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diff --git a/old/62950-h/62950-h.htm b/old/62950-h/62950-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 8684090..0000000 --- a/old/62950-h/62950-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5917 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <title>The Timber Treasure, by Frank Lillie Pollock—A Project Gutenberg eBook</title> - <link rel='coverpage' href='images/cover.jpg' /> - <meta name='cover' content='images/cover.jpg' /> - <style type="text/css"> - body { margin-left:8%; margin-right:8%; } - p { text-indent:1.15em; margin-top:0.1em; margin-bottom:0.1em; text-align:justify; } - h1 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; page-break-before: always; - font-size:1.4em; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - h2 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; page-break-before: always; - font-size:1.0em; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - h2.nobreak { page-break-before: avoid; } - div.section { page-break-before:always; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:4em; } - div.chapter { page-break-before:always; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:4em; } - table.toc {} - table { page-break-inside: avoid; width:100%; } - table.tcenter { border-collapse:collapse; padding:3px; - margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - td { vertical-align:top; } - td.c1 { text-align:right; padding-right:0.7em; } - td.c2 { font-variant:small-caps; } - div.cbline { margin-left:1.4em; text-indent:-1.4em; } - .caption { text-indent:0; padding:0.5em 0; text-align:center; font-size:smaller; } - @media handheld { - table.tcenter { margin-left:2em; } - } - body { font-size:120% } - p.caption { font-size:1.0em; } - </style> -</head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Timber Treasure, by Frank Lillie Pollock - -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 Timber Treasure - -Author: Frank Lillie Pollock - -Release Date: August 16, 2020 [EBook #62950] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TIMBER TREASURE *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<h1>THE TIMBER TREASURE</h1> - -<div class='section'> - -<div id='ifpc' style='margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:10.0%; width:80%;'> - <img src='images/ifpc.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> -<p class='caption'>Tom arose and shouted to them</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='section'> - -<div style='text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; '> -<div style='font-size:1.6em;'>THE</div> -<div style='font-size:1.6em;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>TIMBER TREASURE</div> -<div style='margin-bottom:1em;'>BY</div> -<div style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:0.5em;'>FRANK LILLIE POLLOCK</div> -<div style='font-size:0.9em;font-variant:small-caps;'>Author of “Wilderness Honey,” “The</div> -<div style='font-size:0.9em;margin-bottom:1em;font-variant:small-caps;'>Woods Rider,” etc.</div> -<div style='margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:2em;'>ILLUSTRATED</div> -</div> -<div style='margin-left:42%; width:16%;'> -<img src='images/title.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%;' /> -</div> -<div style='text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; '> -<div style='font-size:1.1em;margin-top:2em;'>THE CENTURY CO.</div> -<div style='font-style:italic;'>New York and London</div> -<div>1923</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='section'> - -<div style='text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; '> -<div>Copyright, 1923, by</div> -<div style='margin-bottom:1em;font-variant:small-caps;'>The Century Co.</div> -<div style='font-size:0.9em;'><i>Copyright</i>, 1913, 1921, by</div> -<div style='font-size:0.9em;margin-bottom:1em;font-variant:small-caps;'>Perry Mason Company</div> -<div style='font-size:0.8em;'>PRINTED IN U. S. A.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='section'> - -<div style='margin-left:30%; margin-right:30%;'> -<p style='text-indent:0; text-align:left;'>This story has appeared serially in “The -Youth’s Companion,” and my thanks are due -the publishers for permission to reprint it.</p> - -<p style='text-align:right'>Frank Lillie Pollock.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='section'> - -<table class='toc tcenter' summary="" style='margin-bottom:3em'> -<thead> - <tr> - <th colspan='2' style='font-weight:normal;padding-bottom:1em;'>CONTENTS</th> - </tr> -</thead> -<tbody> - <tr><td class='c1'>I</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chI'>The End of a Trail</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>II</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chII'>Indian Charlie</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>III</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chIII'>The Fish Sharp</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>IV</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chIV'>Burned Out</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>V</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chV'>Across the Wilderness</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>VI</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chVI'>Defeat</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>VII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chVII'>Not Too Late</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>VIII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chVIII'>The Treasure</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>IX</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chIX'>Victory</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>X</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chX'>A Fight in the Dark</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XI</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXI'>Fire and Water</a></td></tr> -</tbody> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='section'> - -<div style='text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; '> -<div style='font-size:1.1em;margin-bottom:1em;'>ILLUSTRATIONS</div> -</div> -<ul style='list-style-type:none; display:table; margin: 0 auto;'> -<li><a href='#ifpc'>Tom arose and shouted to them</a></li> -<li><a href='#i048'>Tom rushed in and dragged him out</a></li> -<li><a href='#i152'>The game was up</a></li> -<li><a href='#i214'>Tom caught the half-directed blow</a></li> -</ul> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<div style='text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; '> -<div style='font-size:1.3em;margin-top:4em;'>THE TIMBER TREASURE</div> -</div> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chI' title='I: The End of a Trail'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER I</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.0em'>THE END OF A TRAIL</span> -</h2> - -<p>The heavy spruce forest broke away into scattered clearings; the road -began to show more sign of use. The shriek of a sawmill began to be -audible through the trees, and then the stage rolled into Oakley, -splashed with mud from wheels to top, and the tired horses stopped. Tom -Jackson crawled out, cramped and chilled with the rough twenty-mile -drive, and looked about anxiously for a familiar face.</p> - -<p>The stage was standing opposite an unpainted frame hotel, where a group -of men had collected to meet it. There were rough woodsmen, forest -farmers, dark-faced French habitants, an Indian or two, slouching and -silent; the driver as he got down from his seat was exchanging -jocularities with some of these, but no one spoke to Tom, and he saw no -one whom he recognized. He had a twinge of anxiety. He had written to -Uncle Phil to meet him that day. There had been plenty of time, and he -had felt certain of seeing either Uncle Phil or one of his sons. Could -the letter possibly have gone astray?</p> - -<p>Tom’s canvas dunnage sack was handed out to him, and his rifle in its -case. He deposited these on the hotel steps, and again searched the -group with his eyes. Becoming certain that he knew no one there, he -applied to the nearest man, a raw-boned, bearded person in the rough -dress of a backwoods settler. He had been talking freely, and seemed to -know everybody.</p> - -<p>“Have you seen anything of Mr. Phil Jackson around here to-day—or either -of his boys?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t believe as I know ’em,” returned the pioneer, looking Tom over -with acute curiosity. “Was you expectin’ to see ’em?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I wrote them to meet me here, but I don’t see any of them.”</p> - -<p>“Well, the town ain’t very big. You can’t miss ’em if they’re here,” the -other said, encouragingly.</p> - -<p>This had already struck Tom’s mind. The straggling, muddy street of log -houses, frame shacks, three or four stores was barely a hundred yards -long, and then the vast northern Canadian forest closed in again. Away -at the end of the village he had a glimpse of a good-sized river, yellow -and swollen with melting snow. There were stray drifts of snow and -patches of ice still lingering in sheltered places everywhere, rather to -Tom’s surprise, for spring had seemed well advanced when he left -Toronto; and despite the sunshine the air was full of a raw harshness, -charged with a smell of pine and snow.</p> - -<p>He carried his baggage into the hotel and left it there, glancing into -the bar and sitting-room. Emerging again, he found the knot of idlers -had scattered, and the horses were being unharnessed from the stage. He -walked down the board sidewalk as far as it went, scrutinizing every -face, looking into the stores, with anxiety growing upon him. Oakley was -his uncle’s post-office, but his homestead was some thirty miles back in -the woods, and Tom had no idea in which direction nor how to get there.</p> - -<p>All at once it occurred to him that they must know at the post-office. -That was the place for information. He had passed it already; he had -seen the sign, and he turned more hopefully back. The post-office was a -general store as well. It was full of a mixed smell of leather and -molasses and tobacco, and there was a group of fur-capped settlers -smoking and talking beside the big stove. Among them Tom recognized the -man he had already spoken with, and they all stopped talking and looked -at the boy with great interest. Tom felt that they instantly recognized -him as from the city, though he had taken pains to wear his roughest and -heaviest clothes, a flannel shirt and high shoepacks which he had used -in the woods before; but his hands and face were suspiciously untanned.</p> - -<p>The postmaster, a spectacled elderly man, was behind a wire compartment -at the rear of the store, and had just finished sorting the mail brought -in by the stage when Tom approached him.</p> - -<p>“Why, no,” he answered. “I ain’t see Phil Jackson to-day. Fact is, I -don’t believe I’ve set eyes on him all winter. Seems to me I heard he’d -gone away—him and the boys.”</p> - -<p>It was indeed six or eight months since Tom had heard from any of his -uncle’s family, but he had never dreamed that they could have left the -north Canadian ranch where they had been for five years, and where they -were doing prosperously.</p> - -<p>“No, Jackson ain’t gone away,” put in one of the men by the stove. -“Mebbe he don’t come in to Oakley no more, but he’s still on his -homestead.”</p> - -<p>“He ain’t been gettin’ his mail here lately, anyways,” said the -postmaster. “There’s a letter here for him now—been here a week.”</p> - -<p>He reached up to the pigeonholes, and took out a letter, peering at it -through his glasses. With a shock Tom recognized the handwriting of the -address.</p> - -<p>“Why, that’s my own letter!” he cried. “That’s the letter I wrote him. -He never got it.”</p> - -<p>There was a silence in the store. Tom endeavored to collect himself.</p> - -<p>“I fully expected him to meet me here,” he said at last. “Now I’ve got -to get out to his ranch some way. Do you know where it is?”</p> - -<p>There was a difference of opinion. Nobody seemed to be quite sure.</p> - -<p>“I believe he lives over north somewheres,” said the postmaster. “I -dunno.”</p> - -<p>“Down the river, ain’t it?” said another.</p> - -<p>“No, it ain’t,” said a third, decisively. “I know where the Jackson -place is. It’s up on Little Coboconk, just below the narrers. I seen -Dave Jackson there one day last fall. He was gettin’ out beaver-medder -hay.”</p> - -<p>“How far is it? How can I get there?” cried Tom.</p> - -<p>“Must be ’bout thirty mile. I dunno how to get there—’less you had a -canoe. You go right up the river to the Coboconk lakes,” said the -postmaster.</p> - -<p>“Me and my pardner’s plannin’ to go up past there,” said the man who -knew the place. “Guess we could fix it to go to-morrow. We could take -you up, if you know how to ride in a canoe without fallin’ out.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve paddled a canoe a good many hundred miles,” said Tom indignantly. -“I’d be glad to go if you can take me. How much’ll you charge me for the -trip?”</p> - -<p>The frontiersman glanced sidewise at the boy, and spat against the hot -stove.</p> - -<p>“Run you up for ten dollars.”</p> - -<p>Tom knew well that this was outrageous. If he had been a dweller in that -neighborhood he would have been welcome to go for nothing, for the sake -of an extra hand at the paddles. And about twenty dollars was all he -owned.</p> - -<p>“Can’t afford to pay more than five,” he said firmly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, well; make it five,” said the other, a little shamefacedly. “We’ll -start early—six o’clock, say. You stoppin’ at the hotel?”</p> - -<p>Tom had no other place to stop, though he could ill spare the additional -dollar or two. He went back and engaged a room, and tried to amuse -himself for the rest of the afternoon by looking over the straggling -little backwoods village and its environs. He had seen others exactly -like it, but he had never before been so close as this to Uncle Phil’s -homestead, though he had been many times invited to visit it.</p> - -<p>Tom’s home was in Toronto, where his father was in the wholesale lumber -business. But there had been a frequent inter-change of letters between -the city and the north woods; Uncle Phil always sent down a deer in -November, and twice the boys, Dave and Ed, had paid a visit to Toronto. -They were three and five years older than Tom, but the cousins had -become great friends, and the tales Tom heard of backwoods adventure -made him regard it as a sort of ideal life.</p> - -<p>Tom had spent his whole life in Toronto, but he did not care for the -city. He had unusual physical strength for his seventeen years; he had -made several summer camping and canoeing trips into the north woods; he -could use a rifle, an ax, and a paddle; and he would immensely have -liked to be old enough to go into the woods, secure a hundred acres of -free government land, trap, hunt, prospect for minerals. There was iron -in those wildernesses, graphite, mica, asbestos, silver, maybe gold too. -There were pulp-wood and pine and fine hard woods. Dave had found a -clump of “bird’s-eye” maple and obtained three hundred dollars for half -a dozen logs. All this appealed much more strongly to Tom than his -present university studies and the prospect of a subsequent desk in his -father’s office. He came by these tastes honestly enough, for his father -in his younger days had been a trapper, a timber-cruiser, a prospector -in these same woods, until, growing older and making money, he had -settled into a conservative city business.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jackson looked with no favor on his son’s disinclination for -business. There was time enough, however. Tom had finished his second -year at Toronto University, where he had distinguished himself mainly in -other ways than scholastically. He was a brilliant Rugby halfback, and -had come close to breaking an intercollegiate record for the half-mile. -Tom had enjoyed these two college years hugely, and had, in fact, taken -little thought of anything but enjoyment. His father was not a -millionaire, but Tom had usually only to ask for money in order to get -it, and he had spent it with a tolerably free hand. Thinking now of the -sums he had squandered, he squirmed with remorse.</p> - -<p>The lumber business in Ontario is no longer what it was. Mr. Jackson was -a dour and silent trader, who would no more have brought business -troubles home with him than he would have discussed household matters -with his office staff. He rarely mentioned the business to his son. -Perhaps he hoped that Tom would volunteer an interest in the business, -but it never occurred to the boy to do this. In fact, as Tom thought of -it now, his father had become almost a stranger to him since he had -entered the university and had taken up a multiplicity of new personal -interests, social and sporting. He met his father only by chance at -home, it seemed: at dinner, rarely at luncheon, on Sundays, sometimes of -an evening. Tom almost never entered the big lumber-yards and office at -the foot of Bathurst Street, and he had spent most of the last two -vacations canoeing and camping near the Georgian Bay with a party of -young friends.</p> - -<p>He had planned to do the same this last summer. A party of college -friends was going north to a club-house that some of them possessed near -the Lake of Bays. It was to be rather an expensive outing; they were to -take three motor-boats, several guides, a cook, and a princely outfit of -supplies. Tom’s share of the expenses came to upward of a hundred -dollars. He applied to his father for a check, and received a rather -curt refusal, accompanied by no explanation.</p> - -<p>It was the first time that he could remember having been denied money, -and he felt bitterly aggrieved. He canceled his plans, however, and the -motor-boats went without him.</p> - -<p>About three weeks later his father summoned him to the office.</p> - -<p>“I guess I can let you have that money after all, Tom,” he said; and, as -he took out his checkbook, he added almost apologetically:</p> - -<p>“I really couldn’t do it when you asked me before. Money was like blood -to me just then. In fact, I don’t know whether the bank would have -cashed the check.”</p> - -<p>“Why, has business been as bad as that, Father?” Tom exclaimed, -appalled. “I had no idea, or I’d never—”</p> - -<p>“The lumber business is pretty well played out in this part of the -country,” replied Mr. Jackson. “It’s only far in the north that there’s -any white pine left, and I’ve always been a white pine man. I’ll have to -go in for pulp-wood, or move west, or shut up shop within a few years. -This spring things were worse than I ever knew them to be. For a while -it really looked as if I’d have to shut up shop.”</p> - -<p>Jackson had never before said so much upon business affairs to his son. -The revelation came upon Tom like a thunderbolt. Looking at his father -with awakened eyes, he saw for the first time the deep-drawn lines of -age and worry upon the face of the veteran lumberman.</p> - -<p>“Things are much better now, though,” Jackson hastened to say. “I have a -deal or two in hand that should make everything smooth. I think the -worst is over.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want this money, Father!” Tom cried. “Look here, can’t I do -something? Let me come into the office—or into the yards.”</p> - -<p>“Afraid you wouldn’t be much use there, Tommy. We’re too busy to break -in new hands. No, take your good time while you can. Your business just -now is to get an education. That’s all I want to say to you, Tommy. -Don’t neglect it. Foot-ball is all right, but don’t neglect the -important thing.”</p> - -<p>Tom went away from this interview ashamed, humiliated, and full of good -resolutions. He put the check into his bank, resolved to draw no more -money for personal expenses that whole year, and instead of going on a -holiday trip he, like many other students, secured a job as government -fire ranger in the new country north of Lake Temiscaming.</p> - -<p>He spent three months thus, mostly in a canoe, and came back brown and -hard-trained in the early autumn, for the collegiate term. His good -condition made him more than ever in demand for athletics, and his ardor -for reform had lost a little of its fine edge during the summer. Nobody -ever studied during the autumn term anyhow, he reflected, and he played -foot-ball assiduously until the season closed. With the coming of the -winter he took a lively interest in hockey; and not until the end of -February did he begin to realize that he had made an even worse hash -than usual of his scholastic year, and that he would almost infallibly -fail to pass the June examinations.</p> - -<p>With characteristic impulsiveness he dropped all sports, took no -exercise, and plunged heavily into study to make up for lost time. He -burned the midnight oil until daylight came; he grew pale and his health -fell off, and, as a natural result, in March he was attacked by a -serious inflammation of the eyes. He spent a week or so in a darkened -room, and came out under orders not to look at a printed page for a -month, and not to think of study for the rest of the spring and summer.</p> - -<p>He was thrown into compulsory idleness, and he had the pleasure of -knowing that it was by his own fault and foolishness. He thought again -of suggesting that he take some minor part in the lumber business; but -Mr. Jackson was evidently undergoing troubles of his own just then. -Business was bad again; he was in ill health besides; he was -short-tempered and sarcastic, and Tom’s conscience made him afraid. His -eyes, besides, negatived office work; and at last he went down and spoke -privately to Williams, the yard foreman, for a job on the lumber piles.</p> - -<p>Williams smiled at first, but when he found that Tom really meant it he -grew serious, and spoke plainly:</p> - -<p>“We couldn’t have the boss’s son in the yard, Mr. Tom; you know we -couldn’t. I couldn’t let you loaf on the job, and I couldn’t drive you -like the rest of the hands. Oh, I know you wouldn’t loaf, but there’s -nothing to learn here anyway. It’s all manual work—lifting and loading -and handling. Stay around with me for a day and you can learn it all—if -that’s what you’re after.”</p> - -<p>Checked again, Tom’s thoughts turned back to the north, where his heart -had always been. It was too early for fire ranging; that work is not -undertaken until midsummer; but he began to think of Uncle Phil’s -homestead in the backwoods, and, little by little, in his hours of -enforced inaction, he formed a plan.</p> - -<p>His eyes were good enough for all outdoor purposes, and his health -needed strong exercise. He would go up and stay with Uncle Phil and the -boys, and help them at the spring cultivation, the logging, all the -forest and farm work. There would be no doubt about his welcome; another -strong arm is always useful in the woods. He would look over the -surrounding country. Within a few months he would be eighteen, and -capable of homesteading a hundred acres himself. Why should he not do -it? There would be pulp-wood on the land, perhaps minerals. If -necessary, he could still return to the city rather late next autumn, -and continue his studies.</p> - -<p>“But I’ll never be any good as a student or at business,” he thought -mournfully. “I’m no good at anything but foot-ball, and paddling a canoe -and shooting and chopping timber. I’d better go in for what I can do.”</p> - -<p>He ventured to confide part of this project to his mother, who -endeavored to dissuade him, but finally admitted that a summer in the -woods might do him good. He casually introduced the subject to Mr. -Jackson, and got an ironical remark that he would “probably be no more -useless there than anywhere else,” which put an end to the conversation. -It left Tom with some feeling of bitterness. He was not going to ask for -any money; on the contrary, he was going to be self-supporting. He had -enough money in his bank-account for the articles of outfit he needed, -and for his railway fare and for the stage across to Oakley; and while -at his uncle’s farm he would have no need of money. He left with the -casual manner of going on a pleasure-trip, but he was inwardly -determined that it should be winter before the city should see him -again, and that he would have something definite to show for the time -between.</p> - -<p>It had been a great disappointment to find no one at Oakley to meet him. -He had counted on a jubilant welcome from his cousins; but he ought to -have remembered that pioneers do not go thirty miles to the post-office -every week. He would have a little more trouble and expense; that was -all; and he went to bed in the bare, cold hotel room in the sure -expectation of sleeping the next night at Uncle Phil’s farm.</p> - -<p>He was up at daylight, breakfasting early; and when the canoemen called -for him punctually at six o’clock he was ready to shoulder his dunnage -sack and rifle and go down to the river at the far end of the street.</p> - -<p>They put Tom in the middle, and entrusted him with a paddle when he -assured them that he was used to this sort of navigation. The Coboconk -River was running full and strong with the April freshets and the -melting snows, and the three of them found it stiff work to propel the -loaded Peterboro up against the current. The roofs of the village passed -out of sight, and after the first mile there was no trace of settlement -along the wooded shores. It was a rough, picturesque country, densely -timbered with small pine and spruce and hemlock, and streaks of snow -still lay in the shaded woods. Half a dozen times they started a flock -of wild ducks splashing and squawking from the water. There was plenty -of game in these woods. Tom had eaten venison steak for supper at the -hotel, he felt sure, though it was called beef out of deference to the -game-laws. There were bears in this spruce wilderness, and deer and -lynxes and sometimes wolves; and muskrats and minks and ermines swarmed -along the streams and in the swamps.</p> - -<p>Toward noon they reached the end of the river, where it flowed out of -the Coboconk lakes, and here they stopped to eat a cold lunch. There -were two of the Coboconk lakes: Little Coboconk and Big Coboconk, -connected by a narrow strait. The little lake, which they now entered, -was perhaps three miles long, and Tom’s destination was just at the -upper end. They skirted up close along the shores, and the canoemen -scanned the shores narrowly. There was no clearing, nor smoke, nor any -trace of a farm. They passed the mouth of a small river and went on -almost to the connecting straits, and then the men ran the canoe up to a -stranded log.</p> - -<p>“Here you are,” said his guide. “See this here trail? That takes you on -to Dave Jackson’s barn, where he put his hay. I dunno just where the -house is, but you keep a-follerin’ the trail and you can’t miss it.”</p> - -<p>They heaved Tom’s dunnage ashore after him, and paddled quickly on -toward the upper lake. Tom felt indignant and cheated. He had expected -to be landed at his uncle’s door for his five dollars, and he found -himself put ashore with a hundred pounds of dunnage and his destination -indefinitely distant. But the canoe was already out of sight in the -spruce-bordered channel, and there was no help for it.</p> - -<p>It was impossible to think of carrying the heavy canvas sack for any -distance, and so he hoisted it into the low fork of a tree, intending to -get Dave to come down and help him bring it home. He had brought a few -delicacies as presents for the younger children—a box of candy, a box of -dates and figs—and he crammed these into his pockets, put his rifle -under his arm, and started inland.</p> - -<p>There was a sort of trail, as the canoeman had said—a faint indication -of wheelmarks certainly made no later than last autumn. It was possible -to follow them, however, and here and there trees had been cut to open -the way; after perhaps a mile of tramping Tom came in sight of the barn -he expected.</p> - -<p>It was a rough, unchinked log structure, with the door yawning wide, -standing close by a wide flat of long grass and reeds, through which a -tiny stream slowly wandered—evidently the beaver meadow where Dave had -cut his hay. But there was no house in sight, and the woods came up -densely around the beaver meadow, with no trace of either road or -clearing.</p> - -<p>Tom’s heart sank with discouragement. Nevertheless, the barn indicated -that he was on the right track, and the house could not be very remote. -Experimentally he uncased his rifle and fired it—three shots, the -wilderness signal of distress. No woodsman would neglect to answer that -call, and he listened long for an answering signal, but none came. The -whiskey-jacks squalled from the spruces, excited by the shots, but there -was nothing else.</p> - -<p>He struck off, however, beyond the beaver meadow, still in the same -direction he had been going. Within half a mile he came upon a rushing, -swollen little river, doubtless the same which he had seen flowing into -the lake. He followed its shores for some distance, and then struck away -into the woods, on the watch for a blazed trail or any sign of clearing. -But he had been walking in irregular directions for nearly an hour when -he suddenly stumbled into a half-cleared road and saw the opening of a -large clearing ahead. Full of hope, he rushed forward and then stopped -short with a cry of despair.</p> - -<p>Before him lay a stumpy clearing of perhaps a dozen acres, showing -something green at one end but overgrown with dead weeds at the other. -There was no house, but a great heap of charred timber and ashes showed -where a house had once stood and had been burned down.</p> - -<p>“This must be the wrong place; it must be further on,” Tom muttered, -struggling against a horrible conviction. But he went up and examined -the wreck left from the fire.</p> - -<p>Amid the pell-mell confusion of half-burned logs, joists, and planks was -a litter of tin cans, broken kitchenware, scraps of paper and cloth. He -could not make out any relics of any sort of furniture; most of the -household effects must have been salvaged. There was a broken iron pot, -half full of water and deep red with rust—an old ax with the handle -burned out. Everything showed signs of having been exposed to the wet a -long time. Plainly the fire had not taken place this spring. It must -have been during the winter, or, more likely, last autumn.</p> - -<p>But surely this wretched place, this tiny clearing, could not be the -prosperous homestead that he had imagined Uncle Phil to possess. He -groped over the rubbish in search of some evidence. He turned up a scrap -of planed board which might have been part of a door-casing. Letters -were cut on it with a jack-knife. They were partly charred away, but -what was left was plain enough, and he spelled the confirmatory letters -“ave Jackso.” It was Dave’s work, he could hardly doubt; and a few -moments later he unearthed a tattered book, a copy of Scott’s “Ivanhoe,” -water-soaked and scorched, but with his cousin Ed’s name scribbled a -dozen times on the fly-leaves.</p> - -<p>Tom groaned. There could be no further doubt, nor hope. It was the -place, right enough; but the house had been burned and the family had -gone, abandoning the claim. Where they had gone he could not even guess; -probably it was far, since none of them had been seen at Oakley all -winter.</p> - -<p>Tom sat down on a blackened log, and tears started into his eyes. -Bitterly now he regretted his rashness in coming on without an answer to -his letter. There was nothing for it now but to go back to Oakley. He -would have to walk. It was thirty miles; and how could he carry his -dunnage? And, once there, he would have to make the still more -humiliating retreat to Toronto.</p> - -<p>He sat there for some time, too confused to be able to think clearly. It -was growing late in the afternoon. He could not possibly start on the -long tramp back that night. But he shrank from the notion of staying in -the neighborhood of that ruined dwelling, where there was no shelter -whatever; and he determined to go back to the log barn, which would at -any rate afford him cover.</p> - -<p>Having a definite notion of his directions, he struck a bee-line across -the woods and succeeded in coming out within a hundred yards of the old -beaver marsh. It was not more than a mile in a direct line from the -burned house, and he investigated the barn with a view to its -possibilities for a camp.</p> - -<p>It was rather better than he had expected. There were great chinks in -the walls, and the roof did not seem tight; but part of the place had -been floored with planks and was partitioned off with stalls for two -horses. The rest of the flooring was earth, damp and muddy, but at the -farthest end was a remnant of the old hay.</p> - -<p>Pulling out scraps of boards from the building, he lighted a fire just -outside the door. Dusk was beginning to fall, and the snap and glow of -the flames lightened the dreariness a little. He went into the woods and -gathered up what dead and fallen timber he could drag in. It is hard to -collect fuel without an ax, but worse yet to have the camp-fire fail in -the night, and he labored until he thought he had enough to last through -the dark hours. He had blankets in his dunnage pack, but he did not feel -equal to the task of carrying it up from the lake; and he dragged out a -heap of hay to the barn-door and threw himself down upon it. By good -luck he had saved a portion of his noonday lunch; there had been more -than he wanted then, and if it was not much now it was better than -nothing, and he ate it hungrily. What he would eat on the tramp back to -Oakley he could not imagine. He would have to trust to his rifle; but he -did not have the heart to grapple with any more difficulties just then.</p> - -<p>Darkness fell. Through the woods, in the intense stillness, he could -hear the faint rush of the little river pouring over its rocks. Owls -hooted occasionally from the woods. Once he heard the discordant squall -of a hunting lynx; but he was tired out and heart-sick, and he felt -reckless of any wild animal.</p> - -<p>The air grew frosty, and the stars glittered white in the steely-blue -sky. He piled on more wood, brought out all the rest of the hay he could -find, and burrowed under it, with his rifle beside him; and despite his -misery, he fell soundly asleep at last.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chII' title='II: Indian Charlie'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER II</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.0em'>INDIAN CHARLIE</span> -</h2> - -<p>Tom awoke with a vague sense of impending disaster, and looked about, -unable for a moment to realize where he was. It was just dawn. A gray -light hung over the woods. The remains of his fire barely smoked, and -frost lay white as snow over everything. Then he remembered—the journey, -the wreck of the burned house, the ruin of all his plans; and he got up -from his nest of hay, unable to remain quiet.</p> - -<p>He built up the fire again, feeling empty and miserable. His supper had -been a poor one, and there was nothing for breakfast. Perhaps he might -shoot a partridge, he thought, but he felt too inert and lifeless to go -on the hunt. At this point he recollected the boxes of dates and candy -he had with him, and he got them out and devoured them. It was a queer -breakfast, but it comforted his stomach considerably. The heat of the -fire began to take the chill out of his blood. Over the trees in the -east the sun began to come up gloriously, and with some renewed courage -Tom began to think of the journey back to Oakley.</p> - -<p>He hated intensely to do it, yet there seemed no other course. It would -be a hard, long tramp besides, lasting more than one day, and he would -have to depend on what he could shoot. The best thing would be to -acquire some provisions before starting; and he filled the magazine of -his rifle from the box of cartridges in his pocket, and started into the -woods.</p> - -<p>He was eager, besides, to explore a little farther before leaving the -place. It was just possible that Uncle Phil’s house was still in the -vicinity. The burned building might have been some unused structure; the -real place might be farther on. He skirted the old beaver meadow and -plunged into the woods—a jungle of small spruces and jack-pine, much of -it dead as if attacked by some disease. A hare bobbed out from the -thickets, incautiously sat up to look at the intruder, and rolled over -the next moment. Tom picked it up and hung it at his belt, reflecting -that here was meat for at least one meal.</p> - -<p>He listened intently for a possible answer to the echo of his shot, but -there was no human sound. Pushing on, he reached the deserted clearing, -glanced over the fire ruin again, and went on to examine the roughly cut -road he had stumbled into the evening before.</p> - -<p>This trail led him out to the bank of the little river, and ended. He -followed the stream up some rods. Here and there a tree had been cut at -least a year ago, but there were no further signs of settlement, not -even a blazed trail. He made a wide circle with a radius of a mile and -came back to the clearing, unable to cherish any more hope. This -clearing was all the settlement there was.</p> - -<p>He looked at it disconsolately. It was untidy and studded with stumps. -All around its edges great heaps of logs and brush had been piled up. -South of the former house these had burned, and the fire had penetrated -for some distance into the woods, probably catching from the dwelling. -At the farthest end of the clearing there were about three acres of -struggling green, the green of some autumn-planted grain. Other green -sprouts showed near the ruin—perhaps the relics of a garden. It was not -in the least the sort of homestead he had pictured from his cousins’ -descriptions, and he thought rather indignantly of the exaggerated -accounts they had given him.</p> - -<p>He poked over the rubbish again. The ashes were full of nails and -screws, bits of glass, and bits of iron. He picked up the old ax-head, -and thought of taking it with him. It would be better than nothing, -perhaps, in collecting firewood; but he decided that it was too heavy to -carry. He put the torn and stained copy of “Ivanhoe” in his pocket; it -would be something to read. Nothing else seemed to be of the slightest -value to him.</p> - -<p>There was no use in lingering about the place any longer. He turned back -irresolutely through the woods, and headed toward the river. Ricks of -dead driftwood were piled along its rocky banks. A couple of swimming -muskrats dived in a circle of ripples as he came up. Tom paused, and as -he stood there a lithe black form popped up between two logs within -twenty yards.</p> - -<p>It was a mink, and a large one. Almost instinctively he put up his rifle -and drew a bead on the little fur-bearer’s head. It was broadside to -him, but it was a small mark to hit at that distance, and a bullet -anywhere but in the head would ruin the pelt. He aimed long, expecting -it to dodge away, but it vanished only at the report.</p> - -<p>He hardly hoped to have hit, but he found it on the other side of the -log, almost decapitated. It was a nearly black pelt and in prime -condition. If it had been trapped it might have been worth twenty -dollars, but the mangled head would reduce its value. He carefully wiped -the fur, however, and skinned the animal, reflecting that this would -help pay the expenses of his ill-starred venture.</p> - -<p>He rolled up the skin temporarily and put it in his pocket, till he -should have time to stretch it, and continued his way down the stream. -There were plenty of traces of fur everywhere. He saw several more -muskrats though no more of the shy minks. But the signs showed that -there were minks there in abundance, and there were probably martins in -the woods, foxes, skunks, and perhaps sables and fishers. Dave had said -that there was plenty of fur in the district, and he had been right in -this, at any rate.</p> - -<p>It would be a splendid place for a winter’s trapping, Tom thought, and -he almost regretted that it was not November instead of April. The -trapping season was almost over now. It crossed his mind that he might -stop here for the remainder of it and make what he could. But he had no -traps, no grub, none of the necessary camping outfit.</p> - -<p>He followed the stream down to the lake, and turned up the shore to the -spot where he had landed the day before. His dunnage sack was still safe -in the tree fork. He opened it and got out the camp cooking outfit of -nested aluminum that he had packed in Toronto. There were salt and -pepper boxes, both luckily full, and he put these in his pocket, -hesitated, and then walked back over the shore to the old barn again.</p> - -<p>Here he relighted the fire, skinned the rabbit, and set the quarters to -roast on forked sticks. He was voraciously hungry after the long walk -and his insufficient breakfast. While the meat was browning he carefully -cleaned the fat from the mink skin and stretched it on a bent twig, and -then devoured half the hare, gnawing the bones, sitting back on his pile -of hay.</p> - -<p>Despite salt and pepper, it was rather dry and flavorless, but the meat -heartened him wonderfully. He felt equal now to starting on the tramp to -Oakley. He could make fully half the distance to-day, and finish it -to-morrow. He would, however, have to abandon his dunnage. He might be -able to send for it, but it was a poor chance.</p> - -<p>He hesitated, reluctant to go. He crumbled the hay in his hands. It was -good hay—wild rich grass from the flats where the beavers of old time -had their pond. Dave must have made a good profit out of this hay, he -reflected, glancing over the brown meadow beyond him. There were perhaps -eight or ten acres of it, a long oval, with the remains of the old -beaver dam still visible at the lower end. Evidently it had been mowed -last summer, and this wild hay always brings a good price at the winter -lumber camps.</p> - -<p>“This meadow would make ten tons easily,” he said to himself; “likely -more. It’ll bear over a hundred dollars’ worth of hay this summer, and -nobody to cut it. If I want some easy farming, here’s my chance.”</p> - -<p>The idea came to him carelessly, but it suddenly assumed weight. He -could make something more by trapping in the next few weeks—at least -another hundred dollars.</p> - -<p>“It’ll be hard luck if I can’t get rabbits and birds enough to live on,” -he muttered. “There’ll be trout soon, too. It’s getting warm. This old -barn would be a good enough place to live in.”</p> - -<p>The hay would have to be mowed in July. He would have to cut it, turn it -over, and stack it entirely by hand, but he knew he could sell it in the -stack as it stood. Living here would cost hardly anything. At the end of -the summer he could go back to Toronto with a hundred dollars or so to -show for his time.</p> - -<p>Or why should he not stay up here till Christmas for the early winter -trapping? It would be more profitable than playing foot-ball; and he -could spare the time, for he was going to have to take his last year’s -collegiate work over again anyhow. For that matter, why should he not -keep control of this homestead? It was assuredly abandoned. It had a -clearing, at least one building, some grain planted, a field of hay. He -had wished for such a forest farm. Here was one at least partly made to -his hand. He would be eighteen years old that summer, and eligible to -take a government homestead grant. If Uncle Phil had made no sign by -that time he could apply to have the rights transferred to himself, and -he was perfectly certain that his relatives had no intention of ever -resuming possession.</p> - -<p>He laughed to himself, but with a new thrill of hope. All sorts of -possibilities seemed suddenly to be opening out, just when things had -looked blackest. He got up and walked back toward the river, thinking -hard, more and more fascinated by his scheme. It was wild enough, but -almost anything was better than creeping back in humiliation to Toronto. -There was pulp-wood on the place too, which he could cut in his spare -time. As for the land itself, it did not promise extraordinary -fertility. Much of it was rocky, and the stunted growth of the trees -indicated poor soil. Just south of the barn ran an immense ridge of -gravel lightly overgrown with white birches. But Tom did not at that -moment dwell much on the actual details of agriculture.</p> - -<p>He went down to the lake shore and brought his dunnage sack up to the -old barn. It was a heavy load to carry on his shoulder, and he had no -tump-line; but he dropped it at the barn-door at last, aching and played -out, so that he had to drop on the hay and rest. He was getting out of -training, he told himself.</p> - -<p>When he had recovered breath, he began to unpack his belongings. Without -having definitely pronounced a decision to stay here, he went on acting -as if the decision had been made. To stop a day or two would do no harm -anyway, he thought, if he could pick up food enough; and he went into -the log barn to see what could be done with it.</p> - -<p>It could be turned into a shack that would at least be good enough for -the summer, he thought. The chinks between the logs would not matter -much, and he could stop the worst of them with moss. Clearing away all -the loose hay at the farther end disclosed a pile of loose boards, which -would be useful for patching. He might build a partition across one -portion of the building. Under the hay were also a long piece of very -good rope, a bit of chain and a broken pitchfork, and a number of loose -nails. There were plenty of other nails in the fire wreck.</p> - -<p>Growing interested, Tom made a huge broom of spruce branches and swept -out the litter from the floored portion of the barn and brushed down the -walls. There was a hole in the roof just above. He climbed up with a -board or two and contrived to cover it in a temporary fashion. In one -corner of the old stalls he fitted a rude bunk and filled it with hay. -Unpacking his dunnage, he spread the blankets he had used on camping -trips before, and hung up his clothing, his aluminum cooking utensils, -the few odds and ends he had brought with him.</p> - -<p>After this, he tramped over to the burned cabin to look for nails. There -were plenty; he quickly filled his pocket, but they were fire-killed and -brittle. They would be of some use, however, and he secured the old -ax-head also. The broken iron pot struck him as still having -possibilities; the lower half at any rate could be used. He came upon an -old tin plate that had not been burned. It might have been the dog’s -dish, kept outdoors; but he was not too proud to take it; and, laden -with this junk, he returned to the barn again.</p> - -<p>The glow of the fire and the blowing smoke as he came up, and the litter -of his activities gave him a queer thrill of home. In a couple of days -more, he promised himself, it would look still more homelike.</p> - -<p>He scoured out the rusty pot with sand and water, and cleaned the tin -plate in the same way. The ax-head was in bad condition, but with two of -the hardest stones he could find he ground laboriously at the edge until -some sharpness was restored. The temper was entirely out of the metal, -and so he heated it dull-red in the fire and then dropped it into cold -water. After this hardening he again ground the edge and reheated it, -this time to a brighter red, and again cooled it suddenly. This -treatment produced a rough sort of temper. The edge held at any rate, -and Tom shaped a crude, straight handle from an ironwood sapling.</p> - -<p>Rough as it was, this ax was an immense and immediate help. He chopped -up a supply of firewood with very little difficulty and was delighted to -find that the edge did not blunt. If anything, he had made the steel too -hard; it had chipped a little.</p> - -<p>His foraging about the ruin had been so successful that he determined to -go back on the morrow and turn over the ashes thoroughly. There might be -many more things that would be useful. The most worthless rubbish took -on astonishing value in his complete destitution, and he found an -extraordinary pleasure in thus salvaging broken junk and making use of -it.</p> - -<p>His mind recurred to the fur trade. By lying in wait along the creek he -might shoot an odd mink, but this was a most uncertain and wasteful -method. He thought of figure-four traps, of deadfalls.</p> - -<p>These are seldom very successful where fur animals are shy and much -trapped, but in this unfrequented spot he thought they might work. He -split up one of the pine boards and whittled out half a dozen sets of -figure-fours, which would fall to pieces at a touch of the baited -spindle.</p> - -<p>Half a dozen whiskey-jacks had been squalling about the roof of the barn -for hours, and he shot one of them for bait. He set two of his deadfalls -beside the tiny creek in the beaver meadow, where there were muskrat -signs, building a little inclosure of stakes and logs with a heavy -timber supported over the entrance on the figure-four spring. Going -through the woods to the river, he set four more traps along the shore, -close to the driftwood where the minks were sure to pass.</p> - -<p>It was growing late in the afternoon, and he was hungry again. -Remembering that he had nothing eatable but half a rabbit, for which he -felt no appetite, he made a circuit through the woods in the hope of -picking up a grouse. He did start up several; three of them perched on a -tree and sat in full view, craning their necks stupidly to look at him, -but he managed to make a clean miss, and they went off with a scared -roar of wings. With a shot-gun he might have bagged half a dozen; but no -more sitting shots presented themselves, and he came back to the barn -empty-handed.</p> - -<p>The sky had clouded over, and a raw April wind blew. Twilight fell -drearily over the bare woods and the black spruces. Tom cooked his -rabbit and ate it without any great relish. He was very tired, and felt -once more filled with indecision and distress. More than ever it seemed -madness to attempt to remain in this place indefinitely. To make the -discomfort worse, the wind changed so that it drove the fire toward the -barn. He had to put it out, lest the building should catch fire. Vainly -he longed for an interior hearth so that he could heat the place, but he -got into his bunk, piled all his blankets and spare clothing over -himself, and shivered for some time, but eventually went to sleep.</p> - -<p>He awoke about sunrise, feeling stiff and cold. Once more he felt that -he had been a fool to stay here even as long as this. Already he might -have been back in Oakley, headed for Toronto.</p> - -<p>He built up the fire and warmed himself. There were some scraps of -rabbit left from last night, and he ate them morosely, feeling that he -had carried a diet of rabbit about as far as it would go. This morning -he would have to pick up something better; afterward he would plan his -retreat to Oakley, and when he had finished the scanty meal he took up -his rifle and started toward the river, where he had set the deadfalls.</p> - -<p>He had a stroke of luck at once. Coming quietly out by the stream he -espied four ducks on the water close to the shore. It was not more than -twenty yards, and he knocked over one, and missed with a second bullet; -then the birds went splashing and squawking away through the air.</p> - -<p>He retrieved the duck with a long stick, hung it on his belt and walked -up the shore. The first of his traps was untouched. The second was -sprung and the bait taken, but the animal had eluded the falling log. -Tom reset it, rebaiting it with the head of the duck. He had not much -faith in his deadfalls, but the next one was down and had a muskrat in -it—a dark, sleek pelt, quite flattened with the weight of the heavy -timber.</p> - -<p>Tom was unreasonably elated over his prize. It showed that his traps -were good for something after all, and it ran through his mind that he -might set a whole string of them up and down the river. He skinned the -musquash and put the pelt in his pocket; then he walked slowly up the -shore, on the lookout for more ducks.</p> - -<p>He saw no more, but, turning into the woods, he managed to pick a -partridge out of a tree. He followed his former trail toward the burned -cabin, for he wanted to look over the ruins again for something useful. -He laid down his rifle and game, and pulled the burned timbers apart -pretty thoroughly. He took out a number of good boards that might some -time be of service, and found a broken cup, an unbroken saucer, and a -useless table knife, but nothing else that was worth taking away.</p> - -<p>Walking about the clearing, however, he made a much more important find. -He observed a slight mound of earth, some scattered boards and straw -almost filling a depression in the ground, and he guessed that it was a -last year’s potato pit. It had been emptied, of course, but Tom burrowed -about among the earth and straw at the bottom and was rewarded by -finding, one by one, nearly a peck of rather small scattered potatoes.</p> - -<p>He yelled with delight. He had grown terribly nauseated with a meat -diet. His mouth watered at the sight of these grubby little spuds. -Taking off his coat, he wrapped them up sack wise in it, and started -back immediately for his barn, which already had come to be home.</p> - -<p>He had a real dinner that day—wild duck roasted in fragments, and -potatoes baked in the ashes and eaten with salt and grease from the -duck. Nothing had ever seemed so delicious. There might be still more -potatoes in the pit—possibly some other vegetables. Stimulated by the -food, his courage revived again, and he definitely resolved to stay here -at least until the end of the spring trapping season. If necessary he -could tramp down to Oakley and exchange a pelt or two for flour, pork, -and sugar. As for a longer stay, there would be time to decide upon that -later.</p> - -<p>He went back that afternoon to the burned cabin to look for more -potatoes, but, after turning the pit thoroughly out, he found only -three. He shot a rabbit, however, that had come out of the woods to -nibble at the sprouting grain in the clearing, and with the potatoes in -his pocket and the rabbit at his belt he walked across to the river and -down the shore.</p> - -<p>A half a mile down, the stream broke into a series of rapids, swirling -among black boulders. The rocks and piled drift logs at the foot of the -rapids looked like a good place for mink, and he stopped to examine the -“sign.” Minks and musquashes dwelt there, surely; their traces were -abundant. He sat down on a log, looking the place over, considering -where he might construct a few deadfalls, when he was startled by the -sudden appearance of a canoe at the head of the rapid above him.</p> - -<p>It shot into sight like an arrow, steered by a single paddler, a -dark-faced young fellow, with a big pack piled amidships. The canoeman -had not seen him; his whole attention was fixed on running the rapid; he -was half-way down it, going like a flash, when Tom foolishly sprang up -and shouted from the shore.</p> - -<p>The paddler cast a quick, startled glance aside, and it was his undoing. -The canoe swerved, and capsized with the suddenness of winking. Tom -caught a glimpse of the overturned keel darting past him. The man had -gone out of sight in the smother of spray and foam; then Tom saw him -come up in the swirl of the tail of the rapid, struggling feebly.</p> - -<p>The water was not waist-deep, and Tom rushed in and dragged him out. It -was a young Indian, half choked and perhaps partly stunned, but not -drowned by any means. He coughed and kicked when Tom deposited him on -the shore; and, seeing, that he was safe, Tom made another plunge and -rescued the big bale of goods that was drifting fast down-stream. The -capsized canoe had lodged against a big half-submerged log lower down, -and was secure for the time being.</p> - -<div id='i048' style='margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:10.0%; width:80%;'> - <img src='images/i048.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> -<p class='caption'>Tom rushed in and dragged him out</p> -</div> - -<p>Returning to his Indian, he found him sitting up, looking dazed and -angry, and spitting out water. It was a young fellow of about Tom’s own -age, wearing a Mackinaw coat and trousers, and a battered felt hat which -had stuck to his head, and he looked at Tom with intensely black and -angry eyes.</p> - -<p>“Hello! Feeling better?” Tom cried.</p> - -<p>The Indian boy spluttered a rapid mixture of unintelligible French and -Ojibway.</p> - -<p>“What you do that for?” he swerved into English. “You make me upset—mos’ -drown. I lose canoe—pelts—gun—everyt’ing.”</p> - -<p>“Oh no. I got your stuff ashore, and there’s your canoe yonder,” said -Tom. “Sorry I scared you. I shouldn’t have called out, but there’s -nothing lost, anyway.”</p> - -<p>The Indian got to his feet, went dripping to the rescued pack, and -turned it over carefully.</p> - -<p>“All right, eh? Merci,” he said, his anger dying out. “All my winter -trapping here. Thought heem sure lost. Say, you live here? What your -name?”</p> - -<p>“Tom Jackson. Yes, I guess I live here.”</p> - -<p>“You good fellow, Tom. Me, I’m Charlie. Say, must make a fire, quick.”</p> - -<p>Both of them were drenched and shivering, and the breeze was cold.</p> - -<p>“Come along over to my camp. Fire there,” said Tom. “We’ll put your -canoe safe first.”</p> - -<p>They pulled the canoe high and dry, rescuing a shot-gun that was tied in -it, and then the two boys took up the heavy pack and started across the -ridge to the old barn.</p> - -<p>The fire was still smoldering, and Tom built it up to a roaring flame. -He hastened to change his wet clothes for dry ones; but Charlie, who had -no other clothes, merely stood in the heat until he steamed like a -kettle, finally becoming passably dry. He said there was tea in his -pack, however, and Tom hastened to get it out. There was a little sugar, -too; and they hastened to boil the tea, and drank great mugs of the hot, -strong, sweet beverage, the first hot drink Tom had had for several -days.</p> - -<p>As Charlie thawed out he explained that he belonged to an Ojibway -village north of Oakley, but he had been trapping far in the northwest -with two friends all winter. They had taken another route home; he was -returning this way alone with his fur pack, and after selling the -plunder he was going to spend the summer at his village. The boy had -been partly educated at a mission station. He spoke both English and -French in some fashion, frequently mixing them, and when excited he -combined them with his native tongue in a manner that would have -shattered the nerves of a philologist.</p> - -<p>He presently opened up his pack of furs, and Tom was astonished at the -showing. There were nearly fifty minks, scores of muskrats, besides -skunks, sables, foxes, fishers, and weasels. Altogether there must have -been upward of a thousand dollars’ worth of peltry, and all the skins -were taken off, cured, and stretched with a neatness that showed the boy -an expert at his craft. There were several deer hides also, and one -bearskin. Charlie told a great tale of how they had smoked the bear out -of his winter nest.</p> - -<p>“You trap, too,” he said, his eye lighting on Tom’s single mink skin. -“Good pelt, if it ain’t shot. Too bad. Ain’t stretched right neither. -You git mebbe seven dollar.”</p> - -<p>“More than that,” said Tom. “Look here, you want to trade? I’ll swap you -that pelt for some of your traps and grub and—what else you got?”</p> - -<p>“Dunno,” said Charlie cunningly. “What you want?”</p> - -<p>The boys plunged into a war of bargaining, in which the Indian patience -wore out the white nerve. In the end Tom secured four good steel traps, -a little tea and sugar and flour from the remains of Charlie’s -provisions, and a box of matches, in exchange for the mink and the -muskrat skin, an old pair of trousers, and a brilliant red and green -necktie which irresistibly took Charlie’s fancy.</p> - -<p>When it was over Charlie thawed out still more, and his black eyes -twinkled as he looked over his acquisitions.</p> - -<p>“Tom, you good fellow. Say, I show you how to trap. You git heap mink -here.”</p> - -<p>Charlie kept his promise. He stayed three days, looked the field over, -and gave Tom quantities of concise expert advice where to set his traps -and what bait to use. He expounded deadfalls to him—how to lay blood -trails along a trap line, how to stretch and cure the pelts properly. -Altogether his instructions were worth almost as much as his traps, and -during his stay Tom caught another mink and two muskrats. The boys grew -to be great friends in those days, and then Charlie collected his -property again and launched his canoe.</p> - -<p>“<i>Bo’ jour</i>, Tom!” he said. “You good fellow. I see you again some time, -mebbe.”</p> - -<p>He went off down the stream, the red and green tie fluttering over his -shoulder. Tom hated to see him go. The old barn by the lake seemed -doubly lonesome now, but the visit had given him the dose of fresh -courage he needed to carry out his enterprise.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chIII' title='III: The Fish Sharp'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER III</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.0em'>THE FISH SHARP</span> -</h2> - -<p>It rained all the next day—a cold, dismal rain that was enough to -depress anybody’s spirits. The fire sizzled and smoked, sending choking -clouds into the old barn, where Tom had to keep under cover. He employed -himself in putting a better edge on the broken ax, and in trying to -reharden some of the old nails he had gathered. Before another rain -could come, he decided, he would construct some sort of shed over his -fireplace, so that it would be water-tight.</p> - -<p>Getting out the old boards from the rear of the barn, he put up a -partial, rough partition so as to make a room about fifteen feet square -near the door. Almost destitute of tools, he made a poor job of it, but -it helped to pass a dreary day. When the rain slackened once or twice he -made brief excursions into the wet woods with his rifle, returning once -with a partridge and once with a rabbit. In the bad weather the game lay -close and was not shy.</p> - -<p>But the next morning the weather had turned mild and sunny and seemed -likely to stay so. Visiting his traps late in the afternoon, he found -two minks in the steel traps, and a muskrat under one of the deadfalls. -He was greatly encouraged and prepared the pelts with the utmost pains, -according to Indian Charlie’s directions.</p> - -<p>Cold as the rain had seemed, yet it brought the spring. The birches on -the ridge began to be shrouded in a mist of pale green, the maples -showed crimson buds, and the patch of struggling grain in the old -clearing began to come on vigorously. Apparently it was autumn rye, and -Tom began to look at it with more interest. It would be yet another -small source of profit, if he stayed to harvest it.</p> - -<p>Spring came on with the magical swiftness of the North. Leaves sprang -from the trees. The snow water left the river, trout began to rise, and -Tom got out his fishing-tackle and secured a welcome variation of diet. -He needed it, for the last of Charlie’s flour and sugar went quickly, -and at last he was absolutely driven to make the long-projected trip to -Oakley. It was a wearisome tramp and worse still on the return; for he -came back on the fourth day, carrying thirty pounds on his -shoulders—bacon, tea, salt, flour, sugar, a saw and hammer. After his -solitude, Oakley had seemed almost metropolitan, and the village was -indeed unusually astir, for a big dam was to be built there for a -paper-pulp factory, and the place was full of imported laborers.</p> - -<p>The old clearing looked almost like home when he got back. He found four -trapped muskrats and a mink. Nothing had disturbed his possessions. The -grass was beginning to sprout in the old beaver meadow, and the -determination grew in him that he would never give the place up. He felt -sure that nobody would claim it now, and in a few months he could file -homestead papers for it himself. In the autumn he could return to -Toronto and continue his collegiate work during the winter. He would -plant more grain and clear more land. If Oakley should happen to boom -into an industrial town, the claim might become very valuable.</p> - -<p>He continued his improvements upon the old barn till it had some -suggestion of real comfort. He tended his traps assiduously, making the -most of the short remainder of the season. He lived roughly and worked -hard, living on flour cakes, meat, and fish, and drinking water. He was -a poor cook; he grew very sick of this monotonous diet, and there were -times when he would have traded the best of his mink pelts for an -apple-pie. There were dreary days of cold spring rain—once of flurrying -snow—days that held him idle indoors, when he grew half mad with -loneliness and discouragement.</p> - -<p>The trapping season came to an end. For some time he had noticed that -the fur was deteriorating. He had not done quite so well as he had -hoped, but he had seven minks, sixteen muskrats, two raccoons, and a fox -pelt. With a little luck he might have had a bearskin, for he caught -sight of the animal in plain view within fifty yards, but his rifle -happened to be back at the cabin.</p> - -<p>He had grown thin, wiry, brown, and bright-eyed. He had never been in -such training before, and when he started to Oakley with his fur he had -no difficulty in making the journey in a little more than a day. The -local storekeeper took advantage of the fact that Tom’s furs were all -not thoroughly dried to drive a hard bargain; but the boy finally -secured $180, most of which he was expected to take in trade. Goods were -what he needed, however, and he laid in a stock of food, ammunition, a -new ax, a spade, and a number of miscellanies, together with what few -books he could pick up. It was far too much to pack back to his farm, -and he invested another twelve dollars in a second-hand canoe—a very -dilapidated and much-patched Peterboro, which looked sound enough for -all practical purposes.</p> - -<p>In this craft he made the trip back a great deal more quickly and -comfortably than he had come down. It was late in the afternoon when he -turned up into the little river, now much shrunken, paddled up to his -trapping ground, put the canoe ashore, and struggled over the ridges -with his load of supplies. The old barn stood as he had left it, but -when he approached the door he received a shock.</p> - -<p>Some one had been there—indeed, more than one person. The door, which he -had left closed, was half open, and there were fresh footmarks all about -the place. Tom hastily glanced over his possessions. They showed traces -of having been disturbed, but so far as he could see nothing was -missing. The tracks, going and coming, pointed toward the lake, and at -least two persons had made them. He could detect one moccasin track, and -one showing the print of leather heels.</p> - -<p>It was growing dusk by that time, and Tom was too tired to follow up the -trail. After satisfying himself that nothing had been stolen, he -unpacked his fresh supplies and reëstablished himself, cooked his -supper, and went to his blankets early.</p> - -<p>Being tired, he slept later than usual, and on arising his mind at once -recurred to his late visitors. He got through breakfast hurriedly and, -taking his rifle, started to follow up the trail toward the lake.</p> - -<p>It was hard to follow, for the weather had been dry and the ground was -hard. The carpet of pine and spruce leaves under the trees left little -sign, but Tom got the general direction of the trail, picked it up at -intervals, and finally came out on the shore. Some distance down the -beach he caught a faint curl of smoke. Hastening that way, he came upon -the camp.</p> - -<p>There was a small gray canvas tent, a half-dead fire, cooking apparatus -scattered about, a pair of wet trousers hung up to dry, but no one in -sight. Tom called but got no answer. It was, he judged, the camp of a -trout-fishing party, and they were probably somewhere out on the water. -Then he caught sight of a boat drawn half ashore and went down to look -at it.</p> - -<p>It was a flat-bottomed punt, a most unusual craft for the north woods, -but it had a more unusual feature still. A square foot of the bottom had -been cut out and a glass-bottomed box inserted. Tom perceived its -purpose at once. He had seen the like before. It is a device adopted by -nature students for looking into the depths of clear water; but he had -not expected to find a naturalist on the Coboconk lakes.</p> - -<p>Considerably puzzled, he looked up and down the water and thought he -made out the shape of a floating canoe far up at the end of Big -Coboconk, but he was not sure. Again he shouted two or three times, and -at last he went back to his own place again. Crossing the gravelly ridge -below the barn, he saw the footprints clearly, and saw too that some one -had dug into the gravel and had driven deep holes as if with an iron -bar. Prospecting, perhaps. There was mineral in the district, Tom knew. -He wondered if there might be a mine on his property. But, if there had -been one, Cousin Dave would surely have discovered it; for Dave had done -a good deal of prospecting, though without any great success.</p> - -<p>Tom half expected another visit from the strange campers that day and -kept within sight of his dwelling, but no one appeared. On the following -morning he went over to the river, got his canoe, and paddled down to -the lake. He went slowly up through the narrows into the bigger lake, -and saw, as he had rather expected, two boats lying a quarter of a mile -ahead and not far from the shore.</p> - -<p>One was a canoe, with a single man in it, doing nothing. The other boat, -the punt, looked empty at that distance, but as he watched it a man’s -head and shoulders rose out of it and then sank again. The canoeman, -leaning over, shoved the punt ahead a little.</p> - -<p>Tom paddled quickly up, highly interested. The canoeman turned and -looked, and then the occupant of the punt rose out of his crouching -position in the bottom. He was a tall man of middle age, with a black -mustache and a square jaw. He was roughly dressed as any woodsman, yet -somehow he did not seem quite to belong to the wilderness. His assistant -was a much less pleasing individual, an unmistakable frontiersman, rough -and slovenly, with a shock of grizzled reddish hair, and a surly and -suspicious face.</p> - -<p>“Hello!” called the punter, in answer to Tom’s hail. “Where’d you come -from? Camping? Fishing?”</p> - -<p>“No, I live back yonder,” said Tom, indicating the direction. “I think -you paid a call there the other day. I was away at Oakley.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” exclaimed the other. “I thought that was Jackson’s homestead.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. I’m Tom Jackson,” returned Tom, quietly.</p> - -<p>Both men looked at the boy curiously.</p> - -<p>“Well, my name’s Harrison,” said the man in the punt. “This is Dan -McLeod, my guide. Is there anybody at your ranch?”</p> - -<p>“I’m there,” Tom assured him, growing somehow uneasy.</p> - -<p>“Yes, but your father? Or any of the rest?”</p> - -<p>“Why, they’re all away for a while,” Tom explained cautiously. “The -house got burned, you see.”</p> - -<p>“And in the meantime you’re holding down their homestead for them?”</p> - -<p>“I surely am,” said Tom firmly. “Sorry I missed you the other day. Are -you on a fishing trip yourself, or—what?” with a curious glance at the -glass-bottomed boat.</p> - -<p>Harrison laughed.</p> - -<p>“Want to see? Take a look, then.”</p> - -<p>Tom leaned over and tried to look, finally getting into the punt and -putting his face close to the glass plate. The water, though deep, was -extremely clear, and the stones and sunken logs could be seen distinctly -on the floor of the lake.</p> - -<p>“Naturalist?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“Ichthyologist—fish sharp,” said Harrison, nodding. “I’m writing a -series of articles for a sporting paper on fly-fishing, and I’m -experimenting to see how different flies actually look when seen through -water. See here.”</p> - -<p>And he hauled up from the water a long gut cast, decorated with a number -of trout and bass flies placed at short intervals.</p> - -<p>“Studying baits from the point of view of the fish,” he went on. “At the -same time I observe the movements of the fish while feeding.”</p> - -<p>Tom looked at this apparatus with considerable respect.</p> - -<p>“Are you writing for one of the Toronto papers?” he asked. “I know most -of them.”</p> - -<p>“Are you from Toronto?” said Harrison quickly. “You’re not by chance -related to Jackson the lumber merchant there, are you?”</p> - -<p>“Why—er—yes, I am some relation of his,” returned Tom, embarrassed. He -bent to look through the glass again, and a memory of a legend of the -Coboconk lakes came into his mind.</p> - -<p>“Haven’t seen anything of the lost raft down there, have you?” he -inquired, laughingly.</p> - -<p>“Never heard of it. What is it?”</p> - -<p>“Your guide ought to know, if he belongs to this district. Why, a raft -of valuable timber—black walnut—was sunk and lost on this lake -twenty-five or thirty years ago. Everybody has taken a look for it but -it’s never been located.”</p> - -<p>“Sunk? Why, timber floats, doesn’t it?” said Harrison puzzled.</p> - -<p>“Not walnut, unless it’s buoyed with some lighter wood. This raft, they -say, was cut by the Wilson Lumber Company. It was floated with pine -logs, but it got caught in a storm, broke up, and the walnut went to the -bottom—nobody knows where.”</p> - -<p>The “fish sharp” looked rather quizzically at him, as if he suspected a -joke.</p> - -<p>“Some catch in that, isn’t there?” he said. “Never heard of dry wood -sinking before. I’d as soon expect to see an ax float.”</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, however, the thing had happened exactly as Tom had -said. The “lost raft” had become a tradition of the Coboconk lakes. It -was Dave Jackson who had told Tom the story, and Dave had searched for -traces of the walnut himself. Tom also had thought of having a look for -it when he had nothing else to do. But the lumbering off of the heavy -timber had, as usual, affected the watercourses, and the lake had shrunk -somewhat and changed its configuration considerably in the last twenty -years, so that nobody now knew exactly where the raft had started from -shore. The lake had a sandy and soft bottom, and it was probable that -the scattered logs had long since sunk deep in the ooze. Experts said, -however, that the timber would not be injured by its long immersion.</p> - -<p>“Well, if you happen to see a pile of walnut logs on the bottom, I -advise you to hook your line on them,” said Tom, laughing. “It was a big -raft, and they say that at present prices it would be worth a hundred -thousand dollars.”</p> - -<p>The ichthyologist gave a cheerfully incredulous laugh, and the -sullen-faced guide grinned. Tom paddled away.</p> - -<p>“Come up and see me again when I’m home,” he shouted over his shoulder, -and Harrison called an acceptance, diving immediately afterward into the -bottom of his boat to peer through the glass window.</p> - -<p>Tom expected to see his visit returned, but day after day passed in -solitude. Twice he went down to the lake but could see nothing of the -sporting writer and his guide, though the camp was still there and -showed that it was occupied. The weather turned unseasonably warm, -almost hot. Birches and maples were in full leaf, and mosquitoes began -to be troublesome. Once Tom thought he saw human figures moving about -the thickets down toward the lake shore, but no one came near his shack -for a week. Then one afternoon Harrison and McLeod tramped in from the -woods.</p> - -<p>“Hello,” Harrison greeted him. “Sorry we couldn’t get up to see you -sooner. But we’re going away to-morrow, and I thought we’d just say -good-by.”</p> - -<p>“Finished your fish experiments?” Tom asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes—got some good fresh material. I think I’ll make a hit with my -articles.”</p> - -<p>They sat down in front of the old barn in the sunshine. Harrison and his -guide lighted pipes, and for some time they chatted casually.</p> - -<p>“By the way,” said Harrison at last, “how far does this claim of yours -extend? What’s its boundary?”</p> - -<p>“Why, down to the lake,” Tom responded, though he was by no means sure -of it.</p> - -<p>“I see. I suppose you wouldn’t care to sell the place?”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t. It’s my uncle’s.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but he seems to have abandoned it. You’ve taken it over. Isn’t -that how it stands? I don’t think your cultivation and improvements -would satisfy the government land agents, though. I don’t know exactly -what your legal position is, but I might pay you something for them, -whatever they are, on condition that you turn the ranch over to me at -once.”</p> - -<p>“What in the world do you want of it?” Tom demanded.</p> - -<p>“It would make a good fishing camp,” Harrison returned.</p> - -<p>There were a dozen places along the lake that were as good, Tom knew -well. He had a strong revival of the queer suspicion that had associated -itself with these strangers. He thought again of the drill-holes he had -found in the sand and gravel. There was something behind Harrison’s -offer.</p> - -<p>“I certainly couldn’t do anything till I’ve seen Uncle Phil or the -boys,” he said firmly. “They might turn up any day; I can’t tell. I can -let you know if they do.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” returned the other, with an air of indifference. “It’s not -an important matter. But your uncle’ll never be back. I heard at Oakley -that he’d left the county. I’d pay a few hundred dollars to have the -place turned over to me, so I could start building a camp. Fact is, I -think I could sell it to a city fishing club for a good price. Well, do -as you like. I’ll be at Oakley for a while. Come and see me if you’re -there.”</p> - -<p>Tom bade them good-by with an appearance of cordiality and confidence, -but inwardly he was in a turmoil of excitement. Harrison had discovered -something valuable on this claim; he felt sure of it. Perhaps his -scientific investigations into the water had been only a blind. For a -moment Tom thought of the lost raft of walnut. But this would be in the -lake, if anywhere, and Harrison’s interest was in the land. It must be -mineral. Tom thought of gold and silver, graphite and mica, iron and -nickel—all of them found now and again in that district. He hardly dared -to go out prospecting just then himself; he gave the other party plenty -of time to get away, and passed that evening in perplexed planning. But -the next morning at sunrise he hurried down to the gravel ridges where -he had seen the traces of Harrison’s digging.</p> - -<p>First of all he assured himself that the camp was broken and the -intruders really gone. All along the sand of the shore he saw places -where they had been probing deep, as if with an iron bar. But most of -these traces lay farther back. A gravelly ridge, overgrown with small -birches, showed marks of having been prospected from end to end.</p> - -<p>Tom knew little of prospecting, but he did know that gold was the only -sort of valuable mineral that could possibly be found in that bank of -sand and gravel. He went back to camp for a cooking pan, and with -excited hopes he began to examine and wash out the possibly precious -sand.</p> - -<p>A tiny rivulet cutting across the ridge supplied him with water. He -swirled the stuff in his pan, throwing out the gravel by degrees, -peering eagerly into the bottom for the faintest yellow glitter. But -there seemed to be nothing but mere sand and gravel. He went from place -to place, washing out samples here and there with such scrupulous care -that he felt sure he could have detected the tiniest flake of metal. He -worked from one end of the ridge to the other but could find no trace of -anything but ordinary gravel.</p> - -<p>He stopped, deeply disappointed. Still, he had by no means looked over -his whole claim. Some of the rocks, some of the hills might show the -outcrop of something valuable. He would have to prospect the whole -place; and then a fact came to him that threw out all his calculations.</p> - -<p>If a discovery of mineral can be made and proved, a claim may be staked -out anywhere, even on homesteaded land. If Harrison had found mineral he -had nothing to do but stake his claim. The rights of none of the -Jacksons could have interfered with him at all, and he could have had no -object in wishing to oust Tom from the property.</p> - -<p>It could not be mineral that Harrison had found. Again Tom thought of -the sunken raft, and dismissed the notion. He sat on the ground, idly -stirring up the gravel with his foot. It reminded him of the enormous -heaps of gravel he had seen piled at Oakley for the concrete work on the -new dams. Wagons were hauling it ten miles, he had heard; there were no -good gravel deposits nearer. And then it flashed upon him that this -gravel itself was perhaps the mineral that Harrison wanted.</p> - -<p>What was more likely? This great bank of thousands of cubic feet lay -near the lake and could be floated down the river on flatboats and -unloaded right at the required spot, almost without expense for -transportation. Tom felt certain that he had hit on the truth. A gravel -quarry cannot be staked like a mining claim; it goes with the homestead -rights.</p> - -<p>And then Tom remembered that he had no rights in the place at all; and -what the rights of his uncle or of Dave were in the deserted farm he did -not know. But he firmly determined to hold on to that valuable ground -with all his might. What it might be worth he could not guess, but -several thousand dollars’ worth of gravel and sand ought to come out of -that quarry, and the cement workers at Oakley could use it all.</p> - -<p>Tom spent the next two days in great perturbation and anxiety. He was -tempted to paddle down to Oakley and to make inquiry of every man in the -place for information regarding Uncle Phil; but he disliked leaving the -claim. Harrison might somehow steal a march upon him. Those days passed -slowly and anxiously. A hot wave swept over the wilderness, as often -happens in early spring. The woods grew dry and smoky through the spring -green. Tom slept outside his cabin for greater coolness. And then on the -third day he saw a man coming up from the lake, and recognized -Harrison’s guide, McLeod.</p> - -<p>McLeod, carrying a rifle under his arm, came up and greeted the boy with -a curt nod. Tom felt that some crisis was approaching, and gathered his -wits.</p> - -<p>“I thought you and Harrison had gone back to Oakley,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Left Harrison there,” said McLeod. “I come back. I wanter talk to you. -Now look here! What’s all this? You ain’t young Jackson. This here ain’t -your ranch.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I’m Tom Jackson, sure enough,” Tom affirmed.</p> - -<p>“No, I knowed all the Jacksons, and there wasn’t no Tom. You ain’t got -no rights—”</p> - -<p>“Look here,” Tom interrupted. He took out a small snap-shot photograph, -taken in Toronto of himself and his two cousins, which he had carried -for a long time pasted in his pocket-book. The woodsman looked at it -scrutinizingly.</p> - -<p>“Looks like you,” he admitted. “And that’s Dave, sure enough. But that -thar pictur don’t give you no rights here. Dave took this place—bought -it off me, he did. He never told me nothin’ about you. I homesteaded the -place first. I built this here barn myself. I sold it to Dave, and now -he’s deserted it I’m goin’ to have it back. Who’s goin’ to stop me?”</p> - -<p>“There’s plenty more land just as good and better, all around here,” -said Tom. “What do you and Harrison want this for?”</p> - -<p>“Dunno what Harrison wants,” McLeod muttered, with a crafty glance. “I -want it ’cause it’s mine by rights.”</p> - -<p>“Quarry rights?” said Tom. “Gravel rights, eh? Is that the idea? They’re -using lots of gravel at Oakley now, and you could bring it down from -here cheaper than hauling it.”</p> - -<p>McLeod looked a little dazed for an instant. Then he cast a swift, -cunning glance at Tom’s face.</p> - -<p>“Say,” he said, “can’t we split on this? Mebbe I can steer Harrison off, -and—”</p> - -<p>“No, I won’t split anything,” returned Tom curtly.</p> - -<p>“Well, if you won’t, then you’ve got to clear out of here. If you don’t, -we’ll run you off.”</p> - -<p>“See here!” Tom exclaimed. “You just run off yourself. If it comes to -that, I’ve got a rifle, too. I’ve got a right here as the Jacksons’ -representative, and I’m going to stay; and if there’s any gravel or -anything else sold off this place I’ll sell it myself. Now you get out -and tell Harrison what I said.”</p> - -<p>McLeod glowered at him for a moment, shifting his rifle under his arm. -Tom’s own weapon was ten feet away. Then the woodsman shrugged his -shoulders slightly, turned on his heel, and departed without another -word.</p> - -<p>When he was out of sight Tom took his rifle and crept after him. -Arriving at the lake, he espied McLeod’s canoe far over by the other -shore. It was moving slowly downward, and passed out of sight. -Presumably the man was really bound back to Oakley.</p> - -<p>Tom remained on the shore for an hour or two to make sure that the man -did not come back. He felt desperately lonely now and unsupported. He -was uncertain of his rights, with no one to advise him, with war almost -openly declared against him, and with, perhaps, a small fortune at -stake.</p> - -<p>He turned back at last slowly toward his old barn again, turning plans -of defense over in his mind. To his surprise he saw from a distance that -the fire had been freshly built up. A brisk smoke was rising; the kettle -was on, and a humped figure sat with its back toward him. Tom hurried up -in alarm and suspicion, and saw a dark, familiar face.</p> - -<p>“Fur all sold,” said Indian Charlie. “I come stay with you, Tom.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chIV' title='IV: Burned Out'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER IV</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.0em'>BURNED OUT</span> -</h2> - -<p>Tom gave a loud hurrah, and whacked Charlie on the shoulder. Nothing -could have delighted him more than this reinforcement, just when the air -was full of trouble.</p> - -<p>“You’ve come at the right time, Charlie!” he exclaimed. “I needed you. -But say!” he added anxiously, “have you got any grub?”</p> - -<p>“Got flour, pork, tea,” answered the wild boy. “Beans, sugar too. Sure, -we eat heap. Ketch plenty fish, shoot plenty deer, rabbit.”</p> - -<p>“Shoot maybe more than rabbit,” said Tom, sitting down on the other side -of the fire. “There’s trouble, Charlie. I’m on the warpath.”</p> - -<p>Charlie fixed bright black eyes on him with an interested grunt, and Tom -endeavored to explain briefly that enemies were trying to dislodge him -from his position, which he intended to hold, by force if needful.</p> - -<p>“Sure, I help you, Tom,” he agreed. “We fight him if he come. You watch -for him—I hunt grub—then we fight. We do firs’ rate.”</p> - -<p>To Charlie’s aboriginal mind it perhaps seemed a reduction of life to -the natural and simple elements of fighting the enemy and getting -something to eat; but Tom was not able to take it so easily. He was -greatly cheered by Charlie’s companionship, however, and he knew that -the Indian boy’s woodcraft would make him most useful as a provider of -game. It would be needed. Tom had none too much provision, and the two -youthful appetites made deadly inroads on the supplies.</p> - -<p>In fact, Charlie went out before dawn the very next morning and killed a -deer—a feat which Tom had not yet performed. It was out of season, of -course; but Charlie, being an Indian, was exempt from the game-laws, and -they would need the meat.</p> - -<p>It secured their food supply for a long time, and the Ojibway busied -himself in cutting the venison in strips and drying it over a slow, -smoky fire. It made a curiously tasteless mess when boiled, but Tom’s -stomach was grown hardened to unsavory fare, and Charlie could eat and -digest anything, and was anxious only that there should be enough of it.</p> - -<p>From that time Charlie took charge of the provisioning, and spent most -of the time prowling in the woods, almost always coming back with a -hare, a duck, or some other game. He caught trout; he found an early -nest of wild duck’s eggs, which he robbed without scruple. He hunted -with an old, inferior, muzzle-loading shot-gun, and was a far worse shot -than Tom; but he made up for it by craft, and he could have lived well -in a country where the white boy would have starved.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Tom did little hunting. He had lost interest in the growing -grass of the beaver meadow and in the planted rye of the last year’s -field. His thought was concentrated on the quarry claim, for he felt not -the slightest doubt that this was the valuable point—worth more than all -the grain and hay the farm could grow for years. If he could put through -a contract for that gravel and go back to Toronto with a profit of a few -thousand dollars to show his father he would feel that he had redeemed -all his dignity and laid the basis for a new life. But for the moment he -could do nothing whatever, and it was maddening to feel his inability. -He was afraid to leave the claim. He expected an attack from some -direction, but he did not know where to look for it. Every day he went -down to the lake and looked over the water, but he never saw any sign of -a canoe or camp.</p> - -<p>A week later Charlie had started to the spring for water before -breakfast, when he stopped, stooped, scrutinized the ground, and came -back hurriedly.</p> - -<p>“Somebody been here las’ night!” he announced.</p> - -<p>Tom went to look. He was unable to make out anything where the Indian -boy pointed, nothing but a shapeless indentation in the dry earth.</p> - -<p>“Yes—you look hard!” Charlie insisted, pointing to one spot after -another; and at last with a cry of triumph he indicated the clear -imprint of a moccasined foot in soft earth just below the spring.</p> - -<p>“An Indian?” said Tom, bending over it.</p> - -<p>“White man,” corrected the trailer. “Indian walk straight; white man -turn out toes like bird.”</p> - -<p>He pointed to his own feet and to Tom’s for confirmation, and proceeded -to follow up the trail with what seemed to Tom a super-natural -acuteness.</p> - -<p>“Him stop here—see—set down gun,” Charlie went on with his eyes on the -ground. “Go on again, close up to cabin. Stop here—long -time—look—listen. Mebbe think steal something. Then him turn round—go -back. Let’s see where him go.”</p> - -<p>But the earth was hard and dry with the long, hot spell, and even -Charlie’s eyes failed to keep the trail more than a hundred yards from -the barn. After breakfast they cast about in a wide circle. They did not -pick up the trail again, but on the shore of the little river they found -a place where a canoe had recently been beached. Moccasined tracks led -away from it and returned.</p> - -<p>There was no way to tell whether the canoe had gone up-stream or down. -Getting into Tom’s canoe, the boys paddled down to the lake, -reconnoitered, and then went up the river for a couple of miles, without -being able to discover any trace of a landing.</p> - -<p>The thought of that mysterious prowler in the dark preyed on Tom’s mind. -He felt sure it must have been McLeod, scouting for a chance to “run him -off.” He decided that a guard ought to be kept, and for the next two -nights he did lie awake till long after midnight, when sleep overcame -him. But there was no further sign of any visitor.</p> - -<p>It might have been, after all, only some stray <i>voyageur</i> or Indian, -attracted by the camp-fire; though in that case he would almost surely -have come in openly. But the effect of the incident wore off, and the -boys settled again to their steady watchfulness, hunting and scouting.</p> - -<p>The hot, dry weather showed signs of breaking up. The sky clouded; a -strong wind rose a few days later from the northwest.</p> - -<p>“No good hunt to-day,” said Charlie, looking at the sky; but he went out -nevertheless immediately after breakfast, leaving Tom at the camp.</p> - -<p>He had been gone no more than half an hour when Tom’s nose caught the -smell of cedar smoke. It was coming down the wind, a sharp, aromatic -odor, growing stronger momentarily. He could not see any smoke, however, -and did not pay much attention until in another half-hour he perceived a -dark cloud rising over the woods in the west and driving across the -tree-tops.</p> - -<p>The wind would carry it straight toward the old barn, but even now he -did not feel much uneasiness, for a spring fire in the woods seldom -burns long or does much damage. But the smoke continued to increase in -volume, and the smell of burning to grow more pronounced. Tom wondered -that Charlie did not come back. At last he went over to the river, -carried his canoe up past the rapid, and paddled up the stream to look -at the fire.</p> - -<p>In half a mile the smoke made him stop. It was chokingly dense, seeming -to fill all the woods in front of him. He saw not a flash of flame, -though ashes and live sparks were falling thick, and he could see them -driving in swirls overhead on the gale.</p> - -<p>At this rate it might go clear over the barn and burn him out. It dawned -upon Tom that perhaps McLeod had fired the woods. At that time of year a -casual spark could hardly have started so wide a blaze. He let the canoe -drop down-stream for a few hundred yards and then rushed into the woods -to see if there was any chance of the fire being checked.</p> - -<p>The smoke of green wood and cedar leaves was still choking and blinding. -He was well in front of the fire now, but a great wisp of flaming bark -dropped from the air almost at his side into a tangle of half-dead -spruces. It flashed up with a roar. Flames drove out streaming into the -green shrubbery, and the resinous leaves of the evergreens sizzled and -burned like paper. He had to draw back again. A fresh center of -conflagration was started; and he realized that under this roaring gale -the fire was bound to sweep unchecked through the woods, burning -whatever would burn, jumping spots too green or too damp; and nothing -was likely to stop it until it reached the lake.</p> - -<p>He tore back to the river—just in time to save his canoe, for a cedar -bush had caught fire close beside it. Jumping in, he shot down-stream. -He would have to try to save the barn—save his supplies, at any rate. -But he had hopes that the beaver meadow would act as a fire-break.</p> - -<p>Down the stream he shot, through smoke so dense that he could scarcely -see to avoid the rocks and turns of the channel. He lost time by having -to portage around the rapid where Charlie had come to grief. Arriving at -the usual landing, he observed that Charlie’s canoe was gone. The Indian -had evidently returned, secured his canoe, and fled.</p> - -<p>Tom rushed across to the barn. Even here the smoke was growing thick, -and hot ashes and sparks were flying far overhead. Back in the woods -fire and wind roared together. A hasty glance into the barn showed that -the blankets were gone, most of the food, the kettles, his own dunnage -sack. Charlie had salvaged the place already.</p> - -<p>Tom crammed a few small loose articles into his pockets and hesitated. -If he had water, if he could keep the roof wet, it might be possible to -save the barn. But the nearest water was fifty yards away, and he had -nothing to carry it in. Sparks were falling every moment more thickly. -The barn would have to take its chance; he would better try to rejoin -Charlie; and he ran back to the river and paddled down toward the lake.</p> - -<p>Waves were running high and white-capped over Little Coboconk in the -strong wind, and so dense a haze lay over the water that it was -impossible to see the other shore. Tom lay close to the river mouth for -some time, disliking to venture out upon the rough water. Smoke began to -roll heavily over the trees along the shore, and at last he paddled out, -up through the shelter of the narrow water neck joining the lakes, and -into Big Coboconk.</p> - -<p>Here the smoke was heavier still, and the wind seemed even more -dangerous. He could see nothing at any distance. The gale was driving -him offshore and toward the center of the lake, when he thought he heard -a shout. He paddled toward the sound. A long object appeared floating on -the choppy waves in the smoke. It was a capsized canoe, with a man -astride its keel, clinging with arms and legs. Tom thought it was -Charlie; he drove up to it, but the face that looked up to him was -white. It was Harrison, the “fish sharp.”</p> - -<p>“What, you—?” Tom exclaimed; and then shut his mouth and, frowning, -steered his canoe alongside for a rescue. It is a ticklish business to -transfer a man from one canoe to another. Tom threw his weight far over -the stern, and Harrison managed to climb into the bow without another -upset, though shipping several bucketfuls of water in the process.</p> - -<p>Tom immediately turned his canoe before the wind and paddled toward the -other shore. The capsized craft vanished in the haze. The boy’s heart -was savage within him. He laid the responsibility of the forest fire on -Harrison and his guide, who had no doubt been hanging about the lake for -days, awaiting their opportunity.</p> - -<p>There was no chance to talk then. It took all his attention to keep the -canoe straight and to prevent it from being swamped by the wind and -water. The other shore loomed up dimly through the smoke. He could not -pick a landing; he had to drive straight ahead. The canoe grounded -heavily. He heard a smash of the delicate wood; then they both jumped -overboard in the shallows and dragged the craft safely up above the wash -of the waves.</p> - -<p>“Made it!” said Harrison breathlessly. “Good thing you came up when you -did. I upset when I was fifty yards from land. I’m not much of a -canoeman.”</p> - -<p>“Where’s your partner?” Tom demanded. “Where’s McLeod? Starting fires -back in the woods, isn’t he? You nearly got caught in your own trap.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you mean,” retorted Harrison. “We didn’t start any -fires. I thought this started from your own camp. I don’t know where -McLeod is. He went up the river this morning.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t bluff any longer, Harrison,” said Tom. “I know what you are -after. You’re not up here to study fish. You want to run me off this -place. I know all about the gravel quarry. You’ve got a contract for the -concrete work at Oakley, I expect, and you can get the gravel down from -here cheaper than any other way.”</p> - -<p>Harrison stared, and then suddenly began to laugh.</p> - -<p>“Gravel?” he exclaimed. “Why, the Oakley contracts were all let months -ago. I haven’t got any of them. They’re hauling the gravel from a pit -only three miles out of the town. Float it down from here? And keep a -steamboat to haul the barges back empty? You’d better learn a little -about construction work.”</p> - -<p>Tom was taken aback by this convincing denial.</p> - -<p>“What did you want this land for, then?” he muttered.</p> - -<p>“I told you. For a fishing camp. I don’t know that I do want it now, -anyway. It’ll be nothing but ashes and burnt logs after this. I guess -nobody will try to take it from you.”</p> - -<p>Tom was silenced but not convinced. He dropped the subject, and examined -his canoe, which had a good-sized hole punched in the bottom from -collision with a rock as they came ashore. It was beyond repair.</p> - -<p>“We’ve got nothing to eat,” he remarked, “and no way of getting -anywhere—unless your partner comes back, or unless I can locate mine.”</p> - -<p>“I saw somebody that looked like that Indian youngster of yours,” said -Harrison, “just before I started out. He was paddling pretty fast up the -lake in a loaded canoe. If he’s got away with all your outfit you’ll -never see him back again.”</p> - -<p>Tom had more confidence in Charlie, but the surface of Big Coboconk was -shrouded in whirling vapor, and it would be impossible for anybody to -find anything, except by chance. The fire had burned down close to the -other shore now and seemed to be working down toward the narrows. Ashes -and sparks sifted down even where they stood, but there was not much -danger of the fire jumping the lake. In the hope of sighting either -Charlie or McLeod, they established themselves on the point of a rocky -promontory and stared through the bluish smoke drift, but without -sighting any canoe. Harrison seemed to hold no grudge for Tom’s -suspicions and talked easily, but Tom could not rid himself of a sense -of hostility. He felt beaten. His barn was certainly burned; the -beaver-meadow hay would be scorched and probably ruined; the whole -homestead was uninhabitable now. He would have to find another or go -home. As for the gravel quarry, Harrison’s words had sounded only too -genuine. Probably the gravel was really of no value, after all.</p> - -<p>They both grew very hungry, with nothing to eat. So far as they could -judge, the fire seemed to be burning down along Little Coboconk, over a -wide area, but the wind was perceptibly falling. Toward the middle of -the afternoon Tom was startled by a prolonged, sullen reverberation that -seemed to come from overhead.</p> - -<p>“Thunder!” exclaimed Harrison. “Can it be going to rain? It’s too good -to be true.”</p> - -<p>Above the smoke clouds the sky was invisible, but within fifteen minutes -the rain did begin to sprinkle and then came in torrents. It lasted -three quarters of an hour, and then the thunderstorm seemed to move away -westward, though the rain continued to fall in a steady soaking drizzle.</p> - -<p>The two castaways sheltered themselves under a great thick spruce, which -the rain scarcely penetrated. The rain made the smoke hang lower, and it -seemed to be mixed with steam—an impenetrable, reeking gray smother over -the whole lake and the forest. But it was certain that the fire would go -no further, with the wind falling and the woods wet.</p> - -<p>For an hour or so they stood wretchedly under the big spruce. The fine -drizzle penetrated the leaves at last, but it did not make much -difference, as both of them were wet already to the skin. Harrison’s -spirits flagged at last, and they said little, gazing out into the -ghostly white drift of smoke and steam and rain.</p> - -<p>“This won’t do,” Harrison exclaimed at last. “We’ve got to have -something to eat—got to have a canoe. My canoe must have drifted ashore -somewhere, and there was a package of grub tied in it. It’ll be soaked, -but we can make something out of it. Let’s look for it.”</p> - -<p>Tom agreed. Anything was better than standing there any longer hungry -and shivering. They separated, Harrison going down toward the narrows, -and Tom toward the upper end of the lake, and whoever discovered the -canoe was to paddle in search of the other.</p> - -<p>Tom discovered the lost canoe within a hundred yards, lying stranded -upside down on the shore gravel. If they had only known it they might -have left the place at any time that day. The food was gone, though. -Only a string loop and the soaked relic of a paper package was left, -greatly to Tom’s disappointment. But with the canoe he felt sure of -being able to locate Charlie, who must have plenty of supplies with him.</p> - -<p>Tom righted and launched the canoe, and shouted for Harrison, but the -man was out of hearing. A spare paddle was lashed in the canoe, and Tom -got aboard and struck out. It occurred to him that he might as well -scout about for Charlie before rejoining Harrison, and he paddled out -into the wet reek that overhung the lake.</p> - -<p>He followed up the shore a little way and then struck straight across. -At intervals he shouted, but got no answer. The other shore of the lake -presently loomed up mistily, a desolation of wet ashes, tangles of -half-burned thickets and steaming, smoking spruces. He half expected to -find Charlie searching for him along this shore, and he paddled -downward, looking out sharply for a canoe.</p> - -<p>Nothing like a canoe showed, either on the water or ashore. Growing more -anxious, for he was desperately hungry, Tom followed the shore down till -he came to the narrows connecting the two lakes. At one time, not so -long ago, these two lakes had been one, and the land about the narrows -was low and sandy, cut with swampy hollows and densely overgrown with -small evergreens. But the fire had swept over it, and the spruces and -jack-pines were only stubs and skeletons with all their twigs and -leafage burned away, leaving only the damp trunks standing amid sand, -ashes, and ancient logs half buried in the earth.</p> - -<p>As he came up Tom thought he dimly spied a canoe drawn ashore, and -paddled up to it. But it was only a great log, laid bare by the burning -off of the thickets. He drew up alongside it and stared about. Harrison -was nowhere within his restricted area of vision, nor Charlie either, -and it was hardly likely that the Indian boy would have gone down into -the lower lake.</p> - -<p>Tom sat there for a minute, discouraged, absently contemplating the -scattered logs. Half consciously he realized that there were a great -many of them, mostly showing above ground, that the ends of all of them -were sawed square across, as if they had been cut by lumbermen. On the -end of the log nearest him he noticed that the letters “D W” had been -roughly cut with a tool.</p> - -<p>What could “D W” stand for? The name of Daniel Wilson floated into his -mind, but for a moment the name conveyed nothing to him, and he did not -know where he had heard it. And then he remembered.</p> - -<p>It was the Daniel Wilson Lumber Company that had cut the black walnut -raft that had been lost on the lake, as the story said.</p> - -<p>It struck Tom like an electric flash. He jumped out of the canoe, almost -trembling, weariness and hunger forgotten. There were perhaps a hundred -logs in sight, on the surface or almost covered by sand and mud, and “D -W” was cut on the ends of all of them.</p> - -<p>They were blackened by the fire and smoke, but not charred. Between -black of fire and the wearing of age it was impossible to make out the -kind of wood, but Tom whipped out his knife. Chipping off the outer -skin, he saw the unmistakable rich, dark, hard grain. It was walnut. He -had discovered the lost raft—or part of it, at all events.</p> - -<p>Here it must have sunk in the shallow water near the shore where it had -been driven that stormy night twenty-eight years ago. This point had -formed part of the lake bottom then. Later the water had receded; the -narrows had been formed. A crop of evergreens springing up quickly had -concealed the visible part of the scattered raft from the few men who -ever passed that way. It might have lain there forever if the fire had -not laid it bare.</p> - -<p>Tom tried to remember all he had heard of the loss of the raft. Walnut -had never been a plentiful timber in that part of the country; but the -Wilson Lumber Company, of which Wilson himself was sole owner, had -discovered and cut a small tract of it—five or six hundred thousand -feet, report said. At that time nobody regarded black walnut as -extremely valuable. A market was lacking, and the rich timber was used -for firewood and fence-rails, but Wilson had got a government contract -for wood for gun-stocks for the army.</p> - -<p>The timber was brought out to the head of Coboconk Lake and the raft -built there, to be floated down to Oakley, where at that time there was -a sawmill and nothing else. But the start of the raft was, for some -unknown reason, delayed till too late in the autumn. It was November -when it was finally put together, with plenty of pine logs to keep it -afloat, and launched down the lake. There is a gentle drift from north -to south, and the lumbermen helped with huge sweeps.</p> - -<p>When they were half-way down the lake a strong northwest wind sprang up; -it turned cold and began to snow. It was then late in the afternoon. The -wind continued to rise, and toward midnight the huge raft began to go to -pieces. The men aboard had to take to their <i>bateaux</i> and row ashore in -a howling storm of wind and snow.</p> - -<p>A blinding blizzard blew all the next day, and when it cleared there was -nothing to be seen of the raft. A search of the shore revealed a good -deal of the pine framework, but all the walnut timber was finally judged -to have broken loose and gone to the bottom.</p> - -<p>That storm marked the opening of a very early winter. In another day the -lake was freezing over. Nothing more could be done, and in the spring no -trace could be found of the lost raft. But the story became a local -tradition, and for years spasmodic efforts were made to locate it, but -never with any success. The lumbermen were by no means sure just where -the raft had been when it broke up in that dark night; the lake is -large, and it had generally come to be believed that the timber must be -sunk too deep in the mud to be recovered.</p> - -<p>But the change in the level of the lake had brought some of the former -shallows above water. Some of the timber, at any rate, was there in -sight, and it was impossible that it was anything else than the wreckage -of the old-time raft. Glancing over the scattered logs, Tom thought that -there must be thirty or forty thousand feet along that shore, and there -was more, perhaps, buried at a little depth. Walnut was then worth, in -logs, about three hundred dollars a thousand feet; but if the wood were -cut up and dressed in his father’s Toronto yards it would fetch three or -four times that price. It was a fortune, and not a small one, that was -in sight.</p> - -<p>Then suddenly the question of the ownership of the raft struck him. He -was the finder, but, after all, not necessarily the owner. Daniel Wilson -was dead, and his company long since dissolved. The timber lay on land -belonging to his uncle, or his cousin; all the timber on that land -belonged to them, whether standing or lying, and this would surely cover -driftwood. But was this, after all, Uncle Phil’s homestead; or had he -abandoned it; or might it be filed on by the first comer?</p> - -<p>Tom did not know. It was the problem of the gravel quarry again, with -tenfold intensity. He turned the question over in his mind. In any event -he was determined to cling to this treasure-trove if it took the last -drop of his blood. And at that moment, glancing up, he perceived -Harrison on the other side of the narrows, looking silently at him -across the channel.</p> - -<p>Tom jumped up almost guiltily. Harrison instantly shouted and waved at -him.</p> - -<p>“Have you got the canoe? Come over.”</p> - -<p>Tom got into the canoe. He felt perfectly certain that Harrison had been -watching him for some time—that he knew very well what Tom had -discovered—that he had previously discovered it himself. For a moment -the boy half hesitated to cross over to the enemy; but after all he had -his rifle, and Harrison was unarmed, and moreover he did not think -Harrison was a man to resort to open violence.</p> - -<p>“What were you doing over there, digging up the ground? Find any grub?” -said Harrison with a sharp glance as Tom paddled up beside him.</p> - -<p>“I thought I’d seen another canoe there, and I went to look. No, the -grub’s all washed away, I’m afraid,” returned Tom.</p> - -<p>“Too bad. Well, we’ll just have to put in a hungry night, I guess, but -we can get out of here in the morning anyhow.”</p> - -<p>He made no further reference to Tom’s prospecting, and they went up the -lake to the place where they had spent most of the day, where Tom’s own -canoe had been wrecked. It was growing dusk already, and the rain had -ceased. The wind had stilled, and the air was thick and fogged with -smoke and damp.</p> - -<p>With difficulty they collected a little dry kindling from the interior -of hollow logs, and managed to start a fire. Fortunately it was a warm -night for the season, since they had no blankets, and the only possible -camping preparations were to pull off armfuls of damp spruce twigs for a -softer couch than the bare ground.</p> - -<p>Harrison was silent, busying himself in drying out a piece of plug -tobacco which he had found in his pocket, and trying to smoke it. -Finally he settled himself back on his <i>sapin</i> and appeared to sleep. -But Tom was determined not to close an eye that night.</p> - -<p>He was afraid of some treachery; he did not know what. He settled back -on his spruce boughs, with his rifle close beside him, and tried to -think out a course of action. Harrison was after the same thing as -himself, and he must know now that Tom knew it. Which of them had the -better legal right, or whether either of them had any legal right at -all, Tom had no idea. He would have given anything for his father’s -advice. He thought of making a bolt for Oakley and sending out a -telegram to Mr. Jackson to come immediately. But he dared not leave the -place, and besides his father would very likely disregard the wire as a -piece of boy’s foolishness.</p> - -<p>Time passed. It had grown very dark. Harrison snored from his couch. Tom -himself was growing very weary, but he was resolved not to let himself -sleep.</p> - -<p>He was desperately hungry besides, faint and miserable. He got up -quietly and built up the fire, feeling chilled. At moments a nervous -panic swept over him. Fifty thousand derelict dollars lay by that lake, -and the gain or loss of them hung on his single wit and skill. Thinking -it over he felt that Uncle Phil or Dave held the key of the problem. -They must be the owners of this land—hence the owners of the timber. If -that was the case, Tom knew well that he would get his rightful share. -But this could not be settled without locating them. Greatly he -regretted now that he had not made more searching inquiries at Oakley.</p> - -<p>Harrison turned over uneasily and appeared to sleep again. Tom envied -him his rest. His own eyes were desperately heavy, and he felt worn out -with physical and mental fatigue. He must have dozed then, for presently -he roused with a start and saw that the fire had burned low. Looking at -his watch, he saw that it was after midnight.</p> - -<p>Harrison did not appear to have stirred. Tom got up and replenished the -fire again. Lying down, he tried to keep his eyes open, once more -turning over the heavy problem in his mind. An owl was calling dismally -from a tree-top not far away. The soft wailing note mingled with his -confused thoughts, growing more and more confused till they melted into -something dreamlike.</p> - -<p>He awoke next with daylight in his eyes. With a rush of panic he sat up. -The fire was burning brightly. A figure was squatting beside it—not -Harrison. Harrison was nowhere to be seen, but Tom looked into the dark -face of Ojibway Charlie.</p> - -<p>“Charlie!” he stammered, jumping up. “Where did you come from? Where’s -that man? Where’s Harrison?”</p> - -<p>“No see um,” returned Charlie, stolidly. “I see your smoke—come here. -You sleep—nobody else here.”</p> - -<p>With an exclamation, Tom rushed down to the lake. Charlie’s canoe was -there, piled with salvaged outfit from the old barn; but Harrison’s -canoe was gone, and Tom’s own canoe with the hole in the bottom now lay -capsized with almost the whole bottom smashed out of her. The “fish -sharp” had vanished.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chV' title='V: Across the Wilderness'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER V</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.0em'>ACROSS THE WILDERNESS</span> -</h2> - -<p>Harrison had crept away in the latter part of the night taking the only -serviceable canoe with him, leaving Tom, as he imagined, without food or -means of transport. It might have been a serious matter for the boy, -worn out with hunger, but for Charlie’s opportune appearance.</p> - -<p>Tom was, in fact, so empty and exhausted that he turned sick and dizzy, -as much with wrath as with weakness, when he realized the treacherous -trick Harrison had played. But after all no great harm was done, except -that Harrison was away now with a long start on his plan—whatever that -was—to get possession of the walnut timber.</p> - -<p>Charlie meanwhile had at once begun to put bacon to toast and the pot to -boil, which he had previously refrained from doing so as not to waken -Tom. Tom was so hungry that he could have eaten the food raw. In fact he -did chew a scrap of raw pork while he waited for the rest to cook; but -after he had consumed an enormous breakfast of bacon, hard bread, and -tea he felt much better, and his spirits rose.</p> - -<p>Getting into the canoe, they paddled down to the narrows. There was no -sign of Harrison about the place, but Tom thought he saw tracks that had -not been made by himself. He pointed out the half-buried logs to the -Indian boy, and explained that they were valuable stuff.</p> - -<p>“Worth thousands of dollars—more than ten times all your fur catch,” he -said. “Those other men want to get it—want to run us off. We mustn’t let -them have it.”</p> - -<p>The wild boy nodded, and looked at Tom with a sudden spark in his black -eyes.</p> - -<p>“Sure—they try to burn us off,” he said. “I see him—that red-hair man. -He light fire. I see him—too late. I think mebbe I shoot him; then I -think better not. I come an’ git stuff from our camp—look for you -everywhere almost.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I thought all along that McLeod had started that fire,” said Tom. -“But I’m glad you didn’t shoot him. But how we’re going to hold the fort -here I don’t know. It’ll take a lot of men, money, teams, to get this -timber out. Maybe I’d better send you down to Oakley to get a telegram -off to my father.”</p> - -<p>Charlie had no idea what a telegram was. He shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I stay here. I fight um,” he said.</p> - -<p>“You see, this land doesn’t belong to me,” Tom went on, half absently -going over the argument he had mentally rehearsed so often. “I haven’t -any real rights here, I suppose. But no more has Harrison. This place -belongs to Uncle Phil, or maybe one of the boys. Here they are, -Charlie.”</p> - -<p>And Tom took from his pocket the photograph of the group of himself and -his cousins which he had shown to McLeod.</p> - -<p>Charlie looked at it with great interest and grinned as he recognized -the central figure.</p> - -<p>“That-um you, Tom,” he said, pointing. Then, indicating one of the -others, “Who that man?”</p> - -<p>“That’s my cousin Dave.”</p> - -<p>“I know him,” Charlie announced, gazing hard.</p> - -<p>“No, I guess not,” Tom replied.</p> - -<p>“Sure!” Charlie insisted. “I see him this spring. He work in mine camp, -’way up Wawista, what you call Blackfish River.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean to say you saw Cousin Dave there? When?” burst out Tom.</p> - -<p>“Sure I see him. I stop there for grub. I talk to him. He ask me if any -prospectors up where I trap. Just ’fore I come out—two, three days ’fore -I see you, mebbe.”</p> - -<p>Tom gave an almost hysterical yell of laughter.</p> - -<p>“Good gracious! To think you had the clue to the puzzle all the while. -Charlie, I’ve got to go and bring him quick. Is it far?”</p> - -<p>“I go git him,” Charlie offered.</p> - -<p>Tom thought for a moment. He would prefer to stay himself, but Charlie -could hardly explain the situation; he feared to commit it to writing. -Besides, when he came to think of it, he had no writing materials. No, -he would have to go himself, and he sought directions from the Indian.</p> - -<p>With intense deliberation, Charlie explained that he had seen Dave at a -small settlement where there was a mine. Its name was something like -Roswick, and it was only two, three days by canoe. It was an easy road -to find, with only one long portage. He could not say whether Dave was -still there, of course; but the camp must have been just opening for the -spring, and it was hardly likely that he would have left so soon.</p> - -<p>“You go up this leetle river,” Charlie explained, “mebbe half-day, mebbe -day, up to big carry place by long rapid. Make long portage then. Bad -trail over portage—hard to find. But then you hit Wawista River, and you -go up him, and then up Fish River, and come to Roswick, mebbe two, three -days. I go quicker’n you.”</p> - -<p>“I dare say you would,” said Tom, digesting this knowledge. “But if you -help me to hit the long portage I’ll go alone. You stay here, and keep -Harrison from getting away with this timber.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I lay for him,” said the Ojibway. “Hope he come back. He git good -dose buck-shot next time.”</p> - -<p>“No, don’t kill anybody!” Tom cried; but the Indian looked at him -reproachfully.</p> - -<p>“How I keep um off if I no shoot um?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know,” Tom admitted. “But if Dave’s where you left him I -ought to be back before those other fellows turn up again.”</p> - -<p>Tom made his preparations to start without delay. He was to take -Charlie’s canoe, and he laid out a due proportion of food—pork, tea, -sugar, flour—enough to last him two or three days. Charlie stirred up a -large pan of flapjack and baked it—enough for one day at any rate. Long -before noon they were ready to start, and Charlie accompanied him as far -as the “long portage” to make sure that he should not miss the spot.</p> - -<p>The smoke had dissipated; the sky was clearing, and the sun showed a -tendency to come out. The first half-mile of the route up the little -river lay between burned and charred thickets, and then the fire limit -ceased. The stream was low, and several times they had to get out or -make a short carry, and it was afternoon when they reached the point -where Charlie said he should strike across country to the Wawista. They -stopped here to make tea; then Charlie indicated the direction once more -and without a word of farewell faded away into the thickets, starting -back to the treasure he was to guard.</p> - -<p>Two miles due north was the direction, and Charlie said there was an old -blazed trail, “hard to find.” He would have to make two trips, once with -his pack and once with the canoe. The pack was not very heavy, not more -than fifty pounds, and Tom shouldered it and set off with a light heart.</p> - -<p>The blazed trail was indeed hard to find, and Tom lost it almost -immediately. He did not concern himself much, however, for he knew that -if he kept due north he could not fail to hit the river eventually. But -fifty pounds on the shoulders means much, over rough ground, and he did -not have a regular tump-line. Hard trained as he was, he had to sit down -several times and rest. He gasped, in fact, and the sweat burst out in -streams; but he kept on and finally broke through a dense belt of -willows and saw the Wawista, a broad, slow stream winding away toward -the west.</p> - -<p>He cached his pack in the low fork of a tree, and went back leisurely -for his canoe. This was an even more awkward load to transport. Its -length concealed the ground ahead; it tangled itself with the -underbrush; two or three times he tripped and fell with the canoe on top -of him. He lost his own back trail, and had to drive straight ahead, so -that at last he came out on the river a quarter of a mile from the spot -where he had left his dunnage.</p> - -<p>He secured it, however, and sat down for a final rest before beginning -the canoe voyage. It was growing late in the afternoon. The sun shone -clearly and warmly now. Not a breath stirred the leaves, fresh and green -from the recent rain, and the river flowed with a peaceful murmur. But a -feeling of uneasiness came suddenly upon the boy, as if he was under the -eyes of some enemy.</p> - -<p>It was so strong that he stood up and peered about, rifle in hand. But -nothing stirred in the forest, except two noisy whiskey-jacks that -discovered him at that moment. It was an attack of nerves, he told -himself; but he could not resist a strong inclination to be off -immediately.</p> - -<p>He piled his dunnage into the canoe and started down the river. A last -glance over his shoulder showed the shore deserted; yet the vaguely -uneasy feeling pursued him down the stream. He found himself continually -glancing back without intending it. The sudden splash of a rising duck -made him start violently; but he saw no larger living thing, and as he -rounded every curve there was nothing behind nor ahead but the empty -stretch of water between the wooded shores.</p> - -<p>The voyage down the river was easy. The current ran smooth and strong. -There were no portages, and he made good speed even without much hard -paddling; yet he had not yet reached the junction with the Fish River -when sunset came on. Charlie had said that he should make it that night, -but he had lost time on the long portage.</p> - -<p>Selecting an open bit of shore, he landed and drew the canoe out of the -water. It was a fine, warm night and he did not think it necessary to -build a shelter; he merely built fire enough to boil tea, and he ate his -lunch of hard bread and cold fried bacon which he had brought with him. -For some time he sat by the blaze, reluctant to lie down. Once more he -felt uneasily suspicious; but at last he rolled the blanket around his -body and stretched out to sleep.</p> - -<p>Several times he dozed lightly, awaking with a nervous start. Clear -starlight was overhead. The dense spruces looked inky black against the -dark-blue sky, and in the light stillness the ripple of the river -sounded loud.</p> - -<p>He lay awake for some time at last, and finally got up and put fresh -wood on the fire. It blazed up suddenly, and he thought he heard a -startled stamp and rush through the dark thickets—probably a hare.</p> - -<p>He was tired and wanted to sleep, but sleep would not come to him. He -thought of the treasure in timber that was to be gained or lost. -Harrison would stick at nothing to gain it, he felt sure. In his -anxiety, Tom felt half inclined to break camp and go through the night; -but he knew that he would gain nothing by wearing himself out. He got up -again and went down to the river, bathed his face, and drank, looking up -and down the long, dark current in the starlight. Then he came back, -feeling less restless, and in time he succumbed to sleep.</p> - -<p>When he did sleep he slept long, and awoke to find the early sun on his -face. He jumped up uneasily. Everything about the camp was just as he -had left it, and in the clear daylight his nocturnal alarms seemed the -height of folly. Nevertheless, while the breakfast kettle was heating, -he went into the woods where he had heard the sound, and discovered a -certainly fresh, shapeless track. It might have been a bear track; it -might have been made by a sitting rabbit; or it might have been the -tread of a moccasined foot.</p> - -<p>He could not determine nor could he trace it for any distance. Vainly he -wished for Charlie’s skill as a trailer. He decided that it must have -been a bear, and, angry at himself for his nervousness, he went back to -the fire, drank his tea, fried pork, and then launched the canoe again.</p> - -<p>But the uncanny sense followed him of something’s being on his trail. It -seemed as if a pursuer must be just around the last bend of the river. A -dozen times he looked quickly back, but the water shone empty in the -sun.</p> - -<p>Shortly before noon he arrived at the mouth of the Fish River, -recognizing it at once from Charlie’s description. Roswick lay a day’s -travel or two up this stream, and there he would find Dave Jackson; at -least, he hoped so. He felt as if the end of the journey was almost in -sight, and he headed the canoe joyfully against the current of the -swifter tributary—and glanced quickly and involuntarily back.</p> - -<p>Nothing was in sight. There could be nothing, he told himself.</p> - -<p>“But I’m going to settle this,” he reflected, after a moment. “Either -something’s after me, or there isn’t. I’ll just wait here a bit, and end -this foolishness.”</p> - -<p>Half ashamed of himself, he dragged the canoe ashore and hid it. Then he -took his rifle, and ambushed himself just at the peninsula where the two -rivers met, well out of sight under a thicket of willows, and waited. It -would be a relief to settle this suspense at the cost of an hour’s time.</p> - -<p>Silence settled down, except for the rush of the meeting currents. A -mink ran down the shore and into a log heap, popping out again and into -the water, busy about its hunting. A pair of wild ducks came swimming -down the Wawista, dipping their heads deep, and halted close opposite -his ambush. He could have shot the head off one of them, and he -contemplated doing it, to secure a bit of fresh meat. His suspicions of -pursuit were vanishing. He had been there a long time—an hour, surely. -It was scarcely worth while to wait longer, he thought, when the ducks -suddenly splashed into flight, and went off quacking over the tree-tops.</p> - -<p>Tom’s heart bounded. He caught a glimpse of a canoe coming slowly down -the Wawista. The next moment it was in full view.</p> - -<p>A single man was in it, handling the paddle with the skill of a -practised <i>voyageur</i>; and even at fifty yards Tom recognized the glint -of the fox-colored hair under the cap. The paddler paused at the forks -of the river, held the canoe balanced while he looked this way and that, -and then, as if by some intuition, turned up the Fish River as Tom had -done.</p> - -<p>The canoe, hugging the shore, came within twenty feet of the willow -clump, when Tom stood up suddenly, with the repeater at his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Halt!” he hailed.</p> - -<p>McLeod cast a sudden glance at him and then dropped his paddle and -reached back like lightning for the gun that stood behind him.</p> - -<p>“None of that! Hands up, now—quick! I’ll shoot!” Tom yelled at him; and -the woodsman slowly put up his hands, with a grin like a trapped weasel. -The canoe drifted backward.</p> - -<p>“Paddle in this way—slow,” Tom ordered. “Don’t make a move toward that -gun.”</p> - -<p>McLeod looked into the rifle muzzle and seemed to hesitate. Then he -suddenly took the paddle and forced the canoe up close to the shore, -where it hung almost motionless in the slack water.</p> - -<p>“Now what are you up to?” Tom demanded. “You tried to burn me out. Now -you’ve been trailing me since yesterday; I know it. What are you and -Harrison planning to do?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I told you I was goin’ to run you off’n that there homestead,” -McLeod growled. “You ain’t got no more right there than that Injun boy -of yourn. I was there first. If there’s anything in it, I’m the one that -gits it.”</p> - -<p>“I know what’s in it,” Tom returned, “and so do you. But you haven’t got -the ghost of a show, McLeod. I know where Dave Jackson is now. It isn’t -over twenty miles from here, and I’ll be back on Coboconk with him in -three days. He’s still got the rights to the place, I guess. You’d -better drop this and go back home, before you do something that gets you -into trouble.”</p> - -<p>“These here woods is free, I guess,” said the man. “And you’ll never -find Dave Jackson where you’re going.”</p> - -<p>But he looked considerably dashed by Tom’s announcement.</p> - -<p>“We’ll see about that,” retorted Tom. “And I can’t have you following -me. I’m going to stop you. I ought to take your canoe, as Harrison did -to me; but you might starve. I don’t want to shoot you.”</p> - -<p>He reflected. It is a terrible thing to deprive a man of his canoe in -that wilderness, where he may very likely perish before reaching any -point where he can obtain supplies. And it is not easy for even a good -hunter to live on the country.</p> - -<p>“Throw me your paddle,” Tom ordered at last. “It’ll take you some time -to make another, I guess, and you’ll never catch up with me when I have -that start.”</p> - -<p>Under the threat of the rifle McLeod tossed the paddle ashore. With a -long pole Tom gave the canoe a strong shove out into the current. It -went drifting out into the Wawista, turning helplessly end for end, down -the current till it was a hundred yards away. Then McLeod snatched up -his gun and fired both barrels.</p> - -<p>Tom heard the buck-shot rattle on the leaves around him, and impulsively -he fired back, almost without aim. It was a perfectly bloodless duel, -and in another minute the canoe went out of sight behind the trees of a -bend in the stream.</p> - -<p>With a sense of triumph and of infinite relief, Tom launched his canoe -again, and proceeded up the river. He no longer felt uneasy; that -strange instinct of danger was quiet now. He knew that McLeod could -never catch up with him. The rest of the journey should be easy and -safe, and he was impatient to reach the end of it.</p> - -<p>Travel up the Fish River was not so easy, however. It was a smaller, -swifter stream than the Wawista, and more broken by rapids. For an hour -at a time he had to discard the paddle for a pole in going up swift -water, and portages were so frequent that he thought he walked almost as -much as he floated. He did not expect to reach Roswick that day, but he -began to look out for signs of mining-camp work or prospecting. It was a -district of rock and stunted woods, a mineral country by its look, but -he detected no trace of man, and all that day he pushed on, “bucking the -river,” paddling, poling, and carrying. It was almost sunset when the -appearance of a formidable rapid just ahead brought him to a stop.</p> - -<p>He had gone far enough for that day. He landed, looking about for a good -camp ground; then he determined to carry the canoe and outfit up to the -head of the rapid and camp there, so as to be ready for the start next -morning. After a short rest he made the portage, unpacked his supplies, -and lighted a fire; and the idea came to him of trying to pick up some -small game for supper. He was growing very tired of fried salt pork.</p> - -<p>Leaving the kettle on the fire, he turned into the woods from the river. -Usually it was easy to find rabbits or partridges almost anywhere, but -he wandered about for a full half-hour, and then, seeing a rabbit -sitting up in the twilight, he missed it cleanly.</p> - -<p>Disgusted at his clumsiness, he turned down parallel with the river, but -the bad luck lasted. He found no game, and dusk was deepening. Veering -out to strike the shore, he found himself a long way below the big -rapid, and he began to walk rapidly up the stream.</p> - -<p>He heard the rapid roaring ahead, and he had almost come to it when he -stopped with a shock. There was a canoe lying at the shore, a battered -Peterboro that he recognized well.</p> - -<p>He sprang back into the shadow of the trees, but another glance showed -him that nobody was by the boat. Rage boiled up in him at this -persistent trailing. There was a paddle in the canoe; he should have -remembered that McLeod was sure to have a spare paddle lashed in the -canoe. But this time he would cripple him effectually. With a strong -shove he sent the canoe whirling down the stream. It would take a day to -overtake it on foot, unless it were smashed against a rock, and Tom -stood with cocked rifle, grimly waiting for its owner to appear.</p> - -<p>Looking up and down the shore he could see nothing of McLeod. He grew -uneasy. He was about to scout up toward his camp when a canoe—his own -canoe—appeared shooting down the rapid.</p> - -<p>McLeod was in her, steering with magnificent skill through the -dangerous, broken water; and he did not risk a single glance aside, even -when Tom whipped up his rifle and fired desperately. The boy fired to -hit; it was a matter of life and death; but it was like shooting at a -flying duck. The canoe was past in a twinkling, was down in the tail of -the rapid, was almost out of sight, while Tom pumped the lever of the -repeater till his magazine was empty. Then McLeod swung his paddle high -with a far-away, triumphant whoop.</p> - -<p>Tom began to run wildly after him, checked himself, and hurried up to -his camp. But he knew too well what he would find.</p> - -<p>The fire had burned almost out. The kettle was gone. So were his -blankets, his little ax, everything. Nothing was left except what he -carried on him. He was afoot in the wilderness in earnest.</p> - -<p>As he took in this catastrophe, Tom’s heart seemed to sink into his -boots. The river roared savagely over the rapid. He looked round at the -darkening wilderness, and it seemed suddenly to have turned sinister, -murderous. Without canoe or food, he knew that his life hung by a hair. -Plenty of men have died in such a predicament, in that tangled country, -where streams are the only highways.</p> - -<p>McLeod had intended that this should be his fate. Tom sat down weakly on -a log, beside the dying fire. He was likely to leave his bones there, he -thought. McLeod was racing back to Coboconk to rejoin Harrison. Between -them, they would get out the timber without danger of interruption. -Charlie was there, to be sure; but Charlie’s only idea of resistance -was, by weapons, which would probably only make matters worse.</p> - -<p>But by degrees Tom recovered from the shock.</p> - -<p>“I won’t be beaten!” he vowed to himself. “It can’t be more than thirty -miles to Roswick now. I can do that on foot, following up the river. -I’ve got a rifle and a beltful of cartridges, and it’ll be queer if I -can’t pick up enough to keep from starving.”</p> - -<p>For a moment he thought of trying to trail McLeod in his turn, to -recover one of the two canoes, but he decided that this would be -hopeless. McLeod might be miles away already, and he would surely push -on with the greatest possible speed.</p> - -<p>As he sat there in silence, collecting his nerve, a shadow came out of -the thickets by the shore and hopped dimly about in the twilight. It was -a rabbit. The light was all but gone; Tom could not see his gun-sights, -but he fired. It was almost sheer good luck, but when he went to look he -found the rabbit shot through the body, considerably mangled by the -bullet but eatable. It had come at the very moment to encourage his -resolution, and it would make rations for one day, at any rate.</p> - -<p>He built up the fire, dressed the game, and set it to roast on pointed -sticks. But he had no salt, and he remembered that unsalted rabbit is -perhaps the most flavorless food on earth. It reminded him of those -first dreary days after his coming to Coboconk Lake. But the meat had -nutriment in it at any rate, and he ate of it sparingly, reserving the -greater portion for the next day.</p> - -<p>Pulling a heap of dead leaves between two logs, he tried to rest, to -sleep; but he was far too uneasy. Without a blanket, the night seemed -cold, despite the fire. His little ax was gone, and he had no means of -cutting logs large enough to make an efficient heat. He tried to huddle -under the leaves, dozed intermittently with horrible dreams of danger, -and at last got up in the gray dawn, feeling aching and empty.</p> - -<p>The fire had burned entirely out while he slept. There was not even a -spark left in the ashes, and to his horror he found that he had no -matches. He had used the last in his pockets, and the water-tight box in -reserve was gone with the stolen supplies.</p> - -<p>This blow almost took away his remaining courage. Fortunately he had -roasted the whole hare last night, and most of it was still left. It -would last one day.</p> - -<p>“After that, I’ll have to eat raw meat, like a wolf,” he thought.</p> - -<p>But it was as easy to go on toward Roswick as in any other direction, -and he was still determined not to let Harrison win. It occurred to him -that the prospecting season was well advanced; he was in the mining -country, and he might fall in with a party of mineral hunters at any -time. If not—well, he was tough and muscular, and he could surely endure -hardships for a day or two.</p> - -<p>So he put the rest of the cooked meat carefully in his pockets, his -rifle under his arm, and started briskly up the river. There was no -trail, and it was rough going. The margin of the stream was grown -thickly with willow and spruce and cedar, frequently marshy, sometimes -rocky, always hard to get through. From time to time he had to wade a -tributary creek. Worse still, the river went in huge curves, so that he -felt sure he was traveling two miles for every mile he made westward.</p> - -<p>But he was afraid to leave the guidance of the river, and he struggled -along. He grew very hungry; hare meat was not filling, but he controlled -his desire to eat until noon. Then, after swallowing far less than he -wanted, he clambered into a tall tree on the crest of a hill and looked -anxiously off into the west.</p> - -<p>He could see a long way. It was an infinity of sweeping hill and hollow, -all blue-green with the spruces in the sunshine, smoky, unlimited, with -here and there a gray gleam of rock. Far away to the right he detected -the glitter of a long strip of water—no doubt his river, sweeping in one -of its long curves.</p> - -<p>He stayed there for some time surveying the desolate landscape. There -was nowhere any sign of fire or indication of human life. It occurred to -him that he would do well to make straight across country to the water, -instead of wasting muscle by following the river around its many bends. -He fixed the direction well in his mind, slid down to the ground, and -struck out across the woods.</p> - -<p>For a time he found the traveling easier. The forest was light and -scattered, and the ground firm. Twice he was encouraged by coming upon -what seemed to be an old trail, and once he found prospect holes dug the -season before.</p> - -<p>Feeling sure that he was nearing the end of his journey, he hurried on -gaily till he arrived at the edge of the water he had seen from afar -off. But it was not the river. It was a little, long lake, with a creek -flowing out lazily from near the point where he had struck it.</p> - -<p>Now he bitterly repented his folly in leaving the river, his only guide. -He had no idea which way it had curved since he left it. It might be -close ahead; it might be a dozen miles away to the left. But the only -chance of safety was to try to find it again, and he steered off -diagonally into the woods to the southwest. The woods became difficult -to get through. He struggled for more than two miles through dense -tamarac swamps, and at last did come upon a medium-sized river.</p> - -<p>Was it the Fish River? He could not tell. He thought it must be; yet it -seemed too small, and moreover did not appear to be flowing in the right -direction. The sun was sinking low, and all at once it, too, seemed to -be in the wrong quarter of the sky. The woods turned dizzily around him; -all directions seemed to be reversed.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chVI' title='VI: Defeat'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER VI</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.0em'>DEFEAT</span> -</h2> - -<p>He had just sense enough to control his panic. Tom had never before been -thoroughly “turned around,” but he remembered the hunter’s maxim for -those in such a predicament: sit down, shut your eyes for half an hour, -and let things right themselves.</p> - -<p>He sat down and shut his eyes, but things did not right themselves. The -sun dipped below the trees. He was afraid to start in any direction, and -he thought he might as well spend the night where he was. Indeed, he -felt too weak and empty to go farther without eating.</p> - -<p>He gnawed the bones of his rabbit without satisfying his appetite. The -idea of eating raw meat did not seem so repulsive to him now, and he -stole hungrily into the darkening woods. A pair of feeding grouse -whirred up and alighted together in a tree. It was an easy shot, but his -hands trembled. He missed, and almost wept with disappointment. Ten -minutes later, however, he had better luck, and he bagged a hare, -tearing the body badly with the bullet.</p> - -<p>He skinned and dressed it hastily, and chewed strips of the raw flesh. -It tasted almost delicious, but half an hour afterward he grew deathly -sick and vomited. The fit passed, leaving him weak and worn out, and too -miserable to care whether he was lost or not.</p> - -<p>He had not energy enough to look for a better place for the night, nor -to pull twigs for a bed. He lay down and drew himself together as well -as he could under his heavy jacket, slept a little, awoke shivering a -dozen times, and at last wearily saw the dawn breaking. There was white -frost on the earth.</p> - -<p>The night, however, had restored his normal sense of direction. It -seemed right that the sun should rise where it did, and the light and -warmth brought a little comfort. He ventured to chew a little more of -the raw meat and this time felt no evil effects. Thinking over the -situation, he came to the conclusion that this could not be the Fish -River. He would not follow it but would strike due west in the hope of -running into some settlement or camp.</p> - -<p>So he started again across the woods. The ground grew more broken and -rocky. Creeks flowed down rocky gullies; almost impassable swamps -alternated with boulder-strewn hillsides. Once he came upon the -“discovery-post” of an ancient mining claim. What mineral had been -sought he did not know, but a great pit had been dug, the grave of -somebody’s hopes, long since deserted, and showing no trace of recent -life.</p> - -<p>Half a dozen times during that forenoon he dropped to rest, quite worn -out. Noon did not mean dinner-time. His sickness had not recurred, but -he was afraid to eat much of his uncooked hare, and only chewed morsels -as he stumbled along. So far as shooting any more game was concerned, -luck seemed still against him, and he did not greatly care.</p> - -<p>The sun wheeled from his shoulder to straight ahead, and began to sink. -He almost lost expectation of getting anywhere at all. Roswick and the -mining-camp seemed a myth. There seemed to be nothing in the whole world -but the endless miles of spruce and jack-pine, swamp and rock, which he -kept doggedly struggling through.</p> - -<p>He was too wearied even to keep up his anger against McLeod, or to think -with any interest of the timber treasure. It was all a dulled memory. It -was only the force of a past determination that kept driving him ahead.</p> - -<p>The sun went down almost without his noticing it, until the woods began -to grow dark. He threw himself recklessly on the ground where he -happened to be. Probably he could survive that night, but he felt sure -that another one would be his last. But he was so bone-weary that he -slept with merciful soundness, hardly even disturbed by the cold, till -he awoke to find the earth once more powdered with the frost.</p> - -<p>He arose stiffly, feeling rheumatic twinges, and plodded forward once -more. The weight of the light rifle was growing intolerable. He was -mortally afraid lest he should begin to walk in the deadly circle of -lost men, and he kept one eye on the sun. His mind was so confused that -its changing position disconcerted him sadly.</p> - -<p>Then all at once a sound electrified him—a crashing through the -undergrowth not many rods ahead. It sounded as if several men were going -through at a run. Tom made a staggering rush forward, shouting loudly. -In five minutes he heard running water, and then broke out upon the -shore of a small river. On the shore opposite him he saw the marks of -many heavy boots, but no one was in sight.</p> - -<p>Again and again he shouted, but no one answered. He could only guess -that a party of hunters had gone past after a deer or a bear. Shaking -with exhaustion and excitement, he sat down on a rock to listen and -wait.</p> - -<p>After he had waited half an hour a boat shot up the stream, poled -rapidly by four roughly dressed white men. They ran the boat ashore -close to him, pitched out a collection of picks, shovels, and dunnage, -and were about to rush away when Tom arose and shouted to them.</p> - -<p>They turned and stared, spoke together hastily, and seemed about to go -on. But Tom’s forlorn appearance must have struck them, for one of the -men came forward hurriedly.</p> - -<p>“We’re in a hurry. Are you in on the rush? Why, what’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>“The rush?” said Tom dizzily. “I—I don’t know. I’ve been on the -trail—lost. Can you give me something to eat?”</p> - -<p>The man stared, darted back to his outfit, and returned in a moment with -a large lump of bread and a slice of meat.</p> - -<p>“Here,” he said. “Eat this. We can’t stop. There’s a big gold discovery -in the next township, and everybody’s on the dead run for it. Stop here, -and you’ll see lots of fellows pass. You’re all right now. Want anything -else? Well, so long!”</p> - -<p>And the prospecting party rushed into the woods, leaving Tom ravenously -devouring the food. It gave him new life. When he had eaten it he lay -back and rested luxuriously, feeling sleepy. He was near the -mining-camps at last, and hope flowed back into him.</p> - -<p>Within ten minutes another <i>bateau</i> came up and landed a little below -him, and its crew vanished in the woods without noticing him. Close -behind that boat came another, its occupants singing and shouting in -French, as if on a lark.</p> - -<p>Tom got up and went down the shore, where the boats seemed to land. But -it was nearly an hour before he saw another party. Then two men came by -in a canoe, paddling fast, scarcely giving a glance to the boy on the -shore. They were almost past when Tom saw clearly the face of the man in -the stern, and he gasped as if he had been hit by a bullet.</p> - -<p>“Dave!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>He was not heard. He shouted again, and fired his rifle in the air.</p> - -<p>“Dave Jackson! Cousin Dave!” he yelled.</p> - -<p>The men glanced curiously back, but the canoe did not stop, and it -disappeared around a bend in the stream. But Tom, electrified with -surprise and anxiety, rushed after it. Rounding the bend, he saw it far -up the river, driving hard ahead with all the force of two strong -paddlers, who were evidently determined not to stop for anything.</p> - -<p>The ground along the shore was rough and tangled, and he could not pause -to pick his way. He tripped and fell, blundering into thickets and -morasses, struggling on, almost weeping at the thought of failure at the -last inch.</p> - -<p>He would certainly have failed; he could have never have overtaken the -paddlers, but the canoe ran suddenly inshore. The men hastily unloaded -her, shouldered the packs and the canoe itself, and started into the -woods. Evidently they planned to portage to some other waterway.</p> - -<p>Tom reached the spot of debarkation a few minutes after they had left -it. He struck off on their well-marked trail, and, as they were bent -double under their loads, he had no difficulty now in overtaking them. -Dave Jackson was carrying the canoe, and he stared from under the -inverted gunwale in utter astonishment when Tom breathlessly hailed him.</p> - -<p>“Tom!” he exclaimed. “It isn’t possible. What in the world are you doing -up here? Surely that wasn’t you who yelled at us from the shore?”</p> - -<p>“Thank goodness, I’ve come up with you, Dave!” Tom gasped, almost -dropping where he stood. “Hold on! Put down that canoe. I’ve been on the -trail for days—got robbed—almost starved—trying to find you.”</p> - -<p>Then he did drop, dizzily collapsing on a log. Dave set down the canoe, -but his partner, a big, bearded prospector, growled impatiently.</p> - -<p>“Got no time to stop, Jackson. All them fellows’ll get in ahead of us. -If that young chap wants to talk to you, let him come along too.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t go another inch,” Tom protested. “And you’ve got to come back -with me, Dave. It’s awfully important. I’ve come from Coboconk Lake—your -old homestead.”</p> - -<p>Dave uttered an exclamation of surprise.</p> - -<p>“My old hay farm? You don’t say! Then you’ve been at father’s farm. Bet -they were glad to see you. Did they tell you I was up this way?”</p> - -<p>Tom stared bewildered.</p> - -<p>“No, there wasn’t anybody there. The place was burned out. I thought -you’d all abandoned it. But never mind that. Dave, I’ve found the lost -walnut raft.”</p> - -<p>“You’re joking!” his cousin ejaculated.</p> - -<p>“Not a bit of it. I saw the timber. It’s ashore now—part of it anyway. -It’s on your land, and you’ve got to come back to claim it.”</p> - -<p>And Tom briefly summarized the story of his adventures.</p> - -<p>“Gracious, what luck!” Dave exclaimed. “I’d looked, off and on, all -around that lake for signs of the old raft, but I never thought of -poking into that swamp at the narrows. But you’re all wrong, Tom. That -isn’t my land. I didn’t even have the land where I put up the old barn. -It was just a hay-making place. I homesteaded a hundred acres back where -you saw the burned shack, but when the shack burned I let it go.”</p> - -<p>“But wasn’t that Uncle Phil’s place?” stammered Tom.</p> - -<p>“I should say not!” Dave laughed. “Was that what you thought? You must -have thought we were a pretty shiftless lot. I guess your guides didn’t -know where we really lived. Our ranch is west of the river. You leave it -before you come to the lake. There’s a trail cut, that you ought to have -seen. We’ve got a good farm there, sixty acres planted, house, barns, -live stock, and all the rest. It’s about twelve miles from my old -shack.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean to say Uncle Phil was living only twelve miles from me -all the time?” cried Tom. “Why, at Oakley they said they hadn’t seen any -of you all winter.”</p> - -<p>“Likely not. I’ve been up here in the camps, and we don’t get our mail -and things at Oakley any more. There’s a new post-office and store eight -miles nearer, started last summer.”</p> - -<p>“But what about the walnut? Haven’t we any rights in it at all?” asked -Tom, in despair.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid not,” said his cousin, after some thought. “But then, -neither has your man down there who’s trying to get it. He evidently -thinks I own that land. McLeod squatted there for a while before my -time. But he never homesteaded any of it. He wasn’t a farmer. No, the -only person who can claim that raft, it seems to me, is the Daniel -Wilson Lumber Company, that cut it—or its heirs or assigns, if it has -any. If it hasn’t, I expect the government’ll claim it.”</p> - -<p>Tom groaned. He had never anticipated such a flatly crushing conclusion -to the expedition that had almost cost him his life.</p> - -<p>“I’d go to the land agent in Oakley and make a claim,” Dave went on. -“Maybe you can homestead that land where the raft lies. You’re not old -enough? Put it in my name. Go and see father and see what he says.”</p> - -<p>“But you’ll come back with me, Dave?” said Tom. “It’s a matter of maybe -fifty thousand dollars.”</p> - -<p>“If we get it. But I don’t honestly think there’s a chance. I’ve got a -better thing up here. With a little luck, I’ll make my everlasting -fortune. The samples of free-milling ore out of this new field are -something wonderful. It’s better shot than any timber—that doesn’t -belong to us anyway. Better come along with me, and we’ll make a big -strike together.”</p> - -<p>Tom shook his head. He did not have the gold-fever, and he could not -relinquish hopes of the walnut timber that he had suffered so much to -secure. There was a loud crashing of brush in the distance. Another -party of gold hunters was on the trail.</p> - -<p>“Say, Jackson, we’ve got to be moving!” cried the bearded man, fuming -with impatience.</p> - -<p>“All right—in a second. Look here, Tom, we can’t stop. Your best plan is -to go back there and try to stand Harrison and McLeod off till you find -out definitely what’s right. They can’t claim the raft any more than you -can—unless,” he added, “they’ve gone and homesteaded the land where the -timber lies. That would give them possession, anyway, and that’s nine -points of the law. But they’d likely have done that the first thing if -they had thought it was open for filing. You go and see father. And look -here, I’ll come down myself as soon as I get our claims staked—in a -week, maybe.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Tom, gloomily. “But where am I now? How do I get out -of here?”</p> - -<p>“You’re about six miles from the Roswick camp. You made a pretty good -shot at it, after all. Follow this river straight down to Roswick; then -you have to take the stage out to the railway, and that’ll take you -round to Waverley, and you come in to Oakley the same way as you did the -first time. Got any money?”</p> - -<p>“Not a cent.”</p> - -<p>Dave plunged his hand into his pockets. “How much do you want? the -railway fare’ll be about six dollars. Here’s fifteen. Will that do?”</p> - -<p>“Plenty,” said Tom gratefully. “I sha’n’t forget this, Dave, and I’ll -repay you when—”</p> - -<p>“You’ll never need to. I’m going to be a rich man by fall. Now we really -must rush on, or my partner’ll have a fit. Tell father and mother I’m -all right. Sure you won’t come with us yet? You’d better.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Tom. “I’m going to see my own game played out.”</p> - -<p>“Good luck with it, then. Good-by!”</p> - -<p>Dave and his partner picked up their loads and vanished crashing through -the underbrush. Tom turned back toward the river, rather despondently. -Physically he felt better; the rest and the food and the talk with Dave -had done him good, but he was deeply depressed by his cousin’s -pessimistic outlook. Still, he was determined not to let go while there -was the slightest chance left. Harrison had no more right to the raft -than he himself, at any rate, it appeared. He would see that Harrison -did not get it, then, until the real ownership of the walnut could be -ascertained.</p> - -<p>He made his way down the river shore, meeting three or four parties of -prospectors, in <i>bateaux</i> and canoes, and one on foot. It took him a -good three hours to reach the mining-camp, where he found merely a -collection of sheds and shanties, a store and a towering derrick or two. -The place was almost depopulated, for all its inhabitants were on the -gold-rush.</p> - -<p>He was able to get dinner at the mine boarding-house, and then hung -about until the stage left late in the afternoon. An hour’s ride placed -him at the railway station, and he boarded a mixed train, which carried -him about fifty miles. He changed to a connecting line, waited half the -night, and once more took the long stage drive to Oakley.</p> - -<p>It was late in the afternoon, but he was desperately anxious to find -what was going on at Coboconk Lake. By this time Tom was somewhat known -at Oakley, and he was able to borrow a canoe, by paying four dollars for -the accommodation; and, after snatching a hurried meal, he started up -the river.</p> - -<p>Daylight lasted late at that season, and Tom pushed ahead as fast as -possible. The recent plentiful food and rest had restored his youthful -physique to its full strength, and he was expert at the paddle now. -Night found him on the river, however, but an almost full moon rose -immediately after sunset, making it possible to go on. He was on the -lookout for the trail of which Dave had spoken as leading to his uncle’s -homestead, but in the dim light on the shore he could not pick it out. -The house was several miles back, anyhow, and he had no idea of trying -to reach it that night. He wanted to visit the timber treasure first.</p> - -<p>Little Coboconk spread dark and silvery under the moon as he came into -it from the river. He paddled ahead, straight up to the narrows, and -then paused, checking the paddle. There was a fire on the shore, -apparently a large fire that had burned low, and close to it in the -shadow two or three large white blurs that looked strangely like tents.</p> - -<p>He went on cautiously, in desperate anxiety. They were tents, sure -enough, two very large ones, and a smaller one. But no one was in sight -about the encampment. It was little after midnight, and doubtless -everybody was asleep.</p> - -<p>Tom could hardly doubt who had set up this camp. All his hopes sank to -nothing; nevertheless, determined to find out the truth, he paddled up -to the shore, landed, and stood looking about for a moment. He saw that -several of the half-buried logs had been dug out and rolled together, -but before he could investigate any further a tent flap was pulled open, -there was a sudden exclamation, and a man bounded out, half dressed, -presenting a revolver.</p> - -<p>“We’ve got you this time! Throw up your hands!” he cried, triumphantly.</p> - -<p>Tom instantly put his hands up. The man approached. The boy had never -seen him before. He looked like a woodsman or lumber-jack. He peered -into Tom’s face, and uttered an exclamation of surprise.</p> - -<p>“I thought it was that murdering young Injun. Who are you? What do you -want here?”</p> - -<p>“Who are you yourself?” returned Tom angrily. “This is my place. I was -here before you. What are you camping here for?”</p> - -<p>And he took down his hands. Two other men came out of the big tent—rough -lumbermen both of them.</p> - -<p>“Better wake up the boss and tell him we’ve caught some spy prowlin’ -round here, that says he owns the camp,” said Tom’s captor.</p> - -<p>One of the men went over to the smaller tent. There was a sound of -voices; a few minutes elapsed. Then a man came hastily out, carrying a -flashlight, and Tom recognized Harrison, as he had expected.</p> - -<p>But Harrison was far from expecting the meeting. He turned the light on -Tom as he came up, and started. For several seconds there was silence, -while the flashlight wavered.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t expect to see you back here, Jackson,” said Harrison at last, -in his usual easy tone. “I thought you’d gone for good. I only wished -you’d taken that young Ojibway with you. He’s been—”</p> - -<p>“I guess you didn’t expect to see me,” retorted Tom hotly. “You thought -I was dead up in the woods, didn’t you? McLeod did his best. You tried -to burn me out, and you tried to murder me, and now you come in and -steal—”</p> - -<p>“Hold on! That’s a pretty rough way to talk,” Harrison interrupted him. -“You must be crazy. Here, if you’ve got anything to say to me, come -along to my tent.”</p> - -<p>Tom, boiling with indignation, was conducted to Harrison’s -sleeping-tent, where the man turned on an electric lantern, and sat down -on the cot-bed from which he had lately arisen.</p> - -<p>“You’ve got no kick coming at all,” Harrison resumed. “I made you a -proposition to get out, right at the start, even though you had no -particular rights here. I discovered this walnut before you thought of -looking for it—”</p> - -<p>“And then you tried to burn me out, and you sent McLeod to kill me in -the woods.”</p> - -<p>“As for the fire, it was an accident. McLeod? Well, McLeod tells me that -you ambushed him and held him up and threatened to kill him. By way of a -joke, after that, he ran off with your canoe and hid it a couple of -miles down the river. Didn’t you find it again?”</p> - -<p>Tom listened in absolute disbelief.</p> - -<p>“Anyhow, you’ve got no sort of right to take out this timber,” he said. -“It belongs—if it belongs to anybody—to the man who cut it.”</p> - -<p>“And he’s dead. Exactly,” said Harrison. “You see, I took the precaution -of going into all that matter long ago. Daniel Wilson died ten years -ago, but his son is living in Montreal. This son is Wilson’s only heir. -I went to see him, and came to an arrangement. I’ll show you.”</p> - -<p>Harrison opened a small box, and after rummaging through it, he produced -a large folded document, glanced at it, and handed it to Tom.</p> - -<p>It was worded in legal phraseology, hard to comprehend; but the boy made -out that Henry Wilson, whose name was undersigned, transferred to A. C. -Harrison all his rights in a certain quantity of walnut timber supposed -to be in or about Coboconk Lake, formerly the property of the father of -the said Henry Wilson.</p> - -<p>“I get it out on a basis of paying him a royalty of ten dollars a -thousand feet, as you see,” said Harrison. “I paid him a hundred dollars -down. It was a gamble, for I wasn’t sure; but I’d been up here before, -and I had an idea of where that old raft might have drifted. But you see -it’s all straight and aboveboard—”</p> - -<p>Tom was hardly listening. The paper appeared to be correctly drawn up, -properly signed, and witnessed. He could not doubt its validity. There -was nothing to do, then. Harrison had out-manœvered him at every point. -The game was up.</p> - -<p>He turned almost sick with chagrin and defeat. He threw down the paper -and stood up, turning away without a word.</p> - -<p>“Hold on. Where are you going?” cried Harrison.</p> - -<p>“None of your business! I’m not likely to trouble you any more; that’s -all,” Tom returned through clenched teeth.</p> - -<div id='i152' style='margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:10.0%; width:80%;'> - <img src='images/i152.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> -<p class='caption'>The game was up</p> -</div> - -<p>“Well, all right. Only I wish you’d call off that confounded Ojibway boy -you left here,” said Harrison, agreeably. “He seems to think we’re -trespassers. He’s shot up the camp twice. One of my men got a buck-shot -in the leg. It isn’t safe to go into the woods. Tell him that if he -doesn’t clear out we’ll hunt him down, and kill him or take him out for -the penitentiary.”</p> - -<p>Tom had a moment’s pleasure at the thought of Charlie’s “shooting up” -Harrison’s camp; but he did not return a word. He strode down to his -canoe, and went shooting out into the moonlight of the lake. On the -shore he could see the little group of men looking after him.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chVII' title='VII: Not Too Late'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER VII</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.0em'>NOT TOO LATE</span> -</h2> - -<p>Tom felt singularly inclined to shoot up the camp himself, but he -restrained himself and paddled down the lake, almost without knowing -where he was going. He had, in fact, no plan in his mind. All his plans -had fallen into ruin together. He thought of getting away from these -woods; he thought of going back to the city. It seemed the only thing -left to do. But first it occurred to him, he must see Charlie.</p> - -<p>Not merely to give him Harrison’s warning, though the boy would -certainly have to be checked in his now unnecessary warfare. But he had -no food nor supplies, not even enough for the trip back to Oakley, -nothing but his rifle and a few cartridges. Moreover he had, after some -hesitation, left all his money with Charlie rather than risk taking it -over the trail. There must be about seventy dollars, and he would need -it badly.</p> - -<p>He had very little idea where the Indian boy was to be found, but he -paddled down the lower lake to the mouth of the little river that led up -to his old camping ground. In the moonlight and shadow he made his way -up this almost to the point where he had shot the mink on that far-away -spring morning. Here he disembarked and started into the woods by the -way he used to take.</p> - -<p>It was rather dark in the shade, but the way was familiar to him, and he -went ahead easily. But he had gone no more than two hundred yards when -he heard something like a queer, metallic click not far ahead. An -instinct made him stop short; and the next moment there was a blaze and -a bang, and a load of heavy shot crashed into the tree trunk right at -his side.</p> - -<p>By good luck, he was not touched. He sprang behind the tree, guessing at -once who had fired that shot.</p> - -<p>“Don’t shoot, Charlie!” he yelled. “It’s me. It’s Tom.”</p> - -<p>Dead silence followed. Nothing seemed to stir in the undergrowth. Tom -began to imagine that perhaps it was not Charlie who had fired. It might -have been McLeod, come up from the lake to ambush him again. He listened -and looked more keenly, but heard nothing, till a voice spoke quietly, -almost at his elbow.</p> - -<p>“You get back, Tom? You fin’ your cousin?”</p> - -<p>Tom was so startled that he jumped. The Ojibway had crawled like a -serpent through the brush to get a close look at the intruder before he -spoke.</p> - -<p>“Gracious, Charlie!” he exclaimed. “Is that you?”</p> - -<p>The young Indian came out into the moonlight and surveyed Tom carefully.</p> - -<p>“You come—camp this way,” he announced, and, turning, he started off -through the woods.</p> - -<p>Within a hundred yards or so Tom perceived the glimmer of a very small -fire, almost hidden between two rocks. Charlie put on a few fresh -sticks, and placed the kettle, and produced a lump of bacon.</p> - -<p>“You eat,” he observed. “I wait for you long time. Other man come—git -timber, like you say. I lay for ’em—shoot their camp—no good. I hope you -come back. I hear noise down by lake to-night—then I hear you come. -T’ink you somebody else—shoot you, pretty near.”</p> - -<p>“Rather,” said Tom. “I’m glad you’re such a bad shot. You’ve done your -best, Charlie, but it’s all up. I can’t have that timber. I’m going -away.”</p> - -<p>Charlie looked up quickly, with a somber flash in his black eyes.</p> - -<p>“You come back, Tom?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. Maybe not.”</p> - -<p>Charlie pondered, gazing into the fire. The tea-kettle boiled. Charlie -poured out the hot strong stuff into tin cups and handed one to his -friend.</p> - -<p>“You stay here, Tom,” he proposed. “We git that timber. We lay for them -fellows. We can kill them all—easy.”</p> - -<p>“No, Charlie. That wouldn’t do,” said Tom, smiling at this too simple -solution. “Those fellows have got a right to the timber, and I haven’t, -and that settles it. You must stop your shooting at them. You’d better -go away too.”</p> - -<p>Charlie looked depressed. Probably he had been thoroughly enjoying the -guerrilla warfare of the last few days. From his sparing remarks Tom -gathered that he had been continually changing his camp, prowling, -scouting, feeling himself thoroughly on the warpath. He had fired on -Harrison’s party several times; Tom felt devoutly thankful that nobody -had been killed. Charlie had most of his smaller possessions cunningly -cached in hollow logs and trees, and, on Tom’s inquiry, he went off into -the darkness and presently returned with the money—a roll of bills -carefully wound in birch bark. Tom would have liked to share it with -this faithful comrade, but he would sorely need it all himself. He -presented to Charlie, however, all the rest of his outfit: the aluminum -cooking utensils, the ax, the odds and ends that had been rescued from -the burning barn, and a few worn articles of clothing.</p> - -<p>“I stay round ’bout here, Tom,” said Charlie. “You come back.”</p> - -<p>“You’d better go and get some work,” Tom suggested. “Go down to Oakley.”</p> - -<p>Charles looked disdainful.</p> - -<p>“Work hard all winter,” he said. “Trap—hunt—walk snow-shoes. Rest in -summer. Say, Tom, you come with me next winter. We trap—hunt—ketch heap -fur.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, Charlie,” Tom answered, regretfully. He wondered where he -would be next winter. He had little notion of what he ought to do. He -might go to Uncle Phil’s farm, as he had at first intended; but this -seemed now to promise nothing. Almost he regretted not having joined -Dave in the gold hunt. On the whole it seemed better to go back to -Toronto for the time. His clothes were torn; his shoes were almost worn -out. He had a little money, however—more than he had started with. He -could buy clothes, and then, perhaps, secure a job as before as a summer -fire ranger. This might enable him to pay his way at the university, for -he was determined to have no more of his former parasitic existence. He -felt five years older, ten times as self-reliant as when he had left -Toronto only a few months ago; and the thought of his college years of -casual study, much foot-ball and hockey, and thoughtless scattering of -money filled him with disgust.</p> - -<p>“I’ve acted like a kid,” he reflected. “Time I was getting grown up a -little. No wonder father wouldn’t have me around the business.”</p> - -<p>Anyhow, he had to return the canoe to Oakley, and at dawn he bade -Charlie farewell and started down the river again.</p> - -<p>“You come back, Tom,” the Ojibway called after him. “I wait for you.”</p> - -<p>He went straight down Little Coboconk without looking again at the lost -treasure, and entered the river. A mile down he noticed the opening of a -well-cut trail,—doubtless the road to Uncle Phil’s place,—and he -wondered that he had never observed it before. He felt rather languid -from the recent wearing days, and from short sleep for two nights; the -river ran smoothly, and he drifted along without any great efforts at -paddling, so that it was well into the afternoon when he came into -Oakley.</p> - -<p>He was late for the stage to the railway, which left only in the -forenoon; and he had to spend the rest of the afternoon and the night at -the hotel. But the rest was welcome. He managed to improve his wild and -wilderness-worn appearance a little, and took the train next morning.</p> - -<p>The city seemed strangely noisy, crowded, hot, and dirty when he came -out from the station and boarded a street-car to go home. His own -tattered and weather-beaten appearance seemed even stranger to the -passengers on the car. He was carrying his rifle still, and he must have -looked like a trapper from the utmost frontiers. The attention he -attracted was so embarrassing that Tom was in haste to get home. He -walked hurriedly for a block up Avenue Road after leaving the car and -saw his house in the distance; but even then he perceived that the -curtains were down everywhere and that the place had a vacant, deserted -look.</p> - -<p>The front door was locked. He rang the electric bell repeatedly, but in -vain, and then tried the side door and the back door, with no more -success. Not even a servant was at home. He peeped into the garage -through a crack in the door. The car was gone. Evidently the whole -family had gone away, though it was the first time he could remember -that his father had taken a summer vacation.</p> - -<p>Tom was much too familiar with the house to allow locks to keep him out. -He knew a basement window that could be opened with a piece of wire, and -without much trouble he got himself inside. From the interior of the -house he judged that the family had been gone for several days, at -least. He went to his own room, hunted out an outfit of fresh clothing -more suited to the city, took a bath, and dressed himself. The feel of -the stiff collar was strange and irritating. Investigating the kitchen, -he could find nothing but some crackers, part of a pot of jam, and a tin -of sardines; but these simple foods seemed delicious, and he greedily -ate everything in sight.</p> - -<p>He looked through the house to see if he could find any indication of -where his family had gone. He could discover nothing, but the appearance -of the rooms and of the covered furniture seemed to indicate that a long -absence was intended. Tom began to grow a trifle uneasy. But they would -know all about it at his father’s office, and he left the house and took -a downtown car.</p> - -<p>To his alarm he found no signs of life about the big lumber-yard at the -foot of Bathurst Street. No teams were moving; no one was at work; the -great gates were closed and padlocked, with a “No Admission” sign. But -the office building was open, and Tom went in.</p> - -<p>None of the usual clerks were in the outer office. But he thought he -heard a sound from his father’s private room beyond, and he opened the -door, and looked in.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jackson was not there. But in his usual place at the desk sat a -stout man with iron-gray hair, surrounded by an enormous mass of papers -and ledgers. His back was to the door, but he wheeled sharply, with a -look of annoyance, at hearing the door open.</p> - -<p>Tom recognized Mr. Armstrong, his father’s lawyer. For many years Mr. -Armstrong had been not only Mr. Jackson’s legal adviser, but his closest -personal friend. He did not often come to the house, however, and Tom -really knew him very slightly. He had always been somewhat repelled by -the lawyer’s dry, ironical manner, and had always had a feeling that Mr. -Armstrong did not approve of him.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Tom Jackson. Really! The last person I expected to see,” said the -lawyer with a chilly smile. Adjusting his eye-glasses, he examined Tom -from head to foot. “You look as if you’d been roughing it. Your family -has been very anxious about you, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Where are they? I’ve just come down from the north woods, and the house -is empty,” Tom cried. “What’s happened? Surely father hasn’t left town?”</p> - -<p>“Your father has gone to Muskoka with his family, for a little rest—to -the Royal Victoria Hotel, Muskoka Beaches,” replied the lawyer. “They -were anxious to get in communication with you, but didn’t know how to -reach you. I have the key of the house.”</p> - -<p>And he produced it from a pigeonhole in the desk.</p> - -<p>“But why did they go? Father isn’t ill?”</p> - -<p>“Your father is an extremely sick man. To get him out of town, away from -business, was his only chance for life, the doctors thought.”</p> - -<p>“But what—what is the matter?” cried Tom, paralyzed by this news.</p> - -<p>“Why, nothing; that is, nothing very physically serious, I think. And -that’s the worse of it. The doctors don’t know what to get hold of. Has -your father told you anything about his business affairs?”</p> - -<p>“Not much—only that they were a little involved, some time ago. But I -thought he had them straightened out all right.”</p> - -<p>“So he might have done, with a little bit of luck. He had several large -contracts pending. He had bought options of some pulp-wood tracts; he -expected to close a deal with the railroad for a big lot of ties. -Nothing went right, though. He even failed to get the tie contract. -Everything seemed to go back on him at once. He couldn’t take up his -options, and he’s been obliged to close out nearly all his holdings at a -big loss. At last he broke down. He gave up, and when a man like your -father gives up, at his age, it means something serious.”</p> - -<p>Tom uttered a horrified exclamation. Armstrong looked at him coldly, but -it was easy to see that the lawyer, under his frigid exterior, was -deeply affected by the misfortunes of his old friend.</p> - -<p>“So you didn’t know anything about it?” he resumed. “Well, the doctors -forbade him to think of business for months, and they sent him up north. -He put all his affairs into my hands—gave me power to go through the -business, and act as I see fit—either to go into bankruptcy, or to try -to fight it out.”</p> - -<p>“Bankruptcy!” Tom exclaimed. The idea seemed preposterous to him, who -had always regarded his father’s business as a source of wealth, -varying, indeed, but inexhaustible. “Surely that’s impossible! What have -you found?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t finished going through the books. But it looks about as bad -as it can be. The lumber business has been slumping for the last year. -Three months ago I advised your father to make an assignment and have -the thing over. But he said that every dollar of his paper had always -been worth a hundred cents, and always would be while he lived. I think -he was speaking truth. For if the business goes under I don’t believe he -will survive it long. Business was his whole life.”</p> - -<p>Tom tried to collect his shocked mind.</p> - -<p>“How long will it take you to come to a conclusion?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. A considerable time. The accounts are very complicated.”</p> - -<p>“How much money would it take to clear everything?”</p> - -<p>“It’s hard to say, at this point. Perhaps thirty thousand. I think that -twenty thousand might pull it through, in hard cash, at this minute. Are -you thinking of furnishing it?” he added, with a return to his ironical -manner.</p> - -<p>Tom had really come nearer to being able to furnish it than the lawyer -imagined; and if Mr. Armstrong had shown himself a little more -sympathetic the boy might have told his story and sought advice. But, as -it was, he turned away in silence, full of grief and distress.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you’ll be going up to join your family in Muskoka,” the -lawyer said. “Don’t let your father talk about business when you see -him. Get him out in the open air, canoeing, fishing, if you can. Will -you dine with me to-night?”</p> - -<p>Tom would rather have gone hungry than spend the evening with what -seemed to him Armstrong’s sneering and cynical personality. He muttered -an excuse, took the key, and went home again. He dined by himself at a -lunch-counter, spent the night in the empty house, and next morning took -the early train for Muskoka Beaches. He felt that he could make no plans -for the summer now until he knew how his father was, and whether his -help could be of any avail.</p> - -<p>The season was opening well at the summer resort, and the lake in front -of the Royal Victoria Hotel was alive with canoes, motor-boats, and -skiffs. The lawns were gay with tennis; automobiles roared and thudded, -and the wide verandas of the big hotel were crowded with rocking-chairs. -It struck Tom that this was anything but a quiet retreat for a man with -nervous breakdown. He mounted the steps to the first veranda, looked -about uncertainly, and was lucky enough to espy his youngest sister in a -far corner, reclining in a camp-chair with a novel.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Edith!” he exclaimed, hastening toward her. “How’s father? Where is -he?”</p> - -<p>The girl jumped up with a cry of astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Why, Tom! When did you get here? We wanted to write to you, but we -didn’t know where you were. Where <i>have</i> you been? You look like an -Indian—all brown and thin.”</p> - -<p>“Up in the woods. I’ve just been in town—saw Armstrong, and he told me -about father. Do you think he’s dangerously sick?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, Tom. He’s up all the time, but he can’t sleep and doesn’t -eat. We can’t get him to do anything. I think he’s worrying about -business, but he never says anything, not even to mamma. You’d better -come and see him. He’s up-stairs.”</p> - -<p>Tom followed his sister through the hallways of the great hotel, up a -flight of stairs, and into the suite of rooms that his father had taken. -No one was in them just then; for Mrs. Jackson had gone down-stairs, and -her husband was on the private balcony outside, where he spent the sunny -part of the days.</p> - -<p>Here Tom found him, lying back in a long chair, wrapped closely in a -steamer rug, looking pitifully old and broken. Tom could not remember -having ever seen his father ill before; and a lump rose in his throat, -and he could barely mutter something as he grasped the sick man’s hand. -Mr. Jackson greeted him with some pleasure, but his manner was absent -and almost indifferent. Tom had a heartbreaking sense that he had meant -nothing to his father’s life; he had a conviction also that Armstrong -was right, and Mr. Jackson would not long outlast the business he had -created.</p> - -<p>“This is a good place to come to, Father,” he said, with an effort to be -cheerful. “It ought to set you up in no time.”</p> - -<p>“The place is well enough,” said the lumberman slowly. “It’s too -fashionable to suit me, but your mother likes it, and you can smell the -pine woods here. That smell does me good; but I’m getting to be an old -man, and there’s no medicine for that.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense! You’re just overworked. You’ll be a young man again after a -month’s rest,” Tom remonstrated. “I’m going to take you out in a canoe, -trolling for salmon trout.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Jackson did not appear to welcome this suggestion.</p> - -<p>“Where have you been all this time? What have you been doing with -yourself?” he inquired, with no great interest.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been up in the woods—on the Coboconk lakes—near Uncle Phil’s -place,” Tom answered with some hesitation. “Looking for—for government -land to take up. I saw Cousin Dave, just starting on a gold-rush.”</p> - -<p>And to entertain his father he gave a humorous description of the -hurrying prospectors.</p> - -<p>“You’ve been in town. Did you see Armstrong there? What did he tell -you?” Mr. Jackson inquired, after listening indifferently to Tom’s -story.</p> - -<p>“He told me—that you were on no account to talk about business,” Tom -evaded, laughing.</p> - -<p>“He’s an old fool. But it’ll not bear much talking about, maybe. He told -you the shape it’s in, I’ve no doubt. I left it all in his hands. I was -at the end of my rope. If the business goes down, Tom, you’ll have to -start life a poor man, the same as your father did; and I’m afraid you -haven’t got the training or the mind for it,” he added, ruthlessly. -“It’s partly my own fault.”</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t your fault a bit, Father!” Tom groaned. “It was all my own -foolishness. It’s going to be different after this. I’ve learned a lot -up there in the woods. I had a rough time and nearly starved. I thought -things all over.” He hesitated, and then went on. “I did think once, -too, that I was going to make a big strike.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Jackson was looking at his son with a little more interest.</p> - -<p>“Well, if you can get a bit more practical, Tom, it’ll be a good thing. -In fact, it looks as if you’d have to do it. What kind of a strike were -you trying to make? Gold? There’s no mineral around the Coboconk lakes. -I’ve lumbered all through that district, years ago.”</p> - -<p>“You have?” cried Tom. “I never knew that. Then very likely you’ve heard -of the big raft of walnut logs that was lost on Coboconk a good many -years ago?”</p> - -<p>“Everybody’s heard of it up there. What about it?”</p> - -<p>“Well—I found it.”</p> - -<p>The old lumberman opened his eyes, and sat up briskly.</p> - -<p>“You found it? Where? Why, it was sunk in the lake.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t get stirred up, Father. There’s nothing in it, I’m afraid. But I -did find it. It had been sunk, but close to the shore, near the place -where the two lakes connect. The water has gone back a good deal: and, -besides, the lake was very low this spring, so that the place where the -raft had sunk is clean out of the water now. Some of the timber was -sticking out of the sand, and most of it seemed to be only a foot or so -down, so I had great hopes of getting it out. It seemed to be in -first-rate condition.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what did you do?” demanded Mr. Jackson, impatiently.</p> - -<p>“Why, you see, the timber didn’t belong to me. I thought it was on Uncle -Phil’s land, and that’s why I hunted up Dave. But it isn’t.”</p> - -<p>“You ought to have sent word to me at once!” exclaimed Mr. Jackson. His -eyes were alive now with interest, and he looked ten years younger all -at once.</p> - -<p>“Just what I was thinking of doing. But it wouldn’t have made any -difference, I’m afraid. There was another man prospecting for it—a -fellow named Harrison, who had been up there last summer too. He played -me a nasty trick, but he had the rights to the raft.”</p> - -<p>“The rights? How did he make that out?” cried Mr. Jackson.</p> - -<p>“He had the papers. It seems old Daniel Wilson, who cut the raft, has a -son living in Montreal, and Harrison had made some deal with him to get -out the timber, if he could find it. He’s paying young Wilson a royalty, -I believe.”</p> - -<p>“No such thing! The fellow must be an impostor. You should have let me -know of this at once, Tom. I can’t imagine what you were thinking of. Do -you know the value of walnut now? Never mind! I guess it isn’t too late, -if we act quick.”</p> - -<p>And, to Tom’s astonishment and alarm, his father threw off the rug and -stood up, his eyes bright, looking revitalized. Tom regretted that he -had told the story, which he had meant merely to entertain his father.</p> - -<p>“Sit down, Father,” he urged, taking his arm gently. “It’s no good. -Harrison may be a villain; he certainly tried some rough work on me. But -then he made me a cash offer first to leave the place. But, so far as -the timber goes, he seems to have his title good. I saw the papers made -out by Wilson’s son, all signed and witnessed in proper shape. I don’t -see how we can do anything.”</p> - -<p>“Papers? A pack of lies! Forgeries!” snorted Mr. Jackson. “Why, I knew -old Dan Wilson well. He’s got no son living. Even if he had it would -make no difference; for the Daniel Wilson Lumber Company failed five -years before Dan’s death, and I bought out all the concern, all the -assets, every stick and scrap of them. Paid fifteen hundred dollars, and -lost about a thousand on it; but I only meant it to help Dan out. The -raft was included in the assets; I’ll show you the papers. They’re in -the safe. I never expected to see any of that walnut, but it’s mine—all -of it. Why, I’m the Wilson Lumber Company myself, now!”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chVIII' title='VIII: The Treasure'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER VIII</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.0em'>THE TREASURE</span> -</h2> - -<p>“You mean to say you really own the timber yourself, Father?” Tom cried, -almost stupefied. For just a moment he had the idea that his father’s -mind had become slightly deranged; but Mr. Jackson’s practical and -competent manner, growing more vigorous every minute, put that idea to -flight.</p> - -<p>“Of course I do. Armstrong knows all about it. What a pity you didn’t -tell him when you were in town! But it can’t be helped. We’re not too -late—I hope. What has that Harrison done toward lifting the walnut?”</p> - -<p>“Not very much, when I left, three days ago. I think he’d just got to -work. They had dug out quite a number of the logs.”</p> - -<p>“How many men did he have? How many teams? You don’t know? You should -have found out, Tom. Anyhow, it’ll be a matter of weeks to get all that -lumber up and raft or haul it away. But we don’t want him to have any -claim for salvage against us. We must get on the spot the first minute -we can. We’ll start for Coboconk at once, my boy.”</p> - -<p>“Let me go alone, Father. Give me authority to act for you. You’re not -strong enough to go into the woods.”</p> - -<p>“I guess I’m plenty strong enough when there’s something really to be -done,” laughed the old lumberman. “It was doing nothing that was killing -me—sitting still and seeing nothing but ruin. No, this is just the -medicine I want.”</p> - -<p>Tom still felt dubious, but Mr. Jackson insisted on action.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why we can’t start to-morrow,” he said. “We can get our -outfit and men at Ormond. I guess that’s the nearest railway point to -the lake.”</p> - -<p>“I thought Oakley was the nearest.”</p> - -<p>“Oakley’s down the river—thirty-five miles or so, isn’t it? And we -couldn’t take teams up the river in canoes. Ormond is straight west from -the Coboconk lakes, only twenty miles, and there’s a logging road, or -used to be. That’s the way you go to Phil’s ranch. You can’t teach me -much about that district, Tom. Just wait till we get out there.”</p> - -<p>Tom’s mother was astounded, half an hour later, to find Mr. Jackson -walking briskly up and down the balcony arm in arm with his son, talking -with enthusiasm about business matters. Mr. Jackson laughed at her -alarm; he declared he felt a hundred per cent. better already, and, in -fact, he presently ate a better lunch than he had eaten for a long time. -Afterward, however, he consented to take his prescribed nap, and while -he was sleeping Tom detailed the new enterprise to his mother. On her -suggestion Tom went to consult the doctor who was attending his father. -For a dangerously sick man to start suddenly upon the trail did seem a -risky experiment.</p> - -<p>“This may be just the thing he needs,” said the physician, after -listening to Tom’s tale. “Inaction and worry were the hardest things on -him. He hasn’t any real disease at all. Make him travel as comfortably -as possible, and try to keep him from overexerting himself, and you may -bring him back cured.”</p> - -<p>Tom did not tell his father about this visit to the doctor, but he was -able to throw himself into the preparations with a much better -conscience. They did not, however, leave for a day or two. It was not so -very far to the Coboconk district, but it was a very circuitous journey -by rail. They had to go half-way to Toronto and then back upon a branch -line to reach Ormond, and it was late in the afternoon when they at last -got off at that backwoods village. The timber treasure lay only -twenty-two miles to the east, but it was twenty-two miles of dense -second-growth forest penetrated only by the almost disused logging -roads.</p> - -<p>Ormond was a village of two-score houses and a store or two, larger than -Oakley but not now so flourishing. Once this district had been the seat -of a thriving lumber industry; Mr. Jackson had worked over it before -setting up in Toronto; but most of the pine had been long ago cut, and -dull times had come upon Ormond. But Tom was astonished to find his -father well known and remembered there still. The proprietor of the -hotel, elderly, bearded, and rough, stared at his guests for a moment, -and then uttered a shout of recognition.</p> - -<p>“Jumping crickets! If it ain’t Matt Jackson!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Jackson shook the hotel man’s hand heartily.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know you were up here yet, Andrews,” he said. “I used to know -Mr. Andrews well, years ago, when I was lumbering around Coboconk,” he -said to Tom. “I expect there may be some of my old lumber-jacks here -still. If there are they’re just what we need now. I’ve got a little -timber proposition on,” he added to the proprietor.</p> - -<p>“Sure, I’ll find ye some of the boys,” exclaimed Andrews. “They’ll be -powerful glad to work for ye again, too—the more as jobs is scarce -around Ormond these days.”</p> - -<p>Tom went up to his room to wash, pleased immensely at the reception they -had received. Coming down again, he found his father in animated -conversation with a group of old residents, and looking more alive and -interested than he had seen him for years. Mr. Jackson was tired, -indeed, and went early to bed that night; but he was far from exhausted -by the journey, and was up the next morning before his son.</p> - -<p>Tom found his father down-stairs, consulting with a big, roughly dressed -fellow, bull-necked and huge-chested. His hair was grizzling a little, -but his strength appeared noway abated with years, and he treated the -lumber merchant with marked deference.</p> - -<p>“This is Joe Lynch—Big Joe, they used to call him, and likely do yet,” -said Mr. Jackson. “He’s one of the best bushmen in the north, and it -isn’t the first time he’s worked for me. He’ll be our foreman now, and -he thinks he can pick up six or eight men for us right away. We want to -get started at once. Teams and supplies can come on later. Remember, -Joe,” he added, “I want men who wouldn’t be afraid of a little trouble. -Not roughs, you know, but fellows who can fight if they need to. Maybe -there’ll be a row where we’re going.”</p> - -<p>“Trust me for thot, sorr,” responded Lynch, with a wink. “They’ll like -nothing better. I’ll get ye a bunch that’ll fight their weight in -wildcats, any day.”</p> - -<p>At that moment breakfast was called, and Tom and his father went into -the dining-room.</p> - -<p>“I’ve heard news of your man Harrison,” said Mr. Jackson. “He was here -ten days ago, hiring men and getting supplies. Nobody knew what he -wanted them for. He’s got five men and one team of horses, and he can’t -have made any great progress at getting out the walnut yet. But I think -we’d better hurry ahead as soon as we can. It’ll take some time to get -our outfit together here, but I suppose I can leave that to Lynch—though -I’d rather see after it myself. Something’s sure to be overlooked.”</p> - -<p>“Better let me scout ahead, Father!” Tom urged. “We can’t tell what -Harrison may be doing. He might raft down the timber in small quantities -as fast as he got it out, and sell it at Oakley.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a fact,” said Mr. Jackson, struck by this danger. “I suppose you -could stop anything like that, if you took a man or two with you. I’d -give you written authority.”</p> - -<p>“But Uncle Phil’s ranch must be on the way,” cried Tom, struck with a -fresh idea. “He’d go over with me, or Cousin Ed—maybe somebody else.”</p> - -<p>This proposition was so evidently sound that Tom set out soon after -breakfast. Plenty of people knew where Phil Jackson’s farm lay, and Tom -regretted that he had not originally come to Ormond instead of Oakley. -But then he would probably never have reached Coboconk and the lost -raft.</p> - -<p>He carried only his rifle and a package of cold lunch, expecting to -reach the farm some time that afternoon. It was supposed to be only -fifteen miles, and there was a road,—not much used, indeed, but still a -road,—which it would be easy to follow. Mr. Jackson was to collect his -men and their outfit and come on the next day, to rejoin Tom where the -trail struck the river, below Little Coboconk.</p> - -<p>The old road proved rough traveling. Apparently it had not been used at -all for a long time, and it was grown up thickly with small spruces and -raspberry thickets—so jungly, in fact, that Tom often found it easier to -take to the woods.</p> - -<p>It was not going to be easy traveling for the wagons, he thought; and -wondered if Harrison’s men had come in this way. Still, he plodded on -and ate his lunch about noon, and within the next few miles he began to -look for traces of settlement. Nothing appeared, however, and he began -to travel slowly, looking about him more carefully for trails. An uneasy -qualm began to assail him, but he kept on until, as the sun came down -close to the tree-tops, he became assured that he had somehow missed the -way.</p> - -<p>He turned back at once on his own trail. Once he came to what seemed a -cow track crossing the path, but it presently became untraceable. The -sun was going down, and he stopped. By this time he was grown hardened -to being lost in the woods; but he was hungry, and the prospect of a -supperless night was not attractive.</p> - -<p>It was warm, however, and he built a fire and made himself as -comfortable as possible. Despite an empty stomach, he managed to sleep; -and in the earliest morning, rested but famished, he started back on the -road over which he had come. But it was only after an hour or so that he -came upon an obscure-looking cross trail that he had previously -overlooked. He might have passed it again, had not his attention been -caught by something like the far-away bellow of a cow.</p> - -<p>He followed up the trail toward the sound, and within a quarter of a -mile he struck a wide, stumpy, pasture clearing. Beyond another belt of -trees he emerged upon a plowed field, with a view of a large log house -and barns, which he knew must be the elusive homestead of Uncle Phil.</p> - -<p>So it proved. Tom hurried up to the house and got an astonished but -enthusiastic welcome. He had come at an unfortunate moment, however. -Uncle Phil and Cousin Ed had started within the last hour for the store -and post-office, nine miles away on a bush road that Tom had not -suspected, and were not likely to be back before evening.</p> - -<p>No one was at home but his aunt and the younger children. Tom ate a huge -breakfast, told his story, and gave news of Dave on the gold trail, and -rested for an hour or so. But he was uneasily impatient to reach the -lakes. He was afraid to wait for his uncle’s return, and he got an early -dinner, took a packet of lunch, and set out again shortly after midday.</p> - -<p>He had his directions more accurately laid now; but it was rough travel -through the woods, and he went more slowly than he had hoped. The sun -was almost setting when he emerged at last on the shore of the river. He -was still a mile or two below Little Coboconk, but he hastened up the -stream and saw the long, placid expanse of the lake.</p> - -<p>Nothing moved on its waters. From away up by the narrows he thought he -saw a curl of smoke in the evening air. The emptiness relieved him; -somehow he had almost expected to see the raft afloat and steering down -the lake. But he knew that it was almost impossible for Harrison to have -salvaged any great quantity of the timber so soon.</p> - -<p>Peering ahead, he walked up the stony margin of the lake in the -twilight. He had a strange, uneasy feeling that eyes were upon him, as -he had had during the journey to Roswick; but this time he was certain -that no one could have followed him through the woods. More than once, -all the same, he turned quickly to look, but nothing stirred on the -surface of the lake or the darkening shores.</p> - -<p>Smoke was certainly rising from Harrison’s encampment, but he was afraid -to go within sight of the place while the light lasted. He sat down in -the thickets just back from the shore and ate his lunch—wise enough this -time to reserve a portion for breakfast. Darkness fell on the water. A -half-moon grew visible over the trees, and up by the narrows a red glow -began to shine.</p> - -<p>Tom resumed his course up the shore, careful to make no noise. The glare -over the trees looked as if Harrison had set fire to the forest again. -But it was not until he reached the head of Little Coboconk that he -could see what was going on.</p> - -<p>Harrison’s camp lay across the narrows from him, and there were great -fires burning on the shore that cast a flood of red light across the -water. Dark figures moved through the lurid illumination; he heard the -rattle of chains, the thud of axes, and the cries of men hauling and -heaving at the timbers. Evidently Harrison, in his desperate haste to -get the walnut out, was working day and night.</p> - -<p>Tom crept up closer to the narrow channel, feeling secure in the -outlying darkness. From the opposite shore he made out a huge, dark -shape stretching like a pier. The raft was being rebuilt. And then Tom -distinguished Harrison himself, standing in the full light of one of the -fires, talking earnestly to another man, a stranger, an elderly man, who -did not look in the least like a lumber-jack.</p> - -<p>For a long time Tom crouched in the shadows, watching the scene of -activity. Logs were being dug out and piled in place. They were not -working on the raft just then. Probably daylight was needed for that. -But it looked rather certain that no timber was likely to be floated -away for some time, and Tom felt vastly relieved. By the next night his -father would be here.</p> - -<p>He wondered if they were going to work all night. He was tired of -waiting on the shore, and he had a great desire to examine the partly -constructed raft more closely. Toward nine o’clock, however, he observed -the activity slackening. The fires began to die down. Work was knocked -off. He perceived that a kettle was being boiled at a smaller and more -distant fire. The men gathered around and were served with food. They -smoked for a little while after this, while Tom watched impatiently, and -then one by one they disappeared into the tents. There were evidently -not men enough for the day and night shifts, and so Harrison had simply -extended the day as long as possible.</p> - -<p>Tom still waited and listened. Silence fell on the camp. The red shine -of the fires grew dim, and the pale moonlight began to take its place. -But for the fifty yards of channel, Tom would have ventured to -reconnoiter the raft more closely; and he was in fact thinking of taking -off his clothes and wading and swimming over when a faint, unmistakable -splash close at hand caught his attention.</p> - -<p>He shrank back into the bushes, cocking his rifle. For full five minutes -he stood motionless, every sense alert, but without hearing a twig -rustle. Then a shadow moved out of a thicket.</p> - -<p>“Tom!” said a subdued voice.</p> - -<p>Tom started violently, half raising his rifle.</p> - -<p>“You no shoot me, Tom. I watch you long time,” said the shadow.</p> - -<p>“Charlie!” exclaimed the boy, recovering himself. “That isn’t you? Why, -I thought you were gone long ago. How did you see me?”</p> - -<p>“I see you when you come out on river, ’fore dark. Think it’s you, not -sure. I follow you—watch long time. I think mebbe you come back some -time, Tom. I look for you every day.”</p> - -<p>“Charlie, you’re a good scout!” said Tom, his heart warming. “Yes, I’ve -found out that timber really is mine after all, so I came back.”</p> - -<p>“We fight um, then?” asked Charlie, hopefully.</p> - -<p>“Not to-night, anyhow,” Tom responded, smiling. “My father is coming -to-morrow. May be a fight then. But how did you get here? Got a canoe? -Where’d you get it?”</p> - -<p>“My canoe. That red-hair man steal him from you—I steal him back again.”</p> - -<p>“Good!” Tom looked across at the dying firelight and the dim tents. “Put -me across there, Charlie. I want to see how much of that timber they’ve -got out.”</p> - -<p>The Ojibway seemed to vanish without a word into the gloom. Within a few -minutes the canoe glided up, a darker shadow in the shadow of the -lake-side spruces. Tom stepped in cautiously, and Charlie, dipping the -paddle without a sound, guided the canoe across the channel and touched -the extremity of the half-built raft.</p> - -<p>It was not all of walnut, of course. It had to be buoyed with lighter -wood, and even in the faint light Tom could see the fresh-cut spruce and -pine logs. It was impossible to estimate how much of the old timber -there was. He climbed out of the canoe and stood upon the raft itself, -which felt as solid under him as a ship.</p> - -<p>He raked the silent camp with another cautious glance and walked toward -the shore. Reaching the land he could see the earth torn up in wild -hollows and mounds, where the walnut had been disinterred. Piles of logs -lay in every direction. It looked as if surely the greater part of the -lost raft was there, ready for rebuilding again, and Tom was filled with -renewed anxiety. They were running it fine. If anything should delay his -father and the men from Ormond, Harrison might still get away with his -plunder.</p> - -<p>He stepped off the raft upon the earth and looked keenly about again. -Through his mind passed the idea of doing something to wreck -operations—to halt them, at any rate; but he dismissed it. The gain -would not be worth the danger. Next day he would have reinforcements on -the spot. The best thing would be to retreat into the darkness again and -wait.</p> - -<p>He had taken half a dozen steps, and he turned to go back. Some dim -obstacle lay at his feet. Trying to avoid it, he tripped on something, -with a clashing of chains. He stumbled forward and blundered into a hole -where a log had been dug up, knocking down a pile of cant-hooks and -spades, mingled with chains, which made a deafening crash and clatter. -The rifle flew out of his hand.</p> - -<p>Almost instantly he heard a voice asking what was the matter. A man -dived out of the nearest tent, stared about, and then started toward -him. Tom lay flat where he had fallen, invisible, as he hoped, in the -darkness. The man came within two yards of him, gazed about again, while -Tom lay holding his breath, and then, with a muttered exclamation, -struck a match. In the quick, brilliant flare Tom caught a glimpse of -the man’s fox-colored hair. He jerked his legs under him and made a -plunge to get away, but the fellow was even more agile. He was upon him -before Tom touched the raft, and the boy was pulled back by rough hand -on his collar.</p> - -<p>McLeod turned Tom’s face to the moonlight.</p> - -<p>“I declare, ef it ain’t that youngster again!” he exclaimed. “Can’t keep -away, hey? All right—I got him!” he called over his shoulder. “It’s that -same—”</p> - -<p>Tom was aware that Harrison and the stranger were hurrying toward him. -Other men were appearing from the tents. He glanced toward the end of -the raft. Charlie and his canoe had vanished. He was ashamed at being -caught so ignominiously, but he was not particularly afraid. He felt in -possession of authority now. He had the whip-hand.</p> - -<p>“What’s this?” Harrison cried, turning on the white beam of a -flashlight. “Oh, it’s you, is it? Didn’t I warn you to clear out?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve come back to stay this time,” Tom retorted. “I know all—”</p> - -<p>“Who is it? Do you know him?” interrupted the strange man, who had an -honest and good-humored face. He wore a soft collar and a tie, and had -slightly the air of a sportsman from town.</p> - -<p>“He’s been hanging about all spring,” said Harrison, impatiently. “I -don’t know his name. Trying to steal something, I guess.”</p> - -<p>“That won’t do,” said Tom. “I know a good deal more than I did when I -was here last. I’ve heard all about Daniel Wilson. My father’ll be here -in the morning. Just now, I’m in his place.”</p> - -<p>“You must be crazy!” Harrison exclaimed. “Look here, you get out of this -camp at once.” He took Tom by the shoulder, and propelled him toward the -woods. “Got anything to say to me? Well, say it quick!”</p> - -<p>The rest of the party remained where they were, laughing. Harrison -shoved Tom into the shadows of the trees, gripped his arm hard, and led -him on, stumbling over fallen timber.</p> - -<p>“You want to talk to me?” he repeated. “Well, go ahead.”</p> - -<p>He had dropped the bluff tone of intimidation, and his voice was subtle, -conciliating. They were out of ear-shot of the camp now.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t much to say,” returned Tom. “I saw my father—Matthew Jackson, -of Toronto—and told him all about the raft. You can guess the rest. He -took over Dan Wilson’s business, you know. You haven’t any rights here -at all. We might pay you something for the work you’ve done already on -it, but that’ll be all we’ll do. You’ll have to get ready to quit.”</p> - -<p>Harrison steered Tom a little way farther into the woods, saying -nothing. Then he stopped, and spoke in a low tone of intense passion.</p> - -<p>“Do you think I’d quit now? It’s a year that I’ve been working for this. -Part of the timber’s sold already. I’m going to float out a raft -to-morrow or the next day. Do you want to have one fight now and another -in the courts? Look here, I’ll make a reasonable deal. I’ve got maybe a -third of this stuff ready to move. Let me get away with that and I’ll -leave the rest of it for you.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t do it,” returned Tom promptly. “I couldn’t make such a deal -myself, and I know father wouldn’t. He’ll be here to-morrow, and—”</p> - -<p>“Your father won’t be here to-morrow. He’s going to be turned back -before he gets to the lake,” said Harrison.</p> - -<p>“Turned back? What do you mean?” Tom exclaimed, with a sudden, horrified -vision of his father being ambushed, perhaps shot on the trail. “Are you -going to try another trick? You can’t work it, Harrison!”</p> - -<p>They were standing close together and face to face, and at that moment -Tom felt something hard against his body. Glancing down, he saw a -revolver that glittered dimly, its muzzle digging into his stomach.</p> - -<p>“I gave you a chance!” Harrison muttered between clenched teeth. “What -do you take—life or death? You young fool, I’m a desperate man. I’m -going to have that timber now, and I don’t care what stands in my -way—not even murder.”</p> - -<p>Tom shrank back involuntarily from the revolver barrel, which sent a -cold thrill to his very backbone. He had lost his rifle; he was entirely -unarmed. But reason told him that Harrison would not really shoot. He -would not go the length of murder, with a dozen men within fifty yards. -It was a bluff! Charlie was surely lurking somewhere in the shadows -offshore. Tom filled his lungs, and suddenly opened his mouth to yell.</p> - -<p>“Char—!”</p> - -<p>Before the sound could leave his lips Harrison had him by the throat -like a tiger, forcing him back against a tree. Tom hit out savagely into -the man’s face, but that iron grip seemed to choke the life out of his -body. His head swam; everything turned black before him. For an instant -the throttling grasp relaxed, and then he received a fearful blow on the -head, that sent him plunging down, it seemed into darkness. As he fell -he was scarcely aware of another shattering blow, and he knew nothing -whatever afterward.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chIX' title='IX: Victory'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER IX</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.0em'>VICTORY</span> -</h2> - -<p>The next hours were blank for Tom, or almost blank. He seemed at last to -hear a roaring sound like water. He seemed to be rushing at dizzying -speed through worlds of darkness. Then he thought he saw the malicious -face of McLeod peering into his own, and again blackness and silence -covered everything.</p> - -<p>Something aroused him; something was pulling at him. Opening his eyes, -he saw strangely an outline of tree-tops sharp against a starry sky. He -was being dragged violently by the shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Git up, Tom—quick!” a voice penetrated his ears. “They come back soon.”</p> - -<p>Tom’s head ached so dizzily that it fell back when he tried to lift it. -He could not remember where he was. He did not know who was beside him. -He tried feebly to raise his arms, and found that they were roped -together; and his legs, too, were tightly bound at the ankles.</p> - -<p>“Wait—I see now. I cut you loose,” muttered the hurried voice, which Tom -now dimly recognized. A knife-blade flashed, and sawed at the rope. His -arms were free, then his legs. He made a feeble effort to get up, and -collapsed again.</p> - -<p>“No use! Can’t do it!” he murmured thickly.</p> - -<p>Charlie seemed to hesitate.</p> - -<p>“I carry you,” he said with determination, and, getting his arms around -Tom’s body, he sought to heave him on his shoulders. He really might -have carried him, for Charlie was used to carrying tremendous loads over -canoe portages, but Tom’s faintly reviving spirit rebelled. He slipped -down, clung to a tree for several seconds, and tried to steady his -whirling head.</p> - -<p>“You come,” said Charlie anxiously. “That red-hair man, he be back -quick, mebbe. I wait long time.”</p> - -<p>Tom had only a vague notion of what the Ojibway meant. He could not -remember what had happened; he knew only that some danger hung over him -like a nightmare. He let the tree go and attempted to walk. He reeled, -and would have fallen but for Charlie’s quick grasp. Then Charlie got an -arm around his body, and, half carrying, half leading him, managed to -steer him through the woods.</p> - -<p>It seemed an endless way to Tom, but it could have been only a few rods, -when the Indian uttered a wearied grunt of satisfaction, and Tom saw the -shimmer of moonlight on water. Charlie let him go, to sink on the -ground, and vanished. In a minute or two he was back, and helped Tom -down to the shore. Tom saw a canoe without surprise. He managed to get -into it somehow without upsetting it, and settled down into a crumpled -heap amidships. Charlie got into the stern, and without a sound the -craft glided down the shore, keeping in the shadows of the trees.</p> - -<p>By slow degrees the boy’s wits returned, helped by the fresh lake air. -Leaning over, he splashed water on his head, which hurt severely. The -douche cooled and refreshed him. Memory struggled back.</p> - -<p>Painfully he remembered the knock-out he had received—Harrison’s -proposal—his scouting at the raft—groping his way back step by step. Of -what had taken place after he had been struck senseless he had no idea, -nor how much time had passed. From the feeling of the air, it seemed to -him that it must now be late in the night.</p> - -<p>“Where are we going, Charlie?” he said thickly, over his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“By gar, I think you mebbe dead, Tom!” exclaimed the Indian, in excited, -though subdued tones. “We go good place. I fix you up all right. Mos’ -there now.”</p> - -<p>They were going down Little Coboconk now, taking less care to keep out -of the moonlight. Just at the lower end of the lake Charlie ran the -canoe ashore beside a great log, got out, and helped Tom to disembark. -He lifted the canoe out of the water and stowed it somewhere in the dark -undergrowth; and then, with an air of being familiar with the place, he -grasped Tom’s arm and conducted him among the spruces by several mazy -turnings, and at last indicated by a pressure on his shoulder that he -was to sit down.</p> - -<p>Tom dropped gratefully, finding himself on a thick pile of spruce twigs. -Above him he found a rough shelter of bark and boughs.</p> - -<p>“I camp here,” said Charlie, “ever since you go ’way. I look down river -for you, mos’ every day—think maybe you come back. I see you yesterday -when you come.”</p> - -<p>“You’re the best friend I ever had, Charlie!” said Tom gratefully. -“Maybe you saved my life to-night. How did you find me? Where was I?”</p> - -<p>Charlie burst into an explanation, compounded of English and French, -which he was apt to use when excited. It made Tom’s head ache, but he -gathered that Charlie had slipped out of sight on seeing his friend’s -capture, but had stayed close inshore in the canoe. He heard the sound -of Tom’s choked-off cry and fall, but had not dared to interfere as -Harrison was almost immediately joined by the red-haired man. Between -them, they had tied Tom up and carried him several hundred yards farther -down the shore, depositing him in a little valley full of evergreens. -McLeod remained on guard, while Harrison returned to the camp. Charlie -had scouted close up, and thought of shooting the red-haired man, but -restrained himself. Finally, McLeod went back to the camp also, to get -matches for his pipe, Charlie thought; and the Indian boy seized the -opportunity for a rescue.</p> - -<p>“We safe here,” he concluded. “Good place—can look up, down—they never -find us. Besides, you say your father come.”</p> - -<p>“I declare, so he is!” Tom exclaimed with a start. In his confusion and -pain he had totally forgotten that fact. Mr. Jackson was coming, was -doubtless on the way; and then Tom remembered also Harrison’s statement -that his father would be “turned back.”</p> - -<p>“We must meet him, Charlie!” he cried. “Those fellows may catch him, -murder him perhaps.”</p> - -<p>“Plenty time. He not come till daylight,” said Charlie, glancing up at -the sky. “Three hours, mebbe. Sleep now.”</p> - -<p>And the young Indian stolidly stretched himself on the spruce twigs -also, and appeared to fall instantly asleep.</p> - -<p>Tom could not rest so easily. It was true, no doubt, that his father -would not come in the darkness. Morning would be time enough to look for -him. But he felt nervously uneasy, impatient, and alarmed. His head -still ached and spun at the slightest movement. Feeling it cautiously, -he found it badly swollen on the left side, and blood had dried and -caked in his hair. Harrison must have struck him with the revolver butt, -he thought.</p> - -<p>He tried to compose himself, lay awake for a long time grew drowsy at -last and drifted through a series of nightmares, awaking with a painful -start. But at last he did sleep, and was disturbed only by hearing -Charlie making a fire.</p> - -<p>It was daylight, but not yet sunrise. The sleep had done him good. His -head ached less, and he felt more in command of his nerve. The Indian -boy produced tea, some fragments of pork, and some very hard bread; and -the food still further restored Tom’s strength. He was eager to -intercept his father, however, and they had no sooner eaten than they -took to the canoe again, and dropped down the river to a point where Mr. -Jackson would surely pass in coming over the trail from Ormond.</p> - -<p>Here, for hour after hour, they waited, watchful alike for friends and -for enemies, for Tom more than half expected to espy McLeod scouting -down the river shore to prepare some ambush. Tom’s head still ached, but -the effects of the blow were fast passing, and under frequent -applications of cold water the swelling was going down. They ate a cold -lunch, not venturing to light a fire, but it was not until well into the -afternoon that Charlie suddenly sat up alertly from the ground where he -was lounging.</p> - -<p>“Somebody come!” he said in a low voice, staring into the woods.</p> - -<p>Tom had heard nothing, and in fact it was nearly ten minutes before he -heard trampling and crashing in the undergrowth. The sound instantly -reassured him. Harrison’s scouts would not have made so much noise and -in fact within a few minutes a party emerged upon the shore a few yards -below. In the first two figures Tom recognized his father and “Big Joe” -Lynch.</p> - -<p>There were four other men with them. Tom burst out from the woods and -rushed down to meet the new-comers, followed by Charlie. He was -recognized from a distance; there was a waving and a calling of -greetings. Tom grasped his father’s hand; then he found himself, being -hailed by two others of the party, whom he finally recognized to be -Uncle Phil and Cousin Ed.</p> - -<p>“Is it all right? We couldn’t—” Mr. Jackson began.</p> - -<p>“We missed you yesterday,” put in Ed, a wiry young fellow a year younger -than Tom. “But we started out to catch Uncle Matt on the trail this -morning.”</p> - -<p>“Found him broken down,” said Phil Jackson.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Tom’s father. “The wagon couldn’t get on very fast. Had to -stop and chop the trail. We left three of the men to bring it up, and -the rest of us came along on foot. I was getting uneasy about you. How -did you find things? Why, what’s the matter with your head?”</p> - -<p>“A collision with Mr. Harrison,” said Tom; and he rapidly described his -misadventures of the night. Mr. Jackson’s face turned grim as he -listened.</p> - -<p>“The scoundrel! He was planning to keep you out of the way, I suppose, -till he could dispose of some of his loot. He must have planned -something to head me off, too. Never mind! his finish is close now. I -struck another piece of luck in Ormond. This gentleman,” indicating one -of the party whom Tom did not recognize, “is Joe Gillespie, the -postmaster there. I used to know him, and he was concerned in the -liquidation of the Wilson Lumber Company, so he can testify that I -really bought the raft. He’s a magistrate too, so we have the law with -us.”</p> - -<p>“Good. That’ll fix Harrison!” said Tom, rejoicing. “Let’s hurry ahead.”</p> - -<p>“Better not go up lake. Mebbe him lay for us. Go through woods,” put in -Charlie.</p> - -<p>“I’d take Charlie’s advice on anything now,” said Tom. “He’s right. -Better not let Harrison see us coming, though I don’t think he’d make -any resistance to so large a party as this.”</p> - -<p>First of all it was necessary to cross the river, and Charlie brought up -the canoe and ferried them all over. Thence they filed up the shore for -half a mile, and then, under the Indian’s guidance, turned into the -woods, and made a detour to come around to the narrows at the head of -Little Coboconk.</p> - -<p>Part of these woods had been swept by the fire, and the walking was bad, -choked with fallen timber and half-burned logs. Tom was astonished at -his father’s strength. Even after the long tramp he had had that day he -pushed through the woods almost as actively as any of them. The familiar -atmosphere of the woods and the prospect of action had restored the -invalid to health almost magically.</p> - -<p>Remembering the doctor’s caution not to overdo the exercise, however, -Tom insisted on their stopping for occasional rests. With this slow -progress it was almost two hours before Charlie veered to the left. They -caught a glimpse of the waters of the lake beyond the scraggly and -scorched spruces, and thenceforth they had to move more cautiously.</p> - -<p>The shore was a quarter of a mile farther, and by glimpses they saw the -white tents, the dark bulk of the raft, and the men’s figures moving -about it. Work seemed to be going slowly, however; as they halted at -last about a hundred yards from the camp, crouching behind a half-burned -clump of willow, Tom thought that operations were entirely suspended.</p> - -<p>“Harrison’s found out that I’ve vanished and doesn’t know what to do -next,” he chuckled to his father. “Look, that’s Harrison—the man in the -brown shirt and soft hat. I don’t know the man with him—some stranger.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Jackson took out a field-glass and scrutinized the camp for a few -minutes.</p> - -<p>“No, not much doing,” he said at last. “But that stranger with your -Harrison—I think I know him. Unless I’m much mistaken, he’s a certain -lumber dealer of Montreal whom I know very well. Looks as if Harrison -was trying to make his sale on the spot.”</p> - -<p>And Mr. Jackson put away the glasses, rose to his feet, looked about for -a moment, and then walked coolly toward the camp.</p> - -<p>Tom gave a cry of protest and then jumped up and followed, and the whole -party came after. It happened that nobody noticed them until they were -almost at the shore. Harrison was talking earnestly to his companion, -looking the other way, until he chanced to turn and beheld the eight -advancing figures.</p> - -<p>He started forward, uttering an exclamation; and then his eye fell on -Tom, and he stopped short again. His face was almost livid.</p> - -<p>“What—?” he began, blusteringly; but Mr. Jackson paid not the slightest -heed to him. He walked up to the strange man, who was looking surprised, -and held out his hand cordially.</p> - -<p>“How are you, Archer?” he said. “What are you up here in the woods -for—business or pleasure?”</p> - -<p>“Why, Jackson, man!” exclaimed the other, after an amazed stare. “You’re -the last person I thought of seeing here. I heard you were sick. -Pleasure, eh? I guess we’re both here for the same thing. But you’re too -late for once, Matt. I’ve made the deal.”</p> - -<p>“Not so you can’t break it, I hope,” returned Mr. Jackson, smiling. “For -this fellow has no right whatever to any of this walnut timber.”</p> - -<p>At this Harrison recovered himself.</p> - -<p>“No right to it?” he snarled. “We’ll see about that! Who are you, -anyway? Why, this boy here admitted that I had the right of it, and he -saw all the papers.”</p> - -<p>“You were able to bluff a boy, perhaps, but you can’t bluff Matt -Jackson,” returned the lumberman. “You know who I am now. I bought out -Dan Wilson. Here’s Mr. Gillespie from Ormond, who’s a magistrate and -knows all about it.”</p> - -<p>By this time Harrison’s men had come crowding up, curious and hostile. -But several of them recognized Mr. Jackson, and all of them knew -Gillespie, who greeted two or three of them by name.</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s right,” said the postmaster. “Mr. Jackson bought out Dan -Wilson when he failed, and so far as I know this timber was in the -deal.”</p> - -<p>“Then you don’t know much!” persisted Harrison, furiously. “I’ll fight -to the last court for it.”</p> - -<p>“Take it to the courts if you want to,” said Mr. Jackson. “You’ll face a -warrant for murderous assault on my son, and another for forgery—”</p> - -<p>Harrison sprang savagely forward, raising his clenched fist. Tom jumped -to protect his father, caught the half-directed blow on his elbow, and -drove his fist into Harrison’s face. The next instant he went down -himself from a savage uppercut, and heard the rush of a sudden -scrimmage. Joe Lynch had grappled with Harrison, and while the two -wrestled frantically there was a rush of men from both sides to the -spot.</p> - -<p>“Stop it! Let him go, Lynch. Here, you young savage, drop that gun!” Mr. -Jackson shouted; and Tom struggled to his feet to see the postmaster -wrenching the shot-gun out of Charlie’s hands. Harrison went down, with -Big Joe on top of him; but Archer and Gillespie dragged the men apart.</p> - -<div id='i214' style='margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:10.0%; width:80%;'> - <img src='images/i214.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> -<p class='caption'>Tom caught the half-directed blow</p> -</div> - -<p>Lynch arose laughing. A moment later Harrison gathered himself up -sullenly.</p> - -<p>“I’ll settle with you! This ain’t the last—” he began, his voice thick -with rage.</p> - -<p>“Whenever you like. But now—you get out of this camp!” Mr. Jackson -ordered.</p> - -<p>“This is my camp. These tents—that team—” Harrison snarled.</p> - -<p>“Hold on! That team’s mine,” put in one of his men.</p> - -<p>“And you ain’t paid us our last week’s wages,” said another.</p> - -<p>“I’ll settle your wages,” Mr. Jackson promised. “Take away your tents -and your outfit, Harrison, if you want to.”</p> - -<p>Harrison looked about him.</p> - -<p>“Take down those tents. Pack up the outfit,” he commanded his men.</p> - -<p>Not a lumber-jack stirred. Plainly they had not found Harrison’s service -congenial. Harrison glared, snapped a savage curse, and then went into -his own tent, coming out in a minute with a dunnage sack. He dragged -this down to the shore, dark-faced with rage, but without a glance at -anybody, flung it into a canoe, and darted away with fierce strokes of -the paddle.</p> - -<p>“Seen the last of him, I guess,” said Mr. Jackson. “And he’s left us his -outfit. If he doesn’t come back for it we’ll leave it for him at -Ormond.”</p> - -<p>“Him go to meet red-haired man,” remarked Charlie, who was watching the -vanishing canoe. “I seen him, that man, ’way down lake.”</p> - -<p>“You did?” exclaimed Mr. Jackson. “Scouting for us, I suppose. You’re a -valuable youngster to have around. Want to work for me? I’ll give you a -job.”</p> - -<p>Charlie shook his head stolidly.</p> - -<p>“No work in summer-time. Work hard in winter—hunt—trap. Rest in -summer—hunt little, fight mebbe.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we won’t have any more fighting, I hope,” said the lumberman. -“But there’s a heap of work. You men, Harrison’s gang, I’ll take you all -on, if you want to stay with me, and pay you the same as my own men. -What do you say?”</p> - -<p>All the men agreed, with evident pleasure.</p> - -<p>“Always did think there was somethin’ crooked about that feller,” -remarked that one of them who owned the team. “Never could git no money -out of him.”</p> - -<p>“And now,” said the Montreal lumber dealer, “I certainly wish, Jackson, -that you’d tell me what all this is about. I spend considerable money to -come up here, and find myself landed in a fight.”</p> - -<p>“Think yourself lucky that you didn’t get landed for something worse,” -Mr. Jackson laughed. “You haven’t paid any money out yet? No? Good. I’ll -tell you how the thing stands.”</p> - -<p>And he proceeded to detail the circumstances, which were corroborated by -the Ormond postmaster.</p> - -<p>“I see,” said Archer. “Harrison offered me the stuff at a great bargain, -but I didn’t see how there could be anything fishy about it. Well, I’m -glad I’m only out my expenses. I suppose you wouldn’t think of selling -any of it yourself? I thought not. You’ll make a good thing out of it. -Walnut’s almost off the market now, and bringing any sort of fancy -price. But I don’t need to tell you anything about that. All I’ve got to -do is to look for a way to get home.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chX' title='X: A Fight in the Dark'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER X</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.0em'>A FIGHT IN THE DARK</span> -</h2> - -<p>“I do believe we’ve got possession of the thing at last, Father,” said -Tom, surveying the raft with joy, despite his aching head, which -Harrison’s blow had jarred afresh.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I don’t see what’s to stop us now,” returned Mr. Jackson.</p> - -<p>It was near sunset, and peace had fallen on the camp again. The men of -the two parties had fraternized and were sitting about on the logs and -smoking. In the background the cook was preparing supper at an open-air -fire. Mr. Archer had discreetly withdrawn into a tent, leaving Tom and -his father to examine the property they had at last secured.</p> - -<p>Harrison must have worked his men skilfully and hard while he had them. -The partly built raft already stretched far out from the shore. It was -by no means all of walnut, of course. Harrison had cut down all the -spruce, jack-pine, and hemlock in sight for the floating foundation. -They were put together in “cribs,” connected by strong traverses, pinned -down with huge hardwood bolts. The walnut was piled on top of this -foundation, and each log was “withed” down to its support with ironwood -saplings as thick as a man’s wrist, twisted like rope around the -timbers. There were already more than seventy cribs put together, each -of them containing fully a thousand feet of walnut.</p> - -<p>“His men knew how to handle logs,” Mr. Jackson remarked, looking with an -expert eye at the way the timber was withed and pinned together. “Never -saw a better built raft. If Dan Wilson had built it as well as this, it -mightn’t have broken up so easily. That’s fine walnut, too. It’ll take -some drying out and seasoning again, of course, but it’s practically as -good as the day it was cut. I don’t believe there’s as much walnut -timber as this anywhere else in one spot in all Canada.”</p> - -<p>“And nobody knows how much that isn’t dug out yet,” Tom returned. “We -ought to be thankful to Harrison, maybe, for all the work he’s done for -us. We’ll have the use of his tents and tools too, until he comes to -take them away. Not to forget that if he hadn’t tried to drive me out by -burning the woods I’d probably never have found the walnut at all.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he seems to have cheated himself all around,” said his father. “If -he presents a reasonable bill for labor, I’ll pay it. But I don’t think -he ever will. As for what walnut is left,” he added, looking over the -scarred surface of the shore, “I suspect that there isn’t much more of -it.”</p> - -<p>There was some, however, and the combined gangs went to work vigorously -on the morrow. About noon the delayed wagon came in from Ormond, with -two more men and the supplies, and Mr. Archer and the postmaster rode -back in it when it returned. They promised to send out more provisions, -for, with Harrison’s gang, Mr. Jackson had more men than he had counted -on.</p> - -<p>With this strong force the work of getting out the timber went forward -rapidly. Tom went over the shore inch by inch, sounding deep into the -sand with a long, sharp steel rod. When he struck wood, they dug down to -it. Sometimes it was walnut, sometimes merely an old spruce stump, but -little by little the precious stuff accumulated, and more cribs were -built out upon the raft. By the end of the week they seemed to have got -everything that lay in the sand of the shore, and they began to dig at -the bottom of the shallow water nearest land.</p> - -<p>But evidently they were nearing the end. Mr. Jackson’s shrewd guess had -been right. With great exertions and inconvenience they recovered three -or four hundred logs from the shoal water, but the labor almost -outweighed the gain. These logs, too, were heavily water-soaked. They -would dry out in time, but meanwhile they required much light timber to -buoy them up, and were spongy and easily damaged. But from Mr. Jackson’s -measurements, and he was an experienced “scaler,” the raft then -contained about 125,000 feet of walnut. Besides, there was the soft-wood -foundation, which was not without value.</p> - -<p>“This ought pretty well to clean up all business troubles, my boy,” said -Mr. Jackson to Tom, as they viewed the majestic outlines of the raft, -which surged and heaved at its moorings in a strong southwest gale. -“It’ll net us three hundred dollars a thousand feet; more than that, in -fact, for we’ll cut it up ourselves, with thin saws. The ordinary mill -wastes ten per cent. in sawdust, and you’ve no idea how valuable even -the scraps of such wood are. They make veneer, brush backs, knobs, all -sorts of small things. We don’t waste a chip of the stuff.”</p> - -<p>For some time, Tom noticed, Mr. Jackson had been saying “we,” and the -implied partnership was very pleasant to him. Working day by day with -him, Tom had come to realize and respect his father’s science and energy -as he never had done before. Up here in the woods, “Matt” Jackson’s -reputation was an established one. The rough lumber-jacks jumped at his -orders and took his advice unhesitatingly about all sorts of timber -craft. The veteran lumberman was in his element and seemed to have -almost entirely recovered his health and spirits.</p> - -<p>The future no longer looked black to him. He had arrived at the point of -talking to his son freely about his business affairs, a compliment which -Tom appreciated deeply. On leaving Toronto Mr. Jackson had seen nothing -ahead but a voluntary assignment. He had no faith in Mr. Armstrong’s -being able to straighten things out. Thirty or forty thousand dollars -would be needed, and he could not see any source from which they were to -come.</p> - -<p>“That’s what it would have come to if you hadn’t dug up this old timber, -Tom,” he said. “I wasn’t very genial when you came north, I guess, but I -give you the credit, my boy.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t deserve it,” said Tom earnestly. “I came up here like a fool. I -didn’t have any reasonable idea what I was going to do. It was blind -luck that made me stumble on this old raft. But I do think it ought to -make enough to clear the business, and something over. Shouldn’t you let -Mr. Armstrong hear of it? He’ll be astonished, when we produce a new -asset like this.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I suppose so,” agreed his father. “Things have been so busy that -I’ve neglected it, and there’s no hurry anyway. He’d write or wire me -before he did anything important, and a message would be forwarded at -once from the Royal Victoria. I suppose he thinks I’m still lying on my -back there. But I’ll send a letter out to him to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>Charlie could have taken a letter out to Ormond or down to Oakley. The -Ojibway boy was still hanging about the camp, watching the work -impassively, seeking out Tom whenever Tom had any leisure. He brought in -trout almost daily, and occasionally ducks and partridge, and Mr. -Jackson remarked on the advantage of having an Indian about the camp who -was exempt from the game-laws. But Charlie was obviously not so happy in -the midst of all this activity as he had been at the original camp in -the old barn.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jackson, however, did not write his letter the next day. It was -windy and rainy. One of the last cribs of lumber showed signs of -breaking loose under the strain of the weather and had to be refastened. -Then they unexpectedly found a “pocket” of eight or ten more walnut logs -at a spot where they had not previously looked, and these were dug out -and loaded. Altogether it was a busy day and a stormy one. The rain -ceased at sunset, but the wind grew even stronger, driving white-capped -waves racing across Big Coboconk.</p> - -<p>The wind kept Tom awake that night. It roared over the forest and -thrummed on the stiff canvas flaps. On the cot opposite him his father -slept profoundly rolled in his blankets, but Tom could not settle -himself to rest. His mind dwelt on the raft. They had thought of -launching it the next day, but this would be out of the question unless -the wind went down. It would be impossible to float it down the lake in -the face of that gale.</p> - -<p>He wondered if there could be any danger of damage as it lay at its -mooring. At last, unable to rest, he got up and looked from the tent. It -was after eleven o’clock. The night was warm and not very dark. Not a -man was in sight. The fires, which had burned low, threw off gusts of -fizzing sparks in the wind. A high sea was crashing on the shore, but he -could make out the dark expanse of the raft, rising and falling, but -apparently secure.</p> - -<p>Somewhat reassured, he went back to his cot and lay down again, leaving -the lantern burning. He did not undress and lay awake for some time -longer, but at last he grew hardened to the roaring of the wind and -dozed off. Finally he must have slept soundly, for he wakened with a -shock to feel a hand gently gripping his shoulder. Blinking up, he saw -Charlie’s battered black hat leaning over him in the dim light.</p> - -<p>“You come, Tom. Raft gone,” the Indian said softly.</p> - -<p>Tom leaped up with an exclamation. He gave a single glance at his -father, who was still sleeping, and bolted from the tent. Outside the -water and the wind still roared and crashed; but at the first glance Tom -saw in the pale starlight that the raft was no longer there, nor -anywhere in sight.</p> - -<p>“I wake up—think I hear something,” said Charlie at his elbow. “I -go—look. Raft gone.”</p> - -<p>Tom rushed down to the landing where it had been moored. Then to his -relief he sighted it, a hundred yards from land, a huge expanse like an -island, heaving and plunging and drifting out diagonally over the lake.</p> - -<p>Tom raised a tremendous shout to alarm the camp, and thought he heard an -answer from the tents. The raft must have broken loose in the gale; yet -he could hardly understand how that had happened, for six strong ropes -had bound it to trees ashore. But Charlie picked up the slack of one of -the ropes that was trailing in the wash of the waves and held it -silently under his eyes. Tom gasped. The end was not frayed; it was cut -squarely off.</p> - -<p>“Cut!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“I think mebbe so,” said Charlie. “That man come back, I guess. We git -him this time, mebbe.”</p> - -<p>Tom gave another alarm shout, and jumped into a boat on the shore, -followed by the Ojibway. It was a <i>bateau</i> that had been left there by -Harrison, heavy to row, but the wind drove them fast in the wake of the -raft. Laboring at the oars, Tom saw the outline of the floating timber -growing clearer. His blood boiled with wrath; he knew that Harrison must -have done this as a last act of revenge. They had not set eyes on the -fellow for a week; they thought he had gone for good, but he had come -back to retaliate for his loss. Well timed, too, his return had been. -The raft was hardly built for rough seas. Under the full force of the -gale in the center of the lake it might go to pieces, or be driven -against the opposite shore and broken up, repeating the ancient history -of the original raft of Dan Wilson.</p> - -<p>Fortunately Charlie’s alertness had detected it in time. Tom was -disconcerted at seeing that no stir was visible yet in the camp behind. -His yells could not have been heard. It was useless now to try to shout -in the teeth of the gale, but he strained his muscles to reach the raft.</p> - -<p>It was too big to drift very fast, and Tom’s oars overtook it before it -had gone another two hundred yards. It looked alarming as he came close, -and it was going to be risky to get aboard, for the great mass of logs -heaved on the waves, and crashed down on the water. A touch would have -crushed the <i>bateau</i>-like bark, but Tom, watching his chance, jumped, -landed on his knees, clutched the logs, and staggered to his feet. The -boat with Charlie in it recoiled away, thrust backward by his leap.</p> - -<p>He was scarcely up when he saw a dark figure shoot across the raft just -behind him. Startled, Tom rushed after it. It flashed upon him that this -must be Harrison. But the man jumped,—apparently over the side,—and a -canoe went spinning away into the gloom, dipping and reeling in the -heavy sea.</p> - -<p>It had not looked like Harrison’s build. It had more resembled the -woodsman McLeod. Tom had no weapon or he would have fired and by the -time Charlie had joined him, carrying his shot-gun as always, the canoe -was lost in the windy obscurity.</p> - -<p>“Got away again!” Tom exclaimed in disgust. “But we’ve got the raft -again, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>Then he wondered what he was going to do with it. The huge mass of -timber was beyond any control. He could only let it drive. Continually -he had expected to see the men from ashore following him, but no one -seemed to have become aware of what was going on. The sparks whirled up -from the low fires, and that was all. Every minute the raft was getting -farther from shore, and it would be impossible to tow it back against -the wind. It was well out in the open lake now, and it heaved and swung -up and down with a motion that strained all the fastenings of the cribs -and made Tom’s stomach turn with a qualm like seasickness.</p> - -<p>“Fire your gun, Charlie!” he said anxiously. “Maybe they’ll hear it. -Hold on! What’s that?”</p> - -<p>A report like a pistol-shot had sounded from the far forward end of the -raft. Tom rushed forward over the heaving logs. In the center was a -great heap of material used in building: withes, cross timbers, -pike-poles, axes, ropes, spikes. As he passed around this obstruction he -saw, to his horror, one of the cribs swing loose and drift clear, -spilling its load of walnut as it went.</p> - -<p>Was the raft breaking up already? Tom caught up a pike-pole and rushed -forward. Buffeted by the wind and almost deafened by the noise of it and -by the creaking and threshing of the timbers, he slipped and staggered -in his unspiked boots over the wet logs. As he crossed the fourth crib -he stopped with a thrill. He saw the dim figure of a second man close to -the forward edge of the raft, with an ax poised over his shoulder.</p> - -<p>The miscreant was actually cutting the raft apart. When Tom realized it, -he charged forward with a shout. Apparently the man had been quite -unaware that the boys had come aboard. He glanced about quickly. The ax -blow never fell. He waited till Tom was within ten feet, charging with -the steel-shod pole, and then he swung the ax round his head and flung -it with all his force.</p> - -<p>Tom ducked just in time to dodge the whirling missile as it went over -his head with a “whish.” It came so close that the boy lost his balance -and stumbled down on one knee, and before he could recover himself the -man had pounced on him, forcing him down.</p> - -<p>Tom was able to let out a single yell. He recognized Harrison; he had -felt that grip before. Again Harrison tried to seize him by the throat, -but this time Tom was less off guard. He was lighter than his enemy, but -more active. He was a good wrestler, his muscles were hardened now with -labor, and he fought like a wildcat.</p> - -<p>He squirmed free from the fierce grip and got to his feet. Loosing his -arm an instant, he drove a heavy blow into Harrison’s face and heard him -grunt. But the next moment Harrison surged upon him with all his weight, -and Tom despite his utmost effort, was gripped almost helplessly. He put -forth every ounce of strength he had. Defeat meant the loss of the raft. -But he could not hold Harrison. He was forced down; he went heavily -against the slippery logs, and the next instant he felt Harrison’s knee -on his chest.</p> - -<p>He caught a glimpse of Charlie’s form flitting distractedly around them -with gun half raised, and he was afraid of getting an accidental charge -of shot himself. Then Charlie seemed to swing the butt. Tom scarcely -heard the thud of the blow, for at that instant the logs seemed to give -way under him. A great rift opened, and he went down into the black -water, with Harrison still clutching him.</p> - -<p>For a second he was dazed and went deep down. His enemy’s grip relaxed -and fell away. Then, with a half-involuntary stroke, he came toward the -surface. His head knocked against something hard. He was under the raft -itself.</p> - -<p>In terror he struck out blindly. He knew no directions. He might be -swimming toward the center of the raft, where he would surely drown. His -breath grew short; then, all at once, his head came out into the fresh -air, and he filled his lungs with a great gasp. The raft plunged almost -over his shoulders. Tom dodged and ducked to escape having his skull -crushed, and caught sight of the Indian peering wildly out into the -darkness. He shouted hoarsely, and Charlie helped him aboard with an -extended pike-pole.</p> - -<p>There was no sign of Harrison, neither swimming on the water nor aboard -the raft. He might also have gone under the logs, and be drowning there.</p> - -<p>“See anything of him—that other man?” Tom gasped; but Charlie shook his -head.</p> - -<p>“Think him drown, mebbe. Good job, too!”</p> - -<p>Tom cast another anxious glance over the water, ready to rescue his late -enemy if he sighted him. But just then the front of the raft swung up -and down with a tremendous plunge. Several withes gave way with snapping -reports, and another crib disengaged itself from the main body. In his -confusion and fright, Tom imagined the whole raft was going to pieces -under him. The loose crib still hung by one end, however, and he rushed -to the pile of material amidships, seized a bundle of rope, and looped -one end over the head of one of the great hardwood pins in the loosened -crib. Taking a hitch around another bolt-head on the main raft, he tried -to bring the two sections together again. Assisted by the pull of the -waves, he brought them together inch by inch, closed the gap to a foot’s -width, tied the rope firmly, and repeated the lashing in two other -places.</p> - -<p>He glanced ashore, where there was still no sign of life. Bitterly now -he repented his rashness in going in chase of the raft instead of -immediately arousing the camp. But the <i>bateau</i> was still there.</p> - -<p>“Get into the boat and make for shore as fast as you can, Charlie,” he -commanded. “Rouse them up. Tell them the raft is going to pieces.”</p> - -<p>“All right!” said the Ojibway, without emotion. “Can’t paddle much -’gainst wind,” he added. “Mebbe have to cross lake—go round.”</p> - -<p>“Any way you like—only do it quick!” cried Tom; and just then another -crib, whose transverse bar had split, began to break away.</p> - -<p>Tom brought more rope and lashed this also, straining at it as Charlie -got into the boat and cast off. He saw the Indian struggling hard -against the wind and waves, and then lost sight of him in the darkness. -Charlie would do the best he could, Tom knew well; it was only a -question of whether he could bring help in time.</p> - -<p>Another ironwood withe snapped. Fearing that all the cribs would break -apart, Tom set to work to strengthen their fastenings. He dragged up the -flattened pieces of timber that had been prepared for transverse and -cap-pieces, laid them across the logs wherever there was any sign of -weakening, and spiked them down with eight-inch spikes, which he drove -home with an ax. Not content with that, he lashed the cribs together -with rope as long as the rope lasted; then with odd pieces of chain, and -then tried to use the withes. But the ironwood saplings were too stiff -for one pair of hands to twist.</p> - -<p>He ran to and fro, staggering and slipping on the reeling raft, and he -looked almost hopelessly at intervals toward the shore. Nothing could be -seen of Charlie’s boat. The Indian might have been driven far up the -lake, and obliged to make a long detour by land. The camp-fire was -nearly a mile away now. It was a mere red point, and there was no sign -of any help coming.</p> - -<p>The raft was now well into the middle of the lake, and it plunged and -tossed fearfully. It had not been built for any such strains; it was -threatening to go as the first raft had gone years ago. To keep it -together was work for more than one man; and Tom was, after all, an -inexperienced raftsman. Over the wet, swaying surface he hastened up and -down, spiking down cross-bars and reinforcing the cap-pieces, but, -despite his efforts, the timbers continually worked loose. In the -darkness it was impossible to see a part giving way till it was almost -beyond mending.</p> - -<p>All at once, as he crouched over his work, he was aware of a faint glow -on the sky. He looked up. One of the camp-fires ashore had sprung -suddenly to a tremendous blaze—a vast, glaring flame blown into long -streamers by the wind, whose light spread far out over the water, -almost, indeed, to the raft itself.</p> - -<p>“Charlie’s stirred them up! Hurrah! Who-oo-p! This way!” Tom shrieked. -His voice could not have carried half the distance, but almost -immediately a second fire flared up. The men ashore could hardly have -been able to see the raft, and Tom had no means of making a light, but -they would surely know that it would drift down wind. Tom saw the -distant scurrying of figures about the shore, and presently a boat -pushed off, and then another.</p> - -<p>He lost sight of them, but they must have come fast and rowed hard, with -the wind behind them. In ten minutes he heard shouts, and he shouted -back to give his direction. There was a rattle of oars, and the excited -murmur of men’s voices. He saw the boats now, heaving high and low on -the waves, and the leading one steered up alongside. Tom hooked it with -a pike-pole; the men caught hold, and Mr. Jackson scrambled actively -aboard the raft, followed by Joe Lynch and two more men.</p> - -<p>“That you, Tom?” cried Mr. Jackson. “Are you all right? How’s the raft?”</p> - -<p>“Pretty near breaking up,” Tom shouted back. “I’m all right—a little -wet. Tell you about it later. Must get the raft fastened together.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Jackson gave Tom’s arm a rough, affectionate squeeze. “Good for you, -old boy! We’ll save the timber—don’t fear. Lynch, get the men—”</p> - -<p>Big Joe had not needed any orders. With his two men he was already at -work on the raft timbers. The other boat came up at this moment, with -four more men in her. Lynch ordered two of them to row back to camp at -once and bring out all the rope, chain, spikes, and pieces of heavy -plank they could lay hands on, for Tom had already used up nearly all -the loose material aboard.</p> - -<p>That left a crew of five men. They had a doubtful fight before them, for -the raft was laboring under the full force of the wind, out in the open -lake, and it was already weakened at every joint. But the lumbermen set -vigorously to work. In their spiked boots they raced over the shifting -logs, retwisting withes, and lashing and spiking cross-bars with a skill -that produced more effect than Tom’s inexpert efforts.</p> - -<p>Tom still took his share of the work, and so did Mr. Jackson. The lumber -dealer ran over the raft as fearlessly and almost as actively as any of -the men, encouraging them, taking in the needs of each spot with a quick -glance, using ax and pike-pole himself whenever he could. The break-up -of the raft seemed checked; the fight seemed a winning one. No more -cribs had escaped, and, though the whole framework was badly strained, -it seemed capable of holding together at least until the boat came off -with more men and material.</p> - -<p>But there was no relaxation of effort. Unexpectedly half a dozen of the -withed walnut logs broke loose, rolled off the raft, and, being already -saturated, went to the bottom almost like stones. All the rope and chain -was used up, but the lumbermen brought up more withes and proceeded to -make the rest more secure. Tom and his father were bending over among a -group of men who bent a thick ironwood sapling. The butt of it was -pegged into a huge auger-hole in the lower framework, and it was to be -twisted over the walnut and down into the loading timbers beneath. The -men put all their brawny arms into it, when the walnut log rolled -suddenly with a heave of the raft. The butt of the withe slipped and -flew up with the force of a catapult. It touched one man on the shoulder -and sent him sprawling, and the full force of it seemed to catch Mr. -Jackson on the side of the head. He reeled over, and went off backward -into the water.</p> - -<p>There was a shout of alarm. Tom poised himself at the edge of the raft, -ready to plunge if he should see his father’s head come up. The rest -stood ready with pike-poles, but moment and moment passed, and they saw -nothing.</p> - -<p>“He’s gone under the raft!” exclaimed Tom.</p> - -<p>“Cut her apart!” Big Joe yelled. “Never mind them timbers now. The boss -is under ’em!”</p> - -<p>Recklessly the men chopped the fastenings they had so labored to secure. -A crib swung aside and left a strip of black water—empty. Another gap -opened, and this time something was floating on it. In another moment a -pike hooked the floating clothing, and they drew the lumberman out upon -the logs. He was quite unconscious.</p> - -<p>“He’s dead!” Tom gasped.</p> - -<p>“You bet he ain’t,” said Lynch, who had put his head over the dripping -figure. “He’s breathin’, and his heart’s a-beatin’ strong. He ain’t -drowned—just knocked out. He’ll come to!”</p> - -<p>The men carried him carefully to the center of the raft, the safest -place, and Tom sat down beside him in unspeakable anxiety. The men were -working afresh to secure the cribs they had cut apart, but for the -moment Tom had lost his concern for the raft. Mr. Jackson did not “come -to,” as they had hoped. He breathed, but seemed in a heavy stupor, from -which he could not rouse. Tom feared his skull might be fractured, and -there was no doctor nearer than Ormond.</p> - -<p>The other boat came back with three men and more supplies, and the whole -crew worked more furiously than ever. Whenever any of them passed the -center of the raft they paused to ask after the “boss” and hurried on -again. The raft still held together, but Tom gave it only scant thought; -and as he sat by his father’s side he saw at last the grayness of dawn -begin to spread over the lake.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chXI' title='XI: Fire and Water'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER XI</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.0em'>FIRE AND WATER</span> -</h2> - -<p>The raft was now nearing the northwestern shore of the lake, and luckily -its course seemed to carry it into a wide bay, where it would be -somewhat sheltered from the weather. The wind was lessening a little, it -seemed. It had done deadly work, however. The raft seemed to have lost a -third of its area, and all around could be seen floating masses of the -soft-wood cribs, which had mostly spilled their walnut loose. But Tom -looked at it almost indifferently. His whole thought was concentrated on -his father, who still lay unconscious, with a deathlike face.</p> - -<p>Big Joe came up and looked down sorrowfully at the boss.</p> - -<p>“I guess the raft’s all right now,” he remarked. “She’s going to float -right behind that headland, and I’ll have the boys build a boom around -her as soon as she gets there. It’ll break the waves. I don’t believe -we’ve lost such a lot, after all.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you worry, boy,” he added. “Your father’ll be all right. I’ve -seen men knocked out a heap worse’n that; you don’t know the rough -knocks that lumber-jacks get. We’ll get him ashore just as soon as we -get into quieter water.”</p> - -<p>It would indeed have been risky to try to get the wounded man into a -boat while they were still on those plunging waves, and it was still -more than an hour before the raft slowly headed its way behind the long -rocky peninsula. Here the water was less broken. They brought one of the -boats around to the forward end, carried Mr. Jackson into it with -infinite care, and ferried him across the hundred feet of water to the -land. Here they constructed a rough stretcher with saplings and boughs, -and Tom, Lynch, and two other men set out with it toward camp. The rest -of the men remained to make the raft fast and gather up what scattered -drift timber they could salvage.</p> - -<p>A quarter of a mile down the shore they came upon a crib that had -grounded without entirely breaking up. The track of a man’s heavy boots -led from it into the woods, and Tom guessed that Harrison had come -ashore on those logs. It relieved his mind somewhat, for he did not want -to consider himself responsible for the man’s death, but he had not much -thought just then to spare on Harrison. Still further down, they sighted -a canoe, Charlie’s canoe, which McLeod must have stolen, and in which he -had fled from the raft. It had been run ashore roughly, and was badly -split down the bow. But, like Harrison, McLeod had left nothing but -tracks behind him, and Tom sincerely hoped that he would never see -anything more of him.</p> - -<p>Arriving at the camp, they put Mr. Jackson to bed in his tent. He seemed -partly to revive; his eyes half opened; he muttered something and then -sank into unconsciousness again. But even this symptom of returning life -was encouraging.</p> - -<p>“The nearest doctor’s at Ormond,” said Tom. “I’m going after him at -once.”</p> - -<p>“Send Charlie down to Oakley,” Lynch suggested. “There’s a doctor there. -You might go out to Ormond too, if you like. Maybe one of ’em will be -away, and if they both come, no harm done. But say, you’ve got to eat -and rest a bit, boy. You look done up.”</p> - -<p>Tom indeed felt the strain of the hard night, and his head once more -ached splittingly. He summoned Charlie and sent him up the lake to get -his canoe. It would have to be calked or patched where it was cracked, -and meanwhile Tom swallowed a little breakfast and lay down with the -intention of resting half an hour.</p> - -<p>He fell into a dead sleep, and was awakened at last by Joe Lynch.</p> - -<p>“A fellow’s just come in from Ormond with a telegram for the boss.”</p> - -<p>Tom took the yellow envelope and sat up in a daze. Gathering his wits, -he opened the message:</p> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-right:2em; margin-left:2em'> - -<p>Assigned to Erie Bank. Creditors’ meeting Wednesday night. Letter -follows. Wire further instructions.</p> - -<div style='text-align:right; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em'> -<div style='display:inline-block; text-align:left;'> -<div class='cbline'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Armstrong.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Wednesday night! It flashed upon Tom that to-day was Wednesday. He -jumped out, bolted from the tent, and confronted the messenger. The -telegram had been sent on Saturday, and was directed to the Royal -Victoria Hotel.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t this get here sooner?” he demanded angrily.</p> - -<p>“We didn’t get it till yesterday. I started out with it as soon as I -could, but I tried to take a short cut and got turned around. Had to -stay in the bush all night.”</p> - -<p>Tom stifled an exclamation of impatience and despair. Armstrong had -given up hope and made an assignment after all, unaware of all the -wealth they had been accumulating in the north. Tom did some hard -thinking in that moment. If the bankruptcy went through they might pay a -hundred cents on the dollar, but it would leave nothing else. If it -could be averted, the walnut would float the business with ease, with a -prospect of better fortune.</p> - -<p>“How long was I asleep? How’s father?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“You slept more’n an hour. Didn’t like to rouse you,” said Joe. “The -boss kinder roused up once and said something, but then went off again. -But I reckon he’s better.”</p> - -<p>Tom went to look at Mr. Jackson, who looked slightly less deadlike, he -thought. He would have given almost anything to be able to consult with -him for just five minutes. But at this crisis of the whole affair Tom -was forced to shoulder the entire responsibility.</p> - -<p>If it was humanly possible he would have to get to Toronto in time to -stop that creditors’ meeting that night. The assignment could be -withdrawn. As yet probably nothing irrevocable had been done, but by -to-morrow the arrangements for liquidation would have been made, and it -might be too late.</p> - -<p>He could, indeed, send a telegram to Mr. Armstrong if he could reach the -wire in time; but he doubted whether that would be enough. The situation -needed a personal explanation.</p> - -<p>He knew that a stage left Oakley, connecting with the morning train -going down.</p> - -<p>“What’s the shortest way to the railroad?” he demanded. “I’ve got to get -to the city by evening.”</p> - -<p>“Well, there’s the morning train down from Ormond,” said the messenger. -“But you can’t make it. It’ll take you ’most all day to get to Ormond.”</p> - -<p>“That’s mebbe the shortest way, but it ain’t nohow the quickest,” -remarked Lynch. “Leastways, if you’ve got a canoe. I reckon Charlie’s -got his pretty near patched up by this time.”</p> - -<p>“How do you mean?” Tom demanded.</p> - -<p>“Why, paddle down to the foot of Little Coboconk, and then right down -the river, for mebbe fifteen or sixteen miles. You’ve been that way. You -remember where a little creek runs out through a big swamp and into the -river? Well, you land on the side opposite the creek, and the railway -ain’t much more’n five miles straight west, right across the bush. It’ll -be rough traveling, maybe, but you ought to make it in three or four -hours.”</p> - -<p>Tom glanced at his watch. It was just after seven o’clock. The train -left Ormond at ten-thirty. He could surely make it. A moment later -Charlie came up for instructions, having finished the repairs to his -canoe.</p> - -<p>“Hold on, Charlie! I’m going with you,” Tom exclaimed. “I’ll try it, -Lynch. Are you sure the raft’s safe?”</p> - -<p>“Safe as if she was in the sawmill. You can trust her to me. Trust the -boss to us, too. Charlie can go on to Oakley and bring back the doctor.”</p> - -<p>“And mind you telegraph me what he says,” Tom insisted. “Here’s my -Toronto address. But I’ll be back here in three or four days, I hope.”</p> - -<p>It did not occur to Tom to change into his city clothes. He hastened to -get into the canoe, taking the bow paddle while Charlie sat at the -stern; and they started down the lake, almost in the face of the wind, -which still blew strongly.</p> - -<p>It was rough, breathless paddling, though they hugged the shelter of the -shore as much as possible. They made slow time on that stage of the -journey, but when they reached the river things went more easily. The -river ran swiftly and was rather shallow now, but there was always -plenty of water for the canoe, and the faster the current the better. -Down the stream they shot, past the old trail to Uncle Phil’s ranch, -around the wide curves bordered by the incessant green of the spruces, -silently and swiftly, with a speed that filled Tom with renewed hope. He -was in fine physical condition; the hour’s rest had restored him, and -the rough and sleepless night behind him had left only a nervous tension -that for the time being actually stimulated his sinews.</p> - -<p>At half-past eight by his watch he felt sure that they must have come -nearly ten miles. He suddenly smelled smoke, and was alarmed.</p> - -<p>“What’s that, Charlie? Fire?” he called over his shoulder.</p> - -<p>The Ojibway sniffed.</p> - -<p>“Fire—sure. Long piece from here, though,” he answered.</p> - -<p>Smoke certainly smelled strong in the air, coming up on the wind, but no -fire was anywhere in sight. The river grew wider and deeper, running -with a strength that almost outstripped the paddles. The miles reeled -off swiftly. Tom was keeping a close watch on the shore, and it was not -much after nine o’clock when he shouted to Charlie and pointed ashore.</p> - -<p>On the left bank a great tamarac swamp came down to the water, and just -opposite them a small creek flowed sluggishly into the river, oozing -through a jungle of evergreen and fern.</p> - -<p>“Hold on!” he cried, and the steersman guided the canoe ashore. He -looked at the landmarks more carefully. It must be the place Lynch had -meant. Somewhere about five miles to the west lay the railway.</p> - -<p>“I stop here, Charlie,” he said hurriedly. “You go on to Oakley as fast -as you can paddle, and get the doctor. I’ll be back soon.”</p> - -<p>Charlie had already been provided with a note for the doctor, tucked -safely inside his felt hat. He nodded impassively.</p> - -<p>“Sure, I go quick, Tom,” he said. “I watch for you come back.”</p> - -<p>He put Tom ashore, and went on down the stream with quick -paddle-strokes, not once glancing back. Tom did not stay to watch him, -either. He glanced at the compass on his watch-chain and struck straight -in from the river.</p> - -<p>The train was due at half-past ten. He had an hour, and long-distance -running had been his speciality in track athletics. It was only five -miles, and, however rough the country might be, he felt quite confident -of being able to cover the distance in time.</p> - -<p>For a little way he had to go slowly, pushing his path through a dense -tangle of spruce and tamarac, but, once well away from the river, the -woods opened out. He went up and down one rolling ridge after another, -splashed through a rock-strewn brook or two, crossed a strip of level -forest, and then had to slow down for a last year’s burned slash, where -the ground was terribly encumbered with dead, charred logs and jagged -spikes of branches and roots.</p> - -<p>A smell of smoke seemed to hang about the place still, he fancied, and -then a veering gust brought him a whiff of smoke that was certainly -fresh. He was afraid to swerve from the compass bee-line, but he felt -extremely uneasy. He passed the old “burn” and entered a region of -jack-pine, and presently there was no mistaking the bluish haze and the -odor of ashes and smoke that filled the air. Then the woods ceased all -at once, and he found himself on the edge of a great ruined slash that -fire had made within two or three days, at the most.</p> - -<p>He halted, despairingly. There seemed no end to the burned strip, north -or south, and he could get no clear notion of its width, for the air was -full of smoke and clouds of fine ashes that drove in whirls before the -wind. It might not be very wide, but it looked too dangerous to cross. -Yet he felt sure that he must be near the railroad; he had surely come -three or four miles, and as he stood irresolute he heard the long blast -of a locomotive far away through the trees.</p> - -<p>He thought it was miles up toward Ormond. The railway must be only a -short distance ahead, and he plunged desperately into the smoky belt.</p> - -<p>The fire was really entirely burned out, as he discovered immediately, -but at the first steps he went ankle-deep in ashes, and felt the heat -strike through his boot-soles. The ground was still hot, and beds of -embers smoldered here and there beneath the ashes.</p> - -<p>His heart almost failed him again. He might step into a mass of hot -coals that would scorch and cripple him. But there was no way around; he -had to cross this barrier or give up, and he went on again, moving in -long leaps to touch the ground as little as possible. Wherever he could, -he paused on a log to gain breath and lay his course.</p> - -<p>The ground was cumbered with masses of fallen trees, charred, spiky, a -continual <i>chevaux-de-frise</i> of tangled stubs and roots. They lay at -every possible angle, and Tom had to edge his way round them, climb -over, or squeeze through. It was like the “burn” he had already crossed, -but this one was fresh and hot. By sheer good luck he escaped stepping -into any spots of fire, but the ground burned under his feet, and the -ashes rose in smothering clouds as he plowed through them.</p> - -<p>The ground was treacherous under its thick gray covering. It was mined -with holes and strewn with hidden entanglements. Two or three times Tom -tripped and went headlong, almost choked in the ashes. His eyes grew -filled with the fine powder; he could not see clearly nor make sure of -his directions, and he had a terrible feeling that his strength was -failing.</p> - -<p>He heard the locomotive whistle again, and much nearer. It spoke -failure, he thought. He could never reach the station now in time for -the train. To his blurred eyes his watch seemed to mark half-past ten -already. He was desperately tired, and burning with thirst. He thought -that he might as well rest a little; he longed more than anything to -sink down in the ashes, anywhere, and sleep.</p> - -<p>Still he kept doggedly moving, driven by he hardly knew what force. The -rest of the journey was a kind of nightmare, whose details he could -never quite remember. Hours seemed to pass in the torment of that -suffocating atmosphere—hours of intense heat, of stumbling, of terrible -thirst, and of overwhelming exhaustion. Then he seemed to see trees -ahead. They were charred evergreens, but the carpet of hot ash ceased, -and a little beyond he saw the cool, blessed green of living spruces.</p> - -<p>Stimulated now by the consciousness that he had come through, he made a -last spurt, and in a few minutes he emerged suddenly upon the railway. -He stopped, confusedly; and then perceived, a hundred yards down the -track, a red-painted wooden station and the smoke of a locomotive.</p> - -<p>He rushed toward it. The place was no more than a flag-station with a -log house or two in the background; and this was not a passenger-train -that stood there. It was not even a mixed train; it was a long -freight-train, engaged just then in coupling up a few flat-cars loaded -with fresh-cut ties.</p> - -<p>The conductor was standing on the platform, talking leisurely with the -station agent, and they both stared in amazement as Tom dashed up, -blackened, ash-smeared, and wild-eyed.</p> - -<p>“Give me a ticket to Toronto!” he exclaimed. “Am I in time? Has the -train—”</p> - -<p>“The morning train went down half an hour ago,” said the agent. “There’s -no other till six-fifteen to-night. What’s the matter—anything -happened?”</p> - -<p>“What time does that night train reach Toronto?”</p> - -<p>“At ten, when she’s on time.”</p> - -<p>That would be hours too late. Tom’s heart went down like lead. He had -lost the race after all. He felt discouraged and utterly played out, but -a last resource occurred to him.</p> - -<p>“Can’t you fix me up to go down on this freight?” he pleaded.</p> - -<p>“It’s against the rules to carry any passengers on freight-trains,” said -the agent. “Can’t be done, I’m afraid. Besides, this freight only goes -to Bala Junction, forty miles down.”</p> - -<p>Tom turned away, tears rising irrepressibly in his eyes. This time he -seemed to have reached a barrier which there was no passing. He saw the -agent and the conductor looking curiously after him, as he walked down -to the end of the platform. It occurred to him that he ought to -telegraph at any rate; and he went into the station and wrote a rather -long message for Mr. Armstrong and another to the manager of the Erie -Bank.</p> - -<p>The agent came in to take the messages. Tom had money in his pocket; he -paid for them, and went out to the platform again, where the freight -conductor watched the manipulation of his train. It was going to Bala -Junction, and Bala Junction, Tom remembered, was on the main line north -from Toronto. Many trains passed that point daily. If he could get -there, he could surely make a connection for the city that afternoon. -The conductor looked good-natured, and Tom ventured to approach him.</p> - -<p>“Look here, can’t you let me ride as far as Bala Junction?” he -entreated. “It’s an important matter—almost life and death. I’ll pay -fare,—double fare, if you like,—but I’ve got to get to the city by seven -o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“My boy,” returned the conductor, not unkindly. “You heard what the -agent said. I’m not allowed to carry any passengers at all—might get -into trouble if I did. But,” he added, “there’s an empty box-car -half-way up the train, and I’d never know whether there was anybody in -it or not. We get to the Junction half an hour before the south-bound -express arrives.”</p> - -<p>Tom burst out with a grateful ejaculation, but the conductor winked at -him, and then turned and looked rigidly in the other direction. The boy -rushed down the track alongside the train, found the open door of the -box-car, and swung himself into it. He sat down on the floor in a -corner, and almost instantly lapsed into a sort of stupor of weariness, -from which he was roused by the violent shock and crash of the train’s -getting under way. He saw the station slide past the open door; the -endless line of spruce trunks succeeded it. The train gathered speed; he -was really started for the city at last.</p> - -<p>It was not a comfortable ride. The freight-cars jolted and pitched, -crashing together with shattering jolts as the train slackened or -increased speed. Despite this, however, Tom dozed during a good deal of -the forty miles to Bala, arousing fully only at the occasional halts. No -one came near him, and nobody appeared to see him when he slipped out of -his box-car at the Junction, and made haste to buy his ticket for -Toronto on the express.</p> - -<p>The express was late, and he filled in the time by endeavoring to brush -and clean himself a little, with imperfect success. He obtained -something to eat at the lunch-counter, and paced up and down the -platform counting the minutes. The express arrived at last, and he was -the only passenger to get aboard. He longed to take a sleeper berth, but -he was so disreputable-looking that he dared not attempt it. He feared -even to enter the first-class coaches, and dropped into a seat in the -smoker.</p> - -<p>The hard part of the journey was over. Everything depended now on the -train, and he resigned himself to chance, with a dull fatalism. He had -done all he could, and he was too deadly weary to speculate any more -upon his chances of winning. He slept through most of the journey, and -came out, dazed and confused, upon the platform of the Union Station, to -see the big illuminated face of the clock indicating eight.</p> - -<p>It stung him again to desperate anxiety. He hastened to a telephone -booth in the waiting-room and called Mr. Armstrong’s office. Central was -unable to get any answer. The office must be closed. He then rang up the -lawyer’s house. A woman’s voice answered.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Armstrong is downtown, attending a business meeting at the King -Edward Hotel. Is there any message?”</p> - -<p>Tom dropped the receiver into the hook. He knew well what that business -meeting was. They were holding it at the King Edward, then. Luckily, the -hotel was not far from the depot, and a direct street-car line carried -him there in five minutes.</p> - -<p>The throng of well-dressed people about the door of the big hotel stared -at the grimed, smoky, ragged young man who burst in, and the outraged -door-porter made an ineffectual grab to stop him. Few such disreputable -figures had ever passed that portal. Tom cast a rapid glance around the -leather chairs of the marble lobby, failed to spy the face he sought, -and hurried up to the desk.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Henry Armstrong—the lawyer—is he here?”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t seen him,” returned the clerk, eyeing Tom with indignation, and -he beckoned privately to a porter, indicating that the young man should -be removed.</p> - -<p>Tom glanced over the lobby again. He would have to wait. He dropped into -one of the big easy-chairs, but the porter laid a hard hand on his -shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Come now, you can’t sit here. You’ve got to get out.”</p> - -<p>Tom rose, confused and humiliated. He was aware of scores of curious and -amused faces looking at him. The porter was edging him toward the exit, -when somebody touched his arm.</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul, Tom Jackson! I saw you come in, but didn’t know you. -What in the world have you been doing to yourself?”</p> - -<p>Tom almost gasped with deep relief. It was Mr. Armstrong himself, who -had been in conversation with a small, alert-looking man with a gray -mustache.</p> - -<p>“Where’s your father? I got your telegram, but couldn’t make out what -you were driving at,” pursued the lawyer.</p> - -<p>“Father’s badly hurt. The meeting—is it over yet?” Tom exclaimed, -choking with excitement.</p> - -<p>“The meeting? No, it hasn’t started yet. We’re waiting for one of the -important men. This is Mr. Laforce, of the Erie Bank. He says he had a -telegram from you, too.”</p> - -<p>“Of course I wired him!” cried Tom. “You must call the meeting off. -We’re not bankrupt. We’re all right now. We’ve got upward of fifty -thousand feet of good black walnut, worth three hundred dollars a -thousand—as good as cash—”</p> - -<p>Mr. Laforce gave Tom a keen glance.</p> - -<p>“You have, eh? Your wire sounded mysterious. Something in this, -Armstrong?”</p> - -<p>“I think it’s worth looking into,” said Mr. Armstrong, laughing.</p> - -<p>“If you’ve got all that, I guess the bank can carry you,” continued the -financier. “Of course we don’t want to push Matt Jackson into -bankruptcy. I guess anyway we’d better call the meeting postponed.”</p> - -<p>That meeting was never held. Tom held a long conference with the lawyer -and the banker that evening, going home at last to his deserted house, -to tumble into bed and sleep like one dead till the middle of the next -forenoon. Late that day a telegram arrived from the north:</p> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-right:2em; margin-left:2em'> - -<p>Boss waked up and doing good. Doctor says no danger. Raft safe.</p> - -<div style='text-align:right; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em'> -<div style='display:inline-block; text-align:left;'> -<div class='cbline'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Lynch.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Tom had another long talk over a dinner-table with Armstrong that -evening, finding the lawyer more human than he had ever considered him -before. The next morning he left for the Coboconk lakes again, -accompanied by a representative of the Erie Bank.</p> - -<p>They found Mr. Jackson conscious and much recovered, weak indeed, but -eager to be out again. The skull had not been fractured; he had suffered -merely a concussion, and had been half drowned into the bargain, and -when Tom and his companion arrived he insisted on sitting up and talking -business.</p> - -<p>The big raft still lay behind its boom in the northern bay, and was an -imposing sight, even after all the damage it had suffered. Nearly a -third of it had broken away in the storm. Some of the cribs had remained -afloat; some had gone ashore; and Lynch had been energetically picking -up everything that could be salvaged. Much of the walnut had been -spilled off the loose cribs, but altogether Lynch estimated that they -still had a good hundred and twenty thousand feet.</p> - -<p>At any rate the sight of the timber so impressed the bank representative -that he willingly agreed to “carry” the business a little longer. All -that remained was to get the timber out. Mr. Jackson had originally -thought of sawing it up at Oakley, but finally decided to team the logs -out from that place and ship it to Toronto, where the precious wood -could be more carefully handled.</p> - -<p>They had to wait several days for a north wind to enable the raft to go -down the lake, and during this time, to Tom’s immense surprise, appeared -his cousin Dave. With some embarrassment Dave explained that the “gold -boom” had turned out a disappointment. He had staked some claims, but -there was nothing in them. He looked over the raft with amazement and -some chagrin.</p> - -<p>“To think that I spent two years within a mile of all that and never -knew it!” he commented.</p> - -<p>“We’ll give you a job as Lynch’s lieutenant—four dollars a day and -board,” Tom suggested, laughing.</p> - -<p>Dave declined. He was needed on the farm, but he gladly accepted the -return of the fifteen dollars that Tom had borrowed at that critical -moment in the woods.</p> - -<p>The raft went down to Oakley without mishap, a timely rainfall having -swollen the river to a good depth, and it aroused great excitement at -that town. Here they broke it up, and for a long time the heavy logging -teams were busy, slowly hauling the timber out to the railway.</p> - -<p>Two dozen logs or so vanished mysteriously between Oakley and Toronto, -but the rest of the timber was stored safely in Mr. Jackson’s yards to -dry out thoroughly. It was then carefully sawed up. It sold somewhat -slowly but at a high price, and not a scrap of it was wasted. -Altogether, the walnut brought a gross sum of $44,000, besides several -hundred dollars obtained from the rough spruce and jack-pine of the -floats, which was left at Oakley.</p> - -<p>Charlie followed the raft down to Oakley and hung about till the last -load was teamed out. Tom looked forward with genuine regret to saying -good-by to this companion who had stood by him through so many -adventures. By way of deadening the farewell, he sent to Toronto for a -magnificent repeating-rifle with a stock of ammunition, a new canoe, a -miscellaneous camp outfit, and a set of traps, and presented this -unexpected wealth to Charlie just before he left.</p> - -<p>“If you ever need anything, Charlie,” he said, “if the trapping turns -out bad or you have any trouble, you go to my uncle Phil Jackson. You -know where he lives. He’ll give you anything you want.”</p> - -<p>The Ojibway looked over the new outfit, which would make him the envy of -all his tribe, and raised his eyes to Tom’s, full of a deep glow.</p> - -<p>“You good fellow, Tom,” he said. “You come back some time, mebbe. I -watch for you.”</p> - -<p>“Sure I’ll come back, Charlie,” Tom promised. “We’ll go trapping -together yet.”</p> - -<p>Thus far, however, Tom has not gone back. He reëntered the university -that autumn, with renewed ambition to finish his studies; and, without -altogether neglecting collegiate athletics, he spent most of his spare -time in his father’s office and yards.</p> - -<p>The forty-odd thousand dollars was not a fortune, but it carried the -business over a bad time, and was enough to set Mr. Jackson on his feet -again. Though, as he says, the lumber trade is no longer what it used to -be, the Jackson establishment seems to be prospering. After Tom’s -graduation, however, the office stationery bore the new heading:</p> - -<div style='text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; '> -<div>MATTHEW JACKSON & SON.</div> -</div> - -<p>Perhaps the change brought luck.</p> - -<div style='text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; '> -<div style='margin-top:1.4em;'>THE END</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Timber Treasure, by Frank Lillie Pollock - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TIMBER TREASURE *** - -***** This file should be named 62950-h.htm or 62950-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/9/5/62950/ - -Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -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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