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diff --git a/old/61911-0.txt b/old/61911-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8725c0d..0000000 --- a/old/61911-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3912 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Oxbow Wizard, by Theodore Goodridge -Roberts - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: The Oxbow Wizard - - -Author: Theodore Goodridge Roberts - - - -Release Date: April 24, 2020 [eBook #61911] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OXBOW WIZARD*** - - -E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 61911-h.htm or 61911-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/61911/61911-h/61911-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/61911/61911-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/oxbowwizard00robe - - - - - -[Illustration] - - -THE OXBOW WIZARD - -by - -THEODORE GOODRIDGE ROBERTS - - - - - - -Garden City New York -Garden City Publishing Co., Inc. -1924 - -Copyright, 1924, by -Doubleday, Page & Company - -All Rights Reserved - -Copyright, 1920, by the Torbell Company - -Printed in the United States -at -The Country Life Press, Garden City, N. Y. - - - - - CONTENTS - - I. The Stranger’s Book - II. The Nick o’ Time - III. A Thief With Claws - IV. The Man in the Bunk - V. The Stiff Knee - VI. Fish for Bait - VII. The One-eyed Injun - VIII. The Adventure of Sabatis - IX. The Fight in the Snow - X. Fear of the Law - - - - - THE OXBOW WIZARD - - - - - CHAPTER I - - THE STRANGER’S BOOK - - -Young Dan Evans lived in the back country on the Oxbow with his parents -and his brothers and sisters. For as long as he could remember, his -Uncle Bill Tangler, his mother’s brother, had been an irregular member -of the household. - -Young Dan obtained a meagre and intermittent schooling between his ninth -and sixteenth years, at the Bend, three miles below his father’s farm. -His terms were frequently broken by the weather, the conditions of the -road and matters of domestic economy. Sometimes Uncle Bill helped him -with his books. There seemed to be nothing that Uncle Bill did not know -something about. - -In October of Young Dan’s last year of school, Uncle Bill brought a -sportsman from New York or London or Chicago or Montreal—from one of -those outside places, anyhow—to Dan’l Evans’s house. Uncle Bill and the -sportsman were on their way in to the former’s camp far up beyond the -Prongs. They arrived, by canoe, just before dusk and were off again half -an hour after sun-up. - -Young Dan was sent by his mother to the spare bedroom, to make up the -bed that had been occupied by the sportsman. In five minutes he was due -to start for school. He had no more than crossed the threshold when he -exclaimed, “He was smokin’ in bed!” On the chair near the dented pillow, -about the base of the little lamp, lay two cigar butts and several -deposits of ashes. Young Dan was distressed, for by what little he had -seen of the stranger he had considered him to be a very superior person; -and yet here was proof positive that he was possessed of a habit that -was looked upon, in that household, as both low and reckless. He -recollected a few of the words which his mother had addressed to Uncle -Bill on the occasion of her finding that versatile bachelor smoking in -bed. “It’s lazy an’ it’s dangerous an’ it ain’t respectable,” she had -said—among other things. - -Young Dan approached the bed. - -“And him from a city full of street cars and schools,” he murmured. -“He’d ought to know better.” - -Then something caught his eye and distracted his attention from the -tell-tale butts and ashes. It was a book with a green cover. It lay open -and face down on the bright rag-carpet, just beneath the edge of the -bed. He stared at it for a moment, then snatched it up and thrust it -inside his coat. At one glance he had seen that it was a story book. -Good! On the Oxbow story books were almost as rare as ropes of pearls; -Young Dan was as unacquainted with fiction as a city alley-cat is with -yellow cream. In this case discovery of the discarded book seemed to -imply ownership and he appropriated the volume with the intention of -exploring its pages undisturbed by his younger brothers and sisters who -would be sure to demand a share in the volume once their eyes fell upon -its bright cover. - -Young Dan hurried through the task that had been set for him and started -for the schoolhouse at the Bend, accompanied by Molly, aged eleven, and -Amos, aged nine. His canvas-wrapped school books and the lunch for three -were in his bag; and the book with the green cover was still inside his -coat. Here, against his very ribs, lay an unknown treasure—a treasure of -valuable information concerning far lands or the stars themselves, -perhaps, or perhaps a treasure of magical entertainment. How was he to -make an opportunity for investigating it unobserved? - -Suddenly he thought of a plan. He suggested a race. - -“You two go on to Frenchman’s Spring, and I’ll stop right here,” he -said. “When you git to the spring, give a holler and keep right on -a-goin’ as fast as you like and I’ll try to catch you up this side the -school.” - -“You can’t do it, and you know you can’t,” said Molly. “Even Amos will -git there ahead of you.” - -“That’s as may be,” replied Young Dan, with dignity. - -So the others left him and hastened forward; and he immediately sat down -beside the road and fished out the book. He opened it at the title-page -with fingers a-tremble with eagerness. He began to read, running a -finger from word to word, from line to line. Here were people of types -and callings unknown to him, moving in the streets of a city unguessed -by him, talking in a way foreign to the Oxbow of things unheard of even -by Uncle Bill; and yet he read in a fever of intensity, with moving lips -and wrinkled brows. A faint shout of childish voices, touched with a -note of derision, came back, but it failed to reach the ears of Young -Dan, whose whole attention was fixed on the magic under his eye. He had -intended to keep his agreement, but he had completely forgotten Molly -and Amos; he turned page after page slowly and so at last came to the -end of the first tale. - -“Gee, but that feller was smart!” he whispered. - -He glanced up, observed the sun and jumped to his feet. He was late for -school that morning and accepted the reprimand of Miss Carten, the -teacher, and the jeers of Molly and Amos without turning a hair. At the -conclusion of the afternoon session he managed to get away by himself -and read another story. - -With the green-covered book safe in his bosom and the secret of it in -his heart, a change came over Young Dan. Molly and Amos were the first -to notice it, but they could make nothing of it. - -One evening, within a week of the passing of the sportsman, he appeared -at the supper-table when the other members of the family were already in -their chairs. After eating pancakes for a minute or two in silence, he -said, “You set the table to-night, hey, Lucy?” - -Lucy, aged six, replied in the affirmative, with evident pride. - -“And Molly fried the pancakes, because Ma was busy writin’ a letter to -Gran’ma,” continued Young Dan. - -“An’ what of it?” asked his father. - -“Did you spy on us through the window?” asked his mother. - -“No, I was over in the tool-house,” replied the boy; “and when I got -nigh enough to look in at the window you was all set down to table.” - -“Land’s sakes! How d’you know Lucy set the table?” - -“Because everything’s so close to the edge. She ain’t tall enough to -push ’em on very far.” - -“But how’d you know Molly fried the pancakes?” - -“Because most every one was cracked across, or messed about, when it was -bein’ turned. You don’t do that, Ma, with the turner—but Molly always -tries to turn ’em with a knife.” - -“Sakes alive! That’s the livin’ truth! But how’d you come to figger out -about me writin’ to Gran’ma?” - -“There’s ink on your finger, Ma; and Gran’ma is the only person you ever -write to.” - -“Land’s sakes! That’s reel smart.” - -“Seein’s how you’ve growed so all-fired smart so suddent, maybe you’ll -tell me who went up the old loggin’ road t’other night and robbed me of -nigh onto a cord of dry stove-wood?” said Dan’l Evans. - -“Maybe I will, Pa. What’ll you give me if I tell you?” - -“Give you? Nothin’! You don’t know, anyhow.” - -“Don’t I know who’s got a horse that’s lame on the nigh fore-foot and a -wagon with a hind wheel that wobbles? I see the tracks yesterday and -studied ’em.” - -“You figger it was Tim Swan stole the wood. Well, you’re wrong. I -suspicioned him myself, the minute I see the wood was gone, because -Tim’s a born thief an’ lives handy. But it warn’t Tim took the wood. I -mooched round his place for over an hour an’ couldn’t find a stick of -it. Maybe it was the tracks of a rabbit you studied so hard.” - -“Maybe it was, Pa. Anyhow, I follered them rabbit-tracks along to Tim’s -gate and past it and clear on to Widow Craig’s yard; and there’s the -wood in her wood-shed; and she paid the rabbit three dollars for it.” - -“Well, I never!” exclaimed Mrs. Evans. - -A few days after the frying of the family pancakes by Molly and within -two weeks after the passing of the sportsman in the care of Uncle Bill -Tangler, seven of the scholars who attended the little school at the -Bend came down with the mumps and on Thursday Miss Carten announced that -the school would close for a week at least—and perhaps longer. The -Evanses had escaped the epidemic, having been victims of the malady two -years before. Molly and Amos went racing home, making the echoes repeat -their whoops of joy. Young Dan walked more soberly behind them, for -there were many things on his mind and he meant to use his time—while -the mumps kept the schoolhouse closed—to test several theories that, -ever since he had read the book with the green cover, had been simmering -away in the back of his head. - -But Young Dan got no leisure in which to test his theories—at least he -was not able to try them in the exact manner he had planned—for a -stirring and mysterious event that roused excitement in the whole Oxbow -region occurred less than twenty-four hours after the vacation began. -Miss Carten disappeared. She dropped from sight as completely and as -mysteriously as if a silent airplane had swooped down at night out of a -dark sky and had carried her aloft like a great-horned owl stealing a -birdling. On Friday someone asked for Miss Carten at the Troller farm -where she boarded. - -“She went to a party over to Cameron’s las’ night an’ took her suitcase -with her; I thought as how she’d stop the night with Lizzy Cameron,” -said Mrs. Troller. - -At the Cameron place, two miles away—as it developed later—Miss Carten -had not been seen. No member of the family, in fact, had heard from her -in the last twenty-four hours. - -There was excitement on the Oxbow which extended down to the main river. -Search-parties went into the woods, equipped with shotguns and lanterns -and stimulants and dinner-horns. Ponds and likely pools were dragged. -Justices of the peace, rural constables and game-wardens awoke to -official activity from the Bend on the Oxbow all the way down to Harlow -on the main stream. The days and nights passed—six of each—without -bringing any degree of reward or encouragement to the searchers. Nothing -was seen or heard of Miss Stella Carten, dead or alive, and no -suspicious characters were discovered in the vicinity of the Bend. The -lost lady had not been remarked on the road or on the river, nor had she -called at any isolated farmhouse. She had not been seen at the village -of Bean’s Mill, at the Oxbow’s mouth. She had not bought a railway -ticket at Harlow. She had vanished, suitcase in hand. - -Seven days after the disappearance of Miss Carten, at eight o’clock in -the morning, Young Dan Evans encountered his Uncle Bill on the portage -round Old Squaw Falls, seven miles upstream from the Evans clearings. -Young Dan carried nothing but an axe and a small pack. He had left his -leaky old basket of a bark canoe in the bushes below the falls, for it -was too heavy for him to shoulder. Uncle Bill, coming from the other end -of the portage, was bonneted by his long, green canvas canoe. The -meeting was unexpected to both, but only Uncle Bill expressed -astonishment. - -“You, Young Dan!” he exclaimed, lowering his canoe to the trail. “What -brings you ’way up here?” - -“Left my canoe below the carry,” replied the boy. “Just moochin’ round -lookin’ for something.” - -“Sit down,” said Uncle Bill. - -They sat down, and the man lit his pipe and pushed his big felt hat far -back from his forehead. - -“Looking for anything in particular?” he asked. - -“Yep. Miss Carten disappeared a week back and I’m sorter lookin’ round -for her.” - -“You don’t say! Disappeared! And you think she’s maybe up here -somewheres?” - -“That’s how I’m figgerin’ it out, Uncle Bill. She ain’t downstream, -anyhow. Some folks think she’s lost in the woods or been killed—but I -don’t; I reckon she’s run away on business of her own; and as she ain’t -gone downstream I guess she’s come up.” - -“You don’t say! What makes you think so?” - -“Well, she intended to go somewheres, because she took her suitcase -packed full, and her money. She wouldn’t do that if she was just meanin’ -to stop a night with Lizzy Cameron. And they ain’t found hide nor hair -of her down river—but I’ve found her tracks, and more’n her tracks, up -this way. Yep, I found the tracks two days back, about two miles below -this, close to the edge of the stream. I knowed ’em by the sharp heels. -I hunted both sides of the stream for a mile and dug into every pool, -but didn’t find any more signs. But I found somethin’ else yesterday; -and now I’m goin’ clear up the Prongs.” - -“What did you find yesterday?” - -Young Dan untied his blanket and disclosed to his uncle’s view a small -frying-pan, a loaf of bread, a chunk of bacon, a book with a green cover -and a cardboard box. He placed the box in the other’s hands. It was -empty but had once contained chocolates. - -“That’s what I found yesterday, just below the falls here,” he said. -“Miss Carten was a b’ar on chocolates. She et ’em in school.” - -Uncle Bill examined the box and returned it. He scratched his -clean-shaven chin and regarded his nephew with a contemplative and -calculating eye. - -“Young Dan, you’re smart,” he said. “And you’re bold as brass. I am -smart, too, though that is not the general opinion in these parts. The -trouble with me is that I am shy. You are all for showing how smart you -are, but I’ve always been for hiding my light under a peck-measure. You -are doing something now that I couldn’t do. My natural shyness would -make it impossible for me to follow a young lady who has run away of her -own free will. That is how you have reasoned it out yourself—of her own -free will! Yes, I am talking queer—not the way I talk at home. The truth -is, Young Dan, I’m not the rube your Pa and Ma think I am; but I’ve -always been too shy to let them know about it. I know more than which -side to butter my pancakes on and how to pole a canoe.” - -“I guess maybe you do,” admitted Young Dan. - -“Your reasons for thinking Miss Carten was up here seem good to -me!—good, but not conclusive,” continued Uncle Bill. “If she is the only -person in this country who ever wears high-heeled shoes and eats -chocolates out of a box, then you are dead right. Hullo! What’s the -book?” - -He reached over, picked up the book with the green cover and opened it. - -“This explains your activities,” he continued, smiling. “Come on down -with me and I’ll go back with you this afternoon—all the way back to my -camp. And be your Doc Watson, going and coming.” - -“Have you read that book, Uncle Bill?” - -“Yes, years ago—and several more about the same smart feller. You come -along down with me while I get some grub and mail a few letters, and -I’ll buy you all the other books first chance I get. And I’ll bring you -in again.” - -Young Dan shook his head. - -“I’m this far, and I’ll keep right on a-goin’ till I’m ready to quit.” - -Uncle Bill looked at his nephew and saw determination in his face. -“Well, then,” he said, “I’ll help you around with your canoe, anyway. -You can pole right up to the camp—if that’s where you are bound for. I’d -go back with you but for a couple of important letters I have to post.” - -Together they carried Young Dan’s old canoe round the falls. Uncle -Bill’s lean, dark face wore an unusually thoughtful expression as he -watched his nephew embark. - -“I’ll tell your Ma that I met you and that you will stay in the camp -over night,” he said. - -“But maybe I won’t, Uncle Bill,” said Young Dan. “I didn’t calculate on -stoppin’ upstream over night unless I found somethin’ to keep me—an -important clue or somethin’. They’re expectin’ me home.” - -“I’ve just been thinking that I might not be able to get back till after -dark. You promise me that if you go to my camp you’ll stop there until I -come back, or there’ll be trouble. And the trouble will start now. You -never saw me in a temper, Young Dan—and you don’t want to. Promise me -that, or I’ll tie you up and take you downstream with me as helpless as -a dunnage-bag. I mean it!” - -Young Dan looked at his uncle and saw that he meant it. - -“I promise cross my heart and honest Injun!—but you got to fix it with -Ma, Uncle Bill,” he said, in a thin voice. - -“Don’t worry about your ma,” replied the man, smiling. “And I’ll get you -those books. If I find some mail that I have to answer I may not get -back as soon as I planned. You stay right there at the camp, and don’t -forget that I am one of the shyest men in the world. Off you go, Young -Dan—and good luck to you!” - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER II - - THE NICK O’ TIME - - -The boy poled slowly up the bright and lively water. Sometimes where the -stream was very shallow he got out and waded for fifty yards or more, -pulling the canoe along with him; occasionally he stopped to examine the -shore for signs, but all the while his thoughts were busy with his -uncle. He had seen fire in the eye of that merry, kindly man—and he -hoped never to see it again. Why had he made him promise to stop at the -camp over night? A vague but frightful suspicion possessed him. Uncle -Bill had hinted at a mystery concerning his character and pursuits. What -had he meant? He had said that he was something other, something -smarter, than people believed him to be around these parts, and that he -hid his light under a peck-measure because he was shy. Now what had he -meant by all that? And why had he seemed so queer about his camp? Was he -a criminal of some sort—and was the secret of his dark career hidden in -the camp? - -Young Dan remembered that he had never known his uncle to be without a -roll of paper money in his pocket; but what he did to earn money beyond -guiding a sportsman now and then, was more than the boy knew. Was it -possible that this mild and entertaining uncle, who had two ways of -talking and who often vanished from the Oxbow country for months at a -time, was a robber? And might it not be that he sometimes committed -robbery with violence? He always carried a pistol in the woods. A -struggle might lead to a murder now and then! Miss Carten had been up -here with her money! - -Young Dan worked his way slowly up the swift and shallow stream and at -noon he stopped to fry some bacon, but spent most of the interval -thinking. For two hours he sat there in the warm sunshine with his back -against a tree and his eyes gazing off into space. His heart was heavy -and numb with sinister suspicions of Uncle Bill. He had always admired -and liked that amiable and versatile relative; but he would go on and -learn the worst. When he finally went back to his canoe he realized that -he would have to hurry to reach the camp above the Prongs by sundown. - -There were no clearings or human habitations on the Oxbow above Old -Squaw Falls. The voice of the stream was lonely; the cries of birds in -the woods were like the very voice of desolation; and the long, yellow -day was as lonely as a deserted house. The sun was close to the wooded -hills when Young Dan reached the Prongs. He continued his journey up the -Right Prong. It was already evening in that narrow, tree-crowded valley. -The water was so shallow there, and the bed of the stream was so broken -with mossy boulders, that he ran the canoe ashore and waded forward. - -The sun was far below Young Dan’s narrowed field of vision, and the deep -track of the stream was full of brown twilight when he reached the foot -of the path that led back through the woods to Uncle Bill’s camp. The -plaintive cry of a whippoorwill rang from an umber gloom of cedars; an -owl hooted dismally in the tall spruces beyond; a fox barked on the -darkening hillside. Night-hawks swooped on twanging wings high overhead -against a sky of dulling green, and bats wove their flickering black -threads of flight in the deepening dusk of the valley. Behind and -through and over all lurked the spirit of the wilderness, watchful, -waiting, still—a spirit of mystery and menace. - -Young Dan’s heart was shaken by a vague dread. He felt fear as he had -never felt it before, at any hour of the day or night, when alone in the -woods. He started along the thread of path that was worn among the roots -of the underbrush. He gripped his axe close to the blade and questioned -the gulfs of shadow to his right and left with straining eyes. So he -advanced for fifteen or twenty yards; and then, suddenly, he remembered -the character in which he had undertaken his journey. He knelt, struck a -match, cupped the flame in his hands and held it close to the trodden -earth. - -There was a track, fresh and deep, that he had not expected to find—the -track of big soles thickly studded with blunted calks. Uncle Bill had -been in moccasins that day; he never wore calked boots in the woods; and -these tracks pointed only one way—forward. - -After a moment of reflection, Young Dan continued to advance. He was -puzzled. When he reached the edge of the little clearing he saw that the -camp was occupied. Yellow lamp-light streamed from its one small window. -He hesitated, staring forward and around, then dropped on his hands and -knees and crawled from the shelter of the woods. His right hand still -gripped the axe close up to the heavy blade. So he moved among mossy -hummocks and blackened stumps toward the lighted window, pausing often -to listen and peer about him. As he drew near he noticed that the door -was shut; and as he drew still nearer he heard the murmur of a voice -from within. He crawled close to the log wall of the cabin, directly -beneath the open window, and crouched there motionless. - -One voice was talking within—a thick, unpleasant voice that he did not -know. And this is what it was saying: - -“So he’ll be home to-night, will he? He’ll be home _to-morrow_, that’s -when he’ll be home. An’ here I be, an’ you’re goin’ to hand over all the -money you’ve got tucked away in this shack. Fust of all ye was sassy an’ -now ye’re sulky. Have a drink! This here is good stuff an’ powerful hard -to git these days. Here, pour yerself a drink an’ swaller it down—or -I’ll open yer mouth an’ make ye take it.” - -“If my husband were here he’d open that door and kick you out!” replied -another voice—a voice known to Young Dan. “If you belonged to these -parts and knew him you’d go now before he comes back and kills you, you -drunken brute!” - -“D’ye reckon to scare me?” sneered the other. “Then ye gotter think of -somethin’ bigger an’ better than this here Mister William Tangler ye’re -yappin’ about. I reckon I’ll stop right here till he comes home, and -then ye’ll know who’s the best man of the two of us. But ye ain’t took -yer drink yet! Take it, d’ye hear! It’ll loosen yer tongue.” - -The dazed boy beneath the open window heard a clink of glass, a scream -and sounds of scuffling. He raised himself and looked into the cabin. A -lamp stood among dishes on the table in the middle of the little room. -Beyond the table, against the wall, a man struggled with a woman. The -man had his back to the window. He was big and a stranger. The woman was -Miss Carten. - -Young Dan’s quick eyes spotted a wooden rolling-pin on a corner of the -table. He laid his axe on the ground and went through the window as -quick and as noiseless as thought. Two swift and silent steps brought -him to the corner of the table. He grasped a handle of the rolling-pin, -advanced two more paces, judged the distance, swung his arm and struck. -One strike meant out in that game. - -Young Dan bound the unknown and unconscious bushwhacker with thongs from -a pair of snowshoes on the wall and placed a folded blanket under his -sore head and let him lie where he had fallen. Then he sat and watched -his new aunt make coffee and warm up a panful of beans for him. She told -him of her secret courtship by Uncle Bill, and of their flight and -marriage by a parson friend whom Bill had sworn to secrecy—all because -William Tangler was the most bashful man in the world. She told of how -Bill, who was thought to be so idle and aimless by the people on the -Oxbow, was in reality an expert in the science of forestry and in the -employ of the Government as such. Bill had gone out that morning to mail -an official report and also to mail his young bride’s resignation as -teacher in the little school at the Bend. In a few days they would go -out to civilization together. - -Every now and then Miss Carten thanked Young Dan for saving her from the -drunken bushwhacker and she said so many complimentary things that her -visitor’s face turned the color of ripe choke-cherries. She said among -other things that she believed he was almost as clever and brave as his -uncle. - -“If I were Uncle Bill I wouldn’t of been so shy,” said Young Dan, who -felt greatly relieved by the outcome of his activities and very proud of -himself. - -When the coffee and beans were ready, and the big ruffian on the floor -was beginning to grunt and sigh, Young Dan remarked, “I guess Mister -Holmes couldn’t of done that job much slicker himself.” Suddenly he -cocked his head to listen. “I can hear Uncle Bill coming up the trail,” -he said. “He offered to be my Doctor Watson, but I didn’t need him.” - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER III - - A THIEF WITH CLAWS - - -Young Dan Evans was done with school; and he had almost decided to hire -out with Josh Tod, as a “swamper” in the lumberwoods, when a letter from -Uncle Bill Tangler caused him to change his plans for the winter. The -letter, which came from Mr. Tangler’s office in a distant city, ran as -follows: - - Dear Young Dan: - - Now that the frost is on the punkin (as a leading poet has - remarked) and the swamps back of your pasture are frozen so - hard that no woodcock can stick his bill into the mud any - more this year (a fact overlooked by said leading poet) and - folk on the Oxbow are frying fresh pork with their buckwheat - pancakes and making sausages and fattening turkeys, my - thoughts are with you frequently and enviously. It is a - great country, Young Dan, and a grand season of the year for - him who has wild blood in his veins and unimpaired organs of - digestion. I should like fine to be away up beyond the - Prongs this very morning, putting an edge to an appetite, - instead of sitting here at this expensive desk trying to - look like the only real know-it-all in the Government’s - service; but now that I have a wife who needs two new hats - and an evening frock, and a furnace that eats up coal, I - must sit in tight and steady to this lady-like job. But what - about you, Young Dan? You have exhausted the educational - resources of the Bend; you haven’t a wife or a furnace; so - why don’t you go up beyond the Prongs? You may use the camp - as if you owned it. As for grub, you’ll find enough there of - everything except bacon and condensed milk to last till - spring—enough for two. So you had better go into partnership - with someone—with old Andy Mace, for choice. He is an honest - man and was a mighty hunter and fur-taker in his day. You - will find half a dozen traps in your own garret and a lot - more in the loft of the camp, all in good shape. You are - welcome to them, and to my rifle as well, and my snowshoes - if they are better than your own. Help yourself. That is a - great country for fox and mink and lynx. You should have a - prosperous winter—so go to it, with your Uncle Bill’s - blessing. - - P. S. Here is a little check. Take it to Amos Bissing at the - Bend and you’ll find him willing to swap a few dollars for - it, I guess. Your Aunt Stella sends her love to you and will - mail you another book about Mr. S. Holmes as soon as she - gets it ready for the post. - -Young Dan was delighted with the letter. He showed it to his parents. -Dan’l Evans didn’t think very highly of it as a specimen of epistolary -art, though he had no objections to make to the advice and suggestions -which it contained. - -“Bill’s reckoned a smart man, an’ educated at that, but if this here -ain’t the foolishest writ letter ever I read, then I’ll eat it,” he -said. “I guess them Forestry people have kinder over-rated him. That’s -the Gover’ment for ye, and always has been. Let a man have a slick way -with him, an’ slithers of easy talk, an’ the Gover’ment gives him a job -of work with nothin’ to do. This here’s a plumb foolish letter, anyhow. -Take this here about his indigestion now, an’ this talk about the -woodcock! What d’ye reckon he means? I ain’t had much education, but——” - -“Ye’re right there, Dan’l Evans,” interrupted Young Dan’s mother, who -had held a very high opinion of her brother’s abilities ever since he -had become a successful citizen of the great outside world. “Much -education! No, indeed. Bill’s clever, an’ always was—an’ I, for one, -always knew it. I always knew he should be clever, anyhow, seein’ he was -a Tangler; an’ if I ever acted crusty with him it was his own fault for -hidin’ his light from me in a bushel-bag, so to speak. He didn’t write -that letter to you anyhow, Dan’l Evans, so what you think about it don’t -matter a mite to my brother Bill nor anybody.” - -This discussion concerning the letter from a purely literary standpoint -did not disturb Young Dan in the least, for neither of his parents -offered any objection to his acceptance of Uncle Bill Tangler’s offers -and advice. He set out first thing in the morning to put the proposition -before old Andy Mace, who lived three miles below the Bend, in a log -house in a small clearing. It was a morning of sun and frost. The road, -recently deep with mud, was hard as iron; the sky was bluer than at -midsummer; a flock of geese went over, high up, winging tirelessly -southward; and there was a skim of black ice along the lips of the -Oxbow. It was a grand morning to be a-wing or a-foot and Young Dan -pictured Uncle Bill Tangler seated at his desk in the distant city with -a twinge of pity. Though there was no wind, red and yellow leaves of -maple and birch snapped their stems loose in some mysterious way and -circled down to the frosty moss, and the sounds of their falling came -out of the woods on both sides of the road like a soft whisper. - -Young Dan found Andy Mace splitting stove-wood beside the back-door of -his primitive habitation. Andy had lived a great many years—eighty or -perhaps as many as eighty-five—and most of them rough. His joints were -not as supple as they had been thirty years ago, but he was still an -able man and a first-class hand at all forms of sylvan activity. -Experience had taught him the easiest way of doing everything well, and -his inherent and acquired wisdom saw to it that he made the most of that -knowledge. This fact was demonstrated even in his present employment. -The round sticks of dry maple and birch fell apart under the lightest -strokes of his axe in a manner that suggested magic to Young Dan. - -“You do that slick, Mr. Mace,” said the young man. - -“Well, I’d ought to, at my time o’ life,” replied Andy, straightening -his back slowly. “I’ve been splittin’ wood nigh onto a hundred years, -off and on, so it’s no more’n to be expected that I’d be a purty slick -hand at the job by now.” - -“I got a letter here from Uncle Bill Tangler, and if you’ll read it I -won’t have to tell you what’s in it,” said Young Dan. - -“That sounds reasonable,” replied the old man, taking the letter and -seating himself on the chopping-block. - -He fished a pair of spectacles from a hip-pocket and donned them with -great care. He chuckled now and again as he read the letter. - -“Smart boy. Bill Tangler,” he said at last. “Knows timber and folks, he -does; and I larned him purty nigh all he knows about timber. We’ve -cruised the woods together months on end, him and me.” - -“Will you be my partner, Mr. Mace, and go up to Uncle Bill’s camp with -me to trap fur all winter?” - -“I sure will, Young Dan. I ain’t got hoof nor claw o’ livestock, and -this old house is used to bein’ empty, so I cal’late we’d best start -upstream bright and early to-morrow mornin’. I’ll call at yer place -about seven o’clock, if that’ll suit ye.” - -“It suits me fine.” - -“So we’re pardners, you and me. What I got in here will just about -offset the camp.” Andy pressed a finger-tip to his forehead. “We’ll -figger out the cost o’ grub come spring, and I’ll pay ye my half in good -green money. Folks hereabouts name me for a rich miser behind my back, -as ye’ve heared with yer own ears like enough, Young Dan; and that’s -because I’m a bach, and live in a log house, and let my whiskers grow. -Well, boy, they’re dead wrong about me bein’ a miser. I’d smoke ten-cent -seegars if they tasted as good to me as a pipe, and it ain’t the cost o’ -city life that keeps me from movin’ to Harlow or Centreville or to Noo -York. No, sir-ee! I live here like I do because it is the place and the -way that suits my tastes; and I’d still do it if it cost me twenty -dollars every week. You ask Bill Tangler. We took a ja’nt once to the -Sportsman’s Show in Noo York, him and me together. Ask yer Uncle Bill -about me bein’ a miser.” - -“Folks round here didn’t have Uncle Bill sized up just right, either,” -returned Young Dan. “I guess the most of them don’t see much more than -what hits them plumb in the eye.” - -The old man chuckled delightedly at that. - -“Come inside and have a go at my ginger cookies,” he invited. “I’ve been -makin’ ginger cookies nigh onto a hundred years, off and on, and now I -just naturally turn out the best ye ever tasted.” - -By the time Young Dan started on his homeward journey, which wasn’t -until after dinner, he was full of admiration for his partner—not to -mention pumpkin pie, Washington pie and ginger cookies. - -Old Andy Mace came to the Evans’ place on foot next morning, at the -stroke of the hour, with a pack of formidable proportions on his -shoulders and a rifle in his hand. He found Young Dan ready for him, -with the thin ice broken from the edge of the stream and Bill Tangler’s -canoe launched and loaded. Young Dan took the post of honor and effort -aft and plied the long pole. They reached Squaw Falls by half-past ten, -made the portage, lunched and reembarked by noon. Old Andy Mace took the -pole then, for three hours. The water, high and swift, humped itself -over submerged mossy boulders. Andy pushed the loaded canoe up steadily -and at a good pace, with no more show of effort than an ordinary person -would make in cutting tobacco for a pipe. The sun went down before they -reached the Prongs. It was night, with stars in the sky and an aching -cold over everything, when they unlocked the door of Uncle Bill -Tangler’s camp. - -While Andy lit two fires, one on the open hearth and the other in the -little cook-stove, and shook out blankets to air, Young Dan carried the -outfit up from the landing. Then, by lantern-light and firelight, they -examined the provisions which Bill Tangler had left behind. - -“Jumpin’ Josh-ee-phat, look-a here!” exclaimed Andy Mace. “Here’s a box -been bust open—box o’ prunes—and the prunes took. There’s some dried -apples gone, too, and some flour, I reckon. Take a look at the windy, -Young Dan.” - -The window was shuttered on the outside when the camp was not occupied. -The shutter was of plank, hinged to the window-frame at the top and, -when secured, fastened at the bottom by a hasp and a padlock. But now -the shutter was not fastened. The long staple had been wrenched from the -tough plank and now hung uselessly from the log window-sill, together -with the hasp and padlock. - -“A b’ar,” said Andy. “Trust a b’ar to sniff out prunes.” - -“A bear wouldn’t take flour,” said Young Dan. - -“Ye can’t never tell what a b’ar will do, for b’ars are natural born -jokers,” replied Andy. “I’ve knowed the critters for nigh onto a hundred -years, and that’s my opinion of them.” - -“It wasn’t done yesterday, nor even the day before,” said the youth. -“The prunes he’s left in the box are pretty dry. And he has had a go at -the molasses, too. He’s left the stopper out, see; and look at the track -of dried molasses down the front of the jug. It’s a wonder he didn’t -upset it. And he’s ripped the bean-bag open, darn his hide! But how come -it he didn’t upset the jug? Maybe it wasn’t a bear at all, Mr. Mace. A -man could have done it, I guess.” - -“It be a reg’lar b’ar trick,” replied Andy. “He didn’t upset the jug o’ -molasses, that’s true—and I’m glad he didn’t—but all that shows is some -b’ars is smarter or more careful nor others. He h’isted the jug in his -two paws and took a swig, that’s what he done. Look at the beans he’s -chawed and spit out on the floor. D’ye reckon a man would do that?” - -“Some men are smarter and more careful than others,” replied Young Dan. - -They closed the inner glazed sash of the window and nailed a strong bar -of wood across it. Then they cooked and ate their supper and retired to -their bunks, for they were bone-tired. The affair of the thieving bear -would keep very well until morning. - -They awoke bright and early. Young Dan hopped from his bunk in a lively -and limber manner, feeling nothing of yesterday’s exertions; but Andy -Mace grunted a few times as he sat up in his blankets and a few more -times as he lowered his feet to the floor. - -“I ain’t as soupel as I was eighty years ago,” he said. - -When Young Dan opened the door the cold fairly caught him by the nose. -He made a quick trip across the little clearing and down the steep path -to the landing-place, with two pails in his hands. He found the shallow -Right Prong shelled in black ice from shore to shore save for a few -little air-holes. He had to break the ice with a stone before he could -fill his pails. Then he took a quick and splashy bath right there. Wow! -Wow! But after it he felt as if he could eat his weight in bacon and -pancakes and fight his weight in wild-cats. - -They went out and examined the ground beneath the window after -breakfast. Frosts and rains had done much to wipe out the tracks of the -thief, but they found a few unmistakable claw-marks here and there. Mr. -Mace put his white beard to the ground in the intensity of his scrutiny; -but the best he could do was trace the marks for a distance of seven or -eight paces from the window. - -“I cal’late he’s denned himself up somewheres long before this, and lays -sleepin’ snug as ye please on a bellyful o’ Bill Tangler’s superior -prunes,” he said. “He’s a big feller, jedgin’ by the claws. I’d like -fine to happen onto his den.” - -“Same here,” replied Young Dan. “I’d sure like to have a look at him. A -bear as smart as that one ought to be in a circus or teachin’ school.” - -They cruised the woods from sunrise to sunset for the next three days, -choosing the likeliest country for their lines of traps. They spent four -more days in setting the traps exactly to Andy’s taste in four lines of -about equal length radiating from the camp. By that time everything that -wasn’t kept indoors or underground, or that wasn’t clothed in wool, fur, -or feathers, was frozen stiff. The Right Prong was roofed strongly over, -except in one spot where the swift water kept itself an open -breathing-place in some mysterious way. The ice was strong to the very -edge of that hole; and, to save himself the trouble of keeping another -hole chopped clear, Young Dan always walked out to it for his morning -and evening pails of water. There the little river flashed always bright -and naked and untouched, sliding over mossy rocks as green as in summer. - -There were other and lesser streams and half a dozen small ponds within -the circle of Andy’s and Young Dan’s operations, and these were all -frozen hard. - -Andy arranged the routine of the everyday tasks. They breakfasted before -sunrise, by lantern-light. Then Young Dan set out on one of the crooked -six-mile strings of traps, outfitted with rifle, axe, and frozen bait, -and a pocketful of sandwiches in case of need. Andy cleared away the -breakfast things and fell to the ever-urgent task of rustling wood; and -between bouts of chopping and splitting he prepared the dinner and -sometimes even pulled off such extra stunts as a panful of ginger -cookies or a pie. Young Dan was usually home, with or without a pelt or -two, by half-past twelve or one o’clock. After dinner, Andy armed -himself and lit out on another six-mile string, and Young Dan washed the -dinner dishes and rustled wood. Andy was usually back, with luck, in -time to cook supper. In the evening they gave the skins whatever -attention was necessary and the old partner talked and the young one -gave ear. In this way, each of the four lines of traps was visited every -other day. - -Snow descended upon that wilderness on the twentieth of November and -continued to descend for two whole days and nights. It came to stay. -Owing to the storm, the partners lost touch with their traps for two -days. The third day was still and clear. The forest was fairly -smothered, aloft and below. Young Dan set out at the first streak of -daylight, sinking deep on his wide snowshoes at every step. He traveled -slowly and experienced a good deal of difficulty in locating some of the -traps. It was noon when he got to the end of the line, empty-handed. He -rested there and ate half of his sandwiches of bread and cold bacon. He -had tramped himself a nest in the snow, and made a little fire of dry -twigs for the appearance of comfort; and now, having eaten, he continued -to sit on his snowshoes and feed the fire. He was about to leave this -retreat and set out on the back-trail when a muffled disturbance of the -snow-heaped brush on his right attracted his attention. He glanced up in -time to see a human figure issue from the tangle, its head held low and -its shoulders hunched against the showers of dislodged snow. - -Young Dan was astonished at the sight, but he did nothing to show it. -The intruder shook himself free of snow, halted and stood straight. He -was on snowshoes and carried a rifle in a blanket stocking. Young Dan -noticed that his rough jacket and trousers were old and patched and that -they appeared to be several sizes too large for him. - -“Have you anything to eat?” asked the stranger, in a voice that puzzled -the trapper. “If you have, please give me a bite.” - -Young Dan produced the remaining sandwiches from his pocket and handed -them over without a word. The stranger crouched by the little fire and -bit off a very small corner of frozen bread and frosty bacon. - -“I was watchin’ you quite a spell,” he said. “When I seen you was only a -young feller I wasn’t scart.” - -“Only a young feller!” exclaimed Young Dan. “Is that so? Well, what of -it? You don’t look like much of a man yerself.” - -“Which I ain’t, nor don’t pretend to be,” replied the stranger, -swallowing hard on the chilly fare. “I wisht you had yer teakittle -along. No, I ain’t much of a man. I’m a married woman, with a husband -sick a-bed not five mile from here, an’ my name is Mrs. May Conley—an’ -me an’ Jim Conley an’ the younguns are jist about starved, if you want -to know. Whereabouts is yer camp from here?” - -“About six mile from this, dead south. I got a partner there, old Andy -Mace; and we’ve got quite a store of grub, of one kind and -another—condensed milk, too.” - -“We ain’t got a cent to buy grub with. Jim was away till a few weeks -back, an’ then he come home to us without a dollar of his summer wages -an’ went sick.” - -“That’ll be all right about the money; but what ails yer husband?” - -Mrs. Conley’s answer to that was a cheerless smile and a shake of the -head. - -“I suppose you shoot fresh meat, anyhow,” continued Young Dan, feeling -embarrassed. “You got a rifle, I see.” - -“If you mean deer an’ the like by fresh meat, then I tell you I don’t -shoot it—but I’ve shot at it a few times,” replied the woman. “It’s a -sight too knowing an’ lively for me to hit.” - -“Tell you what I’ll do, m’am,” said Young Dan. “You come to this very -spot at ten o’clock to-morrow and you’ll find me here with some grub. -Will tea and canned milk and sugar and fifteen pounds of white flour be -any use to you?” - -“Will spring water quench thirst?” returned the woman, her sad face -brightening. “But can’t I have it sooner?—some of that there milk, -anyhow? Young man, my two babies was cryin’ with hungry pains when I -started out; an’ the biggest of ’em isn’t as long as this here -snowshoe.” - -“If I had it here I’d give it you right now—but all our grub’s back at -our camp, six mile away. Will you go along with me and carry away what -you’re in most need of, m’am?” - -“Will a duck swim?” - -Young Dan meant well, but he did not realize that the mother of two -children who cry with hunger is almost sure to be weak for want of -food—he did not realize it until he heard a soft thud behind him and -turned to find his companion flat on her face in the snow. He raised her -to a sitting position and pulled her back until she rested against a -small spruce. He built a big fire in the trail and cut many fir boughs -to serve her as a couch and covering. He removed her snowshoes. - -“Guess I’m all in—till I have a cup of tea,” she said. - -“I’ll fetch a kettle,” replied Young Dan. “You stop right there till I -get back.” - -He made the remaining three miles to the camp on Right Prong in record -time. He told what he knew of Mrs. Conley’s story briefly to Andy, while -they made up a small pack of provisions in a blanket. He attached a -small frying-pan and a kettle to the pack. - -“Best go all the way home with her, if ye ain’t clean tuckered out,” -said the old man. “I cal’late it wouldn’t be a bad idee to have a look -at this here Jim Conley, for he don’t sound to me like a desirable -neighbor nor a valued citizen. You kin size him up while yer restin’, -and take yer time on the home-trip. It shapes for a fine night.” - -“I’ll do that,” said Young Dan. - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - THE MAN IN THE BUNK - - -The sun was on the edge of the western hills when he got back to Mrs. -Conley. She expressed relief at seeing him and wonder at seeing him so -soon. He built up the fire, melted snow and made tea. He also fried a -little bacon and bread. Between them they emptied tea-kettle and -frying-pan; and the woman was greatly revived by the food and drink. - -The woman led the way northward and westward to her home. The distance -struck Young Dan as being nearer seven miles than five. The small window -of the cabin glowed a dim yellow. Mrs. Conley pushed open the door and -entered without waiting to remove her snowshoes. Young Dan kicked off -his snowshoes and had a foot on the threshold when he heard an -unpleasant voice shout from somewhere within, demanding to know where -the woman had been and why she had stayed away so long and why she -hadn’t brought some food home with her. A few oaths gave color to the -questions. - -Young Dan crossed the threshold, kicked the door shut with a heel and -lowered his pack to the floor. In one comprehensive glance he saw the -woman stooped to two clinging children, a man lying in a bunk, a failing -fire on a rough hearth, a smoky lantern on a table and a worn bear-skin -on the floor. He had never seen a less cheering interior. - -The man in the bunk sat up and stared at Young Dan. His shoulders looked -very broad in the dim light. - -“Who’s thar?” he exclaimed. “Who’s that?” - -“Ye needn’t be scart,” said the woman, with a tang of scorn in her -voice. “It’s a feller from the camp over on Right Prong. He’s fetched in -some grub for us, in the kindness of his heart.” - -The man immediately lay back without another word. - -Young Dan felt indignant, so much so that his indignation amounted to -anger—anger that felt like a lump of something uncomfortably hard and -hot in his chest. He wanted to say something sharp to the big fellow in -the bunk—but he didn’t know what to say. So, without a word, he untied -his blanket, filled an arm with the packages of food and carried all to -the table. - -“No water and no wood,” said Mrs. Conley, looking at the bunk. - -Young Dan went outside and found a small pile of wood beside the door, -under a roof of snow. He carried an armful into the shack; and as he -laid the sticks beside the hearth he noticed how irregularly and -unskilfully the severed ends were cut. Even a sick man accustomed to the -use of an axe would not have hacked the wood so clumsily. He knew it was -not the work of the man in the bunk. He then took up an empty pail and -enquired the whereabouts of the water-hole. Mrs. Conley told him that -there was a spring just back of the shack and a path leading to it which -he couldn’t miss. She was right; and in a minute he was back with the -water. As he set the pail down on a bench near the door he looked at the -man in the bunk, the hot spot of anger and indignation still glowing in -his chest. The man’s eyes met his for a moment—but he saw more than the -fellow’s eyes. He crossed the narrow floor to the bunk. - -“What’s the matter with you, anyhow?” he asked. - -“Matter with me, d’ye say?” returned the fellow in the blankets. “I’m -sick, that’s what’s the matter. Can’t ye see?” - -Young Dan stooped swiftly and drew a high-shouldered, square-faced black -bottle from beneath the edge of the bunk. There was a sound of clinking -glass as he brought it forth as if it were in contact with receptacles -of a like nature and material. He held it aloft. - -“Yes, I can see all right,” he cried. “And I guess I’ve got hold of a -few doses of your medicine.” - -“Well, what of it?” demanded the other, his voice at once savage and -anxious. - -Young Dan returned the bottle to its place; and in so doing he caught -sight of some other articles of interest beneath the bunk. More bottles -were there, both full and empty—but there were other things of even -greater interest to the youth. He stood up, however, without word or -sign of comment. - -Mrs. Conley, who was busily engaged in feeding the children with -condensed milk diluted with hot water, paid keen attention to Young -Dan’s words and actions, but said nothing. - -Young Dan moved away from the bunk and bestowed a brief but enquiring -glance upon the worn bear-skin on the floor. That article had struck him -as looking queer, somehow or other, when he had first set eyes on it; -and now he knew it to be queer. It had grown on a big animal and had -evidently been a fine pelt in its day. The big, wide head was there—not -the skull, but the complete skin of head, to the tip of the nose. Yes, -the head was all there—but all four paws were missing! - -Young Dan turned again to the man in the bunk. “Say the word, and I’ll -get a doctor in to see you,” he said. “Or we’ll haul you out on a sled, -if you ain’t too sick to be shifted about a bit.” - -“I don’t want no cussed doctor p’isonin’ me,” cried the invalid. “Mind -yer own business, will ye, an’ leave me be to look after mine? I’m able -for it, without yer help.” - -“All right,” retorted Young Dan, his voice shaking with anger and scorn. -“Well, then, look after yer own business if you’re so able. Get out of -bed and get to work. I know all I need to about you. I know enough about -you to run you out of these woods and into jail; and that’s the -identical thing I intend to do if you don’t get busy. So cut out the gin -and the bunk and cut into the wood-pile. D’ye get me?” - -The man did not answer. The woman continued to feed the children in -silence. Young Dan glared at the bunk a little longer, then fetched his -snowshoes and put them on, and took up his rifle, axe and blanket. - -“I’m off,” he said. “But I’ll be back in a few days, to see how you’re -working, Jim Conley. I’ve got your measure, and don’t you forget it! -Goodnight to you, m’am.” - -He had not gone far from the miserable cabin before the woman came -running after him. He halted. - -“What is it ye know about him?” she asked, anxiously. - -“I can guess more’n I know, but I reckon what I know is plenty,” he -replied. “He broke into my Uncle Bill Tangler’s camp a few months back -an’ stole some grub, with the paws an’ claws of a big bear on his hands -an’ feet. Guess he reckoned he was smart.” - -“How d’ye know that?” - -“I’d figgered out it wasn’t a bear long ago; and to-night I spied the -skinned paws under the bunk. It was easy.” - -“Jim wasn’t in the woods when that happened,” she whispered. “It was me -broke into the camp an’ stole the grub. It was me who cut the paws off -that old skin an’ used ’em to fool ye with. Jim was away out to the -settlements that day.” - -“You, ma’am!” - -“That’s Gospel-true. The babies and me hadn’t a bite to eat but some -rusty pork. We needed the food bad. It was the first time I ever stole -anything.” - -“Then why didn’t you upset the molasses jug, like a bear would do? A -bear would of upset it an’ then licked the molasses off the floor. If -you’d done it that way, m’am—upset the jug, I mean—I wouldn’t of -suspicioned the thief wasn’t a bear; and so I wouldn’t of examined the -shutter and spotted how the staple had been pried off with the blade of -an axe; and so I wouldn’t of taken any stock in the old paws under the -bunk.” - -“I took enough molasses to fill the bottle I had along with me. I hadn’t -the heart to upset the jug an’ waste what I didn’t want. But I kinder -thought that’s what a bear would do.” - -“Well, that’s all right, anyhow,” said Young Dan. “I don’t blame you a -mite for rustlin’ grub for your babies; but if you don’t make that big -bluffer get to work, I’ll land him in jail or bust tryin’—and you can -bet I won’t bust, m’am!” - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER V - - THE STIFF KNEE - - -“Well, I found that bear,” said Young Dan Evans to Andy when he arrived -at the camp; and then he gave a full account of his experiences with the -Conley family. - -“You done dead right!” exclaimed Andy Mace, at the conclusion of the -story. “You got brains and use ’em, I do believe; and that’s more’n can -be said about most folks nowadays. What size was this here Jim Conley?” - -“Big. Over six foot high, I guess, and hefty—and no more sick-abed nor -you or me.” - -“What would ye’ve done if he’d clum outer the bunk an’ lammed ye one?” - -“I’d of lammed him two or three back—maybe four.” - -“I reckon ye would. I was jist sich another at yer age, Young Dan—always -up an’ doin’, always ready to fight my own weight in minks or men, and -yet always a thinker an’ a bit of scholard, too.” - -“But I don’t go round looking for fights, Mr. Mace. I’m peaceable enough -by nature.” - -“Yes, in course. It’s the same with me. There never was a more peaceable -citizen on the Oxbow nor Andy Mace—but nobody had to tromp on the tails -o’ my snowshoes more’n twice to fetch me round with fists in both -hands.” - -A week passed before the partners on Right Prong heard or saw anything -more of the Conleys. It was a busy week with them, for trails had to be -beaten out anew in the deep snow and a fresh supply of bait had to be -obtained for the traps; and, as if these tasks were not enough, Andy -shot a fat buck deer which had to be skinned and quartered and placed -out of harm’s way, and Young Dan cracked the frame of one of his -snowshoes. The partners were full of energy and determination, however. -They survived that strenuous week breathless but triumphant. They -obtained the required bait from the depths of a nameless pond which lay -four miles to the eastward of the camp. This was a big job in itself, -for the ice was nearly two feet thick on the pond, not to mention the -three feet of snow which topped the ice. They shovelled snow; then they -chopped and shovelled ice; and at last old Andy bored with a four-inch -bit until the clear water welled up into the icy trough from the brown -depths. He bored two holes; and then they baited their hooks with fat of -pork and each lowered a line into the unknown. They fished steadily for -three hours and by the end of that time were too nearly frozen to go on -with it. The captured trout froze stiff after a jump or two on the snow. - -“Reckon it’s a reel chilly day,” remarked Andy, looking from the low -sun, which glinted as grey and cheerless as a flake of ice, to the -frozen fish. “Reckon we’d best quit and git home before we’re as stiff -an’ twisted as these here trout.” - -He was right. If there had been a thermometer in the Right Prong country -it would have marked twenty-five degrees below zero just then. Young Dan -was agreeable; but he would have stood there and continued the motions -of fishing, slowly and more slowly until the numbness caught his heart, -if the old man had not suggested a move. When two good men go into the -woods together, and one of them is well past four score years of age and -the other has not yet completed his first score, the spur of competition -is bound to prod now and then. In this matter of endurance against the -cold the partners had silently and almost unconsciously competed. No -rivalry of youth and age had inspired them, but rather the rivalry of -two widely separated generations of youth; for old Andy Mace considered -himself as good a man as he had ever been and so a trifle better than -Young Dan, maybe, because of his birth and training in a period of the -world’s existence that had marked its very highest point of development. -He said nothing of all this to Young Dan, of course—even if he thought -it. - -They gathered up their gear and scooped the frozen fish into a couple of -sacks. Not a word did they exchange until they were both on the warm -side of their own door; and even then they didn’t exchange many. An hour -later, however, when the “riz” biscuits, broiled venison steak, and the -coffee-pot were on the table, they talked “good and plenty.” - -Woodsmen are not generally supposed to be talkative folk. If there is -any truth in this general supposition, then Young Dan and old Andy Mace -must be the two exceptions that prove it—if suppositions, like rules, -can be proved by exceptions. However that may be, these two woodsmen -spent every evening in conversation, crawling into their bunks at last -only because they couldn’t hear in their sleep. And their talk was not -all of the woods and the day’s work. Far from it. They had much more to -say concerning what they thought than what they knew; and so almost -every subject under the sun was dealt with. Even when Young Dan read -aloud, Andy capped every paragraph with a comment or an explanation, or -an objection of equal or greater length. Their library contained only -three small volumes of fiction, all from one entertaining pen—but under -their system of reading, three promised to be plenty, for one winter at -least. In spite of his interruptions, Andy Mace was a hungry listener, -and so his interest in the adventures and mental processes of Mr. -Sherlock Holmes soon became almost as keen as his partner’s. No one -could be more sharply intrigued by an artful combination of significant -words than that old trapper. - -On the night of the day of the cold fishing, after the last fragment of -steak had been devoured, Young Dan opened one of the treasured books and -began to read aloud; and, at the same moment, Andy began to cut tobacco -for his pipe. Andy gave ear intently until the tobacco was shredded, -rolled, stuffed into the pipe and satisfactorily lighted. He blew three -large, slow clouds and settled back in his chair. - -“I wisht we had that gent here on Right Prong with us,” he said. “He’d -stand it all right, too, I reckon, in a good coonskin coat. What d’ye -cal’late he’d of made o’ that thief in claws?” - -Young Dan closed the book on a finger. - -“I guess he would of known it wasn’t a bear right off,” he said. “I did. -I suspicioned it wasn’t, anyhow. I guess he would of known for sure, -right off; and maybe he wouldn’t of figgered it out the way I did, -neither—not by the molasses jug alone, perhaps.” - -“How else could he figger it out? What else was there to figger on?” - -“Plenty for him. I can think of some other things myself, now. There -were the claw-marks. I guess those alone would of been enough for Mr. -Holmes.” - -“What about ’em? They were marks of a b’ar’s claws.” - -“Yes—but he’s scientifical, Mr. Holmes is. He would of had a spyin’ -glass handy in his pocket to look at the marks with, and right off he’d -of seen by the spread from claw to claw that they had been made by a -mighty big bear. He would study over that a few minutes, somethin’ like -this: A bear with paws as big as what these must of been must be an -uncommon big bear; and heavy—four or five hundred pounds in weight, -maybe, in the fall of the year; and so he would just naturally make -deeper tracks than these here; and a bear as big as what he must be to -own these paws and claws would be too darned big to get through that -little window without spreadin’ the side of the camp or bustin’ himself -or somethin’. So he would up and say, quick but quiet, ‘This thief is a -lamb in a wolf’s clothes’—or somethin’ like that. He would know it -wasn’t a bear, anyway. That’s how Mr. Holmes would of figgered it out, I -guess.” - -Andy withdrew his pipe from his mouth and slowly straightened himself in -his chair. - -“Sufferin’ cats!” he exclaimed. “It don’t sound altogether human comin’ -like that from a young feller who ain’t been to school nowhere but down -to the Bend. Where’d ye get the trick of it from, Young Dan? Not from -yer Pa nor yer Ma, I’ll swear an Alfy Davy!” - -“That was easy, workin’ it out after I knew, the way I did,” replied -Young Dan, modestly. “If I had worked it out that way before I -knew—well, that would of been pretty slick work. That would of been -scientifical.” - -“If Gover’ment hears about it you’ll be one o’ these here boss policemen -some day,” said Andy. - -“I guess not,” retorted Young Dan, with a slight curl of the lips that -was foreign to his character. - -He already shared Sherlock Holmes’ opinion of the mental equipment of -that stalwart and imperturbable force. - -He reopened the book and took up the story at the point of his partner’s -interruption. He read a paragraph, his voice skidding now and then on a -word of formidable proportions. He read a page, warming to his work and -tearing the big words to pieces without so much as a hitch in his -stride. Two pages—and still not a peep out of Andy Mace. He ceased -reading and looked up inquiringly, and beheld his aged partner slouched -in the chair and sunk deep in slumber, his shoulders hunched high, his -chin tucked in and his grey beard rising and falling peacefully on his -breast. - -Young Dan was up as early as usual next morning. He lit the lantern and -then the fire in the stove; and it was not until then that he heard any -signs of life from his partner’s bunk. - -“Sufferin’ cant-dogs!” exclaimed Andy. “Warm up the b’ar’s grease for -me, pardner. This here right leg o’ mine’s stiffer’n King Pharaoh’s -neck. Must of give it a twist yesterday.” - -Young Dan complied with this request, cooked the breakfast and tucked -into it. He set out on the northward line at the first break of dawn, -with a sack over his shoulder containing a supply of the new bait and a -haunch of venison, leaving Andy Mace still rubbing that high-smelling -cure-all into his right knee and telling how it had been tender ever -since he had hurt it fifty years ago in an argument with a man from -Quebec. - -It was a fine morning, and a clear finger of light in the east promised -a fine day. The air was still and not so perishing cold as it had been -the day before. Young Dan traveled fast. He found a mink in the first -trap and stowed it away in the sack without waiting to skin it. He -rebaited the trap with a frozen trout. The second and third traps were -exactly as he had last seen them; the fourth contained a red fox, which -he added to the collection in the sack; and the remaining traps were -undisturbed. He continued northward along the trail that led to the -Conley cabin. - -Young Dan did not find Jim Conley at home, but Mrs. Conley and the -babies were there. He produced the haunch of deer-meat, for which the -woman thanked him heartily. - -“I’m glad to see that Jim’s able to be up and out,” he said. “He must be -feeling better.” - -“I reckon he’s some better,” she replied. “He lit out for the -settlements two days back, anyhow.” - -“To fetch in some grub?” - -“Maybe he’ll fetch in some grub.” - -Young Dan’s eyes turned significantly to the floor at the edge of the -bunk beneath which he had discovered the store of “square-faces” during -his last visit. The woman observed the glance and sighed. Young Dan felt -embarrassed. - -“I’m glad he has something to buy grub with,” he said. - -“He’s got a few skins,” said the woman. “He went out an’ set some traps -first thing after the tongue-lashin’ ye give him.” - -“He must be lucky, to have enough to carry out to the settlements after -a couple of days’ trapping,” said the youth, astonished. - -Mrs. Conley smiled bitterly. - -“Jim don’t wait to git a lot before he commences sellin’,” she said. -“It’s the way he’s built.” - -“And he’s left you to attend to the traps?” - -“Nope, he told me to let ’em be while he was gone. I don’t know nothin’ -about traps, anyhow. I was born and riz in the settlements.” - -“He might lose some good skins that way—have them et up on him; but it’s -his own business, I guess. Well, I must be getting home. If you need -anything, m’am, you know where to find my partner and me.” - -Young Dan sat down and ate his lunch as soon as he got out of sight of -the cabin. He felt depressed; and the cold steak and frosty biscuits -didn’t cheer him. - -“That’s a poor outfit,” he said. “I guess that Jim Conley’s no darned -good. I wonder where he got that gin—and if he’ll get any more? He won’t -buy much with the price of a few fox skins, that’s sure. He’s big, and -maybe he’s powerful—but I kind of feel that I’ll light right into him -next time I see him.” - -He made the homeward journey of twelve miles without a stop. It was -close to three o’clock in the afternoon when he reached camp; and there, -to his astonishment, he found Andy Mace seated by the stove with his -right leg cocked up in a chair. - -Andy looked ashamed of himself. - -“I never knowed it to act so contrary before,” he said. “It’s still -stiffer’n a ramrod, an’ I’ve rubbed nigh all my b’ar’s grease into it; -an’ all the fault o’ that gum-heeled feller from Quebec I fit with over -on the Tobique in the winter o’ eighteen-seventy. It’s nigh enough to -rile a man’s temper, Young Dan.” - -Young Dan was distressed. - -“If it hurts you bad, just say the word and I’ll go clean out to Harlow -and fetch in a doctor,” he offered. - -“No!” exclaimed Andy. “It ain’t my knee hurts me, but it’s layin’ down -on the job to-day, and maybe to-morrow, and leavin’ all the work to you. -That’s what riles me.” - -“Don’t you worry about that,” the youth reassured him. “I am able and -willing, and you’ll be right as rain in a few days. Now I’ll do a mile -or two of the south line and be back in time to fry pancakes for -supper.” - -He was as good as his word; and, later, his pancakes proved to be as -good as any his partner had ever mixed and fried. He told of his visit -to the Conley cabin, and the old man agreed with him that it would be a -real pleasure to hand Jim Conley just what he deserved. After supper, -Young Dan read a complete story, in irregular fragments, and his partner -talked a bookful. - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - FISH FOR BAIT - - -Andy’s knee was worse next morning, but he did not say so. He admitted -that it didn’t seem to be any more supple, spoke hopefully of another -day’s rest and a little more bear’s grease as being all that it -required, and again referred to the fight of fifty years ago in terms of -regret and acrimony. The truth was that the old fellow had rheumatism; -and he knew what it was; and he had felt it before, once or twice a -year, in the very same place. Furthermore, the gritty old sportsman was -too vain to admit the truth. Of course he had fought with a man from -Quebec fifty years ago, in a lumber-camp on Tobique River, and twisted a -knee in the heat of the encounter—but if you had put him on oath and -asked him to lay a finger on the knee he had wrenched on that distant -occasion, he couldn’t have done it. - -“I hope you walloped that man from Quebec,” said Young Dan. - -“I sure did,” replied Andy, brightening. “He was counted a smart fighter -even for them days—but I was the snag he busted himself on.” - -“I betcher! Well, I’ll be back in time to cook dinner, so you just keep -quiet while I’m gone.” - -“No, you take yer grub along and I’ll have supper ready when you git -back. I ain’t a cripple yet.” - -Young Dan put some food in his pockets and went about his day’s work, -armed as usual with axe and rifle. He set out on the line of traps that -ran crookedly almost due west, for this was the one that had been -longest neglected. Andy Mace had been along it last, just before the -forty-eight-hour storm, and now the tracks of his snowshoes were buried -deep. Young Dan kept to his course without difficulty, however, though -the line was not blazed. He worked easily by signs that would have meant -nothing to a city man. His guides were certain trees and bushes and -humps and hollows; and the wilderness was full to crowding of such -things. So much for the line of general direction—but some of the traps -lay several score of yards to the right and left of that line. A modest -blaze had been cut in the bark of tree or sapling at several of these -points of deflection. - -Young Dan drew two blanks and then a fine big lynx. He skinned the lynx -before going on. The fourth trap was empty, but the bait which had been -placed on and around it so artfully had been snatched away even more -artfully. He rebaited with frozen trout. The fifth trap was snapped -tight on the forepaws of a skunk. The skunk itself was gone but Young -Dan soon discovered odds and ends of hair and bone scattered in the snow -in the immediate vicinity. Something with an amazing appetite had beaten -the trapper to that trap, for certain. Young Dan set these things to -rights and passed on, wondering at the driving power of hunger. - -Two more blanks, a red fox and a skunk followed. The last trap on the -line was empty and evidently undisturbed. The bait was covered with -snow. Young Dan felt for it with a small stick and twitched a bit of it -to the surface. He replaced it with a frozen trout, left it lying on the -snow as an extra lure and turned away. He even took a step away; and -then he turned back sharply and with the stick drew closer the piece of -bait which he had twitched out of the snow. He took it up in his -mittened hands and examined it closely. His eyes rounded and his lips -parted with astonishment. Then his face took on an expression of blank -bewilderment. He gazed all around at the crowding underbrush and soaring -spires of the forest, then straight up at the clear sky, then down again -at the lump of frozen bait in his hand. - -“That’s queer,” he said. “Andy was here last, and that was before we -went fishing—yes, and before the last snow. We were baiting with -porcupine that day. I wonder where he got this from.” - -He tossed the thing back into the snow and, still wondering, went his -way. His way now was not by the back trail, but sharp to the right, and -then more to the right, until his course lay southeast. He traveled by -the sun. The way was rough and tangled, and the “going” was heavy. He -struggled over blow-downs and through cedar-twined fastnesses of swamp. -After a couple of miles of it he sat down to rest and eat his lunch. -After that he came to a patch of open barren, desolate and flat under -the colorless sun. He held to his course straight across the level, a -distance of about two miles, and made good time. Beyond the barren he -entered a forest of big timber and crossed a wide ridge of maples and -yellow birches; and far beyond the ridge he came at last to the locality -of the southernmost trap of the southern line. - -Young Dan had traveled close upon fifteen miles since breakfast, and -here he was still six miles at least from camp as the crow flies—and -what would have been a laughing matter to a crow was a tough job for -him. He almost found it in his heart to hope that all the traps between -him and his supper were empty. No such luck! In that first trap, the -farthest from home, he found a big bobcat—a cheap pelt on a big body. - -It was past eight o’clock when Young Dan pushed open the door, staggered -into the camp and let his load thump to the floor. He dropped his axe, -too, stood his rifle against the wall, threw aside his fur cap and -mittens, and sank into a chair with a grunt of relief. - -“That _was_ a day’s work, and I’m darn glad it’s through with!” he -exclaimed, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. - -Andy Mace didn’t say a word. - -Young Dan sat up and looked all around. He saw the glow of the fire in -the rusty stove, red embers on the hearth, and the lighted lantern at -the little window, hooked to a nail in the frame. The room was poorly -illuminated. Most of it, including Andy Mace’s bunk, was in deep shadow. - -“He’s taking a nap,” reflected Young Dan. “I guess his knee hurts him -more’n he lets on, and maybe it kept him awake last night.” - -He hunched forward and untied the frozen thongs of his snowshoes very -quietly, fearful of disturbing the sleeper. Stealthily he put a few -sticks of wood in the stove and a log on the red embers in the chimney. -Next, he pussy-footed over to the window and unhooked the lantern and -set it down on the table near the stove. He felt bone-tired and sleepy, -but his spirit was untouched by fatigue. Recalling Andy’s statement -concerning supper, he decided to cook something good—something -elaborate, like buckwheat pancakes or bacon—and boil a big pot of -coffee, without waking the sluggard. He would even go so far as to tuck -into the grub before arousing the sleeper by clattering a spoon against -the coffee-pot. It would be a good joke on the old boy. - -Owing to the changed position of the lantern, Andy Mace’s bunk was now -free from shadow. Young Dan glanced at it and instantly forgot the -contemplated joke. The bunk was empty! - -Young Dan felt a sharp sense of unreality, as daunting as it was new to -him—but in a moment the chill of that gave way before a surge of -anxiety. He searched through the camp in a minute, all his weariness -forgotten. Andy Mace was nowhere indoors; his snowshoes were gone, too; -but his rifle leaned in its usual corner, in its old canvas case. Young -Dan began to dress for the open with both hands and both feet. His coat, -cap, mittens and snowshoes all seemed to fall into position and attach -themselves at once. He took up the lantern and his rifle and went out, -pulling the door shut behind him. - -Young Dan found his partner’s tracks in fifteen seconds. They did not -lead along any one of the four lines of traps. They told him, as plain -as print, that the old man’s right leg was still as stiff as a ramrod. -Why Andy had gone into the woods at such an hour, lame or limber, was -more than he could even begin to imagine. He reckoned the time of Andy’s -departure from the camp by the condition of the fire in the stove at the -time of his return. He put it at something between an hour and a half -and two hours. - -He followed the trail in feverish haste for a hundred yards or so, then -halted and shouted his partner’s name at the top of his voice. A faint -shout came back to him. He yelled again and continued his advance, -holding the lantern high and struggling in the snow-choked underbrush -like a swimmer in heavy surf. He reflected that Andy had certainly taken -a bee-line for wherever he was bound, regardless of natural obstacles. -In his care to keep the lantern from contact with the snow he stumbled -heavily several times and at last fell flat. The thick, hot glass of the -lantern cracked like a pistol-shot and fell apart as it plunged into the -snow, and the flame sizzled to extinction. - -Young Dan arose to his knees slowly and in silence, with his rifle in -one hand and the ring of the chimneyless lantern in the other. In -silence he struggled to his feet and reset his right snowshoe. What’s -the use of talking when you know that the words required by your -emotions don’t exist? Still in silence, he cleared his eyes and neck of -snow. Then, to his great relief, he saw a yellow glow of fire-light far -away beyond the tangled screens of the forest. He went straight for the -light with as much noise and almost as much speed as a bull moose in a -hurry. He bored ahead, shielding his face with the cased rifle and -battered lantern, and letting his feet look after themselves. He -frequently snarled his snowshoes in the brush and took a header, but he -was never down for more than five seconds at a time. - -Young Dan found the distance between the fire and the place of his first -tumble to be considerably less than he had feared. The fire burned in -the center of a tiny dell; and beside it, on a mat of spruce boughs, sat -Andy Mace. - -“What’s the matter with you?” cried Young Dan. “What are you doing -here—and why didn’t you stay home like you said you would?” - -“I’m glad you come,” said the old man. “I cal’lated that’s what ye’d do. -Well, I don’t blame ye a mite for feelin’ riled, Young Dan. But what -else could I do?” - -“What do you mean? You could have stopped home!” - -“I clean forgot to tell ye. Look what’s layin’ t’other side the fire, -Young Dan. So what else could I do but turn out an’ hunt about, when I -heard him shootin’ off his rifle like a battle. And I thought all along -it was yerself, until I found him.” - -Young Dan stumbled around the fire and saw what the smoke had veiled -from him—a big man lying prone on a blanket, flat on his back, with a -lumpy sack partially sunk in the snow near his head. His snowshoes, axe -and uncased rifle stood upright in a row several paces distant from the -fire. - -“What else was I to do?” asked Andy Mace. “And when I come up on him an’ -seen it wasn’t you I couldn’t leave him to perish, could I now?” - -“It’s Jim Conley,” said Young Dan. “What’s the matter with him?” - -“Jim Conley, hey? That’s what I suspicioned. Well, pardner, he’s got -more troubles nor one the matter with him; an’ what laid him there on -his back the way ye see him now was a clout over the head I handed him -with the butt o’ his own rifle.” - -The youth’s bewilderment increased. - -“Did you kill him?” he asked, in awe-stricken tones. - -“I reckon not,” replied Andy, casually. “He’s alive—in his own way.” - -Young Dan chopped more brush for the fire and heaped it on, then removed -his snowshoes and reclined beside his partner. - -Andy Mace filled and lit his pipe and told his story. He had sat quiet -all day and rubbed the last of the bear’s grease into his stiff knee. He -had fallen asleep along about mid-afternoon and slept soundly for hours. -Waking suddenly, for no particular reason that he knew of, he had found -the camp in darkness except for the glow of the fallen fire on the -hearth. He had built up the fires in a hurry and lighted the lantern; -and he had just opened the door for a look at the weather, before -concentrating his mind on the preparation of supper, when he heard a -rifle shot. That shot had been followed quickly by three more. He had -hung the lantern in the window then and scrambled into his outdoor -things and hobbled off at the best pace he could manage, feeling quite -sure that the shots were calls from Young Dan for help. Another had -sounded before the door was shut behind him, and yet another before he -had gone fifty yards into the woods. He had bored straight ahead, slap -through everything except the actual trunks of the big trees, taking the -rough with the smooth and the hard with the soft—and just how many times -he had plunged into the snow with his face and swept it up with his -whiskers he’d hate to try to remember. His ears had been plugged with -snow most of the time, anyhow, and his stiff knee had received some -violent shocks, but he had kept going, and after a while he had heard -someone yelling. He had gone ahead more circumspectly after that, -knowing that the voice did not belong to his partner; and before long he -had found Jim Conley trying to light a fire and making a poor job of it. - -“Why couldn’t he light it?” asked Young Dan. - -“Well, every time he’d get it lit he’d fall down slam on top o’ the -little flame an’ smother it out.” - -“Was he that near froze?” - -“That’s what I suspicioned, so I drug him off an’ sot him down an’ lit -the bit o’ brush an’ bark for him. I cut some dead stuff, an’ some -chunks o’ green wood, an’ built up a good fire; then I looked round an’ -seen him settin’ back as comfortable as you please sucking away at a -square-face. That riled me, Young Dan. That would rile a more peaceable -man nor me—to see him draggin’ at that there bottle, an’ it more’n -three-quarters empty already—an’ considerin’ how I’d nigh busted my leg -off to find him, thinkin’ it was yerself shootin’ an’ hollerin’. Yes, I -reckon even a deacon would of felt kinder sore. So I went up to him an’ -grabbed the bottle an’ hove it away an’ bust it agin a tree; an’ up he -come, spry’s a cat, an’ lammed me one on the shoulder that laid me flat; -but up I come on one leg, quicker’n a wink, an’ finished him. I looked -into his pack—an’ then I wisht I’d hit him harder.” - -“Why? What’s in the bag?” - -“Considerable baccy, and a pound o’ tea, an’ maybe as much as a whole -pound o’ bacon, and a box o’ seegars, and a bran’ new razor an’ strop, -an’ some ca’tridges, and a red weskit, an’ four more square-faces o’ -gin. That’s what’s in his pack!” - -Young Dan continued to recline on an elbow and stare at the fire between -half-closed lids in silence for several minutes. - -“I was just thinking he must of had great luck with his few traps, -considering he didn’t set them out till after that night I saw him,” he -said, at last. - -“Why was ye thinkin’ that?” asked Andy. - -“Well, he’d have to pay a lot for the gin, wouldn’t he, for the man who -sold it to him was risking being sent to jail, wasn’t he? He had as many -as six bottles when he started for home, or he wouldn’t have four now; -and I betcher it cost him as much as eight or ten dollars a bottle. He -must of had great luck with his traps—in the two days they were set.” - -“I reckon he must of, Young Dan. What’s on yer mind, anyhow?” - -“Jim Conley’s luck, that’s what.” - -“He must of caught somethin’ special, that’s a fact.” - -“What did you bait with last time you tended the west line?” - -“The west line? Lemme think. That was the day before the big snow. I -baited with porcupine.” - -“It’s baited with fish to-day.” - -“Sure it be. What o’ that, Young Dan?” - -“I mean it was already baited with fish when I got to it. I mean that -someone had rebaited it—and reset it, too, I guess—since your last -visit.” - -“You don’t say! Someone at our traps! Let’s make a try at gittin’ home, -pardner. I be that danged hungry an’ oncomfortable my brains won’t -think.” - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - THE ONE-EYED INJUN - - -The partners aroused Jim Conley, who grumbled savagely at being -disturbed. - -“We’re going, anyhow,” said Young Dan, upon seeing that the fellow had -not suffered seriously by Andy Mace’s method of persuasion. - -“Stop here all night, if you want to—and freeze to death! You’re old -enough an’ ugly enough to look after yerself.” - -Conley sat up at that and violently demanded immediate information -concerning his whereabouts. - -“You’re in the woods,” replied Young Dan. “In the woods, where you’d be -froze stiff in the snow by now, but for Andy Mace.” - -Conley got slowly to his feet. - -“That’s right—lost in the woods,” he said, in a flat voice. “I call it -to mind now. Kinder lost my way, I reckon.” - -He put on his snowshoes with fumbling hands, breathing heavily and -muttering to himself the while. - -“I’ll tote this along for you,” said Young Dan, laying a hand on the -lumpy sack. - -The other snatched it from him and shouldered it. - -“Guess I kin carry that myself!” he exclaimed. - -Young Dan went in front, sensing the way in the dark. Andy went next, -making heavy weather of it with his stiff leg. Jim Conley brought up the -rear, plunging and grumbling and frequently falling. They reached the -camp at last. Young Dan left the door open behind him and went straight -to the hearth and stove and fed both with fuel. Andy Mace, exhausted by -his stiff-legged efforts and the pain of them, sank to the floor and lay -flat as soon as he had crossed the threshold. Then Jim Conley floundered -hurriedly and unsteadily from the cold outer gloom into the warm inner -darkness, sack on shoulder. He tripped over Andy’s prostrate form and -pitched forward to his hands and knees, and the lumpy sack hurtled from -his shoulder and struck the floor with a smashing crash. - -Young Dan threw a roll of birch bark on the open fire, and in a few -seconds the camp was luridly illuminated; and then he saw his partner -and Conley on the floor, Andy sitting bolt-upright and the latter facing -him on all-fours, glaring in rage and astonishment at each other; and -beyond them he saw the lumpy sack squashed to half its former bulk and -leaking puddles of gin. The sight was too much for his sense of humor, -tired and hungry though he was. He laughed until tears melted the ice on -his eyelashes and his knees sagged beneath him. He sat down weakly on a -convenient chair and continued to laugh helplessly until sudden and -violent action on the floor recalled him to a more serious aspect of the -affair. Conley had grabbed Andy Mace by the beard with his left hand and -by the windpipe with his right, at the same time flinging his whole -weight forward; and the old woodsman had smashed in two life-sized -wallops on the sides of Conley’s head, one with his right fist and one -with his left, even as he sank beneath the younger man’s hands. - -Young Dan jumped to the struggle. His snowshoes were still on his feet. -He gripped Conley with both hands by the neck of his several coats and -shirts, wrenched him clear of Andy and thumped him violently on the -floor, face-downward. - -“Quit it!” cried Conley. “Lemme be, cantcher!” - -Young Dan left him without a word and shut the door. He removed his -snowshoes then, and his cap and outer coat, lit the wick of the lantern -and placed a new chimney in the battered frame. - -“Reckon I’ll stop right here till I git my supper,” said Andy Mace from -the floor. - -Jim Conley turned over on his back, but did not attempt to rise. - -Young Dan collected rifles and axes from the floor and stood them in a -corner, set a big frying-pan on the stove and filled the kettle from a -pail by the door—all in a grim silence. After slicing venison into the -pan, along with some fat bacon, he removed his partner’s snowshoes and -brushed him off with a broom. - -“Is everything busted in that there sack?” inquired Conley, anxiously, -raising himself slowly on an elbow. - -Young Dan untied the sack and shook its contents out onto the floor. -There were fragments of four square-faced black bottles. The other -articles, the bacon and tea and tobacco, were saturated with gin. Young -Dan pushed the mess together with his foot, in scornful silence. - -“That’s sure a grand outfit o’ grub to take home to a woman an’ two -childern,” remarked Andy Mace. - -Jim Conley swore long and loud and strong. - -“Shut up!” snapped Young Dan. - -“Someun will pay for that!” cried Conley. “Good an’ plenty.” - -Young Dan stepped forward and stooped down and stared into the eyes of -his unwelcome guest. - -“I warn you, Jim Conley, to mend your ways an’ mind your manners, or -you’ll find yourself crowded for elbow-room in this neck o’ woods,” he -said, slowly and clearly. “And I warn you that it won’t be me who’ll -have to clear out when the crowding commences. Think it over; and the -less you say about your spilt gin and who’s to pay for it—and who has -already paid for it—the better for you.” - -“What’s that ye say?” returned the other, trying unsuccessfully to keep -his eyes steady and his voice big and careless. - -“It was a warning.” - -“About who paid for the gin—that’s what I’m askin’ ye. What d’ye mean by -that? That’s what I want to know, young feller.” - -“You know what I mean by that; so keep your mouth shut, or I’ll forget -about your family and light right into you.” - -Conley laughed uneasily and dropped the subject. - -“If yer askin’ me to stop to supper, I’ll take off my snowshoes an’ -mitts,” he said. - -“We’ll feed you, now that we’ve saved you from freezing to death in the -snow,” replied Young Dan, ungraciously, returning to the stove. - -Two pots of tea were drunk and two pans of venison steak were devoured. -Then the partners crawled into their bunks and their guest went to sleep -on the floor. - -Jim Conley departed after breakfast next morning, with his reduced, -high-flavored sack on his shoulder and a reflective and uneasy -expression in his close-set eyes. The partners were glad to be rid of -him. They discussed him at considerable length. “You scared him,” said -Andy—“but I’m thinkin’ ye maybe said a mite too much about who paid for -the licker. He don’t look overly smart, but I reckon there’s somethin’ -inside his skull, even if it’s only porridge; an’ yer warnin’ was strong -enough to start porridge a-bubblin’. We ain’t got anythin’ on him the -law kin touch him for, far’s I kin see. It wasn’t him robbed the camp, -an’ we can’t swear he was at our traps. You hadn’t ought to give yer -suspicions away like that, Young Dan.” - -“Maybe yer right,” said Young Dan. “I sure did talk kind of out-an’-out. -But what of it? I want to warn him, because he’s got to feed his wife -and kids. If he suspicions that we suspicion him of robbing our traps, -then he’ll quit. If I was tryin’ to jail him I wouldn’t of talked to him -like that. But I was warnin’ him and throwin’ a scare into him to steady -him.” - -“Ye don’t want to warn a feller like him till after ye catch ’im. He -don’t look smart—but ye can’t never tell by looks. He knows as how we -suspicion ’im now, and so he’ll do us all the harm he’s able to. I see -it in his eye. You had ought to had the goods on ’im before ye warned -’im, Young Dan. Why, we don’t even know where he’s been to—where he -traded the skins he took out! An’ we don’t know that he ain’t got a big -bunch o’ traps set of his own.” - -Young Dan smiled. - -“He traded his skins at Bean’s Mill, down at the mouth of Oxbow,” he -said. “I guess he didn’t show up at the Bend at all, though Amos -Bissing’s store is just as good as Luke Watt’s. He got his tea and -tobacco and everything he had in his sack from Luke Watt down to Bean’s -Mill; and I guess Luke’s got his skins; and I guess we’ve got his hide, -if we want it.” - -“Young Dan, yer a smart lad—the smartest I ever see—an’ I won’t say nay -to nary a one o’ yer propositions—but it do seem to me ye’re doin’ a -powerful lot o’ guessin’ right now.” - -“Honest to goodness, Andy, I’m not guessing. Do you know Luke Watt? Have -you ever bought goods from him?” - -“Sure, I know Luke Watt o’ Bean’s Mill. Yes, I’ve traded with him, too. -What of it?” - -“Then you know his hand-writing. Uncle Bill Tangier took me down to -Bean’s Mill one day two summers ago, and he bought a lot of stuff for me -and the youngsters at Watt’s store, and Mr. Watt figgered up the bill on -one of the parcels. He has a stiff right wrist, as you know—broke it in -the woods when he was a lad and it wasn’t set right. He used his whole -arm when he put down the figgers, working from the shoulder like a man -sawing a board. I don’t believe there’s another man in the world who -writes or makes figgers just like Luke Watt. And here is the paper Jim -Conley’s tobacco was wrapped up in. I changed it this morning for -another piece of brown paper, before Conley was awake. Here’s the -complete bill all figgered out in Luke Watt’s own original big -up-an’-down figgers.” - -Young Dan unfolded a large, smudged piece of brown paper and passed it -to his partner. Andy Mace held it in his two corded hands and stared at -it in amazed silence. - -“Look at that nine-fifty multiplied by seven,” said the youth. “Conley -bought seven bottles. He paid sixty-six dollars and fifty cents for gin; -and he was well into number five when you found him lost in the woods. -And Watt soaked him six dollars for fifty bum cigars. He must of had -some good skins. But of course that bill is no proof that Conley traded -his skins with Luke Watt. I guess he did, though; for he wasn’t gone -long enough to travel all the way down to Harlow and back. He did all -his buying from Luke Watt, anyhow.” - -The old woodsman refolded the paper carefully and returned it to his -partner. Then he filled his pipe and lit it with deliberate motions. - -“Young Dan, I was feelin’ kinder fretful a while back when I talked to -ye that-a-way,” he said at last. “My knee was hurtin’ me cruel. Yer -guess is as good to me as another man’s oath. What d’ye reckon to do, -pardner?” - -“I reckon to go out and fetch a doctor in to fix your knee for you, -first thing,” replied Young Dan, as he stowed the paper away safely in a -breast-pocket. - -Andy Mace shook his head. - -“This here j’int plays out on me like this every now an’ agin,” he -returned “and I got medicine for it at home, made for me by Doc Johnston -down to Harlow—inside medicine. The trouble’s a touch o’ rheumatics in -my blood, so the Doc said, an’ maybe the fight I had with the Quebecer -fifty year ago ain’t got as much to do with it as I let on—an’ then -agin, maybe it has. Anyhow, Doc Johnston’s medicine loosens up the j’int -every time, an’ I got two bottles in my pantry this minute as good as -new. If I had them here I’d be right as wheat in a day or two.” - -“Why didn’t you tell me so before?” asked Young Dan. - -“Well, I reckoned it would sound kinder babyish; an’ I was hopin’ all -along until yesterday that it would quit hurtin’ an’ loosen up any -minute. I was bankin’ on the b’ar’s grease. But last night didn’t help -it none.” - -Young Dan went out with his axe to chop wood and at the same time to -consider the imposing problem which confronted him. Andy Mace must have -his medicine as soon as possible—and that meant a two-day trip; and Mrs. -Conley and the two little Conleys must be fed, since the bread-winner -had brought nothing in for them except a pound of bacon—and that meant a -day; and Jim Conley’s little game must be investigated at both ends—and -that might well mean a week or more. What about his traps scattered -along four six-mile lines? His business was bound to suffer—but that was -not the thought that worried him most in connection with the traps. He -fretted at the thought of waste on one hand, and on the other of again -supplying Jim Conley with the means of acquiring more gin. These things -were bound to happen, he believed, so long as the traps remained set and -baited, and unattended by Andy Mace or himself. Animals bearing valuable -pelts would be caught only to suffer the unprofitable fate of being -devoured, pelts and all, by other fur-bearers, or to be skinned by Jim -Conley. The traps must be sprung; and that meant a hard two-day job. But -to leave Andy Mace without his medicine for four days instead of two was -out of the question! - -“It’s more’n one man can do!” exclaimed Young Dan, sinking his axe deep -into the prostrate maple upon which he stood. “A man can do two or three -things at once, maybe, but not all in different places, I guess. I can’t -anyhow; and that’s all there is to it! Now the question is, what’s to be -done first? Guess I’ll leave it to chance and toss for it.” - -He produced a quarter from a pocket, flipped it into the air off a -thumb-nail, caught it in his right hand and slapped his left over it. - -“Heads I get Andy’s medicine first, tails I don’t,” he said. - -The coin lay tails up in his palm. - -“That’s too darned bad!” he exclaimed. “Poor Andy!” - -“You talkin’ ’bout Andy Mace hey?” asked a voice from the brush on his -right. - -Young Dan turned and beheld a stranger standing within five yards of him -and regarding him intently with one eye. It was this matter of the one -eye that made the first and sharpest impression on the youth. The -stranger’s left eye was covered by a patch of black cloth. In addition -to these interesting facts, Young Dan saw that he was an Indian and past -middle-age, that he wore snowshoes and carried a pack and a rifle in a -blanket case, and that no smoke issued from his lips or from the bowl of -the short pipe which protruded from a corner of his mouth. - -“Sure I’m talking about Andy Mace,” replied Young Dan, recovering -swiftly from his astonishment. - -“Good,” returned the stranger. “Andy Mace the feller I wanter see pretty -quick. Maybe he got plenty tobac, what?” - -Young Dan shouldered his axe and descended from the trunk of the -prostrate maple. He slipped his feet into the thongs of his snowshoes -and put on his coat and mittens. - -“I guess he has enough,” he said, pleasantly. “Come along with me and -find out. He’s my partner.” - -They found Mr. Mace seated by the stove, with his stiff leg in a chair. - -“How do, Andy,” said the stranger. “Long time you no see me.” Mr. Mace -sat up straight and stared from beneath shaggy eyebrows. Then he smiled -and relaxed. - -“Yer dead right it’s a long time, Pete Sabatis!” he exclaimed. “Yer -right there, old hoss. Glad to see ye agin at last, anyhow. Set down an’ -make yerself to home. What’s brought ye away acrost into these woods, -anyhow? Be they crowdin’ ye over on the Tobique country, Pete?” - -The visitor cleared himself from his outside things, including his -snowshoes, discarded his pack and rifle, then sat down close to the -stove and took the cold pipe from his mouth. He held the pipe up and -fixed the keen glance of his uncovered eye on Andy. - -“He don’t burn no tobac this four-five day,” he said. - -Mr. Mace laughed and turned to Young Dan. - -“What d’ye think o’ that, pardner?” he asked. “Here’s Pete Sabatis, that -I ain’t set eyes on this twenty year, come all the way acrost from the -Tobique country to bum a fill o’ baccy!” - -“You got it a’right,” said the Maliseet, without so much as a flicker of -a smile. “That feller say you got plenty. You make joke jes’ like you -ust to, hey?” - -“I reckon ye’re the reel joker, Pete,” answered Andy, handing over a -plug of tobacco. “You got the reel face for it, anyhow—the same old -wooden face an’ the same identical old eye. Well, yer jokes is harmless; -and if ye come all these hunderds o’ miles for somethin’ more’n a smoke -I reckon ye’ll spit it out sooner or later. I be right-down glad to see -ye agin, anyhow.” - -“Same here,” said Young Dan. “If you’re a friend of Andy’s I hope you’ll -stop a while with us.” - -“A good idee!” exclaimed Andy. “Sure he’s a friend o’ mine, and one I’d -trust with my last pound o’ bacon! Where’re ye headin’ for, Pete? -Anywheres in particular?” - -“Dinner,” said Pete Sabatis, lighting his pipe. - -“The same old bag o’ tricks,” said Andy to his partner. “I reckon he -cal’lates to stop right here with us a spell. That’s yer idee, ain’t it, -Pete?” - -“Yep,” replied the Maliseet. - -Young Dan was glad, for in this one-eyed Indian he saw the solution of -the problem that had been causing him such a weight of mental distress -all day. He said nothing of what was in his mind, however, but put wood -in the stove, washed his hands and commenced preparations for dinner. - -Andy Mace talked and Pete Sabatis watched Young Dan with his lively -bright eye. Every now and then, Pete uttered a grunt of satisfaction at -what he saw. - -It was a good dinner, a bang-up dinner, by Right Prong and Tobique -standards. It consisted of baked pork-and-beans in a brown crock, very -juicy and sweet, and a flock of hot biscuits, and a jar of Mrs. Evans’s -strawberry preserve, and tea strong enough to be employed in the -heaviest sort of manual labor. - -Pete Sabatis was not a large man; and so Young Dan decided that he must -have been hollow from his chin clear down to his knees before dinner. -After clattering the iron spoon all around the inside of the bean-crock -and lifting the last preserved strawberry to his mouth on the blade of -his knife, Mr. Sabatis drained the teapot and sat back in his rustic -chair. He produced his pipe and looked at Andy Mace. - -“Tobac,” he said. - -“You pocketed a whole plug o’ mine before dinner,” returned Andy. “An’ -ye’ve got a knife to cut it with an’ a pipe to smoke it in. Here’s a -match. Hope yer breath to puff with ain’t all gone.” - -The Maliseet drew forth the cake of tobacco thus delicately referred to -by his old friend, filled his pipe and lit it. - -“I’d like to tell him how we’re fixed, and perhaps he’d lend us a hand,” -said Young Dan to his partner. - -“Sure he’d lend us a hand,” replied Andy. “Tell him our story. Pete -Sabatis kin be trusted with anything in the world, I reckon, secrets or -goods—exceptin’ baccy.” - -So Young Dan told of their experiences with, and suspicions of, Jim -Conley, and of the problem which confronted him. - -“That a’right,” said Pete. “What do you do first, hey?” - -“That depends on you,” replied the youth. “Do you know the way to Andy’s -house?” - -“Know him a’right when you tell me.” - -“I’ll draw a map for you, if you’ll get Andy’s medicine.” - -“To-morrow.” - -“That’s fine. I’m mighty glad you turned up. I’ll go out now and spring -a few traps, and to-morrow I’ll take some grub back to the Conleys and -see what’s up. When you get home from Andy’s place with the medicine I -will light right out for Bean’s Mill.” - -During the afternoon Young Dan visited four traps on the eastward line. -He found a mink in one and nothing in the others, and left all alike -sprung and harmless. He did not travel as briskly as usual, for he did -not feel very spry. The exertions of the day before had slowed and -stiffened even his elastic sinews a little. His spirits were high, -however, thanks to the mental relief due to the arrival of Pete Sabatis. -Pete solved the problem which had frozen his immediate actions. With -Pete’s help, everything seemed possible now: Andy would have his -medicine, the Conley woman and children would be looked after, Jim -Conley’s suspicious activities would be investigated and one line of -traps, at least, would be kept in operation. Apart from all this, the -Maliseet promised to be an entertaining companion. Young Dan had felt a -liking for him at the first sound of his voice and a keen interest in -him at the first glimpse of his patched eye. His arrival had been as -dramatic as it was opportune; his greeting of and reception by old Andy -Mace had been decidedly picturesque; his Puckish humor was as unusual as -his appearance. In short, he made a strong romantic appeal to the young -trapper. - -“He’s queer, like some of the folks in those stories,” reflected Young -Dan. “Queer as the queerest of them, but real, too—more real than any of -them. And he’s all right. Andy says so.” - -Young Dan exploded two cartridges that afternoon. The bullet of each -knocked the head off a partridge. Upon his return to camp he skinned the -birds in half the time it would have taken him to pluck them, and fried -them for supper with a little pork. After supper he made a map of the -route to Andy Mace’s house and explained it at length to Pete Sabatis. -All three retired early to their blankets. - -Pete Sabatis was the first to leave the camp next morning. He carried -food and tobacco in his pockets, a note from Young Dan for Amos Bissing, -the map of the route, the key to Andy’s door, and his rifle and -blankets. He moved off swiftly, with the reddening dawn on his -right-front, leaving an azure trail of smoke on the still air. - -“It’s lucky for us that he turned up when he did,” remarked Young Dan to -his partner, as he made up a modest parcel for the Conleys of tea and -flour and two tins of condensed milk. “Did he come looking for you, or -was it just chance?” - -“He’ll tell us what he come for when he’s good an’ ready, an’ not a -minute sooner, Young Dan,” answered Andy. “Maybe he come all the way -acrost from Tobique to see me, but I reckon that ain’t likely. How would -he know if I was alive or dead any more’n I knowed if he was alive or -dead? It was chance landed him right here at this camp, anyhow, for all -he ever knowed about my whereabouts was that I hailed from the Oxbow—an’ -that was twenty year ago. But we won’t fret ourselves about why he’s -here or why he come. He is here, an’ he’s a danged good Injun, an’ -that’s enough for us.” - -Young Dan took the northern track, which led crookedly to the Conley -cabin. He inspected the traps to the right and the left as he advanced, -bagged a fox and left all sprung and harmless behind him. He reached the -Conley cabin before noon and found Mrs. Conley chopping wood beside the -door. She said that Jim was off somewhere attending to his traps. - -“I don’t want to see him,” said Young Dan. “I came to bring these few -things for you and the children, from my partner and me, because we know -that he didn’t bring much grub back from the settlements with him.” - -He entered the cabin without removing his snowshoes and placed the -parcel of provisions on the table. The woman followed him, undid the -parcel and thanked him. She seemed nervous. - -“How d’ye know Jim didn’t fetch in any grub?” she asked. - -“We saw what he had,” replied the trapper. “Didn’t he tell you about -stopping a night at our camp? About losing himself in the woods an’ Andy -Mace finding him?” - -“No, he didn’t. But he’s sure got it in for you and yer old pardner! -He’s been cussin’ the two o’ ye steady ever since he come home. He says -how he had lashin’s o’ bacon an’ flour an’ was robbed of everything but -some bacon an’ tea.” - -“I suppose you believed him, m’am.” - -“Not so’s ye’d notice—but that’s neither here nor there. What you best -do now is clear out o’ this before he comes home.” - -“Do you think I’m afraid of him?” - -“I guess not—but I wisht ye’d beat it.” - -Young Dan immediately complied with her wish. As soon as he was out of -sight of the cabin he left the narrow trail of his own snowshoe tracks -and broke into the woods and started on a big curve which, if followed -long enough, would encircle the Conley habitation. Young Dan did not go -so far as that, however. He found what he was looking for before he had -made a semicircle of the curve—a line of new snowshoe tracks. He did not -join this trail or cross it, but backed a few paces from it, changed -direction and moved parallel with it, keeping an eye on it through the -intervening screen of brush and branches. This course took him -southward, mile upon mile, and after a couple of hours of it he found -himself on his own and Andy Mace’s trapping-ground. He continued to -parallel Jim Conley’s tracks, moving without sound and parting the -forest growth before him with the minimum of disturbance; and at last he -came to a place which he recognized as being on his own eastern line of -traps. There he halted and squatted to rest, as still as a waiting lynx -in the snow. - -Large white flakes began to circle down from the low sky. The sun, which -had risen red, was now no more than a small blotch of radiance as -colorless as clear ice. The snow descended more thickly and swiftly, -blinding the weak sun and seeming to draw the sky down to the tops of -the tall spruces—and down even lower than that, until the soaring trees -were blanketed and hidden by it for half their height. Then Young Dan -moved again, this time on a straight course for the camp, and at his -best pace. This flurry of snow was altogether too thick and fast to take -liberties with. He wondered what Pete Sabatis would make of it with his -one eye. He was sorry that it had descended so violently as to interfere -with his investigations before he had actually caught Jim Conley at his -trapping. He felt reasonably certain, however, of the identity of the -traps which engaged Mr. Conley’s attentions. That was enough to work -ahead on. He decided not to spring the traps on the eastern line, but to -leave them as they were for the thief’s immediate profit and final -undoing. - -Young Dan reached home safely. The snow ceased falling shortly before -sundown, but with the setting of the sun a wind arose which set the -feathery flakes drifting and flying. - -Andy Mace was in as talkative a mood as ever that night, despite the -fact that he was very evidently suffering a great deal of pain. He -admitted the pain, confessing that more joints than his right knee hurt -him now. - -“But that there medicine o’ Doc Johnston’s ’ll melt the misery out o’ me -all right,” he said. “I’ll be takin’ a dose of it this time to-morrow -night; and ye’ll see me to work agin within a couple o’ days, Young Dan, -spry as a cat an’ loose as ashes.” - -“Don’t you worry about the work, Andy,” returned Young Dan. “Give the -medicine a fair chance when you get it. I hope Pete will be back by -to-morrow night—but he couldn’t of traveled much this afternoon, in that -storm and in country strange to him.” - -“That’s where ye’re wrong,” replied Andy. “I never knowed a likelier man -nor that same Pete Sabatis to go to wherever he wanted to git to. He -could do that trip backwards, an’ with both eyes patched instead of only -one. That flurry o’ snow wouldn’t stop him a minute, in strange country -or old.” - -“What happened to his eye, anyhow?” asked Young Dan. - -Andy rubbed his thin knees with his thin hands for several seconds in -silence, gazing thoughtfully into the red draft of the stove. Then he -looked at his partner and combed his long whiskers with long fingers. - -“Maybe he wouldn’t care for me to tell ye that, lad,” he said. “I reckon -he wouldn’t yet awhile, till he knows ye better. But I kin tell ye this -much, pardner—I was with him when he lost it, twenty-four year ago—and -he is as good a man with one eye as ever he was with two. He lost it in -a kinder private affair, ye understand: and there ain’t a prouder man -walkin’ the woods either side the height-o’-land nor him—exceptin’ in -the matter o’ baccy.” - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - THE ADVENTURE OF SABATIS - - -The wind was abroad all the next day, sweeping the snow from the broad -branches and high spires of the forest and shoveling it into drifts -along the windward edges of all open spaces. Young Dan worked at the -wood-pile and the pelts all day, and Mr. Mace smoked his pipe and rubbed -his painful joints and wondered if old age were creeping upon him. Young -Dan was chopping a stick of dry birch near the door, and the small sun -was on the edge of the western horizon, when Pete Sabatis appeared. Pete -was powdered white with snow from the webbed racquets on his feet to the -crown of his fur cap. - -“Howdy,” he said. - -Young Dan stared at him in amazement. - -“I knew you’d have to give it up,” he said, “and I’m mighty glad you’ve -found your way back. That’s more’n I could do, with the snow drifting -like it has all day.” - -The old Maliseet smiled and snorted and entered the camp. Young Dan -followed a few minutes later depressed by the thought of Andy Mace’s -disappointment and yet relieved to know that the old Indian was safe. By -the fire-shine and the mild light of a candle on the table, he beheld -his partner dosing himself with a large spoon from a large bottle and -Pete Sabatis laying out tea and bacon and tobacco on the floor. - -“So you got there!” exclaimed Young Dan. “You got to Andy’s place in -that storm—and home again!” - -Both old men turned to him. Pete’s one eye grew rounder and brighter for -a second; and Mr. Mace gulped down his medicine, pulled a wry face and -then chuckled. - -“Pete Sabatis never yet started out for anywheres he didn’t git to,” -said Andy. “Snow nor rain nor wind nor darkness can’t stop him. He -travels as straight with one eye as ever he did with two.” - -“I didn’t know the man was living, or had ever lived, who could hold a -straight course through new country on such a day as yesterday,” said -Young Dan. “And now I know I was mistaken,” he added. - -Pete Sabatis had nothing to say about his journey. The trip had been -unadventurous. He had not encountered any difficulties worth mentioning. -Andy’s key had fitted Andy’s door and he had found the bottles of -medicine on the very shelf in the pantry which Andy had described to -him. And he had found the store at the Bend exactly where he had -expected to find it and the storekeeper had not hesitated a moment in -the matter of filling the order. - -Young Dan cooked the best supper he knew how to with the materials at -hand; and after supper, when the old men’s pipes were drawing to their -entire satisfaction, Andy said, “Pete, I’d like fine to tell Young Dan -Evans here about how ye happened to lose yer eye.” - -The Maliseet fixed his remaining eye on the youth with a glance so -searching that the other remembered something he had read in a book -about a thing called an X-Ray. - -“It ain’t like as if Young Dan was nothin’ more’n my pardner,” continued -Andy. “He’s like a brother to me; and his heart’s as right as his brains -is smart.” - -“That’s a’right,” said Pete Sabatis. “Go ahead an’ tell ’im.” - -“This here’s a kinder personal story,” began Andy, settling back in his -chair. “Twenty-four years ago this very winter, I was in the woods on -Pyle’s Brook, over in the Tobique country, choppin’ for Howard Frazer. I -was restless in them days; and I’ll bet there ain’t a block of woods ten -mile square in all the Province I ain’t had a foot into, lumberin’ or -huntin’ or trappin’ fur. Well, I knowed that country pretty nigh as well -as I know the Oxbow—so I thought. I diskivered later as how I’d thought -wrong. Pete Sabatis here was choppin’ for Frazer’s gang, too. That was a -kinder onusual thing, even in them days—a full-blooded Injun working -hard an’ honest with a crew of lumbermen. But Pete allus was one who -could do a white man’s job as well as an Injun’s—an’ both a mite -better’n any other Injun or white man could do it. I’d say the same even -if he wasn’t right here a-listenin’ to me. - -“Well, I didn’t have no better friend in that outfit nor this here Pete -Sabatis, and it was the same with him—what ye might call visey versus, I -reckon. But, mind ye, I didn’t know the first darned thing about Pete’s -private life. He was a jolly feller, though never much of a talker an’ -nothin’ at all of a laugher. But all of a suddent, along about January, -he begun to study hard on somethin’ deep inside himself. He’d stop still -as if he was frozen all of a suddent in the middle of choppin’ into the -butt of a big tree, with his axe sunk to the eye in the yellow wood, an’ -stare kinder across-eyed into himself, with a look on his face like he -didn’t care much for what he seen. Of course I knowed he wasn’t sick, -but I asked him if he was; an’ when he said as how he wasn’t, then I -cal’lated his trouble was somethin’ I’d best not ask him any more -questions about. - -“So it went on for three days, maybe; an’ then one Saturday night, after -supper, he asks me if I’ll make a trip with him next day. - -“‘A trip?’ sez I. ‘What sort o’ trip?’ - -“‘Snowshoes,’ sez Pete. - -“‘Sure, but how far?’ I sez. - -“‘Quite a spell,’ he answers back. ‘A long ways an’ rough goin’, an’ -trouble at the end of it.’ - -“Well, there’s plenty men who’d set back hard in their britchen when -they’d hear a note like that—but not me, twenty-four year ago, nor -to-day. We started eastward into the tall timber before sun-up that -Sunday mornin’, with grub enough for two days maybe, and blankets, and -our axes. Pete carried a muzzle-loader gun you could shoot bullets out -of pretty straight up to seventy yards. It was a clear, cold day, -without so much as a fan of wind abroad. It was Sunday, as I’ve told ye; -an’ it felt like Sunday—kinder waitin’ an’ uncommon. Pete went slam -through everything on a straight line all his own as fast as he could -flop his racquets along, but it didn’t bother me none to keep up to him. -He didn’t say a word. We halted and et about noon—but even then he -wouldn’t talk.” - -Andy Mace paused to relight his pipe. - -“Talk,” said Pete Sabatis. “Too much talk. You lemme tell how that -happen, so we don’t set up all night. Pretty soon we come to one little -clearin’ in the woods, with one log shanty on him. We go to door an’ -open him an’ step inside. There we find the folk I look for a’right. -Andy Mace look at them like he don’t know nothin’ at all—an’ so he -don’t. I push him back on the door till it shut an’ give him the gun. -Then I take one step acrost at that half-breed man, an’ the woman grab -somethin’ from the wall back of him and BANG—an’ Pete Sabatis don’t know -nothin’ else for quite a spell.” - -“I cal’late I’m tellin’ this story!” interrupted Andy. “Young Dan ain’t -got a notion what yer talkin’ about. He’s smart, but he’s only human. -Why, he don’t even know yet who them folks was an’ what you had come to -see them about.” - -“An’ you didn’t, neither,” retorted Pete. “So after long while I open -one eye an’ feel mighty sick. They got me in the bunk then, with head -all tie up an’ brandy inside me, an’ Andy Mace an’ them two lookin’ down -like they think I don’t never open one eye any more, maybe. Then that -woman, who is my daughter, say, ‘I shoot out your eye. What for you come -here, anyhow?’ Then I say, ‘You shoot my eye clear out, hey?’ Andy say -then, ‘You got only one eye now, Pete, an’ that’s gospel.’ Then that -woman, my papoose one time, say, ‘You come to kill Pierre, so I shoot -quick.’ I feel mighty sick, you bet, for that pain in my head an’ the -think how I got only one eye left, but I pretty near laugh.” - -“That’s right!” exclaimed Andy Mace. “He come about as nigh to laughin’ -real hearty then as ever I see him, durn his old leather face. Ye see, -pardner, that squaw, Pete’s daughter, had made a mistake. Her husband, -that there halfbreed, Pierre, had stole fur on Pete years before, till -Pete had chased him out o’ the country. But they’d come sneakin’ back -that winter, an’ Pete had heard about it an’ studied on it. He didn’t -like that feller, Pierre; but he figgered out as how he’d go look the -two of ’em over an’ kinder give them his blessin’ an’ some money if he -seen that Pierre was doin’ right by his wife, who was Pete’s own -daughter. An’ his daughter up an’ shot an eye out o’ him before he could -say ‘howdy’. An’ what d’ye reckon Pete Sabatis done then, Young Dan? He -sez, ‘Pretty good breed, that Pierre, if she like him so darn much -still—an’ he give them some money an’ said how he was glad to see them -back in the Tobique country even if he had only one eye to see them -with.’ _And next day he snowshoed back to Howard Frazer’s camp._ That’s -how he lost his eye, twenty-four years ago this winter; an’ now there’s -five of us who know about it instead of only four. An’ he quit choppin’ -for only two days after gittin’ back to camp. That’s the sort o’ man -Pete Sabatis is!” - -“Talk, talk, talk! That’s the kind of feller Andy Mace is,” said the -Maliseet, winking his only eye at Young Dan very deliberately. - -Young Dan was greatly impressed by the story of Pete’s just temper and -amazing physical stamina. He said so. Then, at Andy’s request, he read a -story of the wizard of Harley Street. Andy interrupted the narrative -frequently, but the Maliseet listened in keen silence. - -“It couldn’t be done, nohow,” said Andy, at the conclusion of the tale. -“The devil himself couldn’t of worked it out like that.” - -“Maybe,” said Pete. “I dunno.” - -Young Dan left the camp bright and early next morning with his uncle’s -rifle, axe and blankets, a pack of fine furs and grub enough to last him -to Bean’s Mill. He pushed along steadily all day and slept in a hole in -the snow that night. He crossed the river well above his father’s farm -and gave it and the village at the Bend a wide offing. He reached the -outskirts of the settlement of Bean’s Mill about noon and dined well -beside his own fire in a thicket of young spruces before appearing to -the settlers. Then he went straight to Luke Watt’s store. - -Mr. Watt did a big business in a small store. That’s the kind of -business man he was, but in character he was a very different sort of -person. He was small in character and large in body and manner. As a -storekeeper his activities were larger than his premises, but as a man, -his chest and legs and arms and skull—yes, and his “lower chest”—were -much too large for him. He had a stiff right wrist, calculating and -watchful eyes of no particular color, large hands queerly shaped and a -large manner of good-fellowship and an unattractive mustache. - -Young Dan found Luke Watt behind his counter, in a corner close to one -of the dirty windows, barricaded into his position by boxes and barrels -and crates and bags. Young Dan worked his way inward to the counter. He -saw, as he advanced, that the other did not know him. - -“Good morning, Mr. Watt,” he said. “I’m Dan Evans from up past the -Bend—Young Dan Evans. I got a few skins here I want to sell.” - -“Of course ye’re Dan Evans!” exclaimed Luke Watt. “Didn’t I know it the -minute I see you! Lay it there! How’s tricks up river?” - -“Pretty good, I guess,” replied the youth. “It’s been a great winter for -trapping so far, anyhow.” - -He undid his pack on the head of a barrel at his elbow and placed a -couple of pelts on the counter. A swift glance at Watt’s face told him -that the storekeeper was finding it difficult to hide his enthusiasm. - -“Um—fisher,” said Mr. Watt. “Mighty common skins, ain’t they?” - -“They are as good fisher as were ever trapped on the Oxbow,” said Young -Dan. - -“Sure they’re good of their kind—but they’re fisher; and fisher are -all-fired common this year. And skins ain’t much in my line, anyhow. I -buy a few—but I’m that good natured an’ easy I always lose money on the -deal. What d’ye figger these two skins is worth? Three times their real -value, I’ll bet a dollar!” - -“Maybe so,” replied Young Dan slowly and in a puzzled voice. “Yes, just -about that, I guess. I don’t know as much about selling ’em as I do -about catching ’em.” - -A flicker of a smile, cold and swift, showed beyond the drooping ends of -Luke Watt’s mustache, and for an instant a light of amusement and -satisfaction glimmered in his eyes. - -“I know you pay a whole lot for black fox,” continued Young Dan. - -“Black fox!” exclaimed the other. “You got half a dozen black foxes -right here with you—I don’t think. Say, Dan, what you been drinkin’?” - -“I don’t drink, Mr. Watt—but I trap in a good country for black fox—and -I know that you gave Jim Conley a mighty good price for his.” - -The storekeeper’s eyes became very hard and keen with eagerness and -caution. He squared his elbows on the counter and leaned across toward -the youth. So, for several seconds, he stared in silence; and the other -returned the stare with an innocent and unwavering gaze. - -“What d’ye know about Jim Conley?” he asked, in a low voice. - -“Never saw him before this winter, but we’re trapping the same line of -country now,” returned Young Dan. “We’re working ’way up past the -Prongs.” - -“D’ye mean you an’ Jim Conley are pardners?” - -“We use the same traps. Guess you might call it a partnership.” - -“It wasn’t a first-class skin, that wasn’t, as you know yerself, Dan. It -was more patch than black. But if you have another like it I’ll pay the -same price, even if I lose money on it—seein’ it’s you.” - -“All in cash, Mr. Watt?” - -“Not at the same price. I always figger on making part payment in trade. -But what’s the matter with that? Wasn’t Conley satisfied last time?” - -“I reckon he was—but gin ain’t good for him. He got lost getting home.” - -“Not so loud,” whispered Luke Watt. “Call it trade. Didn’t Conley warn -you to mind yer tongue? You talk like a fool; and if you ain’t more -careful you’ll land yer pardner in jail. But that’s all right, seein’ -it’s yerself. I’ll buy yer skins—all you have there—an’ give you top -price. But you got to take part payment in trade. Any kind o’ trade. -Tea, tobacco, flour—anything you want or yer pardner wants. My prices -are right.” - -“That’s fair, Mr. Watt. Will you pay me forty dollars for these two -fishers? They are the best fishers I’ve seen this winter, color and -size.” - -The storekeeper stood upright and laughed heartily. He straightened his -back to it and squared his shoulders to it until Young Dan thought the -buttons would fly off the straining front of the big waistcoat. - -“Forty dollars!” exclaimed the big man at last, like one who sees the -point of a good joke and immediately repeats it to show that he has seen -it. “Forty dollars! That’s pretty good, Dan! Darned good!” - -“Pretty fair,” returned Young Dan, quietly. “They’re worth more.” - -“Are you serious, young fellow? D’ye mean forty real dollars for them -two skins? You look kinder as if you meant it. You must be crazy!” - -Young Dan sighed and removed the pelts from the counter to the rest of -the pack. Slowly he tied up the pack, watching the storekeeper all the -while with the tail of his right eye. He shouldered the pack and took up -the axe and stockinged rifle. - -“Not so fast, Dan!” cried Mr. Watt. “That ain’t any way to do business. -Say, are you crazy? Let’s see them skins again, and maybe I’ll go as -high as thirty-five. And gimme a look at the rest o’ the lot.” - -“I been reading in the papers what furs are worth this year,” replied -the youth. “You can’t fool me. I ain’t Jim Conley. So long.” - -Anger and something of apprehension flamed in Luke Watt’s unpleasant -eyes and big face. With a muttered oath he started for the door in the -counter—but before he reached it, Young Dan had closed the door of the -store at his heels. And by the time the big man had reached that door, -after squeezing his way through the clutter of barrels and crates, Young -Dan was half-way down the village street. - -Young Dan kept on going along the well-beaten river road, with his -snowshoes on his back instead of his feet, for half an hour. He paused -now and again to glance over his shoulder, for he believed that Luke -Watt would soon be on his tracks with a horse and pung. And in that he -was right. Looking back from the top of one rise he saw a fast-trotting -horse come over another rise half a mile behind. Then he turned to the -right, into a logging road, and ran at top speed for a couple of hundred -yards. The logging road was crooked, and rough underfoot. After the -sprint, Young Dan strapped his snowshoes on and hopped into the woods. -He glanced up at the sun, then went forward on a straight course at a -fine pace. He felt very well satisfied with his morning’s work. He had -confirmed his suspicions of Mr. Luke Watt, at least. - -“I have the goods on both of them,” he said. “I worked it out just -right. Now I guess they’ll both have to behave themselves or clear right -out of this country. I’ve got enough on Conley to scare him into being -good and looking after his wife and kids, that’s certain.” - -He halted for long enough to eat two sandwiches of cold bread and colder -bacon, standing. Then, steering by the sun, he continued to break -straight through the woods toward the little town of Harlow. - -Luke Watt, in his little red pung behind his leggy trotter, drove -straight on down the well-beaten river road, intent on reaching the -upper edge of Harlow ahead of Young Dan. If the trapper held to the road -and was overtaken on the way, all the better for the storekeeper, of -course—but the great thing was a meeting this side of Harlow. It was not -the fear of losing trade that inspired Mr. Watt to this determination -and this unusual speed. He would regret a loss of trade, sure enough; -but what he actually feared was the Law. He suspected Young Dan Evans. -He suspected him of being less simple and ignorant than he seemed to be -on the surface. He suspected himself of having been dangerously -indiscreet in so quickly accepting that long-legged youth as nothing but -a source of profit. - -“He worked me for a rube, I do believe,” he reflected. “I must get him -before he gets me; an’ then, if I can’t scare him off I’ll have to buy -him off. I reckon he’ll scare easy enough, if he’s mixed up with Jim -Conley.” - -But would that young fellow scare easily? There had been a look in his -eyes that said “no” to the scare idea. - -There was no shorter course between the Bend and Harlow than the river -road. There was no bee-line through the woods that would cut so much as -a yard off it. Mr. Watt knew this. He drove straight into the town and -stabled his horse. Then he walked back beyond the up-river end of the -town, accompanied by a middle-aged, middle-sized, seedy looking man with -whom he seemed to be very well acquainted. So narrow is that small town -that two men could easily keep an eye on all the ways of entrance to it -at either end. Mr. Watt and his friend took up positions of advantage -several hundred yards apart and waited. - -The sun was low when Young Dan came out of the woods and headed -slantwise across a wide field beside the highway. - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW - - -Young Dan Evans slanted across the white field, heading for the highroad -which led smoothly into the little town of Harlow. His journey was -within a half-mile of its completion. He had worked hard ever since -leaving Bean’s Mill, through thick timber and untracked snow; and now he -was tired and hungry but in fine spirits. He had thought much of Andy -Mace and Pete Sabatis during the journey—of their admiration for one -another’s qualities of physical and spiritual fiber—and believed that -they would soon take him as seriously as they now considered each other. -Of course Andy was his firm friend and already thought highly of his -“smartness” along certain lines—but he feared that he had not yet made a -very deep impression on the one-eyed Indian. He suspected that Pete -Sabatis considered him a trifle too big for his cap and boots. He had -seen something of the kind in the old man’s one eye that very morning. - -“I guess he thinks I’m just a cub playing at something and trying to -fool folks into thinking I’m a smart man,” he reflected. “But when I -have that big Luke Watt jumping to my say-so, and that thieving drunkard -Jim Conley come to heel like a trained partridge-dog, and Mrs. Conley -and the kids fed and looked after properly, I guess he will have to -admit that I know what I’m doing.” - -Thus engaged with his thoughts, he drew near to an extensive grove of -swamp-birches and alders which grew along the snow-drifted fence like a -screen between the field and the highroad. He carried his blankets and -pack of furs on his back, his axe on his right shoulder and his cased -rifle hung by its sling on his left shoulder. - -He was close to the edge of the tangle of birches and alders, and about -midway of its length, when a bulky figure in a coonskin coat arose from -the snow and stepped out in front of him. - -Young Dan Evans did so many things all at once then that it is difficult -to disentangle and describe his actions. Mind and body worked quick as -thought—quicker, perhaps, for he was scarcely conscious of thinking. As -he recognized Luke Watt in the very instant of seeing him he let -everything he carried slip and fall from him into the snow in one -shrugging motion—pack and rifle and axe—and jumped forward straight and -hard. Even as he jumped, he saw Luke Watt draw something from a -side-pocket of the fur coat—but he did not flinch from the mark. He -struck Watt with his whole body all at once. His knees dug into the big -man’s middle and his left arm went around the fur-clad thick neck; and -as they fell he heard the revolver explode twice and felt the jolt of -the gloved hand that held it against his ribs; and he drew up his left -knee and stamped a wide snowshoe on Watt’s right arm, and struck the big -face with his right fist. Thus they sank into the drift, with Luke Watt -underneath and flat on his back. Young Dan trod the hand that held the -revolver deep into the snow; and he struck the vanishing face again and -again, though the snow muffled the blows of his mittened fist; and, all -the while, his right knee crushed and pounded. - -Luke Watt struggled—but what was the use! He was breathless, helpless, -bound and half smothered by the snow. All this violence had occurred so -swiftly that he could not fully realize exactly what had happened. He -had confronted the young trapper with his gun ready and the game in his -hand; and now, a few seconds later, his mouth was choked with snow, his -eyes were blinded, his arms and weapon were powerless and he was being -beaten to death! - -Young Dan shook the mitten from his left hand and thrust his bare hand -deep into the snow. In a moment he stood up and stepped backward a pace -or two, with Luke Watt’s revolver in his grasp. He looked about him and -saw a stooped figure on the road walking hastily townward. He turned -again to his enemy, who was sitting up by this time and struggling -painfully for breath. He flung the revolver far away and recovered his -axe, pack and rifle. - -“How’re you feeling now?” he asked. - -Mr. Watt gulped a mouthful of air but made no attempt to answer. He did -not even open his eyes. He paid no attention to the other’s departure. - -Young Dan found the hotel without difficulty and entered the office -fully equipped. - -“Will you kindly tell me the way to the nearest sheriff?” he asked of -the man at the desk. - -“The nearest sheriff?” repeated the hotel-keeper. “Do I get you, young -feller? Ye’re askin’ the way to the nearest sheriff?” - -There were four other men in that dreary little office of varnished -brown woodwork, mangey mooseheads and crockery cuspidors. These all -stared curiously at the young trapper and shifted their positions in -their chairs. The hotel-keeper leaned far over his little counter. - -“D’ye want to give yerself up?” he added, with a rude attempt at wit. - -“I have asked you a simple and civil question,” said Young Dan in his -quietest voice. “If you don’t understand simple questions here and don’t -answer civil ones, then I’ll ask somewhere else. What about it?” - -The hotel-keeper and his chaired patrons exchanged glances. - -“Sure, sure,” said the former, hurriedly. “We ain’t got a sheriff in -this town, but we got a fust-class depity-sheriff by the name of Archie -Wallace. Maybe ye’ve heared of him; an’ maybe he kin do yer business for -yer as well as the full-blowed high sheriff of the county. What was it -you said you wanted to see him about?” - -“I didn’t say,” replied Young Dan, with a disarming smile. “Thank you -very much for the information; and now if you’ll tell me where I can -find Mr. Wallace I’ll step along and stop troubling you.” - -The hotel-keeper reached for his coat, which hung on a hook behind him. - -“No trouble at all,” he said. “Glad to oblige. I’ll step along an’ show -you his very door. I always aim to help strangers all I know how.” - -“Ye hadn’t ought to leave yer seegar-stand in the rush hour, Dave,” said -one of the patrons, getting quickly out of his chair. “I’ll take the -young man to Archie Wallace. It’s fair on my way home.” - -The hotel-keeper paid no attention to this offer but donned coat and cap -and issued from behind the counter and dusty cigar-stand. - -“Follow me, stranger,” he invited, leading the way out. “Me and the -depity-sheriff are old friends. I’ll make you known to him.” - -So Young Dan followed the hotel-keeper, and three of the four patrons -followed close upon the heels of Young Dan. The deputy-sheriff’s house -was not more than fifty yards from the hotel; and the young trapper -smiled politely and said nothing all the way to it. The hotel-keeper -rang the bell and took up a position on the top step in front of Young -Dan. - -The door was opened by a tall, lean man who looked like a woodsman and -wore a Cardigan jacket and grey homespun trousers tucked into -high-legged larrigans of oil-tanned leather. - -“Here’s a young feller lookin’ for you on important business, Archie,” -said the hotel-keeper. “It is so all-fired important that I brought him -right along to you myself, so there wouldn’t be no possible mistake.” - -The deputy-sheriff looked at Young Dan Evans with calm inquiry. - -“It is private business,” explained Young Dan, smiling; “and these -gentlemen don’t know any more about it or me than I do about them. I -never so much as set eyes on any one of them in my life until five -minutes ago. What I have to say is for your private hearing, if you are -really an officer of the law.” - -“Step in,” said the tall man to Young Dan; and to the others he said -drily, “Thanks, boys, for escortin’ the young stranger to the right -place.” Then he closed the door in the hotel-keeper’s face. He led the -way into a small room opening off the narrow hall—an untidy, stale -cigar-scented room poorly illumined by an oil lamp with a green paper -shade. - -“Dump your outfit in the corner and sit down,” he invited. - -Young Dan obeyed and removed his cap and mitts and outer coat. The -deputy-sheriff sat down in his own arm-chair beside the untidy table and -removed the shade from the lamp so that the light reached his visitor’s -face. For several seconds he gazed keenly but pleasantly at Young Dan. - -“I’ve seen you before, somewheres or other,” he said. “Seems to me I -have known you pretty well, sometime or other. Who are you an’ where -from?” - -Young Dan answered the questions briefly but clearly. - -“You remind me of someone I know well,” said Mr. Wallace. “But it isn’t -yerself, for I never saw nor heard of you before. A full-grown man—and a -smart one. You speak like him—whoever he is.” - -“Bill Tangler, maybe? You’d know him, I guess. He’s my uncle.” - -“Bill Tangler it is! Your uncle, hey? Well, son, you’ve got a smart -uncle. More than that, he’s able; an’ better still, he’s white. If Bill -Tangler’s your uncle we don’t need any more introduction—so fire away.” - -Young Dan told briefly of his partnership with old Andy Mace, and -produced from an inner pocket the letter from his uncle containing the -suggestion of the venture and the partnership and the offer of camp and -outfit. Archie Wallace chuckled over the letter. Then the trapper told -of his encounters with Jim Conley, of the rebaited trap, and of the -night Conley went off his course in the woods with a cargo of gin inside -and out. He produced and exhibited the piece of paper upon which Mr. -Luke Watt had figured out Jim Conley’s bill. The deputy-sheriff studied -that exhibit very intently and slapped his hand on his thigh. - -“You’re a winner, Dan Evans!” he exclaimed. “Have a cigar.” - -Young Dan shook his head to the cigar and told his adventures of the -day, up to the very minute of telling. He raised his short coat of -wool-lined blanketing from the floor and held it up to the other’s view. - -“And here I am; and here’s where Luke Watt burnt two holes in my jacket -with his revolver,” he concluded. - -Archie Wallace examined the holes in the coat without a word. Then he -lit a fresh cigar from the butt of an old one, returned the green shade -to the lamp and sat well back in his chair. He gazed at the lamp-shade -in meditative silence. His manner impressed Young Dan. Suddenly he -turned his glance upon his visitor and asked abruptly, “Can you cook?” - -The nature of the question was so unexpected that Young Dan was far too -astonished to reply. He blushed and stared, wondering if he was being -made fun of. - -“Can you cook?” repeated the deputy-sheriff. - -“Yes.” - -“Then you’ll oblige me by goin’ to the kitchen and gettin’ supper for -the two of us,” said the official. “Here are matches, and you’ll find a -lamp on the table. The kettle’s b’ilin’, the coffee-pot an’ fryin’ pan -are on the back of the stove, and there’s ham and eggs all ready set out -on the dresser. I’m a bum cook myself. There’s an old hound somewheres -in the house who is the only person besides myself who can stomach my -cookery. He won’t bite you if you treat him friendly. While you’re -gettin’ supper I’ll sit right here an’ study over what you told me. It -needs some study.” - -So Young Dan started for the kitchen. In the narrow hall he met the old -hound, which seemed delighted with him and followed eagerly into the -kitchen. It was an extraordinary kitchen. All the dishes were jumbled up -on the table, and not one of them was clean. But the fire of dry -hardwood was burning clear in the stove and both pot and kettle were -full and boiling. He went briskly to work; and in half an hour all the -dishes were washed, the table was laid and supper was ready. - -The deputy-sheriff swallowed his first cup of coffee in silence. Then he -said, “Jim Conley’s a trap-thief all right, all right—but you can’t -prove it on him. He’s a liar I reckon, and I know darned well you ain’t -a liar—but his word about that trap and whatever he took from it is as -good as yours to the Law. So I can’t round him up—but I can scare all -the blood and gin in his nose back to his rotten heart.” - -“I guess that’ll be all he will need,” replied Young Dan. - -Mr. Wallace nodded and devoured ham and eggs for five minutes or so with -undivided attention. - -“As for Luke Watt—well, that feller is nigh as strong as he is -slippery,” he said, pouring more coffee. “He’s so danged crooked that he -had ought to’ve been thrown away with all the corkscrews when the -country went dry. Or he’d ought to of moved over into Quebec. He is -strong, too—but I reckon we got the goods on him all right, all right. -Do you think you could find that revolver of his you threw away?—or do -you reckon he’s maybe picked it up himself?” - -“I guess I could find it; and I don’t think he has picked it up because -his eyes were shut and full of snow when I threw it away,” replied Young -Dan. “I was mad, you know, what with his shooting at me and everything; -and it was only the deep snow and my mitts that saved him from getting a -sight worse than he got.” - -“Do you want to arrest him for assault with intent to kill, an’ for -sellin’ gin; or do you want to run him out of the country on a pair of -cold feet?” asked the deputy-sheriff. “Take your choice, Dan.” - -“Neither,” said the youth. “Neither, if we can scare him enough to -handle him the way I want to. If we can scare him into keeping the law -and doing something for Jim Conley’s wife and kids, I’ll be satisfied.” - -“But we got him cold,” said the other. “You’ve done a smart piece of -work, Dan Evans. You’ve caught Luke just how I’ve been tryin’ to catch -him this six months back. But what’s your idee? What’s this about -wantin’ that fat lubber to do something for Conley’s wife an’ kids?” - -“They need help. Jim Conley’s no good. The way I figger it is, Luke Watt -cheated Conley on the price of that skin. Whatever the skin was, patch -or black, we know Conley didn’t get even as much as a third of the right -price. And if we can’t prove that the skin belonged to Andy Mace and me, -then it was Conley’s rightful property, in the law. So if we can shoot a -real scare into Luke Watt—a regular death-cold fright—then we can make -him hand over the rest of the price of that skin, in groceries and boots -and clothing, to Jim Conley’s family. I’ll pick out the goods—enough to -last them till well on in the spring; and Watt’ll have to pay to have -them packed in to Conley’s camp. That’s my idea.” - -The deputy-sheriff drank more coffee, scratched his chin and relit the -half-smoked cigar. - -“You’re a philanthropist, Dan Evans,” he said. “You’re like your uncle -Bill Tangler in that.” - -Young Dan let that pass with a noncommittal smile, for the word was one -which he had somehow overlooked in his explorations into literature. But -he felt that it was nothing to be ashamed of if the same could be said -of his uncle Bill Tangler. - -“And maybe you’re right,” continued Mr. Wallace. “You know the situation -and I don’t, so it’s for you to say. As for the scare—if we find that -revolver we can scare Watt into totin’ a year’s supply of grub all the -way in to the Right Prong of Oxbow on his own fat back. And I reckon -he’ll keep the law after we’ve had a chat with him, for he ain’t a fool. -He’d sooner keep it along with his freedom than behind stone walls and -iron bars, you can betcher hat on that. But there are other sides to the -question to be considered. There’s no sense in jumpin’ before we look -all round for the dryest place to land. So far you’ve considered nothin’ -but Jim Conley’s family’s need of grub and clothes. Well, that’s all -right in its way, and as far as it goes—but it will sure encourage Jim -Conley to sit at home all day and eat his head off. If he can’t drink -he’ll eat. A feller like him has just got to be doin’ something with his -mouth all the time; and I reckon he ain’t got brains enough to do much -talkin’. If feedin’ his wife and children will make a good citizen out -of him, then you’re dead right. But what about Luke Watt? We can scare -him into keeping the law as far as bootleggin’ gin is concerned, but we -can’t stop him cheatin’ in his trade every chance he gets. We couldn’t -make a good citizen of him in a hundred years. And that ain’t all. Not -by a long shot! Suppose I nab him in my official capacity, with his -number right in my pocket? What’ll folks say about Deputy-Sheriff Archie -Wallace then, d’ye think? They’ll say that Deputy-Sheriff Archie Wallace -is an all-fired smart, able, slick and deserving officer! Yes, Dan -Evans, it will sure mean feathers a foot high in my hat. And what will -be said about the young trapper from ’way back in the woods who did the -brain-work and took the risk? They’ll say you’re the best detective -outside the covers of a book they ever heard tell of. You’ll be a big -man with your name in the newspapers—and I’ll be the next high sheriff -of this county. That’s _my_ idea.” - -“And it is a good idea,” replied Young Dan, reflectively. “It sounds -mighty good to me, of course. I’d like fine to see my name in the papers -as a detective, but I wasn’t figgering on anything like that. I want to -see that woman and her children decently fed. I don’t like her much, -mind you—but she’s sure a courageous mother, and I pity her, and so -would you if you knew Jim Conley. If we could scare him into earning a -living for his family, then I’d certainly like your idea better’n mine.” - -“But you ain’t reckonin’ on makin’ Luke Watt support Conley’s wife and -kids all the rest of their lives, surely?” returned Mr. Wallace. “That -would be goin’ a mite too far with it. He’d sooner go to jail than do -that, I wouldn’t wonder. No, that won’t do! You got to make Conley get -to work. Philanthropy’s a fine thing, but justice is a fine thing, too.” - -“You’re right, Mr. Wallace—and you are the deputy-sheriff. I guess -whatever you say goes. All I want to do is scare Jim Conley off of our -trap-lines, and help his family, and smash that hound, Luke Watt.” - -“Then we’d best sleep on it, an’ have a look for that revolver first -thing in the morning,” said the other. “Maybe we’ll hit on a way of -reconciling your hunger for philanthropy with my thirst for fame and -promotion.” - -“They sound as if they’d ought to pull all right in double-harness,” -remarked the youth, with that smile which reminded the deputy-sheriff of -Bill Tangler. - -The deputy-sheriff wakened his guest at the first peep of day; and after -breakfast they set out in a red pung behind a long-gaited -three-year-old. Young Dan left his skins locked securely away in one of -Mr. Wallace’s closets, with the understanding that Wallace would ship -them to an honest fur-dealer immediately upon his return from the -present expedition. This arrangement would be sure to prove advantageous -to Young Dan and his partner, for Archie Wallace, as deputy-sheriff of -the county, would obtain a higher price for the furs than a private -trapper could possibly make any buyer consider reasonable. They stopped -near the scene of the trapper’s swift and violent encounter with the -storekeeper from Bean’s Mill, slipped on their snowshoes and entered the -slanting field. Mr. Wallace regarded the deep marks of the struggle with -chuckles of satisfaction. Then Young Dan led him about thirty yards away -to a very small cut in the snow and dug up Luke Watt’s revolver. He -handed the weapon to Wallace, who wiped it off, tied it up carefully in -his handkerchief and stowed it away in his pocket. - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER X - - FEAR OF THE LAW - - -The road between Harlow and Bean’s Mill was all that hoof and heart -could wish, and the long-gaited three-year-old was sound in wind and -limb and as fresh as the frosty morning. It was still early in the day -when the deputy-sheriff drew rein in front of Luke Watt’s store. He -jumped out and hitched the strawberry mare to a well-chewed post and -threw a blanket and a goat-skin robe over her. Then he cleared the frost -from his eye-lashes, pulled his fur mittens off and threw them into the -pung and rubbed his bare hands briskly together as if to limber up the -fingers. Then he sank his hands deep into the roomy side-pockets of his -fur coat. - -“You keep your collar turned up an’ your cap pulled down and sit right -there till you get the high sign,” he said to Young Dan. - -Young Dan nodded his muffled head. He sat stuffily in the pung, very -bulky and shapeless in an old coonskin coat of the deputy-sheriff’s, -looking as much like “The World’s Fattest Lady” as anything else in the -world—much more like that than like a lanky young trapper of fur. - -As Archie Wallace pushed open the door of the store he closed his eyes -tight, the quicker to readjust them to the gloom within from the -brightness without. As he closed the door behind him with his left -elbow—for still his right hand was in his pocket—he opened his eyes and -looked at everything in one wide-eyed glance. He saw, in that first -comprehensive look, everything in the store—the counter, the fancy -groceries on the dirty shelves, the barrels and crates, the baskets of -eggs, the chewing-gum and depressing cigars in the little show-case, the -boots and suspenders and amazing neckties hanging aloft, and Mrs. Watt -and three customers—everything which he had expected to see except Luke -Watt. He made his way to the counter and Mrs. Watt and wished her a -rather grim good-morning. His professional manner was always uppermost -when he was actually engaged in the final stages of a piece of -professional work. He felt that he owed this alike to the Law and to the -probable offenders against the Law. - -“I want to speak to your husband, Luke Watt,” he continued. - -Mrs. Watt, who was as like Mr. Watt in appearance and character as a -woman could be, changed color swiftly and at the same time met the man’s -grim gaze with a hard and brazen glint in her eyes. - -“You sure ain’t forgot my husband’s name, Archie Wallace,” she said. -“What are you puttin’ on yer depity-sheriff airs for this mornin’? You -sound like you was huntin’ for trouble.” - -“You’ve said it,” returned Mr. Wallace, drily. “Where is Luke?” - -“At home in bed, sick with a cold; an’ that’s where he has been since -yesterday afternoon,” she answered. “You can go over to the house an’ -make a call on him in bed, if yer business is that pressin’”; and then, -with a swift change from effrontery to curiosity in eyes and voice, she -leaned across the counter and whispered, “What’s the trouble?” - -“Exactly what you suspect, Mrs. Watt—an’ maybe quite a lot more,” he -replied, whispering in his turn from the force of example rather than by -intention. “Now I’ll just step over to the house an’ have a talk with -him.” - -“Wait,” she whispered, closing her fingers on the sleeve of his coat. -“Tell me, have you got his number? Have you caught him? Tell me!” - -Wallace withdrew his sleeve from her grasp and turned and left the store -without another word. His face was drawn for a second with an expression -of sickening distaste, for he had seen, quick and sure as lightning, -exactly what the woman had in her mind. He knew that she salted away the -money which her husband corkscrewed out of the rural population; and he -had just now seen her as a rat that contemplates the advisability of -leaving a sinking ship. But she was a cautious sort of rat and wanted to -make dead sure that the ship was going down before she swarmed down the -anchor-chain and swam ashore. This nautical figure of thought came pat -to Mr. Wallace, for he had sailed four deep-sea voyages out of St. John -in his eighteenth and nineteenth years. - -“Mrs. Watt says he’s sick abed with a cold,” he informed Young Dan. “It -may be so, for what would be the sense of her tellin’ that lie? That’s -the house. If you’ll stable the mare across there at Murphy’s, I’ll go -to Watt’s—and you follow me as soon as you’ve stood the mare in the -stall. Open the front door an’ walk right in and up the stairs.” - -The deputy-sheriff found Luke Watt in bed. The store-keeper was very red -of face and watery of eye, and there were dark bruises on his brow. - -“Your wife said I’d find you here, sick abed,” said Wallace. - -“Well, she told ye the truth,” replied Watt. “What d’ye want, Archie?” - -“You, Luke Watt. This is an official visit I’m makin’ you.” - -“Me? Official? Who’s the joke on? Tell me when to laugh, will you?” - -“Yes, you; and when the time to laugh comes I’ll do it. You’re done.” - -“And you’re crazy! I’m done, am I? Who d’ye reckon did me?” - -Wallace heard the front door open and close and then a light, slow step -on the stairs. He opened the bed-room door and looked out. - -“Luke Watt wants to know who did him,” he said. “Come along in and show -him, an’ then maybe he’ll believe me.” - -He returned to the side of the bed; and, a moment later, Young Dan -entered the room in his bulky muffling of furs and shut the door behind -him. Luke Watt’s face twitched. The trapper slipped out of his borrowed -coat and removed his cap and mittens and looked at the man in the bed. -Watt made a bluff at returning that look—but it was a weak bluff. His -face twitched again, and he closed his eyes and sneezed. Young Dan -noticed the bruised forehead and was glad of it. - -“I’d of marked you worse than that if it hadn’t been for the snow and -the mitten on my hand,” he said. “But I guess you got enough!” - -“He must of got some snow down his neck an’ caught cold from it,” said -the deputy-sheriff. “But if you’d killed ’im, Dan Evans, you wouldn’t of -done more’n I would have done in your place. I wouldn’t of blamed you.” - -“What are you two talkin’ about, anyhow?” demanded Watt, in a voice -husky with cold and emotion. “And who’s this here young jay?” - -“Cut it out!” retorted Wallace. “I know the whole story, right back to -the fox you bought off of Jim Conley, and I’ve seen the piece of paper -you used to figger out the price of it on—the price, mostly in gin. And -I’ve got the gun in my pocket you used on Dan Evans here when you tried -to stop him from gettin’ into Harlow. You ain’t as cute as I thought you -were, but you’re a long sight more dangerous. I never reckoned on you -tryin’ murder.” - -“It’s a lie!” cried the other. “Git out, or I’ll have the law on you!” - -“Not so fast,” continued Wallace, calmly. “I had a talk with your -friend, Tom Marl, about one o’clock this mornin’, after I’d heard Dan -Evans’s story. Tom was scared. He thought the two shots you fired had -hit the mark. He’s quite a talker, Tom Marl is—when fear loosens his -tongue.” - -All the color went from Luke Watt’s face and again he closed his eyes. - -“Attempted robbery under arms, and assault with intent to kill—it would -make an exciting case,” continued Wallace, slowly and clearly. “It would -give the smart lawyers a fine chance to show their smartness, some -tryin’ to hang you and others tryin’ to save your neck—but the smartest -lawyers in the province couldn’t save you from five years in pen. The -liquor case won’t be near so exciting. We’ve got you so cold there the -lawyers wouldn’t find anything to argue about.” - -Watt continued to lie with his eyes tight shut, breathing heavily. - -“I guess I’d have to make a charge against him for the assault and all, -and for firing two shots at my ribs, wouldn’t I?” said Young Dan, in an -unsteady voice. He felt unsteady. The sight of the big man’s fear and -despair shook him strangely. - -The storekeeper opened his eyes. - -“Ain’t you made the charge agin me?” he cried. “Then don’t do it! Gimme -a chance! I was scart crazy. All I meant to do was to stop you an’ talk -you round. The gun kinder went off by accident. I swear it!” - -The deputy-sheriff sighed and lit a cigar. - -“How much did you get for that skin that you bought from Jim Conley?” -asked Young Dan. - -“That skin?—why, I ain’t sold it yet,” answered Watt, thinking hard and -speaking slowly and uncertainly. - -“In that case, I’ll take a look at it and value it,” said Wallace. - -“You needn’t trouble yerself,” said the other, sullenly. “I got five -hundred dollars for it.” - -“Then you still owe the original owner of the skin four hundred an’ some -odd dollars,” said the trapper. - -“Business is business,” protested the man in bed. “I bought the skin an’ -I sold it; an’ now I wisht it had been burnt to a cinder before I ever -seen it!” - -“Give me four hundred dollars for Jim Conley’s wife and kids and I won’t -make that charge against you,” said Young Dan. - -The deputy-sheriff, who had been gazing reflectively out of the window, -turned at that with an air of decision and regarded the trapper with -level eyes. - -“I’m goin’ to be downright and honest with both of you,” he said. “It’s -nothing to me if you get four hundred dollars out of Watt for Conley’s -wife and kids, or if you don’t. It’s no concern of mine. I don’t care -what dicker you make with him, or if he keeps his end of the bargain or -goes back on it—but I tell you both that whatever happens, he is pinched -for selling gin. He is pinched good and hard for selling gin, and he’ll -go to jail for it, without the option of a fine, as sure as my name is -Wallace; and I’ll put a constable into this house to guard him until -he’s fit to go to jail and await his trial.” - -“But I won’t make the other charge, if you’ll give me four hundred for -Jim Conley’s wife and babies,” said the trapper to Watt. - -“I’ll do that,” replied Watt. “Go over to the store an’ fetch my wife, -will you? She takes care of the money.” - -Young Dan went to the store and found a young woman with a red head in -charge. She informed him that Mrs. Watt had gone to the mill on business -and wouldn’t be back for half an hour, perhaps. He returned to Luke -Watt’s bedroom with this information. - -“She ain’t got no business over to the mill,” said Watt. “Maybe she’s in -the house somewheres. Take a look round the house for her, will you, an’ -tell her I want to see her quick.” - -So Young Dan left the bed-room again and searched the house high and -low. The only living thing he found in it was a cat in the kitchen; but -he saw melted snow here and there on the kitchen floor. He looked -closely at the damp marks and knew them for the tracks of feet shod in -arctics. He saw that the tracks began at the outer door of the kitchen, -crossed to the big dresser and returned to the door. He opened the door, -which was not locked, and looked into the cold shed. He saw a few small -films of pressed snow on the dusty floor of the shed, between the -shed-door and the kitchen-door. He went back to the big dresser and -gazed curiously and eagerly for a few seconds at its dish-laden shelves -and the closed doors of its cupboards, then returned to the room -upstairs and said that the house was empty. - -“But there’s been a woman in the kitchen,” he added. “In and out again, -with snow on her feet. She wore arctic overboots, whoever she is.” - -“That’s her!” exclaimed Luke Watt weakly. - -He got out of bed and put on trousers and coat over his nightshirt and -thrust his feet into slippers. He shivered and sat down on the edge of -the bed. His eyes of no particular color were miserable with dread. - -“Take a look in the stable,” he whispered. “See if my trottin’ mare’s -there.” - -The trapper went out to the stable, by way of the kitchen and the shed. -The stall was empty. The harness had gone from its pegs. There were -fresh tracks of hoofs and runners in the snow in front of the stable -door. - -“She must of tied the bells,” he said. “She seems to know what she’s -about, whatever it is. And I wonder what it is?” - -He went back to Watt and the deputy-sheriff with the news that the -trotting mare was gone from the stable, harness and pung and all. - -Luke Watt turned a tragic, despairing and murderous gaze on Mr. Wallace. -“You fool!” he cried, hysterically. “Why couldn’t you keep yer silly -mouth shut! You told her how ye’d come to pinch me, an’ how I hadn’t a -chance to git clear—an’ so she’s up an’ lit out with all the money! -That’s what she’s done! Lit out with every dollar!” - -With that explosion the storekeeper sank back across the bed and covered -his face with his hands. The deputy-sheriff and the trapper exchanged -embarrassed glances. - -“He’s lying,” whispered Wallace. “He’s tryin’ to fool you, Dan. There -ain’t a woman in the world would do a trick like that on her husband; -and Mrs. Watt couldn’t even if she wanted to.” - -He leaned over Luke Watt and shook him roughly by a shoulder. - -“Where’d you bank your money?” he asked. - -“I didn’t bank it nowhere,” mumbled Watt, still with his face in his -hands. “She didn’t bank it, neither. She salted it away.” - -“Where’d she salt it away?” - -“I dunno.” - -“You’re lying, Luke Watt—or you’re the biggest an’ softest boob I ever -heard tell of.” - -“I’ll bet she kept it somewhere in the dresser in the kitchen,” said -Young Dan. “That’s where the tracks led to—to the dresser and out -again.” - -The storekeeper jumped to his feet and ran heavily from the room, crying -“Let’s go look.” The others followed him close. - -Young Dan took charge of the investigation of the dresser. All the -dishes were removed from the shelves and every inch of woodwork was -searched for a hidden drawer or sliding panel—but all in vain. Luke Watt -sat down beside the stove and shivered and wept. Then Young Dan and Mr. -Wallace emptied the four pot-closets in the bottom of the dresser of -dozens of pots, pans, sauce-pans and frying-pans, and Young Dan crawled -into each in turn and rapped here and there and everywhere with -enquiring knuckles. In the fourth closet he found his reward. Without -withdrawing his head he passed back and out a section of the bottom of -the closet. Mr. Wallace took the piece of dry pine board in his hand and -showed it to Luke Watt. Luke stared at it and ceased his weeping. Then a -section of board from the floor of the kitchen appeared from beneath the -trapper’s elbow. He withdrew his head and shoulders from the closet a -few seconds later and squatted back on his heels. - -“Empty,” he said. - -Yes, the hiding-place beneath the floor was empty. The deputy-sheriff -found it empty. Even Luke Watt’s hungry fingers failed to find anything -in it. - -“An’ if there was a dollar in it there was twenty thousand,” whispered -Watt, in a stunned voice. - -“There don’t live another woman in the world would play a trick like -that on her man,” said Mr. Wallace. “No matter how bad he was, she -wouldn’t play him down like that. It beats anything I ever heard of.” - -“Reckon yer right,” replied the storekeeper, listlessly. “Eliza ain’t no -ordinary woman. You hadn’t ought to told her yer business with me.” - -He sounded like a man talking in his sleep. - -“I guess you’re in trouble enough, Luke Watt,” said Young Dan. “Well, as -far as I’m concerned, you’re no worse off than if you hadn’t tried to -stop me with a gun. That’s forgotten.” - -The dazed storekeeper went back to bed; and Archie Wallace supplied a -cook and a muscular constable to feed him and hold him until he was in -fit health to be removed to the county jail. - -On their way through to Dan’l Evans’s farm behind the long-gaited -strawberry mare, the deputy-sheriff and Young Dan bought as much food as -two good men could pack a day’s journey from Amos Bissing at the Bend. -Mr. Bissing was deeply impressed by Young Dan’s company and appearance. -He asked a great many questions and received a good many answers—but not -a single answer to his questions as to the deputy-sheriff’s reasons for -touring the country in Young Dan’s company. He could see easily enough -by the manners of the two that their relations were entirely friendly. - -When the strawberry mare passed the kitchen windows of the Evans farm, -and Young Dan was recognized by every member of the family and Mr. -Wallace was recognized by the father, amazement and apprehension flamed -in every heart. - -“He’s a policeman, I tell ye!” exclaimed Dan’l for the third time in -quick succession, flattered by the panicky effect of his words. “He’s -the sheriff from Harlow. Young Dan’s been too smart for his own good at -last, I cal’late. Them fool books an’ his Tangler brains has tripped him -by the heels at last. Wonder what he done?” - -Then the kitchen door opened and Young Dan entered with the tall man -close behind him. He threw aside his cap and embraced his mother; and at -the first clear glimpse of his face she knew that her Daniel senior had -been mistaken again. - -They remained at the farm for supper, and the night and breakfast. Dan’l -Evans was greatly relieved, of course, to know that his son was not an -offender against any law—but he was not happy. Everything was too right -for his complete enjoyment. There was too much talk on the -deputy-sheriff’s part to suit him, of the virtues of Bill Tangler and -the great thing Young Dan had done; and Young Dan, was too well pleased -with himself and the deputy-sheriff; and Mrs. Evans made altogether too -much of both the visitors and had more to say about the intellectual -qualities of her own family than could be expected to please a husband -of Dan’l’s disposition. When he knocked and belittled and sneered, he -was either ignored entirely or bluntly contradicted. When he advanced -the theory that Young Dan had been guilty of an error in judgment in -jumping so quick at Luke Watt, and cited the two bullet-holes in the -youth’s coat as proof of the mistake, the deputy-sheriff thought that he -was joking and laughed heartily. - -“You’re a dry humorist, Mr. Evans,” he exclaimed. “The driest I ever -met. That’s good—that about the holes in Dan’s coat. You sure do give a -new and uncommon slant to a thing.” - -This puzzled Dan’l, giving him food for silent thought to last him for -the remainder of the evening. - -Young Dan and Mr. Wallace set out for the Right Prong country after an -early breakfast, on their snow-shoes, with forty-pound packs on their -shoulders, leaving the strawberry mare in Dan’l Evans’s charge. It was a -windless clear day, and the snow was well settled. Young Dan led the way -at his best pace—but he did not have to stop once to let Archie Wallace -catch up to him. The fact was, he had to put on an extra spurt every now -and then to keep the tails of his snowshoes from being stepped on. -That’s the kind of man Archie Wallace was. - -They found both old men at the camp in fine spirits and Andy Mace’s -rheumatism greatly improved. Andy cooked a masterpiece of a supper; and -after supper Archie Wallace told the story of Young Dan’s adventures -with Luke Watt in his best style. At the conclusion of the narrative, -Pete Sabatis turned the glance of his single eye from the face of Young -Dan to that of Andy Mace and slowly nodded his head twice. - -“Guess you size ’im up right, Andy,” he said. - -Young Dan blushed with pleasure, yet pretended not to have seen or heard -this passage of intelligence. To be accepted as an able man by Pete -Sabatis and to measure up to the heroic standards of earlier -generations, these were triumphs which might well expand the heart and -redden the cheek of even an older man than Young Dan. - -After breakfast the deputy-sheriff and Young Dan went north to Jim -Conley’s cabin, heavy-laden with their contributions toward the support -of that worthless fellow’s wife and children. Just before coming into -view of the cabin, Mr. Wallace halted and the trapper took to the brush -beside the trail. Wallace stood motionless for five minutes, then -advanced. Within a second of sighting the little hut of logs he glimpsed -the swift flash of a face at the little window. He went forward without -haste and knocked on the door. It was opened to him by the woman. - -“Good mornin’, m’am,” he said, standing his rifle against the edge of -the door and lowering his pack to the threshold. “Here’s some grub for -you, with the compliments of Dan Evans.” - -The woman stared at him, motionless and silent. - -“Is Jim round anywheres handy?” he asked. “I’d like to speak to him.” - -“It was him sent ye here—that young fool, Dan Evans!” she exclaimed. -“Why don’t he mind his own business? Can’t ye let Jim be? He’s workin’ -fine now that the gin’s all gone. Can’t ye leave him be?” - -“What’s he workin’ at, m’am?” - -“Trappin’, that’s what.” - -“But whose traps?” - -Her face paled. Quick as a flash she reached out an arm, snatched his -cased rifle from where it stood and stepped back into the room. Mr. -Wallace smiled, raised the pack of provisions from the threshold, -carried it into the cabin and closed the door behind him. He crossed the -room in four strides and opened another door; and there stood Conley, -facing it, with both hands held high in air and a rifle in one hand. -Behind him stood Young Dan. - -“Come along in,” said the deputy-sheriff. - -Conley obeyed; and young Dan came close at his heels and shut the door. -Wallace took the rifle from Conley and his own from the woman. Then he -turned to Young Dan and said, “You’ve got something to say to these -folks, I believe. Fire away.” - -“It’s this,” said Young Dan, looking coldly from the man to the woman. -“I’m just about sick of supplying you with grub. A wolf would feel more -gratitude than either of you. So this is the last time; and if ever I -call again with the deputy-sheriff, there’ll be trouble for you. We’ve -arrested Luke Watt for selling gin, and he is going to jail for it. Oh, -yes, I know all about that fox skin! Stick to yer own trap-lines from -now on, Jim Conley, and trade yer furs for food instead of hard liquor, -and I’ll leave you alone. But make one more break at me or my traps, and -I’ll land you where you can talk it over with Luke Watt. Here’s more -grub—the last I bother to tote in to you—and that’s all I’ve got to say. -Come along, Mr. Wallace. Let’s get out into the fresh air quick.” - -They turned away and left the man and woman and bewildered children -standing silent and motionless. - -“I didn’t suspect it was in you to be so sharp with them,” remarked -Archie Wallace. “What riled you?” - -“Conley tried to slip a knife into me after he’d put up his hands,” -replied Young Dan. - -“Well, I reckon they’ll be good from now on, so far as you’re -concerned,” said Wallace. “You scared ’em. You pretty nigh scared me.” - -They were half-way back to Bill Tangler’s camp when the deputy-sheriff -halted and lit a cigar. - -“You’re a wizard, Dan Evans,” he said. “A trapper needs to be smart, but -not as far-sighted an’ clear-thinkin’ as you. The Government will be -glad to pay you for anything you do—so will you lend me a hand now an’ -then, when I’m up against something too big for me to swing alone?” - -“Sure,” said Young Dan. - -“That’s a bargain!” exclaimed Mr. Wallace; and they shook hands there in -the white trail. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OXBOW WIZARD*** - - -******* This file should be named 61911-0.txt or 61911-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/1/9/1/61911 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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