in quick bounds as the short -strokes of the oarsman grappled with the surface of the water. After -they had viewed for a time the skill of the aquatic sportsman, LeClare -turned to his friend Cameron and thoughtfully said: - -“Andy, should you wander over there to the southward, past the islands -of the Archipelago and the shoals of the marshes, and then follow -the mountain streams up their circuitous windings, you will come at -last to their head, the fountain from which continually spring the -waters, clear and pure, which unite to form the rivers. Down the course -toward the finish of their run sometimes the sparkling clearness -of these streams has become changed to a dullness of color by the -conditions of the country through which they have passed, and their -life and transparency are gone. So it must be with the streams of -life. At first the waters down which we glide are clear and bright, -but later our course perchance may lie through a troubled country, -and in the shallows we encounter the snags which wreck our pleasures -in passing. For a time we endeavor to clear the stream down which we -have been floating by throwing about us on every side that panacea to -unhappiness, speculation or adventure. With me, Andy, the fountain of -my happiness lies in the direction of the brooks from the mountains. -You are at home, and you have been drinking each day of the clear -waters from the springs of true life, and now it’s my turn. I’m going -back, following the stream up to that fountain where my first happiness -began. Out there on the river my craft awaits me, and with your Dan and -mine we will prospect this time in Arcadia.” - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -_Lucy Visits the Archipelago._ - - -As the best laid plans of man fail often to succeed against the -inevitable, so, too, it is often that the intervention of time makes -possible what before Fate had willed otherwise. - -Lucy Maynard still resided with her parents in the village of -Darrington. Her married existence had been punctuated by the fatal -illness of her husband, leaving her widowed while yet in the first year -of her wedded life. Seeking no new acquaintances, she sweetened the -atmosphere of her home, while her presence spread an angelic glow among -the circle of her friends. Hers was now a sad, sweet face, illumined -by a smile which ever quickly sprang to her lips and as fitfully died -away. In those large, hopeful eyes, so frankly turned upon you, was a -look of sadness, as of a love unrequited. - -Early Summer had come again, the schools were closing, and with the -returning of friends who had been at colleges in distant cities a flood -of sweet recollections of years not so long past came to Lucy. - -“It was down the winding Salmon,” she mused to herself. “Oh, how well I -remember, Edmond at the oars and I in the stern of the boat, trailing -my fingers in the water and thinking of the future—yes, that same -future which has brought me so much unhappiness already. But it was -of my own bringing. Pique and disappointment, they, too, played their -share in my short drama. That love which was the cause of urging me on -into the bonds that restrained me from turning back again to the object -of my only true affection is the same love which now is fanned into a -new life as often as the incidents arise which bring back the memories -of the past. On the morrow I will indulge my longing. It will be the -anniversary of that day when cruel fate changed love into foolish -resentment, so that we drifted apart, Edmond from me. With Caleb, our -old family servant, my confidant, my trusted friend, I will follow the -winding Salmon to the same point of land, and there, resting within the -basswood grove, as we did on that day, I will look to find again the -tree upon which we carved our initials as we sat beneath its shade.” - -The sun shone bright upon this day in June, and as Caleb rounded the -point of land which lay in the shoals by the marshes he looked backward -over the shoulder nearest shore, carefully selecting a landing. Lucy -the while watched intently a boat pushing out from a bay farther up -the shore. A swiftly gliding boat it was, long and set low in the -water. Graceful lines swept from the bow, and, touching the waves at -the oar-locks, rose again to gently curve into the rudder posts at the -stern. Two men were occupants of the boat, which Caleb assured Lucy -was new in those waters. The man at the oars bent to his work, and in -response to his long, swinging strokes the boat quickly disappeared -from sight, passing through a line of thin rushes and making for an -island across the Schneil Channel. - -Lucy appeared strangely affected. Caleb had now beached his skiff in a -sheltered cove, and was waiting, after having called to his mistress -the second time to step ashore. The man lounging in the boat of the -strangers, and guiding at the stem the craft as it stole swiftly away -from shore, Lucy followed, held by a strange fascination, till he was -lost to view. - -Upon Tyno’s Point there was a small tavern run for the accommodation -of people fishing and hunting thereabouts, and a few cottages were set -back from the shore fronting out upon the expanse of water looking -toward the north bank of the Archipelago. Caleb went to exchange gossip -with the fishermen standing about the shore, while Lucy strolled alone -toward the basswood grove. - -Still and quiet was everything in Nature. The bright beams of the -noonday sun fell in quivering rays across the sight. Out upon the river -not a ripple disturbed its glassy surface. From up the Schneil Channel -came the chattering noises of a water hen, and the piping of snipes, -who called from the rush beds farther up the river. Overhead in the -trees a pair of golden robins sang as they builded their nest far out -on an overhanging limb. The bumblebees hurried past on their way to the -blossoming clover patch, and the distant call of a loon came from over -the waters. Lucy stood beneath the high branching trees, and in the -distance, toward the village of Darrington, she saw the weather-vane of -the church steeple glistening in the sun. - -“It must be near here,” she thought. “Yes, it was at a tree-trunk like -the one in yonder clump,” and thither she went, trailing her leghorn -hat by the ribbon strings through the tall grasses. Sweet was the -picture of grace and beauty left alone with her thoughts of love. “Yes, -it was here. Yes, yes, this is the tree, for there are the marks, the -initials we cut.” - -Suddenly she paused in her delight, for she had made another discovery. -Some one had been before her. Around the foot of the very tree, and -leading away from it toward the river bank, the grass had been recently -trampled. Still in her surprise, curiosity led her to follow the path -through the grass to the shore. There she saw the fresh imprints upon -the sand. Immediately she recognized the small bay, whose extending -bank had partially concealed the strangers as they rowed away earlier -in the day. - -A wistful, excited look had come over the childlike face of Lucy. One -hand pressed her heaving bosom, while with the other she clung for -support to a bending alder tree. Thoughts were in her mind that she -dared not entertain—an apprehension that she had but just missed seeing -the lover of her childhood, who possibly had returned like a spirit -from heaven to renew the anniversary of a time long past, but ever -fresh in memory. It was then as she stood, her frail figure swayed to -and fro by the flood of passionate recollections, that coming from -behind her sounded the voice of Caleb, her protector. - -“We will row away by the Schneil Channel, Lucy,” he said, “and, going -by the rush banks, touch at the Caristitee Island. The old chief of the -tribe of the St. Regis will be glad at our coming, and once more he -will say to us that he is the friend of the palefaces.” - -Caleb True lived quietly on in his way, which called for no criticism, -aroused no comment, enjoying the while the respect of those who knew -him. He might have been the miller, the town gardener or an unassuming -deacon in one of the churches, but, as it was, he had lived very long -in the family of Lucy’s father, tended the garden and cared for the -household during the week, and upon the Sunday he proudly officiated -as sexton in one of the village churches. To Lucy he had been a second -father, and to him in childhood she went for sympathy as she grieved -over some fancied injustice done her. Caleb had known the romance of -her school days, and he was now in full possession of the innermost -thoughts of her soul, although she had not confided to him that the -longing of the returned love of her girlhood was driving her forward in -a mad desire to discover his whereabouts. - -While Caleb chatted with the fishing guides and river men at Tyno’s -Point he gained the information that for several days past the same -quickly speeding boat observed by Lucy had passed and re-passed -among the islands, going from place to place with a restlessness and -uncertainty of route altogether unusual among the frequenters of the -perch banks or the haunts of the wily pike. Once they had touched at -the Point, but only to inquire of the landlord for a lodging should -they wish to return. “Handsome and strong,” they said that he was, “and -with the air of a city stranger; but again swiftly they glided away, -and into the nearest rushes, where soon was hid from them the beautiful -skiff of the boatmen, but they saw over the tops of the swaying reeds -the heads of the wandering oarsmen as they crossed to the Caristitee, -and from there later, as the darkness came upon them, the light of -their camp fire shone on the point of the island.” - -At once Caleb confided to Lucy the hopes which had risen within him, -and together they hurried to pursue them. Soon they had crossed the -Schneil Channel. Onward they sped, in their haste going through the -narrow passes cut by a current of swift running waters feeding the -expanse of a broad lagoon. Meanwhile Caleb, a poor match for the -fleet-winged oarsmen who unconsciously fled away in the distance, was -fast exhausting his strength. - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -_Under the Initialed Tree._ - - -Coming at last to the island, they saw the remains of a camp fire, -and fluttering by the side of the charred rocks Lucy discovered among -the ashes the remains of a half-burnt parchment, upon which had been -written an address, and still upon the fragment, but discolored, was -a name which to Lucy had been lost but never forgotten. To Caleb in -breathless haste she ran with the paper. - -“Look,” she cried, “‘tis the name of LeClare, of my Edmond! My heart -tells me truly, he is here in the lakes of St. Francis. Among the -islands of the Archipelago we must go search for him. True love will -seek out the path of his wanderings, and before the passing of another -sun two thirsting spirits shall unite, to wander no more in darkness.” - -Among the trees on the point of the island, curling upwards in -ringlets of blue, rose the smoke from the tepees of the Indians. Old -and decrepit, but ever a friend to the white man, their chieftain, -Caristitee, sat in the smoke of his camp fire. - -“Two suns gone by, my daughter, he sat where you are now reclining, -a paleface wearied of rowing, another sad-hearted and restless. At -dawn very early they departed. Down past the islands and marshes their -boat glides on like a phantom, and only at night are they seen, by the -blazing camp fires, as they rest from their endless going.” - -Lucy listened, her heart filled with sweetness, to the sayings of the -good Caristitee. Overhead the skies shed a lustrous light, and out -on the waters around them a stillness had come with the darkness. -Filled was her heart with sweet dreams of love, and till the dawn of -the coming day Lucy slept, her head upon the shoulder of Caleb, not -awakening till the sun in the east came up in the midst of Arcadia. At -this early hour in the hazy light of dawn they saw a column of smoke -away on a distant island. Thither they headed their course. Drawing -nearer among the cluster of islands, they watched for the camp of the -strangers. Quickly the day was passing; no sight had they caught of the -boatmen, and Caleb had tired of the rowing. Lucy scanned closely every -island in passing, piercing with a searching look the rush banks that -lined the channels through which the boat silently glided. Hopefully -she encouraged poor Caleb, saying love would reward his exertions -and lighten the way of their going. At last they turned their boat -homeward, through lakes where myriads of water lilies swayed and dipped -with the waves as they came, then reaching the shoals of the Salmon, -the sand bars across which they were passing shone white through the -clear, limpid waters. Soon Caleb, wearied of rowing, threw himself down -at last to rest himself upon the banks of the Point of old Tyno. - -Restless, still following her heart’s longing, Lucy sought out again -the grove and the tree where before she had missed her lover by only -a minute too late. In a moment of passionate abandon she threw herself -at the foot of the tree, held by memories strong, so closely were they -linked with the past. - -Into the same bay, coming nearer, ever nearer, darted the boat which -moved so swiftly, urged on its course by the sinewy arms of the -oarsman. Lightly from the seat in the stern sprang the athletic figure -of the stranger. Hurriedly he looked about the shore, then leisurely -sauntered toward the grove, where upon another day he had come and gone -so mysteriously. Not far had he been when before him he saw, extended -at the foot of a basswood tree, the figure of a girlish maiden. One arm -encircled the tree trunk, while the other lay limp at her side. - -At a respectful distance stood the stranger. “She is asleep—it is -Lucy,” he stammered, “and under this tree! What can it mean? Lucy, I -love you! My darling! why can’t I tell it you now?” he exclaimed, and -unconsciously he outstretched his arms. - -By the angel of love she had been awakened and told that her lover was -near. In an instant his manly form was before her. “It is I, Lucy. Be -not afraid, but first tell me, why are you here?” - -“I am free, Edmond,” she cried, “and I love you, and I came here to -tell it alone, that I should wait for you now and forever.” With a -great flood of joy, Edmond clasped to the heart his Lucy. Then they -knelt as on that day of yore, and the stroke which then was omitted now -they cut in the frame on the tree. - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -_The Mystery of the Corner Stones._ - - -Blakely, with the neighbors whom he employed, had completed the -excavations for the foundation walls and hauled the stone and mortar in -readiness for the masons. Four squares of granite had been drawn to The -Nole from the railroad station, and it was whispered among the workmen -that their employer would personally direct the setting of the corner -stones. - -For several days, four of the master masons were engaged in carefully -cutting into the center of each of the squares of granite a bowl-shaped -cavity. Cameron, who had usually busied himself in other things which -kept him away from The Nole, came frequently now to inspect the -mysterious hollows being made in the granite boulders. - -Soon the work of the masons was completed; then by the aid of crane -and derrick, they lowered into position the corner stones just as the -hour arrived for labor to cease. Cameron remained till the last man had -gone, examining the granite blocks, which he found were placed securely -in position, resting upon their cement foundation. - -Next morning when the men came to resume work, they saw two others -there before them, Cameron and the tall, erect figure of Donald Ban, -his lawyer friend. The wonder at finding their employer so early at the -works was quickly followed by a second surprise, more startling than -the first. The cavities in the corner stones had been filled during the -night and a layer of cement covered the tops of the hollow openings and -was spread evenly with the surface of the granite rock. - -“Lay the wall, men,” Cameron ordered in his calm, inflexible voice. “We -wish to remain here till the corner stones have been walled under.” - -At noon hour the burden of the discussion among the assembled laborers -was to ascribe a reason for Cameron and the lawyer being among them in -the morning. In the midst of the debate, an exclamation of delight came -from one of their number, who had been apart from his fellows in the -basement, and he held up to view a ten-dollar gold piece he had found -in the dirt at his feet. Immediately a mad hunt was in progress around -the foundation walls, and particularly at the corner stones. Other gold -pieces were discovered, and among them a twenty-dollar gold piece was -taken from the miniature gold diggings. - -When the excitement had abated somewhat, the foreman of the gang -of laborers, with a wise and important look on his face, the while -assuming a dramatic pose, pointed to the corner stones, and in tragic -tones, he said: “Boys, they are full of ’em!” and a quiet akin to that -resting over a haunted house fell upon the superstitious laborers. - -The trick had worked well, for very soon the whole county would hear -that their mysterious neighbor had buried a fortune in gold in each -corner stone of the House of Cariboo. Cameron quickly heard of the -gold finds made up at the works at The Nole and he smiled with great -pleasure when he thought of the look of blank despair which would -come over the face of Nick Perkins, on his finding that the worthless -bits of scrap iron which filled the cavities of the four corners of -the mansion were all that represented the vast sums in gold that he -imagined reposed in the foundation walls of his purchase. - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -_Fraser Confers with Perkins._ - - -The eccentric methods which Cameron had employed since his return to -The Front had put the people of Glengarry into a state of excitement -and wild speculation, which was greatly interfering with the wonted -quiet and decorum of its peaceably inclined citizens. While the House -of Cariboo, as it was now generally called, neared completion, and -the majestic columns which supported the high arched domes of its -rotunda stood out in bold relief against the scaffolding surrounding -the unfinished parts, extravagant reports were being circulated abroad -in Glengarry, even reaching to the distant city, of the enormous -expenditures made by Cameron on the mansion he was about to occupy. - -As the undertakings of Cameron assumed form, and the motive for many -of his peculiar trades with his neighbors became apparent, another -individual of whom we have frequently spoken also began to figure -conspicuously before the people of the county. - -The purposes of Nick Perkins for the past few months had suffered so -many humiliating defeats before his constituents at The Gore and his -enemies at The Front, that even his sympathizers and old time henchmen -of his town, of late had shunned meeting him as he went about at his -home. Every note and mortgage which he held against the farmers and -neighbors of the two towns had been paid back to him with interest to -date, and in every case the proceeds had come to his debtors through -the liberal wages paid by Cameron for work upon the undertakings he had -put under way. Thirty thousand dollars had been paid out for various -kinds of work done, either directly by Cameron, or through his friends, -Blakely, Simpson or Ferguson. Happiness reigned supreme in the -families of the two towns, and each neighbor felt that he could look -the other full in the face with a frankness which meant freedom from -the depressing coils of debt. - -Perkins, they said, could no longer impose himself upon them. His -money-getting, money-lending and hypocritical pose among the people of -the two towns would no longer be tolerated. By Cameron, the man whom he -had sought so diligently to enclose in his net, he had been thrown from -his pedestal of deceit, and at present he was the object of ridicule -throughout the county. - -William Fraser, the carpenter, still continued to employ himself in -the capacity of the official gossip of Glengarry, but the interested -listeners among his neighbors who would bid him welcome had become so -few that like his patron, Nick Perkins, he found the vocation which -once had placed him in popular demand, was at present in rank disfavor. -His neighbors had remarked that even though great activity was apparent -in the building trades at The Front, Fraser remained unemployed. Bill -Blakely sarcastically queried of him one day, as a number of men of -a like occupation from an adjoining town stood about the door to Davy -Simpson’s busy forge, “Whether he didn’t think that in balancing on the -top rail, speculating on the return of Cameron from the gold fields, -he had jumped off upon the wrong side of the fence? Of course,” Bill -added with a chuckle as his goatee moved up and down, “you had the hull -county with you, for Perkins had jumped the same way before you.” - -As near as could be observed, the shrine to which Fraser had come with -his troubles, and the confession of the failure of his accomplishments -to charm as of yore his susceptible hearers, was the Court of Perkins. -Deserted as he knew it to be, nevertheless here we find him come again, -but this time a smile, a grin, covered his face, for he had a choice -bit of gossip for Perkins—a pretty little ambush arranged by Cameron -into which Fraser and Perkins fell without the least suspicion. Perkins -bade his caller welcome, and in his usual cringing, insinuating manner, -noiselessly sliding in his peculiar gait about the room, he finally -sat down on the edge of his chair, tipping it forward. - -“Mr. Perkins,” he said, rubbing his hands together in glee, “our time -has come. It’s all up with Cameron. Just as you said, Mr. Perkins, just -as you always said, a fool from his money is easy to part, and that’s -what it’s come to now, and I come right over to tell you, Mr. Perkins, -for I knew they would have to come to you yet.” - -Meanwhile Perkins drew a chair to the centre of the room and seated -himself before his caller. Every movement he made showed the intense -interest Fraser had aroused. “Is it something about Cameron’s finances -giving out, you have heard, Fraser, or is it something else we both -ought to know? We are alone in this, Fraser—alone, you understand.” - -“Yes, yes, Mr. Perkins,” eagerly replied the tattling carpenter. “I -heard it by a mere chance. Why, they don’t think I know a word about -it. You see,” he went on, leaning farther forward toward his eager -listener, “I heard that some mouldings for the new house were coming -up from the city last night, and I thought I would go back to the -station and see what they looked like. Well, a couple of tall city men -got off the train, and while I was looking over the cabinet work which -come up to the station, one of them comes over and reads the tag on the -bundles, and says he to the other one, ‘Well, here is some more of our -firm’s stuff sent up for this job of Cameron’s, but I guess we will -cabbage this lot,’ says he, ‘till we see the color of his money for -what he’s already put into that house,’ and the other chap up and says, -‘The best thing we can do is to get this man Cameron to consent to a -public sale of this house to satisfy the claims of his creditors. There -will be no one here except a few of the largest creditors who will have -money enough to bid on the property, and some one of us will get a -beautiful house cheap. We can keep this thing quiet, and there will be -at least thirty thousand dollars to divide up between us.’” - -“Where did they go?” asked Perkins, eagerly. - -“Well, they come over to The Front in one of Cameron’s wagons and the -last I see of them was down by Laughing Donald’s. They weren’t there -this morning, so I guess they went up to the town last night.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -_Perkins Again Outwitted._ - - -For several minutes after Fraser the carpenter had finished telling -his story, Perkins was silent. From force of habit he ran his fingers -upward through the scant growth of reddish side whiskers upon his -face, and by the changes in expression passing continually over his -countenance, Fraser was aware that the information he brought had -greatly interested him. - -“There can be no doubt, I suppose, Fraser,” began Perkins, very slowly -pronouncing his words, “about there being a large amount of gold -deposited in the foundations of the house?” - -“There is no doubt of it, Mr. Perkins,” eagerly answered Fraser, again -tipping forward upon the front legs of the chair. “Cameron didn’t want -it known, you see, but it’s the gold pieces they lost in the cellar -that spoiled his plan, and now it seems he isn’t worth the half he -thought he was.” - -“That’s it, Fraser, about as I thought it would be,” continued -Perkins, well satisfied with the turn Cameron’s affairs seemed to -have taken. “His gold that he brought back from the Cariboo Mountains -has not turned out at the government mint to be near what he thought, -so his creditors in the city are going to close in on him quick and -get what they can. That’s about the case as I see it, Fraser, and -I think our turn has come, just as you have said. Oh, by the way, -Fraser,” as if suddenly recollecting, “where is the young friend of -Cameron—LeClare—the city chap who came back with him?” - -“Oh, he’s gone. Went away to see his people, they say over at The -Front, but I guess he’s a wise one, eh, Perkins? Saw what was coming -and got out in time.” - -“It has been pretty rough sailing for us, Fraser, since Cameron -returned, and although I have gotten back through him from the farmers -around here over thirty thousand dollars, yet I am poorer by not being -able to let the loans rest. You understand?” - -“Yes, I see, Mr. Perkins. Bill Blakely says you have lost fifty -thousand by being beat out on foreclosing, and they all seem to be -laughing about it.” - -“Yes, and they think they had a big joke on you and me, eh, Fraser? -Well, now we will see who will laugh loudest and the last.” - -With this last thrust Perkins bounded up, and hurrying to the door in -his waddling gait, he shaded his eyes with his hands and scanned the -cloudless sky. Turning again to Fraser, he said: “I will have that -Cameron house before the week is out. My reputation has been hurt by -Cameron. My business is gone, and he has made me a joke for the whole -county. Now I’ll turn the laugh on him. I will go up to the county -clerk at once, and if there have been arrangements made for a sale of -the property or a transfer to his creditors, I will soon know it. Now -you go back to The Front, Fraser, and find out what you can. I will -meet you at the four corners on my return.” - -The twilight of the June evening had faded into the darkness of night -and Fraser still waited by the door to his shop. Presently a familiar -rattle of the wheels of an approaching wagon announced the coming of -Perkins. Fraser advanced from the door of his carpenter shop and met -the tardy Perkins in the road. - -“Ah, good evening, Fraser,” began the money lender in his blandest -tones, and Fraser knew his trip to the county town had placed him -in possession of favorable facts concerning the supposed financial -embarrassment of Cameron. “Anything new, Fraser?” - -“Nothing much, Mr. Perkins, but more strangers were hanging about The -Nole to-day. I couldn’t get near enough to hear what was up. They -looked over the new house and then went down the road to Laughing -Donald’s. They are staying there to-night.” - -“Very good, very good, Fraser. Now about LeClare. Have you seen him, or -do you know where he is?” - -“I don’t know exactly, Mr. Perkins, but I am told that Andy’s Dan is -away with him.” - -“There is a doubt there, Fraser, the only weak spot in our scheme. -Up at the county seat I see where they have arranged for a quick -sale. They were to do it on the quiet. They have advertised according -to law, and with the consent of Cameron’s lawyer, Donald Ban, the -city creditors are to meet at The Nole, and by an arrangement among -themselves, will bid in the house, and just enough to cover current -bills on hand. Now Cameron is in a pinch. They have sprung this thing -on him suddenly. He can’t locate his friend LeClare, and these city -chaps are after his house at half the cost. Here is our plan, Fraser. -Say not a word of what we know. The sale is on Thursday at ten in -the morning. This is Tuesday. I want the house. These men from the -city want about thirty thousand between them as their share of their -slick game. I can afford to overbid that amount because it is in the -foundation and they don’t know it. I have found that a receipt is on -file in the government mint down in the city, that this amount was -drawn out by Cameron and we have evidence that it was placed there. It -is a sure thing, Fraser, that I get Cameron’s house Thursday morning. -His only hope is that his friend LeClare may turn up before the sale. -You must be careful and quiet, Fraser, and leave the rest to me. I will -meet you at The Nole Thursday morning a few minutes only before ten.” - -They bade each other a half-whispered good night, but as their shadows -retreated in the darkness, another dark object jumped up out of the -ditch at the opposite side of the roadway. It was the figure of a man, -cloth cap in hand, who, waiting only long enough to take an enormous -chew out of a plug of tobacco, then sauntered at a safe distance from -the others down the roadway, past the store, the cheese factory, and on -toward home. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -_Donald Ban at The Front._ - - -Meanwhile, at Laughing Donald’s, Cameron had carefully concealed the -accomplices he had brought up from the city to aid him in fulfilling -the most delicate part of his whole undertaking. Through Bill Blakely -he knew positively of the moves to be made by Perkins that morning at -the sale, and further, he had arranged with LeClare, who, accompanied -by Andy’s Dan, was spending the night upon the accommodating banks of -Castle Island, opposite The Front in the Archipelago about a quarter of -a mile distant from the mainland. By a signal from Blakely, displayed -at The Nole, LeClare was to pull over in haste to The Front or remain -where he was till the sale had been completed. - -[Illustration: “As the hour of the sale approached, they assembled at -the east end of the broad veranda.”] - -Thursday morning had arrived and the strangers from the city, -representing the supposed creditors who had forced Cameron into -premature bankruptcy, were roaming at large over the House of Cariboo. -Then as the hour of the sale approached, they assembled at the east end -of the broad veranda, from whence an uninterrupted view of the river -and islands of the expanse of the Lake St. Francis stretches away to -the eastward. - -Gathered about the house and standing in groups around the veranda were -the workmen who were still engaged at The Nole. They talked in a hushed -undertone, and as Cameron and the tall, erect figure of Donald Ban came -slowly up the hill, the hum of their voices died away entirely. A few -of the near neighbors were present, and as Donald Ban, who was to act -as the referee agreed upon by both sides, took up his position upon the -veranda, he saw nearing the outskirts of the assembled group our worthy -friend Nicholas Perkins and his companion Fraser, the carpenter. Mr. -Cameron had selected an inconspicuous place from where he could easily -witness the proceedings without himself being too much in evidence. - -Baring his head, beginning his introductory remarks, Donald Ban spoke -quietly: “Gentlemen, neighbors, and friends:—I am here before you -in the capacity of my profession as a lawyer. I am here also as the -confidant of one of the most interested parties to this proceeding, and -I am also come to see justice fairly dispensed. We in Glengarry are -more familiar with the circumstances which have led up to the building -of this magnificent structure, than those among us who are recently -come from a distant city. The motives which my worthy friend Cameron -may have had in mind while rearing before the public gaze this house -of stately proportions, he has succeeded pretty well in keeping to -himself. However unfortunate and disappointing the termination of his -project may seem, we, who have carefully watched the workings of the -heart which has dictated the directions in which these expenditures -have gone, must easily have discovered the philanthropic intent of Mr. -Cameron, who has been to us the greatest benefactor our county has -ever known. Now, gentlemen, the facts I have the honor to put before -you this morning I hope will inspire within you the spirit of fairness -and of charity toward a brother. I am authorized to sell this house to -the highest bidder. For the benefit of those wishing to bid I will read -the following inventory: For material, labor, trucking, etc., expended -in Glengarry for the constructing of this house, and which has been -paid, thirty thousand dollars. For fixtures, decorating and furnishing, -forty thousand dollars. One-half of this amount has also been paid. You -will readily see, gentlemen, that Cameron has a paid-up equity of fifty -thousand dollars in this property, and you are easily secured on the -twenty thousand dollars unpaid amount, and we hope your bidding will -indicate that you have this fact in mind. Now, what is your first bid?” - -“Forty thousand,” came in a clear set voice from the centre of a group -of strangers on the left, and a stillness settled upon the group of men -surrounding the lawyer. As soon as Donald Ban had allowed sufficient -time to pass in which to recover naturally from what ought to seem -an unexpectedly high offer, he continued: “It is to be presumed, -gentlemen, that a figure covering the indebtedness of the individual -firms which you represent should satisfy your employers.” - -“Fifty thousand,” yelled the man with the high silk hat standing -over in the midst of an excited group, and Perkins again drew up his -shoulders as at the first bid and moved out to the edge of interested -bidders. Almost immediately another bid was recorded, a new contestor -with a sixty thousand offer, and Perkins looked badly discouraged, for -he pulled his side whiskers continually. Then sixty-five and seventy, -and seventy-five thousand were finally recorded from the same three -strangers, and the bidding seemed to be over. A slight commotion in the -neighborhood of Perkins was noticed by Donald Ban, and inclining his -head in his direction, the lawyer forced out his first bid, making it -now seventy-six thousand. An excited movement was noticeable throughout -the assembled company. Donald Ban repeated the offer, and while the -crowd surged about the money lender, Donald Ban added a few remarks to -stimulate the interest already at the snapping tension. - -“Gentlemen, to those of us who know, this property is exceedingly cheap -at eighty thousand dollars.” Perkins and Fraser had caught at once the -trend of Donald Ban’s remarks, and they feared the disclosure of the -contents of the corner stones. “Another unfortunate happening at this -time is the absence from The Front of the former partner and friend of -Mr. Cameron, whose presence here would be an assurance of this house -never passing under the hammer for less than a hundred thousand.” -Another thousand was added by the man wearing the high silk hat. -Seventy-eight quickly followed from his rival bidder, and the lawyer -turned again to Perkins. - -At that instant Fraser had pushed quickly through the crowd and -whispered something in the ear of Perkins. Blakely had displayed the -signal, and coming across the Channel, speeding on toward The Nole, was -seen the long, low, swiftly-going boat of LeClare making straight for -the landing. - -“Eighty thousand, gentlemen, we must have. Who says the price, and the -house goes to him!” - -“I do,” came in a defiant voice, and Perkins pranced into the space -about the end of the veranda where stood Donald Ban, and the crowd fell -back from him in awe. “Here’s your deposit, and I’ll sign the bill of -sale at once. Now then, who is there here to oppose Nicholas Perkins -again at The Front?” He turned with this challenge to survey the crowd, -and for his answer he met a chill of distrust which struck at the -very vitals of life, for he saw there, smilingly before him, standing -shoulder to shoulder, as if greatly pleased at the outcome of the sale, -his tormentors, Blakely, Cameron and LeClare. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -_Cameron’s Task Completed._ - - -No sooner had the lawyers completed the legal details for the transfer -of the House of Cariboo to the purchaser, Nick Perkins, than rumors -were afloat that all was not as it seemed about Cameron’s having to -sell the mansion to satisfy his creditors. Strange, if it were so, -mused Fraser the carpenter, for the day following the sale he saw from -his wheelwright’s place the strangers from the city grouped before -the door of the smithy, around Bill Blakely and Laughing Donald. The -jesting and laughter which he could plainly hear were joined in by -Blakely and even Davy Simpson, who left his blazing forge to appear at -the door of the shop to witness the pleasure of his friends. - -A feeling of uneasiness took possession of the little undersized -carpenter, and he drew back from the door and shuffled around among -the shavings upon the floor of his workshop. Fear and apprehension had -closed in around him so surely that there was no chance of evading the -awful certainty of the truth that Perkins had been most artistically -duped, and that he had been the one through whom the scheme was -so successfully worked. Nick Perkins had acted entirely upon the -information he had carried to him, and now as he looked through the -dimmed window panes of his workshop and recognized the same men who had -so flippantly discussed the affairs of Cameron back from The Front at -the station, the extent of the humiliation and expense he had forced -upon Perkins, and the extreme satisfaction he had given his enemies, -dawned unmercifully upon him. - -Again he squirmed in his peculiar sliding fashion around the extent of -his place. Stopping at the carpenter’s bench, he took up his plane and -tried to forget his predicament in violent muscular exertions. Soon a -knock came at the door. At first he paid no attention to it, thinking -Bill Blakely had come over to poke fun at him in his very provoking -manner. Another knock followed, and the door opened to admit the -short, officious personage of Perkins. At sight of his caller, Fraser -collapsed into a frightened, shrinking heap, sorrowful to see. Slamming -to the door, Perkins glared at the cringing object before him. - -“A nice mess you have made of it, Fraser! It’s a wonder you were not -in the trick with the rest of them, but they wanted you where you -were to do just what you have done—to ruin me, to put every dollar I -am worth in the world into that useless house, a monument to Cameron. -Every dollar I ever made in the county I have given to Cameron, and -he has paid it back to the same people I got it from. The entire -cost of that house is not more than fifty thousand. I have paid that -back to Cameron. He did not owe a cent to those people you said -were representing his creditors in the city, and what is more, I am -satisfied now that the talk of the gold in the corner stones is a hoax, -like all the rest put up by Cameron to use me in carrying out his -philanthropy, which has not cost him a dollar. Yet he has the glory, -while I am ridiculed!” - -Poor Fraser, confronted by such a terrible arraignment of what he knew -to be facts, was utterly confounded. He made no answer, but as Perkins -turned in resentment and disgust to go, Fraser, in a weak, thin voice, -like a wail of despair, said: “I thought I was doing you a service, -Mr. Perkins.” Again Perkins turned, but with a look of dark hatred and -disgust cast in his direction, he went out, slamming the door to after -him. - - * * * * * - -It was possibly a week or ten days later when Cameron and LeClare stood -again upon the veranda at Laughing Donald’s. Andy’s Dan awaited his -passenger at the boat landing for the leave taking of the two friends. - -“Lucy and I will expect you, Andy,” earnestly pleaded LeClare. “With -you present we shall want for nothing to make our wedding a union of -complete happiness.” - -Mr. Cameron grasped the extended hand of his faithful associate and -friend, saying in his quiet, determined way, “LeClare, we have faced -disappointment together, we have endured hardships of a kind to test -the merits of our friendship many times before. Defeat we have never -acknowledged; sorrow we have borne together side by side in the -valley of death. Success and wealth are ours, and happiness, sweetest -happiness, Edmond, is yours. Wherever I may be at the call of your -wedding bells I will go to add one more good wish for a long journey of -life and joy to you.” - -At another conference held in the office of Donald Ban, Mr. Cameron had -told of his plans for the future. Addressing his friend the lawyer, he -had said: “My mission at The Front is finished. The death of Barbara -has been avenged. The hypocrites, her tormentors, have been brought -very low, the weak are much stronger in person, and justice at last has -prevailed. I ask for no thanks or recognition but from our children in -Arcadia; in the generations to come may they look awe-inspired as they -pass the strange mansion, and be mindful of the moral which was taught -when we builded the House of Cariboo.” - - - - -THE GROWING MASKINONGE - - -[Illustration] - - - - -It was Sunday morning at the “Point.” And over across the bay the last -of the phantoms in “Ghost Hollow” had crept up the lampless posts -of the walk through “Spook Grove,” and, vaulting in an uncanny way, -reached cover in the branches of the birch trees that were thickly -clustered around the cottages lining “Spirit Lane” west to the bowling -alley. It was through “Ghost Hollow” that the cottagers living to the -westward passed while going to and returning from the boat landing and -the hotel over at the Point. - -At the misty dawn on this Sunday morning the forlorn spectres of the -spirits which frequented the small bay were stalking from the water, -answering from the hidden abode among the dark cottages of the lane -the homing call of the doleful strains of a “chella.” In obedience to -their spirit queen they wafted wearily through the rushes and ferns -upon the bank; borne by the receding shades of darkness, they sought -their resting places under the rafters and the eaves of the gruesome -roof of the bowling alley, which crouched along by the vine-covered -wall at the brow of the hill. It was then an Indian, from the tribe of -St. Regis, on the mainland, stole unnoticed upon the scene and beached -his canoe upon the east shore of the bay. He looked about for signs of -the awakening day, then stealthily he dropped on his knees, and from -beneath a covering in the bow of his “dug-out” dragged up upon the bank -a forty-pound maskinonge. - -“Hi! hi!” he cackled in the weird voice of his race. “Hotel man like -much Injun.” Then disappearing to the rear of the out buildings, life -to him soon became brighter by visions of “fire water” and a warm -breakfast—he had sold the fish. - -There was an ominous quiet hanging upon the early sunlight. The -suppressed calm was something greater than that inspired by the sight -of a few devout people starting out upon the yacht for early mass. The -guests were appearing singly upon the broad verandas of the hotel. -Each in turn as he appeared seemed possessed of the same apprehension, -a nervousness of manner. The sleep of this Sunday morning was the -closing of a week of wild and reckless dissipation among the guests. -Such intense excitement at the island had not been experienced in many -summers. From the wharf of the castle across the bay at the other side -of “Ghost Hollow” the gramophone had sung “coon songs” and recited at -length for several evenings in succession, and a music box in the main -corridor of the hotel had given a continuous performance from twelve to -twelve, till the nerves of the martyred guests had reached a state fit -to be recited in a patent medicine advertisement. - -“What’s that I don’t know, a big fish?” And Mr. Hot Water, dressed -in his new bicycle suit, strode excitedly a few steps forward on the -veranda, then backed up, balanced himself and side-stepped a little to -get a fresh start. Then he came on again, with his meerschaum pipe -tightly grasped in his right hand. - -“By Gum! That’s a terror. If it isn’t a pickerel it’s a maskinonge. -It’s either one, anyway, if it isn’t a maskinonge. Who caught it?” -Then he looked at the three individuals before him for the first time. -What he saw made him change the meerschaum quickly from the right -to the left hand, and then he blinked his eyes till recalled by Mr. -Du Ponté. When Mr. Hot Water (a regular patron of the hotel, known -to be threatened musically, and also as a local weather authority) -comprehended the outfit before him he saw a large fish, of the -maskinonge family, strung on an inch pole suspended between two trees -eight feet apart. He saw, also, three of his fellow guests at the Point -strangely arrayed before him, one dressed in white duck trousers, -with a red silk scarf tightly knotted above the knee, another with -hand and fore-arm wound with linen handkerchiefs and hung in a sling -across his breast, while the third, Mr. Du Ponté, was, aside from his -loquaciousness, apparently in his normal condition, i. e., he had -escaped from the terrible catastrophe that had overtaken his friends -with no severe injuries to his person. - -Mr. Hot Water, being somewhat of a “sport” himself, was led to inquire -for the particulars of the landing of the large fish. After stepping -cautiously around the group for a few minutes, he placed the meerschaum -between his teeth again and began to mutter questions which showed him -to be in a credulous state of mind. “By Gum! I don’t know, by Gum! Now, -I have been here, and I’ve been down to my club fishin’, fishin’; I’ve -been down to Kitskees Island, too. That’s right. My guide—my guide -rowed me down there and all the way back, too. I had out a thousand -feet of line, but I never caught anything like that.” He looked -cunningly out of the corner of his eye toward Mr. Du Ponté and inquired -again what the fish weighed. Three other guests filled with curiosity -had now joined the group, and Ponté began to explain. - -“Fifty-seven pounds is the weight of this fish. He has just been -weighed in the ice-house around there back of the hotel, near the -landing.” (Thirty-seven pounds had been the original quotation.) “You -see, Mr. Hot Water, this is no ordinary maskinonge. Take, for instance, -the back extension from shoulder to shoulder, which denotes a terrible -propelling force, and then if you notice these spots (pointing with a -twig he had cut for the purpose) they are not the marks of a common -fish. This ‘ere fish was a leader of his tribe; a king, so to speak, -among his fellows.” - -“Perhaps he’s a ‘King Fish’,” suggested Mr. Hot Water, with apparent -concern, at the same time winking both eyes at the “cottager” with the -red handkerchief tied about the trousers at the knee. - -“No,” returned Du Ponté; “we have looked him up and we find that having -those spots, and the second bicuspid tooth being black, prove him to be -a regular ‘King Filipino’ maskinonge.” - -“By Gum! that’s funny—I wonder how he got here. Must have followed the -‘line boat’ up the Suez Canal, I guess, or p’raps he didn’t. He must -weigh more than fifty-seven pounds—though I don’t know. I guess not, -though those fish grow, those Filipino fish grow very fast. They say -they do, though I couldn’t say myself. I should think he would weigh -more, though, being a king. Here’s Mr. Mac, he ought to know a ‘King -Filipino,’ he goes to the market every day,” continued Mr. Hot Water. -Again he blinked both eyes at the “cottager” with the red handkerchief -about the knee, and the laugh didn’t seem to be on Mr. Hot Water. - -Mr. Mac was another weekly visitor at the Island, spending the half -holiday about the rush beds and channels in quest of the sly “Wall -Eye.” For many seasons he had been doing this sort of thing. The -distinguishing mark of the pickerel, the pike and the maskinonge were -as familiar to him as were the quotations on the Exchange, upon which -he was an active operator six days of the week. The responsibility of -Mac’s habit of listening courteously to what a fellow had to say, for -the time carefully concealing his final verdict, dates back for its -origin to the conservative atmosphere of old Glengarry County, where he -had spent the days of his boyhood. - -“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Mr. Mac, in a slow, deliberate voice, -slightly pitched, as he reached the inner circle surrounding the -fish suspended between the two small hickory trees. The peak of his -blue yachting cap was pulled well down over his nose, which shielded -from the principals in the “fish game” the twinkle in the eye which -would have been the only clue detectable upon his imperturbable -features to indicate his belief, skeptical or otherwise, concerning -the proceedings. “Well, now, that is a pretty good morning’s catch, -that one fish is. Where did you get him, might I ask?” and Mac raised -his head slowly backward till his eyes from under the shield of his -cap rested on the level of the faces of the three bandaged principals -guarding the fish. “Must have had some trouble, too, in landing him,” -and he indicated with an inclination of the yachting cap toward the red -bandage around the white duck trousers at the knee of the “cottager.” - -“Yes,” quickly responded Du Ponté, “I hooked him on a small perch line -out there,” indicating the spot near shore, “in front of my friend’s -cottage, not more than three rods from shore. He can tell you”—nodding -to the “cottager”—“he saw me from his gallery, which is over the small -dock near where I was fishing, throw the pole overboard and heard me -shout for help. Now, friend,” nodding to the man with the wounded limb, -“tell Mr. Mac how we got him ashore.” - -“There isn’t much to say about what we did,” began the “cottager,” “but -it’s what the fish did to us. Look at Ribbon Gibbon! His hand lacerated -to the wrist; Du Ponté, here, with a dislocated shoulder, while I have -a jagged wound at the knee.” Mac viewed them as requested, his features -at the time screwed up as though a bright sunlight were shining on his -face. - -“I had just finished dressing,” the “cottager” continued, “and had -stepped out on the balcony to see what the weather was to be, before -I went into the tower to run up the flag. Then it was I saw Du Ponté -at his regular trick of fishing the perch bank dry before anybody else -was up and stirring. The next instant I heard a despairing yell, and, -looking in the direction from whence it came, I saw Du Ponté making -frantic efforts to raise the stone anchor to his boat, and calling at -the same time for help to capture his fishing pole, which was making -down stream in a zig-zag course at lightning speed. As I watched the -pole it came, now and then, to the surface. I saw that its mysterious -kidnapper was making for the small bay which lay where you see, there, -between my cottage and the hotel here. An idea seized me, and, with -swiftness born only of excitement, I sped down the stairs, out into the -roadway which leads through ‘Ghost Hollow,’ shouting as I ran to Ribbon -Gibbon, who had just emerged from the hotel, to meet me at the bend of -the bay in ‘Ghost Hollow.’ - -“‘Who’s drowning?’ said Ribbon. - -“‘Nobody,’ said I, all out of breath with excitement; ‘Du Ponté has -hooked a sturgeon, and he made off into the bay here with his pole and -line. Look!’ says I. ‘There it goes again,’ and the bamboo pole shot -inward a couple of rods nearer shore. Ribbon saw the pole this time, -and we set out together to capture the fish. - -“‘Let’s take that boat lying over there on the other shore,’ said he, -and we made a run for it. I jumped at once into the boat in my haste -to reach the runaways, but Ribbon stopped to push off from the rocks. -I lost my balance and fell over the sharp end of the oar-lock, and -that’s how I cut my leg. Before I had got righted up again I heard a -terrible splashing, and, looking over the end of the boat into the -bay, I saw Ribbon with an oar striking wildly at something in the -water, a boat length from shore. ‘We’ve got him, we’ve got him!’ he -wailed, hysterically, but suddenly losing his footing he fell full -length upon the monster as he lay struggling to free himself from the -maze of twisted fishlines with which he found himself securely tied. -Immediately a cry of pain came from the water, and Ribbon held up a -bleeding hand. In his fall he had encountered the sharp teeth of the -fish you see here before you in full view.” - -At this point in the narrative Ribbon groaned, and, holding his injured -arm at the elbow, turned slowly away. “Stunned by the beating he had -received from Ribbon with the oar,” continued the “cottager,” “and -exhausted by his efforts to free himself from the coils of the line, -Mr. Fish gave up the struggle, and with the aid of Ponté, who had now -reached the shore, we rolled him up upon the beach. We have weighed him -over at the ice-house, and he tips the scales at exactly eighty-seven -pounds and one-quarter.” - -The “cottager” then limped to the side of Du Ponté, Ribbon Gibbon edged -up beside the “cottager,” then Mac, after placing his thumbs in the -sleeve-holes of his vest and elevating his head till his eyes had a -chance from under the peak of his cap, a cunning smile o’erspreading -his face, spoke quietly and deliberately. - -“Well, gentlemen,” said he, “it is remarkable, and only that I have -the honor of knowing you three chaps, and know you to be absolutely -truthful, I might say to you that you are the best trio of liars I have -ever met.” Then he made a catlike grin at the “cottager,” and, keeping -his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, he turned and sauntered out of -the group. - -The number of people who now stood gaping with undisguised wonder -pictured on their faces edged in closer, forming a compact circle -surrounding the terrible monster of the deep, and viewing the disabled -subjects of his vicious attack. - -Du Ponté was about to order the fish returned to the ice-house, when he -espied emerging from the doorway of the stairs leading to the sleeping -apartments in the annex the tall, graceful figure of Harry Weiner -Sneitzel. “Here is a rare chance,” thought Du Ponté to himself. “Why, -boys,” in an undertone, aside, “the fun is only beginning; now, Ribbon, -it’s your turn. Give it to him good.” - -Harry Weiner Sneitzel was a general favorite at the “Point.” He was -endowed with a liberal share of good looks, a fine form, with graceful -movements, and possessed of a rare interpretation of what a courteous -manner should be. His bearing, too, was further dignified by a three -years’ course at a medical college. When Harry stepped out upon the -gravel walk in front of the hotel that Sunday morning, his white canvas -shoes shining with a fresh coat of pipe clay, and his tall, erect -figure swaying to his easy strides, he truly looked “a winner.” - -[Illustration: “‘Well, it’s pretty bad,’ said Du Ponté, ‘but Ribbon -needs you the worst of any of us.’”] - -As he turned toward the group surrounding the suspended fish and saw -his friends in such evident distress, he hastened his steps in their -direction. An expression of deep sympathy and concern had o’erspread -his classic features, and he elbowed himself quickly to the side of -his companions. “By Jove, old man, it’s pretty tough! Where have you -been?” Ribbon was speaking in an accusing tone, holding his bandaged -arm tenderly to his breast. Harry quickly looked from Du Ponté to the -“cottager” for an explanation. “Well, it’s pretty bad,” said Du Ponté, -“but Ribbon needs you the worst of any of us; his hand is in a bad -shape.” “Oh, you don’t tell me!” replied Harry, sorrowfully. “Can I do -anything for you?” he eagerly inquired. - -“By Jove, old chap,” went on Ribbon, with apparent difficulty, “I -thought you had gone away last night on the ‘liner,’ or I would have -been after you sooner. I’m all done up. My hand is in a bad way. This -confounded fish has chewed me up. The fellows here tied this bandage -all about, but it hurts like the deuce, and I’m afraid of blood -poisoning.” “Better do something for him,” muttered Du Ponté. Harry -was deeply impressed with the responsibility that was being heaped -upon him. He placed the palms of his hands over his hips and drew up -his shoulders till they rested akimbo, and then he was completely -confused by the suddenness of the call upon his professional skill. -“Quick, Harry,” snapped the “cottager,” “that hand needs to be dressed -immediately, then afterward you can take a look at the cut in my -leg.” “Say, old chap,” complained Ribbon, “mother will be down here -in a minute; then there will be a deuced row if she sees this.” And -he gingerly handled the bandaged arm for effect. “But I have no—no -medicines,” stammered Harry, just recovering his composure. “Medicine!” -shouted Du Ponté. “Don’t need medicines; get some cotton batting, get -lint, get any old thing—but hustle; there’ll be trouble here soon!” -“That’s right, Harry,” spoke the “cottager” assuringly. “Find the -cotton batting; then we’ll get to work.” “Cotton batting will be good -for that—first rate for a wound,” replied Harry, suddenly awakening. -“Why, we had some yesterday over at your cottage, fixing up your rig -for the masquerade. It’s in the extension; I know where to get it,” and -he bolted through the crowd over the side hill and down through “Ghost -Hollow,” up again on the opposite rise of ground, and fled through the -white birch grove, disappearing into the grounds of the castle across -the bay. Before the arch conspirators could hold a conference as to -their further conduct of the “fish case,” which was now assuming an -alarming aspect, Harry was flying back through “Spirit Lane,” his arms -flapping up and down, his long legs dangling, in his haste resembling -the flight of a water crane startled from a reed bank. - -“Spread it out here,” suggested Du Ponté, and he guided Harry to -the edge of the veranda, where he unfolded the roll of cotton. The -“cottager” had limped to the veranda and seated himself. Ribbon -followed him reluctantly. “Go lightly now, old chap; I am afraid it’s -pretty bad,” said Ribbon. “Better dampen that cotton in witch hazel or -Pond’s extract,” suggested the “cottager,” “for, if it’s blood poison -you need an antiseptic.” “Excuse me, old chap, won’t you,” interrupted -Ribbon; “this is quite serious, I fear. Would you mind getting that -bottle of Pond’s extract up on your dresser? It would be safer for you -to use it, don’t you know.” “Oh, of course, I never thought of that.” -And Harry was off again, up the stairway this time, four steps at a -bound, out again on the gravel walk, the bottle of extract clinched -in his excited grasp. As Harry hurried to the side of his suffering -patient to proceed with the bandaging, Mr. Mac had quietly reached the -front. “If you will allow me to offer a suggestion,” he began, in his -cautious, convincing way, “my family physician will arrive here in -half an hour from the city; he will have all the necessaries, which I -believe you require for this job, and it might be safer all around to -postpone this operation till he comes.” “Quite right, quite right,” -Du Ponté replied at once. “Mind you,” continued Mac, “I only wish to -suggest; I am not interfering with your case, Harry.” “Oh, that’s all -right, Mr. Mac,” said Harry; “the doctor probably has antiseptics, and -that will be very necessary in this case.” “You had better go in to -your breakfast, Harry,” suggested Ribbon; “I can stand this for half an -hour, and the other doctor will need you when he comes.” Harry, still -under the mesmeric spell, obeying orders, hurried into the hotel for -breakfast. - -The principals fell back, again surrounding the maskinonge, which was -now stiffening in the sun. They were considering the plan of their -escape from the Island in whispered consultation. In the meantime Harry -Weiner Sneitzel had swallowed his first cup of coffee, and began to -think. At the second thought he looked out of the window toward the -suspended fish, then he sank back in his chair; an expression of fear -and incredulity was forming upon his countenance. - -“Scamps,” he was heard to remark, as he gazed for the second time out -through the window at the group upon the lawn. Then, quickly rising, he -headed for the office. Hatless he sprang out upon the veranda. Grabbing -up a sabre which was thrown aside by a masquerader of the night before, -he bore down upon the three conspirators who had made him the victim of -their practical joke. As he leaped in one mad stride from the piazza to -the ground his long, thin front locks stood straight up in the wind -like the scalp feathers of an Indian. - -“Sneak!” yelled Du Ponté. In a flash the conspirators were out of the -crowd which surrounded the fish. Over the side hill they scampered, -Harry in pursuit, swinging the flashing sabre in the air. Down through -the Hollow they sped, and in their flight, as did the ghost spirits -of the bay, they mysteriously disappeared into the mazes of the dark -cottages, amidst the white birch grove in “Spirit Lane.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Quotation marks have been standardized. - - Page 7. Chap. VIII _changed to_ - Chap. VIII. - - Page 8. Chap. XVIX. LeClare to _changed to_ - Chap. XIX. LeClare to - - Page 14. the group, picnicing with their friends _changed to_ - the group, picnicking with their friends - - Page 54. the wheelright’s place _changed to_ - the wheelwright’s - - Page 60. just to show, as he said that there _changed to_ - just to show, as he said, that there - - Page 108. Barbara Sickness she herself had ever known _changed to_ - Barbara. Sickness she herself had ever known - - Page 139. the fulfill the legal requirements _changed to_ - to fulfill the legal requirements - - Page 201. dark cottages of the lane the homeing _changed to_ - dark cottages of the lane the homing - - Page 206. and the laught didn’t seem to be _changed to_ - and the laugh didn’t seem to be - - Page 213. “Better do something for him.” _changed to_ - “Better do something for him,” - - Page 214. at the cut in my leg,” “Say, old chap,” _changed to_ - at the cut in my leg.” “Say, old chap,” - - Page 215. it’s pretty bad.” said Ribbon. _changed to_ - it’s pretty bad,” said Ribbon. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The House of Cariboo and Other Tales -from Arcadia, by A. 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