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diff --git a/old/68584-0.txt b/old/68584-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 694cc1e..0000000 --- a/old/68584-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3338 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lost in the backwoods, by Edith C. -Kenyon - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Lost in the backwoods - -Author: Edith C. Kenyon - -Illustrator: William Rainey - -Release Date: July 21, 2022 [eBook #68584] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Al Haines - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOST IN THE BACKWOODS *** - - - - - - - -[Illustration: Cover art] - - - -[Frontispiece: "'God bless you!' he said fervently." _p._ 62] - - - -LOST IN THE BACKWOODS - - -BY - -EDITH C. KENYON - -AUTHOR OF "JACK'S HEROISM"; "BRAVE BERTIE," ETC. - - - -_ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. RAINEY, R.I._ - - - - LONDON - S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO. - 8 & 9, PATERNOSTER ROW - - - - -_FOURTEENTH THOUSAND_ - - - - -CONTENTS. - - -CHAPTER I. - -ATTACKED BY ROBBERS - - -CHAPTER II. - -ALONE IN THE FOREST - - -CHAPTER III. - -RESCUED - - -CHAPTER IV. - -TEMPTED - - -CHAPTER V. - -CYRIL'S SENTENCE - - -CHAPTER VI. - -DELIVERANCE - - -CHAPTER VII. - -A FALSE ALARM - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -GREEN MEETS HIS FATHER - - -CHAPTER IX. - -AT THE SAW-MILL - - -CHAPTER X. - -ATTACKED BY BEARS - - -CHAPTER XI. - -CYRIL SPEAKS UP FOR THE INDIANS - - -CHAPTER XII. - -A JOYFUL MEETING - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -LEAVING THE SAW-MILL - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -LOST IN THE SNOW - - -CHAPTER XV. - -A CONFESSION OF GUILT - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -THE DISCOVERY IN THE LOFT - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -THE GHOST - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -THE MEETING IN THE FOREST - - - - -LOST IN THE BACKWOODS. - - - -CHAPTER I. - -_ATTACKED BY ROBBERS._ - -"Your money or your life! Quick! Your money or your life!" - -Cyril Morton gave a cry of horror and alarm. A masked brigand was -pointing a revolver at his father, whose pale face confronted it with -unnatural calmness. - -Cyril had never passed through such a terrible minute in his whole -life as that one during which his father remained silent, instead of -replying to his fierce assailant's demand. A short while before the -train-boy, passing down the outside passage of the comfortable -American train, bearing his tray of chocolate, biscuits, fruit, etc., -had waited on them and promised to return in a few minutes with -illustrated papers wherewith to beguile the tedium of the journey. -The train, which was a very slow one, was going from Menominee -northwards. Cyril and his father had come to North America in search -of the latter's brother, now long absent from his home. When last -heard of Gerald Morton was in Michigan, so to that State they came on -the death of Cyril's mother, whose last request was that her husband -should go and look up his only brother. Cyril was twelve years old; -he was an only child, and his father, in his sorrow, could not bear -the thought of leaving him behind in England, so the two travelled -together and were "chums," as the boy called it. After a delightful -sail from Chicago over the calm grey waters of Lake Michigan they -were enjoying their slow journey through immense pine forests, when -suddenly a band of robbers galloped up to the train, flung themselves -from their horses, and clambered on to it. First they struck down -the engine-driver, reversed the engine, and stopped the train. Then -they began to search the passengers, demanding of all their money or -their life. - -On receiving no answer the ruffian who was threatening Mr. Morton -repeated his words in a voice of thunder. - -"Oh, father," cried Cyril, "give him the money, or he will kill you! -Father, _please_." He screamed the last words in his agony of -apprehension. - -His attention being diverted by the boy the man glanced aside at him, -and in that moment Mr. Morton, with a sudden movement, wrested the -pistol from his grasp. - -The other instantly snatched at it, and a struggle commenced between -the two men for its possession. Backwards and forwards they swayed, -now locked in each other's arms, now flung apart. Once the revolver -fell upon the soft-cushioned seat, when Cyril instantly caught hold -of it, and, watching his opportunity, slipped it back into his -father's hand. - -Maddened with rage the brigand struck the boy down with his huge -fist. Then Cyril lay like a log upon the floor of the carriage, and -knew no more. - -A few moments and the struggle between the men was ended by the -brigand's firing point-blank at Mr. Morton, who fell back on the seat -apparently lifeless. - -The robber proceeded to rapidly search his victim. Quickly he -pocketed a gold watch and chain, a well-filled purse, and also a -pocket-book containing notes. Then he stooped over the boy, looking -in his pockets. As he did so something in the white upturned face -touched even his hard heart. - -"He's not unlike my Harry," he muttered, thrusting back the little -purse his fingers had just closed on. "No, I'll not take his money. -He'll come to, and maybe want it." - -Turning away he went on to rob someone else; and presently, with his -pockets full of notes and gold, returned to his first victims, still -lying where he had left them. - -The other outlaws were leaving the train and mounting their horses; -they were all in a hurry to get away. - -The man who had struck down poor Cyril stood over him now, with a -softened look in his hard face as he felt anxiously for the boy's -pulse. - -"Living!" he exclaimed, when his rough fingers had found it. "Well, -he's a plucky little lad. I'll take him with me. His father's -dead," he added, glancing at him. "I'll adopt the lad. He shall be -my son, instead of poor Harry." So saying he lifted Cyril in his -arms, carried him to where he had left his horse, and when he rode -off with the others the boy, still unconscious, was on the saddle -before him, his curly head drooping against his shoulder. - -[Illustration: "The boy was on the saddle before him."] - -Now it happened that under the double burden the brigand's horse -lagged behind the others, and although its master whipped and spurred -it cruelly it could not keep up with them. - -"Whiterock," cried the captain of the band more than once, "come on. -Why do you linger?" - -"Coming, sir," answered Whiterock, redoubling his efforts, but in -vain. - -At last the captain, turning in anger to see why he was disobeyed, -perceived the boy, and cried impatiently-- - -"What have you got there? A lad? Ridiculous! Absurd! Fling him -down. Leave him. We want no babies." - -Outlaw though he was--strong, desperate too--the brigand dared not -disobey his chief. Reluctantly, therefore, he stopped short, sprang -off his horse, and lifted the boy down in his arms. Muttering that -he had once a son like him he laid Cyril down under a forest tree, -and then, turning quickly, remounted his horse and rode rapidly after -his captain. - -All the horsemen rode away. The sound of their horses' hoofs died -out in the distance. - -Presently, as evening drew on, a huge grey bear, stealing through the -bushes, stood looking down on the unconscious boy. After a few -minutes the bear stooped, and almost poked him with his nose. - -If Cyril had awoke then, if he had moved one hand, or in any way -"shown fight," it would have been all over with him. Unless very -hungry, however, these North American bears do not attack human -beings if they make no aggressive movement; so Cyril remaining -perfectly still the bear, having satisfied his curiosity, moved -slowly away. - -The shades of night stole over the forest. It became quite dark. -The wild beasts sought their prey. All sorts of dangers were on -every side; but, quite unconscious still, the boy lay there, a faint -stirring of his pulse alone showing that life was still within his -slight young frame. - -He had no mother at home praying for him, but it might be in the -Paradise above she was pleading for her boy, over whom a merciful -Providence was watching. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -_ALONE IN THE FOREST._ - -About midday Cyril came to himself, opening wondering eyes upon an -unknown world. Where was he? What had happened? Where was his -father? Why were his limbs when he tried to move them so stiff and -cramped? Raising himself with difficulty he leaned upon one elbow, -and looked round searchingly. - -He was alone in these unknown wilds. Where was his father? Why had -he left him? - -Suddenly the boy gave a great cry; he remembered all. His father was -killed, must have been killed, or he would never have parted from -him. He had put the pistol in his father's hand before the robber -struck him; he did not know what had happened after that. But he -felt convinced that his father was dead, and he lay down again upon -the ground, crying as if his heart would break. There was a very -tender love between him and his father; since the mother's death they -had been all in all to one another. But a new thought came to Cyril -by-and-by, and that was that someone must have brought him to the -place where he was lying. For there was no railway line to be seen -near there; indeed, the trees grew too thickly to admit of such a -possibility. Who, then, had brought him away from the train, away -from the railway line? Was it, could it possibly have been his -father? But if so, where was he now? - -Animated by the hope of finding him Cyril struggled to his feet. -Then he called as loudly as he could, which was not very loud, for -his throat was parched and dry, and he himself felt very faint. -"Father! Father!" he cried. "Father, where are you? Father, speak; -tell me you are here! Father! Father!" - -But there was no answer. - -Despairingly the boy turned in first one direction and then another, -repeating his cries until he could not utter another word. But all -in vain. There was no trace of a human being in any direction. He -was alone, quite alone in the forest. - -In silence now he wandered up and down, finding some wild -raspberries, or what looked like them, and eating them quite -ravenously. The soft fruit allayed his thirst, and then he could -shout again, which he did repeatedly. At first it had been his -intention to remain near the place where he had been lying, that if -his father or whoever brought him there returned he might be found. -But he lost his way very soon and could not find the place again. - -"Father! Father! Help! help!" he cried, pushing his way through -the long grass and bushes, and running along narrow tracks in first -one direction and then another. "Oh, help, I am perishing! Save me!" - -For now a despairing feeling came over him that help would never -come, that he would wander up and down there until he died--perhaps -killed by some wild beast. He knew there were bears in that part of -America, and presently he came across a young one. It did not appear -to see him, and he ran away from its neighbourhood as fast as he -could. He had no weapon of any kind, and the thought of that made -him presently get out his pocket-knife and cut himself a stout stick. -Then it was that he discovered that after all he had not been robbed. -His purse was still in his pocket. He took it out, opened it, and -examined its contents ruefully. One piece of gold, a sovereign, and -a good many shillings and sixpences were all there. But of what use -was money to him now? How gladly, thankfully, he would give the -whole of his money to anyone who would show him the way out of that -fearful solitude! However, he was in a place where money availed -not. What could he do? He was in despair. - -Then he remembered his heavenly Father, and, kneeling down just where -he was in the lonely forest, he prayed to Him for help and guidance, -and especially that, if his father still lived, they two might -speedily find each other. - -He felt somewhat comforted when, at length, he rose from his knees, -for he knew that he had done the very best thing he could for himself -and his dear father by laying all their concerns before God in prayer. - -Looking round for more berries he soon found some, ate, and was again -refreshed. Then he walked on once more in the hope that he would get -to some inhabited place. But he was very tired; and presently, when -his foot slipped over a tree-root and he fell heavily to the ground, -he did not feel able to rise again. He therefore lay still where he -was, and soon fell fast asleep. - -Again the shades of night crept over the tall trees of the forest, -veiling them and the sleeping boy in darkness. And once again the -beasts of prey stole forth in search of food, but did not come near -Cyril to harm him, whilst, unconscious of his danger, he slept on. - -He was happy now, for he was dreaming of his mother. She looked as -sweet as ever and far happier, for the lines of pain and trouble on -her face had been all smoothed away. "Cyril, my boy," she said to -him, stooping to kiss his brow, "it was brave of you to help your -father as you did yesterday. You suffered for it. Yes, but that is -all over. Now you must be brave in searching for your father and -waiting patiently until God, in His good providence, permits you both -to meet again." - -"I will, I will, mother," Cyril cried in his dream; and then it -ceased, and he lay in heavy, dreamless slumber until he awoke with a -consciousness of its being very hot, and that there was a strong -smell of something burning. - -Starting up and looking round he found that it was morning, and that -away to the right of him there was a mighty cloud of smoke mingled -with flames, out of which great showers of sparks flew up into the -sky. A tremendous roaring as of thunder announced the burning of -great forest trees. The noise of it almost drowned the pitiful cries -and screams, roars and screeches of wild animals and birds as, in -their flight for their lives, the cruel flames caught hold of them -and burnt them. - -"The forest is on fire!" cried Cyril aloud in terror-stricken -accents, "and I, where shall I go? Oh, God," he murmured, "help me!" -and set off running fast in the opposite direction from that in which -the fire was advancing. - -The air had become exceedingly hot. It dried up everything before -the fire, so that when the flames came up they caught hold of the -great pine trees without a moment's loss. The very ground seemed -scorched. - -Cyril found the fire gaining upon him. Of what use was it to run? -Oh, if he could only come to some open space, or a sheet of water -into which he could hasten! - -But no. There were no signs of either. Cyril became hotter and -hotter. Soon, very soon, the fire would overtake him. He almost -felt its hot breath on his cheeks. Wringing his hands he sank down -with a loud, despairing cry. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -_RESCUED._ - -Now it happened that Whiterock and his companions had been fleeing -before the fire for at least an hour, when its direction brought them -to the place where Cyril fell. - -The boy's wild, despairing cry was unheeded by most of the men, who -were only bent on saving their own lives, but on Whiterock's ears it -fell with powerful appeal. Swiftly he galloped up, espied the boy, -leaped from his horse, flung Cyril upon the saddle, remounted, and -once more rode off with him at full speed. - -[Illustration: "The boy's wild, despairing cry was unheeded."] - -The men knew of a large clearing extending for several miles, where -lumbermen had felled and carried away the great pines. They rode -straight there, and in the course of an hour reached the place. - -There was no fear of any fire following them into the clearing, for -nothing remained there upon which it could feed. It took another -direction, more to the north-west, and the men and boy were safe. - -With noisy jests and much jeering at the fears which now were over -the company made their way to the deserted camp of the lumberers. -This proved to be a big frame-building, run up for the temporary -convenience of the men who felled the trees, and then deserted when -their work was done and the timber conveyed away. All round the -inside of the building were sleeping-bunks, half filled still with -dry grass and ferns. - -They set to work with alacrity to kindle a fire, make coffee, cook -some meat, and spread out their biscuits. - -No one took any notice of Cyril, who stood in a corner watching them -furtively. What powerful men they were! And how wicked some of them -looked! But others seemed quite pleasant and kind. He watched -Whiterock closely with very mingled feelings. He would have been -most grateful to him for saving his life if it were not for the -strong suspicion he had that he was the very man who had attacked his -father. At that time he wore a mask. Now his dark-bearded face was -uncovered. But there was something in his build and manner, and -especially in the tones of his voice, which made Cyril confident that -he was his poor father's assailant. How the boy longed to ask him if -he had left his father living still! Would he be very angry if he -were asked the question? - -"Whiterock!" Cyril called timidly to him, stealing nearer as he did -so. - -The man had constituted himself cook, and was stooping over a -battered frying-pan, whereon spluttered great slices of meat. Being -much absorbed in his cooking he only noticed Cyril's call by giving -him a nod. - -Cyril did not return the nod. For just as he was about to do so it -occurred to him that if the man were really his poor father's cruel -assailant he could return no greeting of his. - -Whiterock did not notice the boy's lack of cordiality; he was talking -to one of the stewards now about the meat, which had run short. -There would not be sufficient to go round. This was a great -difficulty which could not be got over by talking. - -When at last the men sat and lay down in a sort of circle round the -stewards, who helped out the food straight from two central dishes -into the men's hands, Cyril was called up by Whiterock and received a -share of biscuit only. - -"Biscuit is good enough for bairns," said the steward, laughing. - -But Whiterock, grumbling, thrust a small piece of meat upon the boy's -biscuit. It was his own. But how could Cyril eat it? He pushed it -back into the man's hand. Whiterock looked annoyed, and made no -further attempt to improve his meal. The men drank their coffee out -of little cups belonging to their flasks. Cyril had not one, so -would have had to go without if the steward had not kindly lent him -his. - -After the breakfast all the men but two or three, who remained to -look after the horses, collect wood, and so forth, went off on foot -to hunt. They returned, late in the afternoon, with an immense -quantity of game. The men who had not been hunting were sent, with a -couple of horses, to fetch home some of the best parts of the deer -which the others had shot. - -There was a great feast that evening, and much work afterwards in -cutting and hanging up strips of meat to be smoked and dried by the -fire during the night. Then the men divided the sleeping-bunks. -Cyril shared one with Whiterock. - -"There, get in, youngster," said Whiterock. "I'm awful sleepy. Want -to say something? No, I can't hear it to-night. To-morrow some time -will do. Good-night." He fell asleep, or appeared to do so, almost -as he spoke. - -Cyril dared not disturb him to inquire about his father's fate. He, -too, was very sleepy, and in spite of his anxiety speedily followed -his companion's example. - -He was awoke suddenly in the night by shouts from the men, and then -much loud talking and exclaiming. What was the matter? The men were -flying wildly out of their bunks, on all sides, and making for the -door. At that moment something soft, smooth, and slippery wound -itself round Cyril's neck. With a cry for help he caught hold of -Whiterock's hand. - -The man sat up and astonished the boy by laughing loudly. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -_TEMPTED._ - -Whiterock flung something from the boy, and, jumping out of the bunk, -still laughing loudly, lifted him on to the ground. - -"Captain," he called out, "these old bunks here are full of -pine-snakes, which have crawled into them for warmth. Fortunately -they are quite harmless. Now then, men, they won't hurt you!" - -When all the men had returned they declared that it was impossible to -sleep any more that night. So more coffee was made, and they all sat -and lay about near the fire, talking of their future plans. Cyril -began to count the men, but was still so sleepy that he could not -quite decide whether their number was nearer twenty than thirty. - -For some time no one took any notice of the boy. But at last the -Captain did so, and jeered at Whiterock for turning nursemaid. - -Then they all began to talk of Cyril, much to his discomfiture. - -Presently Whiterock asked him if he would like to remain with them as -his adopted son, and in time would become one of the band. - -"Ah, like Wolfgang," said the Captain, stroking his long beard. "He -was a lad of about your age. We found him. I won't say where, but -he grew up amongst us, and for cleverness and pluck there wasn't a -man of us all that could beat him. Ah, he would have been captain if -he had lived! He was killed in a scuffle with the police. He died -fighting nobly." - -Cyril had his own opinion about the nobleness of fighting the public -officers of law and order. But he felt sorry for Wolfgang. The lad -probably knew no better. - -"Well, little 'un," said Whiterock, "would you like to stay with us -and be my boy?" - -"But my father?" said Cyril tremulously, looking appealingly at him. - -"Oh, he's dead," said Whiterock hastily. "Now come, boy, don't make -a scene." - -Cyril turned his back on him. He was struggling with all his might -to keep back the tears which would not be suppressed. His father, -his dear, kind father, slain by that coarse, ruffianly fellow! Oh, -it was too cruel! - -"What's the matter?" demanded the Captain. - -Whiterock crossed over to him, and said something rather low in his -ear. - -"Oh!" cried the Captain. "But that's only the fortune of war. Come -here, my boy," he added to Cyril. - -Cyril went up to him with a pale, resolute face. - -"Whiterock saved your life, lad," said the Captain. "You must -remember that. There wasn't one of us who would have done so much -for you at such a time." - -"He took my father's life," replied Cyril, looking up with flashing -eyes, the hot blood mounting to his very brow. - -"But he saved _your_ life, lad," remonstrated the Captain. - -"I know he saved my life," cried Cyril, "and I just wish he hadn't! -As he killed my father, I would rather have died than----" - -"Be quiet!" thundered the Captain. "Will you stay with us or no?" - -"No, a thousand times no!" answered the boy boldly. - -"I won't have him," muttered Whiterock sulkily. - -"But I will," cried the Captain. "Look here, my lad, I honour you. -Yes, I honour you for loving and respecting your father. You're a -plucky lad! And if you like to stay with us you shall be my adopted -son. Do you hear what I say?" - -The men uttered various exclamations, tending to show that what they -considered "a piece of rare luck" had come in Cyril's way. - -Then they all waited for the boy's answer. - -"No, thank you, Captain," he said politely, "I cannot." - -"What for, lad? Why not?" demanded the Captain wrathfully. - -"Oh, because '_Noblesse oblige_!'" replied the boy. - -"What do you say?" - -Cyril repeated "_Noblesse oblige_" distinctly, in tones which were -heard all over the great room. - -"How do you explain those words?" asked the Captain. - -"Oh, don't you understand them?" said Cyril, surprised that such a -great man as the Captain should be ignorant of their meaning. "My -father"--his voice shook a little as he said the name--"told me -_Noblesse oblige_ means rank imposes obligations, and that much is -expected from one in a good position. You see, Captain, _gentlemen -can't do mean, dishonourable things_. I'm sorry to disappoint you, -but you see I come of a race of honourable gentlemen who would scorn -to rob and plunder." - -The Captain laughed loudly, rudely. "What a fine gentleman we've got -here!" said he; "let's look at him." He dragged Cyril forward into -the middle of the room. "There, my fine fellow, look around you," -cried he. "Do you know several of these men are gentlemen of birth -and breeding?" - -"Then they've forgotten it," said Cyril calmly. - -A murmur of anger went round the room. "Forgotten what?" cried one -man. - -"_Noblesse oblige_," replied Cyril. - -"Absurd," cried the Captain. "Have you no better reason than that -for refusing my offer?" - -Cyril was silent. - -"Speak out," cried the Captain. - -Slowly but bravely Cyril said that there was yet another reason. He -could not join them because he was a follower of Christ, who made the -law of love, saying, "_By this shall all men know that ye are My -disciples, if ye have love one to another._" - -A cry of rage burst from most of the men upon hearing this. But one -or two drew rough hands across their faces, as if to hide them for a -moment. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -_CYRIL'S SENTENCE._ - -"You little prig!" sneered the Captain of the band. But he did not -look at Cyril. "Preaching at us!" cried another man indignantly. - -"He wants taking down a peg or two," said a third. - -"What sinners we must be!" scoffed a fourth. - -"Leave him alone," growled one whose heart the boy's brave, noble -words had touched. "Let him be." - -"Aye, do," said a younger man. But he spoke timidly, looking down on -the ground as he did so. "In case--in case," he added, "the -youngster may be right." - -"Right! Hark at him! Hark at Green!" jeered two or three rough -voices. - -The Captain looked angrily around at the men, and then at the boy. -He felt thoroughly out of temper. - -"A good thrashing would do the lad no harm," he muttered. - -"Thrashing's too good for him," grumbled Whiterock, all his kind -feeling for Cyril having changed to bitter dislike. - -"Boy, come here," cried the Captain. - -Cyril went up to him. He was very pale now, and trembling. He did -not feel at all brave as he clasped his hands nervously together. It -was terrible to feel that he stood alone, unarmed, helpless in the -midst of all these men. - -The Captain looked searchingly at him. "Your name, lad?" he demanded -in stern tones. - -"Cyril Morton," answered the boy. - -"Cyril! A girl's name! Pooh!" - -With a sudden change of mood the Captain laughed derisively. He -passed his big, rough hand over the boy's soft curly hair and down -his slim young figure. - -"All the same," he said, "I like you, boy, and believe that we can -make a man of you yet. After all, I will repeat my offer. Will you -stay and be my son?" - -Cyril shook his head. He could not speak at the moment, for the -right words would not come. Was he to go through the ordeal again? - -"He won't!" cried one of the men indignantly. "Did you ever know -such defiance?" - -"Speak," demanded the Captain, his hand resting heavily now on -Cyril's shoulder as if he would compel his obedience. "Do you still -refuse?" - -"Yes. I cannot--oh, I cannot accept your offer! I cannot!" cried -the boy. - -"Very well," shouted the Captain angrily. "You defy us! Here, you, -Whiterock, you brought the youngster. Take him outside a bit while -we decide what is to be done. Take him away, I say, for ten minutes. -Then bring him back to hear his sentence." - -Cyril trembled. Would they kill him? Out here in the backwoods they -could do whatever they liked. There were no policemen here. - -"Come on," said Whiterock, seizing hold of Cyril's collar and -dragging him out of the place. - -Outside he flung the boy down on the ground at his feet. - -"Oh, Whiterock," pleaded Cyril, "though you killed my father--my -dear, good father, will you not save me, his son?" - -[Illustration: "Oh, Whiterock, will you not save me?"] - -It was the best plea the boy could have made, for since those words -of his to the Captain, and his terrible distress about his poor -father, Whiterock had felt something like compunction for what he had -done. - -"The matter lies in your own hands, Cyril," he said, not unkindly. -"You, and only you, can save your life. Accept the Captain's -offer--it is a generous one." - -"But I can't," said Cyril. "Oh, Whiterock, I can't!" - -"Well, come back with me inside." - -"One moment," cried poor Cyril. "What will they do to me?" - -"You'll hear that soon enough," muttered Whiterock, leading him -inside the huge shanty. - -"Come here," called the Captain loudly, "and hear our decision." - -Cyril stood tremblingly before him. - -"It is," cried the man, "that if you do not change your mind by -morning and consent to become one of our band, we shall tie you to a -bunk and leave you here imprisoned in this camp, with only the snakes -for your companions." - -A cry of horror escaped from Cyril's lips. Then eagerly, -passionately, he pleaded with the Captain to punish him in any other -way he liked than that. - -But to all and everything he urged the Captain had only one answer, -Cyril must accept his offer, and then all would be well with him. - -The boy, however, although greatly tempted to dissemble for a while -and pretend to comply with the Captain's wishes until they reached a -more civilised place where he might gain succour, remained firm. - -So did the Captain. At the break of day he and the men breakfasted -without giving one morsel of food to the boy. Then they made their -preparations for leaving the place, which consisted mainly in packing -up the best of the game and deer flesh. - -When they were quite ready to start the Captain strode up to Cyril, -asking if he had changed his mind. - -"No, sir," answered the boy. - -Then the Captain made two of his men lay Cyril down in a bunk and tie -him to it securely. - -The horrified boy, looking round nervously, perceived a snake at the -foot of the bunk, and another larger reptile at one side of it. - -Was he to be left exposed to their unwelcome embraces? Harmless they -might be, but most unpleasant. - -Vainly he begged and implored for mercy. - -To all and everything he said the Captain's reply was always, "Do you -change your mind? Will you be one of us?" - -"I cannot! Oh, I cannot!" cried the poor boy every time. - -Last of all Whiterock came up, and once more advised him not to throw -his life away. - -Cyril, however, would not yield. - -Then they left him, and going outside mounted their horses and rode -off. - -There was a great silence in the deserted camp. - -Cyril prayed to God for help. - -Suddenly he felt a cold, slimy body slipping round his leg and -gliding up his waist. He could not reach it with his hands, which -were tied to the side of the bunk. Shouting at it to frighten it -away was not of any use. - -With a piercing scream he gave himself up for lost and knew no more. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -_DELIVERANCE._ - -"Poor little chap!" said a rough but kindly voice, as a young man -unwound the snake from Cyril's body and dashed it on the ground. -"Pluckier than any of us men after all. Here, my lad, drink this." -Whilst speaking he had unfastened Cyril's collar, and was now holding -a flask to his lips. - -Opening his eyes Cyril looked with a troubled gaze into the man's -weather-beaten face. What had happened? Slowly he remembered. It -was the young man called Green, who had tried to speak up for him -when the others were so angry. What was he doing here? - -Green cut away the ropes, and lifting the boy out of the bunk carried -him away from the gloomy place altogether into the sunshine outside. -Then he laid him down on some long grass, and going to his horse, -which was tied to a fence near by, got a packet of food out of his -saddle-bag. - -The sweet, fresh air revived Cyril; the sunshine warmed him and did -him good. In his heart he thanked God for the blessed change. - -As Cyril ate and drank the repentant outlaw watched him with hungry -eyes. There had been a time once when he was an innocent boy like -him. Ah, well! that was long ago, and the good mother, whose pride -and joy he had been in those days, had been dead for many years. -There was no one to care so much what he did when she had gone, and -the tempter enticed him along the downward path of idleness and -self-pleasing. He had forgotten his mother's God, and had turned -away his mind from all thoughts of Him! That was the beginning and -the end of all the evil. - -But this boy, Cyril, had done very differently. Alone, unarmed, he -had been brave in the most terrible danger, he had resisted the -greatest temptation. - -The robber sighed deeply. - -Cyril, looking up, saw two great tears rolling down the man's face. -He turned his head away quickly lest the boy should see them. - -Jumping up he threw his arms round the man's neck. - -"You have saved my life," he cried, "and now you are in trouble -yourself. Yes, I know you are. Is there anything I can do? Will -you--will you tell me what is the matter?" - -Deeply touched, Green sank down on the grass beside Cyril and told -him the whole story of his life, from the time when, as a child, he -said his prayers at his mother's knee to the hour when, with his -companions, he heard Cyril's outspoken condemnation of their wicked -life. - -"All night long," he said in conclusion--"all night long I've been -thinking, thinking as I never thought before, and I've made up my -mind, lad, that I'll try to lead a different life. If I can't earn -my bread and cheese in future--well, I'll go without it. And I'll -ask God's forgiveness for all my wrong-doing as long as I've breath -in me to ask it." - -After a pause, during which Green sat pondering, his horse made an -impatient movement, which reminded him that they ought to set off. - -"But where shall we go?" asked Cyril wonderingly. - -Green replied that his father still lived, and happened to be working -in a great saw-mill not twenty miles away from where they were. "If -we go to him," he said, "I know he will get me work to do." - -Then Cyril asked if Green could put him in the way of returning to -England to his friends. - -Green felt very sorry for him as he listened. But as Cyril had not -nearly enough money, and he had very little himself, he did not see -how he could possibly assist the boy to return home. However, the -first thing was to get him into a place of safety, for the robbers -might return when they missed their comrade, or possibly, relenting, -they might come back to liberate Cyril. - -Mounting his horse, therefore, Green took up Cyril before him on the -saddle and rode off. - -After proceeding about five miles through the forest, without any -greater adventure than the frequent difficulty of finding a path -through the dense trees, they unfortunately came out into an open -sandy plain, across which they had not gone far before they were -perceived by some horsemen who happened to be crossing the plain in -another direction. - -With wild cries the men turned their horses about and set off after -Green and Cyril. - -It was a most unequal chase. The doubly-laden horse could not by any -chance escape the pursuers, who gained ground every moment. - -Encouraging it by word and by every other means in his power Green -rode on, but with little hope in his heart. - -Nearer and nearer came the pursuers, laughing and shouting as their -horses flew over the plain. - -"Come, Jack! Jack, old fellow, for pity's sake!" cried Green. - -Tossing his head, with flakes of foam flying from his mouth, the -horse dashed on. - -But still the followers gained a little more. - -"Jack, old fellow!" There was something despairing now in Green's -appeal to the animal. - -Neighing loudly, as if in answer, the horse galloped even faster than -before. His hoofs scarcely seemed to touch the ground. It was all -Cyril could do to hold on to his friend. - -"Stop! stop! stop, or we fire!" cried a stentorian voice. - -"Jack!" Green's appeal was almost frantic now. - -With a bound the horse responded, plunging forward with greater speed -than ever. - -A shot rang through the air. Jack swerved heavily to one side; then -he rolled over dead. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -_A FALSE ALARM._ - -The good horse Jack was dead, but neither Green nor Cyril were hurt. -Fortunately for them the last violent movement of the animal threw -them quite clear of its body. - -"Cowards!" exclaimed Green, rising, and looking indignantly through a -cloud of dust in the direction whence the shot had been fired. - -[Illustration: "'Cowards!' exclaimed Green, rising, and looking -indignantly."] - -"Why, Green! Green! They're off!" cried Cyril, who was already on -his feet. "They're off!" - -"Off! Leaving us!" - -Green could scarcely believe his eyes. Instead of coming up to seize -them the pursuers were galloping away. - -"Oh! Look, look!" Cyril pointed in another direction. - -A little company of horsemen had entered the sandy plain, and were -riding rapidly towards them. - -"They've scared our enemies. Aye, but we'd better be off too," cried -Green in alarm. - -"But we needn't run away from these men," said Cyril. "They are our -friends." - -"Friends? Not they! I should have a bad time of it if they caught -me," said Green. "You see, they're Government men on the look-out -for train-robbers and horse-stealers. Jack was a stolen horse. -They'd make short work once they laid hands on me. Come on, lad." -He caught hold of Cyril's hand and set off running back towards the -forest. - -"But, Green, stop. Let us tell them all. You are no outlaw now. -You can say you have done with all that sort of thing--that you are -repentant!" protested Cyril as they ran. - -"That would make no difference. They'd punish me for what I've done -already." - -Cyril could not help feeling that if he told his story to these -new-comers they would be sorry for him, and would befriend him. But -he did not like to suggest that he should separate from his companion -and wait for them. - -Green, however, seemed to be thinking of it "They would not believe -even you," he said. "You see, you'd be found in my company, and they -would think you were one of us." - -Across the boy's mind flashed the copybook precept he had written -many a time, "A man is known by the company he keeps." And he -remembered he could give no proof that his narrative was true. - -"It's impossible to keep this up," panted Green after a while. "I'm -dead beat! I can run no further." - -The perspiration poured down his red face; he was thoroughly -exhausted. - -"Nor can I," cried Cyril, who, although more used to running than -Green, was not in his usual health. "Let's give up." - -They stopped short, and timidly, very timidly, looked round. They -were alone. Not a creature--neither horse nor man--had followed -them. With the exception of a few birds not a living thing could -they see. - -"Why, wherever be they?" exclaimed Green. - -"Where? Where are they?" echoed Cyril. - -There was no answer. Where, indeed, were their pursuers? Had the -earth swallowed them? - -"Something must have made the new-comers fear to attack them after -all," said Green. "They must have been as afraid of the others as -t'others was of them! Did you ever know such a thing?" - -"And we've been just as bad," said Cyril in a tone of disgust, "for -we've been running away from nobody at all!" He sat down dejectedly -on a sandhill. - -"Three parties all running away from each other, without ever -stopping to look round! Well, that was mighty queer," cried Green. - -"You were wrong about them being men in pursuit of you and your -friends," said Cyril. - -"I was indeed. They weren't after us at all. They must have been -just quiet, peaceable travellers who heard the firing, and, being -alarmed, made off back again as fast as they could!" - -"Well, they saved us, anyway," said Cyril. - -"Yes, that's true enough." - -"But how shall we get on without a horse?" - -"Poor Jack!" sighed Green. "Captain gave him to me because I was the -means of his getting a whole lot----" he stopped abruptly. "What a -rascal I've been!" he reflected. - -"I'm ravenously hungry," said Cyril. - -"And we've left nearly all our food in the saddlebags. But not -quite, I've a little here!" Green got a packet out of his pocket, -and, opening it, disclosed some slices of cooked meat. - -"Oh, thank you!" Cyril said, gratefully taking his share. - -For a few moments they ate in silence, then Green said they must push -ahead as fast as possible before night came on. - -"But which way shall we take?" - -"Oh, we can't be so very far from the saw-mill where my father works, -if I could only find the way there," said Green. - -However, it turned out that he really did not know where they -were--so many turnings had confused him. But they could not remain -there, and so set off walking towards the forest. In the shelter of -the trees, at least, they would not be so conspicuous if the pursuers -again came near. Besides, Green was certain the saw-mill, which he -had once been to, was near trees. - -In an hour they found themselves again entering the forest, and -walking along a broad track made by deer or other large animals. It -was dark below the great pine trees, and before long the shades of -evening made it still darker. - -"Oh, Green, I can walk no further!" said Cyril at length, sinking -down at the foot of a tree. - -"Well, I think we're both about tired out," rejoined Green, leaning -wearily against another tree, and looking down compassionately on the -tired boy. "We'll stop here, lad, for the night." - -"Yes. But shall we be safe? What about the wild animals?" - -"Oh, we must have a fire! There's plenty of dry wood about." - -He went forward and began to heap up some broken boughs. - -"It won't do to light it here though," he went on. "We might set -fire to the forest; everything is so burnt up." - -"I'm afraid I can't go any further," said Cyril. - -"No, you stay there. I'll just take a look round." He walked off as -he spoke, and disappeared amongst the trees. - -It was very still after he had gone. The twittering of birds and the -occasional snarl of some wild animal, or the breaking of twigs as one -stealthily approached, were the only sounds to be heard. At another -time Cyril, who was unarmed, might have been nervous had not bodily -fatigue overcome every other sensation. As it was, by the time Green -returned to him he was fast asleep. - -"Poor lad, I won't wake him," said the kindly man, lifting Cyril in -his strong arms, and carrying him off as if he were a baby. - -When Cyril awoke an hour later he saw a great wood fire burning, and -sending up showers of sparks into the still night air. He was lying -in an open space at one side of the fire, and Green was stooping down -near it, attending to the roasting of a bird. - -"Supper's ready, my lad," he was calling. "And a blessing it is I've -got some supper for you. Jump up." - -"What is it? How did you get it, Green?" asked Cyril eagerly, for -all at once he felt uncommonly hungry. - -"Never mind," said Green briefly, "you eat it." - -He poked it out of the fire, and served it on a smooth flat stone. -Then he divided it with his pocket-knife, handing Cyril the best of -it with the same useful article. - -The two made a good meal, for the food was very welcome. Then they -lay down on the ground near the fire and were soon fast asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -_GREEN MEETS HIS FATHER._ - -It was scarcely light when Cyril was awakened by Green shaking him -vigorously. - -"Wake up, lad. Wake up!" he cried. "There's something queer near -us! Listen." - -Cyril sat up, rubbing his eyes, and heard the sound of horses -galloping along, and then crashing through the brushwood. He saw -strange lights gleaming through the trees, and now shots were fired, -and loud and excited voices bewailed the escape of some prey. - -"Green," said the boy in a low tone, "are those men after us again?" - -"No, no. It's some huntsmen. I see now; they're hunting deer with -head-lights." - -Even as he spoke one of the lights dashed through the bushes up to -them, and Cyril saw, to his amazement, that it was a lighted lantern -strapped on to the head of a stout pony. A man with a skin cap on -his head rode the pony. - -"Hullo!" shouted he, "what's this? What are you fellows doing? -Camping out, eh?" - -"Of course we are," said Green cautiously. "And who may you be?" - -"Oh, we're just a party of men from Ellison's saw-mill----" - -"Ellison's saw-mill! That's good hearing!" cried Green. "We're on -our way there, but have got lost. How far off are we now?" - -"About six miles or so. Where are your horses?" - -Green looked embarrassed. Then he said, "We fell in with a rough -lot--they shot our horse----" - -"Shot your horse? Had you only _one_?" - -Before Green could reply, much to his relief two or three other men -came up, who, after asking a few questions, swung themselves from -their saddles, and, opening their saddle-bags, began to take out -sundry packages. - -"We might as well have our breakfast here," said one. "Any objection -to our using your fire to boil our kettle, master?" - -"None whatever. Make yourselves at home," answered Green heartily. - -"Any water hereabouts?" asked the man. - -"There's a spring just round those trees, about ten yards off." - -"Hurrah! Fetch some, Jem. We'll make coffee. You and the lad will -join us, stranger?" - -"That's so," replied Green, "and thank you." - -In a quarter of an hour the five huntsmen, Cyril, and Green were -partaking of a good breakfast, consisting of coffee, tinned meat, and -bread. - -Cyril learnt from the men's talk that they had been hunting all night -and had shot two reindeer, which some of their party had taken home, -whilst the others pressed on in search of more. The light of the -lanterns fastened to their horses' heads attracted the deer, who, on -coming forward to look at it, were shot point-blank by the men. - -The boy thought it a very cruel way of entrapping the beautiful -creatures, but all the others said it was "fine sport." - -Presently the men, who had lingered too long over their breakfast, -jumped up, and mounting their horses rode as fast as they could back -towards the mill. Very little was said upon the way. One of the men -took Cyril up behind him, and he found it difficult enough to hold on -to the saddle he bestrode. He had no strength left for talking. - -By-and-by they arrived at their destination--a group of houses and -outbuildings, and a huge saw-mill, with heaps of timber and -roughly-hewn planks. - -The master of the mill, who was a tall man, with hair thickly -sprinkled with grey, came to the door of his office--a small building -at one side of the yard--as they rode up. - -"Well, men?" he said laconically. - -"We've killed two head of deer, that's all," replied the spokesman of -the party, "and we've picked up a man and a boy who were on their way -here." - -"Dismount," said the master briefly, addressing the strangers. - -Green jumped down and took off his skin cap. - -"Beg pardon, Mr. Ellison, sir," said he, "but can you tell me, is -Josh Davidson, my father, still living here?" - -"Yes," replied the master. "You are his son Ben?" he added. - -"That's so," said Green, whose real name was Ben Davidson. "Can I -see him?" - -The master sent for the prodigal's father. Then looking at Ben, he -said inquiringly-- - -"Turned over a new leaf?" - -"Yes," Ben nodded. His face was very red, and great tears were in -his eyes. The man before whom he stood knew all about him. He knew -of the shameful years of robbery and violence; he knew of the -father's broken heart. - -Suddenly the saw-miller laid his hand on Ben's shoulder. - -"Go meet him, lad," he said. "See, he's crossing the yard." - -Ben hurried out. The two in the office heard a great glad cry-- - -"My son! My son! 'He was dead, and is alive again. He was lost, -and is found!' Thank God. Oh, thank God!" - -"Now," said Mr. Ellison to Cyril, "tell me who you are. Do you -belong to that man?" - -"No, sir; oh, no!" - -"Then how came you to be here with him?" - -Cyril looked up into the man's grave, kind face. He wanted to tell -him all that had befallen him since the time that he sat by his -father's side in the train going northwards from Menominee, but -remembered that he must not betray the ex-robber. And although it -was evident Mr. Ellison knew something of the latter's wrong-doing, -Cyril was not aware how far that knowledge extended. - -A shade of sternness crept over Mr. Ellison's face as he noticed the -boy's hesitancy. - -"Well?" he said impatiently. - -Cyril was greatly perplexed. How much could he tell the saw-miller -without compromising the man who had saved his life? - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -_AT THE SAW-MILL._ - -"It was in a train. It was attacked by rough, cruel men, and one of -them killed my father." - -Cyril's voice shook as he spoke, and for a moment he paused. - -"I fell into the hands of the men, and they were leaving me to die, -when Green--I mean Ben Davidson, rescued me." - -"Ah! Just so! Well, I won't ask you questions about that. But say, -what is your name? Where do you come from?" - -"My name is Cyril Morton. My father was an English gentleman, with -an estate in Cornwall. We came to this country in search of my -uncle, Gerald Morton. Have you ever known him, do you think?" - -Cyril asked the question with sudden eagerness. Who was so likely as -the great saw-miller to know a sojourner in those parts? - -The saw-miller shook his head. "Ours is an immense country," he -said. "Unless you have some clue to his whereabouts I'm afraid you -won't be likely to find that uncle of yours, my boy." - -"Then, if you please," said Cyril, "can you help me to return to my -friends in England?" - -The saw-miller said nothing. He looked discouragingly at the boy. - -"You see," said Cyril, "I've scarcely any money with me. But my -father had plenty. When I get back to England I shall just go to Mr. -Betts, our lawyer, and get him to send your money back, with -interest--that is, if you will be so very kind as to lend me some." - -"Just so," said the saw-miller. "But how can a little chap like you -travel all those thousands of miles alone? No, no, my boy, it's not -so easily done." - -"But I must return home," protested Cyril. - -"Yes, of course. All in good time. But you must wait here until -someone going to Chicago comes this way." - -"But----" began Cyril. - -"Now, I can't argue with you, boy," said the saw-miller shortly. -"You're very welcome to stay here with us until it's convenient to -send you along to England. More than that I cannot do for you." - -He touched the bell. - -"Thank you," said Cyril, "but----" - -"Jim, take this youngster to the cook," said Mr. Ellison to his -errand-boy, "and tell him to give the lad something to eat and drink." - -"Yes, boss. Come along." The last two words were addressed to -Cyril, who followed him from the office immediately. - -The boy conducted Cyril into a large room in the great house where -the master saw-miller lived with such of his men as were unmarried. -Then a man wearing a white cap placed a dish of hot meat, bread, and -coffee before him, at one end of a very long table. - -Just as Cyril was sitting down to the meal Ben and his father -entered, and came quickly towards him. - -"Here he is, father. Here is the boy whose brave true words spoke a -message from heaven to my soul," said Ben. - -The old man laid a hard but gentle hand on Cyril's head. - -"God bless you!" he said fervently; "God bless you!" - -"Thank you," said Cyril in a low tone. He felt very glad to think he -had done so much good, but it was a little embarrassing too; so he -hastened to speak of other things. "Green--I mean Ben," said he, -"aren't you going to have some breakfast? Oh, yes, here comes the -cook with another plate." - -The man with the white cap laid the plate before Ben, regarding him -curiously as he did so. - -After he had gone the old man spoke. "Ben," he said, "my son, you've -repented; yes, but the consequences of your wrong-doing remain. Your -band has done a good deal of mischief in this neighbourhood, and at -any moment you may be recognised. You'll have to be disguised in -some way." - -"I'll shave my beard and whiskers off, and you must cut my hair quite -close, father," said Ben. "Then if you'll kindly get me some clothes -like yours, you'll see I shall look very different. If any of my old -associates ever come this way, it must be quite impossible for them -ever to recognise me." - -"Aye, my lad. What would that desperate Captain do if he came across -you?" - -"Shoot me as soon as think of it," replied his son. - -Cyril trembled. From what he had seen of the Captain he was sure it -would be so. "But these saw-millers are very powerful, Ben, aren't -they?" he asked. "They couldn't easily be overcome, could they?" - -"Not likely," Ben answered, "if it came to a fair fight." - -After the meal was over Ben shaved, and his father cut his hair quite -close to his head. Then he dressed in the rough garments worn by the -men at the saw-mill. His transformation was so complete that even -Cyril did not know him when he returned to the big room. - -Then, and not till then, did the old man take him to the master. - -A little later in the day, when Cyril had been shown over all "the -works," and had seen the different operations whereby great forest -trees were sawn into boards, smoothed, planed, and piled up in mighty -heaps ready for transportation, he learnt that Mr. Ellison had been -very kind to Ben, and had engaged his services, that he might remain -there and work with his father. The old man was most pleased and -thankful; and his son and he made very much of Cyril, and were never -tired of telling him how grateful they were to him for being the -means of their present happiness. The boy did not like to disturb -and distress them by letting them know of his own bitter -disappointment in not being assisted at once to return to England. - -Mr. Ellison was very kind to him in other ways. He allowed him to -sleep in a tiny room opening into his own bedroom, and at meal times -Cyril's plate was always set near the master's. - -"He's a little gentleman," said the rough saw-miller; "he shall sit -near me." - -Sometimes, when "the boss" was resting, he would talk kindly to -Cyril, explaining to him all about the wonderful work which went on -in the heart of that strange, wild land. - -"You would never think, lad," said he, "that houses built in London, -York, Sheffield, Liverpool, and so on, in the old country, are -floored and partly 'run up' with boards made of our forest pines. -Yet it is so; our timber goes to the wood markets of old England." - -Then he related graphically how large parties of men, called -lumberers, came over to Michigan and Canada just before the long -winter and set up great camps, at which they lived a hard, rough -life, going out long before light on intensely cold winter mornings -to fell the giant pine trees, and returning early in the evenings to -eat and sleep heavily until it was again time to go to work. In the -winter months when the ground was covered with snow and ice the -forest would resound with the blows of the axe, and the trees would -lie prone on the ground until they were chained together into rough -sleighs and dragged over the frozen snow to the banks of the frozen -rivers. There they would lie waiting until the spring, when the ice -would melt, and the timber would be slipped into the river and borne -by the force of the current on, on, for many miles until it reached -its destination. - -"Yes," he said, "our timber comes floating down to us on our river. -We stop it when it reaches us, and saw it up as you have seen. -Afterwards the same river bears it away towards its distant market." - -"Then the river is your road, your railway, and everything," said -Cyril. - -"Yes. And we make the water serve us doubly. It is our carriage or -boat, as well as our road or river." And then Mr. Ellison told him -of greater wonders still, of timber being formed into gigantic rafts, -these "shooting the rapids" and being "tugged" across lakes by -steamers. - -It was all very wonderful; Cyril was deeply interested. But still he -longed to leave that marvellous country to return to his friends and -his father's friends in old England. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -_ATTACKED BY BEARS._ - -"Cyril! Cyril! Where are you?" called Mr. Ellison one morning. - -"Coming," answered Cyril, from the top of a huge pile of logs. He -had found a comfortable, sheltered seat up there, which he called his -"retreat," and, though it was hard to climb up to it, he often sat -there, thinking about England and the father he had lost. That -morning he felt more sorrowful than usual, and his eyes were red and -swollen when at last he reached Mr. Ellison's side. - -The saw-miller was standing in the middle of the yard, looking at a -pretty black pony which a strange man was holding by the bridle. - -"Good. You shall have your price," said the saw-miller. "Now, my -lad," he added, turning to Cyril, "can you ride?" - -"Yes," replied the boy at once, "I have a pony at home." He looked -sad as he thought what a long way off that was. - -"Well, this shall be your pony then," said Mr. Ellison, smiling; -"Blackie--that's his name--is for you. I've just bought him for you." - -"Oh, thank you, thank you! How very kind!" exclaimed Cyril -delightedly. "Blackie! Woa, my beauty!" He stroked the pretty -creature, patting his arched neck. - -"Well, sir, take him--take him!" said the man, slipping the bridle -into Cyril's hand. "I guess you may ride him bare-back, or any way -you like. He's quiet enough, you'll find." - -The pony had no saddle on, and Cyril did not wait for one to be -brought. Jumping lightly on Blackie's sleek, bare back, he trotted -quickly round the yard. His pleasure in the welcome gift, and the -pleasant movement through the clear, frosty air, brought a bright -colour to his cheeks. He sat erect, and the dark skin cap Mr. -Ellison had given him contrasted with his fair, curly hair, and made -his face appear brighter than ever. - -Mr. Ellison looked admiringly at the boy. He had no child of his -own. His wife had long been dead. He was all alone. Like the -Captain of the brigands he thought it might be well for him to adopt -Cyril, and so felt less inclined than before to hasten his departure -to England. - -Certainly after that day the boy seemed happier and more settled. He -was generally on Blackie's back, trotting about all over the place, -and often riding some distance into the forest on the roads made by -the lumberers. Blackie was a capital companion. When Cyril was not -riding him he followed his young master about like a dog. Sometimes -Cyril found himself talking to the animal as if it could understand -him. He told Blackie about his distant home in England, and his -great wish to return to it, even though no kind father would be there -now to welcome him. And sometimes as he talked his tears dropped -down over Blackie's head, upon which the pony would poke his nose -quietly against the boy's shoulder. - -One day when Cyril was alone with Blackie in a part of the forest -where the trees had just been felled, about two miles from the -saw-mill, he saw something which made him throw himself from his -saddle and run to the rescue. A baby bear had been entrapped by a -falling tree, one branch of which lay over one of its hind legs, -which was broken. The poor beast's moans were pitiful, but when -Cyril approached it snarled at him fiercely. - -The boy found, to his distress, that he could not move the heavy -bough, and he was just stooping over it, preparatory to making -another tremendous effort to do so, when an angry growl behind him -caused him to look round quickly. - -Close by him was the young cub's dam, in a towering rage, one mighty -paw upraised to strike him down. - -Cyril thought his last hour had come. Having no weapon with him, he -was quite defenceless. The bear, imagining he had injured her -offspring, was bent upon killing him. - -[Illustration: "The bear was bent upon killing him."] - -One moment she towered over him, a huge, grey monster; then, just as -he was breathing a prayer to his Heavenly Father for the help which -in his heart he despaired of, a voice cried loudly-- - -"Drop on your face, lad! Down on your face, and let me get a shot at -her." - -Cyril flung himself down as he was bidden; the bear growled again -fiercely, and turned to look at the intruder. - -A shot rang through the air, another, and yet another. - -With an anguished snarl the bear dropped down beside her young one, -mortally wounded. - -Cyril jumped up to look in the face of his deliverer. It was Mr. -Ellison, who had come up just in the nick of time. - -"Eh, my lad," said the saw-miller with emotion, "you had a narrow -escape that time." - -"Thank you--oh, thank you for saving my life!" cried Cyril. - -The saw-miller sat down on a fallen tree to rest for a minute. "You -must have the skin," he said, trying to speak coolly, though his -voice still shook with emotion. - -"But look at the poor little one! I believe it's dying. Oh, do -look!" exclaimed Cyril. - -The young bear was indeed expiring. As Cyril bent over it another -large bear, with a terrific growl, rushed upon the scene. - -Mr. Ellison's weapon was unloaded now. They were quite defenceless. -The bear had the deaths of his poor mate and their cub to avenge. He -was full of fury. - -The saw-miller looked fixedly at the beast, trying to cow it with his -eyes; but the bear's eyes were turned in the direction of Cyril. -With a low growl it watched him angrily. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -_CYRIL SPEAKS UP FOR THE INDIANS._ - -As Cyril looked round hastily he perceived Mr. Ellison's box of -matches, with which he had just been lighting his pipe, and at the -same moment the thought flashed across his mind that fire was a -mighty power. Perhaps the bear could by its means be scared away. - -Suddenly he snatched up the match-box, struck a light, and applied it -to the dry leaves and withered boughs beside him. - -An instant conflagration was the result. A wave of fire leaped up -between them and the bear. - -The beast, snarling, drew back a yard or so, then sat up watching the -flames with much distrust. - -"Bravo, lad!" shouted Mr. Ellison, stirring up the fire and spreading -it out between them and the bear, which retreated still further, with -a prolonged growl. - -[Illustration: "The bear retreated still further with a prolonged -growl."] - -That fire saved two lives. It did not spread very far, because the -trees were felled and piled up in places, ready to be removed. But -it answered its purpose. The bear was driven off, and the saw-miller -and Cyril returned home in safety. - -Mr. Ellison had the skin of the she-bear dressed and cured for Cyril. -He lavished favours upon the boy, and thought of him almost as his -own son; only in regard to the matter of sending him to England he -was stern, unyielding. Why could not Cyril give up the wish and -remain with him? But Cyril thought longingly of the old country. If -he could only get there, and could tell Mr. Betts, the lawyer, -everything that had happened, that gentleman might be able to find -out what his father's ultimate fate had been. - -One morning, just before the long winter commenced, half a dozen poor -Indian women (squaws they were called) came to the saw-mill with -three ponies laden with goods they wished to sell to the men. - -It happened to be the dinner hour, and a number of young fellows were -crossing the yard on their way to the house when they saw the poor -Indians. They shouted merry greetings and laughed boisterously. - -"Now we shall have some fun," said they. - -"What sort of fun?" asked Cyril, who happened to be near. - -"Oh, you will see," was the answer. "They are so simple, these -queer-looking squaws." - -Cyril did see, and very indignant he became. - -The poor squaws had brought warm wool mittens and skin caps, for -which they asked a fair price, and hoped to do a good business. But -the squaws had one great weakness, and the men at the saw-mill knew -it well. They could not refuse a glass of beer, and they were so -unused to it and so constituted that a very small quantity of alcohol -completely upset them. Even one glass of beer would make them quite -foolish. - -The young men therefore refused to trade with them until they had -refreshed themselves, as they called it, with a little beer. After -that they easily persuaded the Indians to part with their goods for -the most trifling sum, in some cases for only another glass, or -perhaps two, of beer. - -Cyril looked on in amazement. Would no one interfere? Were these -men who were trading on the folly and sin of a few poor women? - -"Oh! Davidson, see," cried Cyril, "that fellow, Jem, is trying to -get one of their ponies now! That poor woman will be quite ruined! -Just look at her." - -Davidson had no objection to looking; but "I can't interfere," said -he slowly. "It's a shame, though I can't help it." - -Cyril's colour rose. If no one would venture to interfere--well, he -must do it himself. Davidson, glancing at him, read his thought, and -laid a detaining hand upon his shoulder. - -"You mustn't speak," he said. "The man wouldn't stand it--least of -all from a little fellow like you." - -Cyril's eyes flashed. "I may be small," said he, "but right is -right, and must--_must_ triumph," and he ran forward, crying out -aloud, "Stop! Stop! Stop! You're not acting fairly!" - -Half an hour later, when Cyril lay on his hard, straw mattress in his -little bedroom, aching and sore all over from the rough treatment he -had met with, he did not think the right had triumphed at all, and he -sobbed his heart out there in his loneliness and despair. - -The men would not brook interference. What their master and old -Davidson dare not attempt the boy, armed only with his consciousness -of right, had ventured upon doing. The consequences were grievous to -himself, and might have been fatal if it had not been for the -Davidsons, aided by their master, who suddenly opened his office door -for them to rush into with the boy. There were no police within many -miles of the lonely saw-mill. The master ruled alone over the -lawless roughs who, in a great measure, composed his staff. - -The occurrence of that morning made Mr. Ellison see that the saw-mill -was not a safe home for such a boy as Cyril. He began to think of -plans for sending him back to England. Unfortunately, however, the -sky was already black with threatening snow-storms; the weather would -probably be such that it would be impossible to take Cyril thirty -miles to the nearest station. And then, he had been so cuffed and -knocked about by the men, it was most likely that he would be ill. - -The idea of that made the saw-miller go back to Cyril's bedside. - -"Are you any better, my lad?" he asked anxiously. - -Cyril could scarcely say he was; all his bruises smarted, and his -bones ached. He looked up at Mr. Ellison without speaking. - -"I'm sorry this has happened," said the latter, very feelingly. - -"Oh, it doesn't matter about me," said Cyril quickly. "I don't mind -being knocked about a bit. But the pity is that it has done _no -good_--no good," and he sighed deeply, thinking of the hard, cruel -hearts of the men, and the wrongs of the poor Indian women. - -"You can't say that," said the master, "you can't say that. Some of -the men will feel ashamed when they think over what happened. They -will see you were in the right, and--well, I fancy the next time the -poor squaws come they will not be treated so badly." - -"If that is so," said Cyril, smiling in spite of his pain, "I shan't -mind having been knocked about a little, Mr. Ellison." - -The saw-miller looked at his bright, if discoloured, face, and felt -it hard to say the next words. "I've made up my mind, my lad; you -shall go straight away to England as soon as it can be arranged." - -Cyril was very glad to hear that. It comforted him immensely in his -pain to think that he might soon be on his way home. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -_A JOYFUL MEETING._ - -Cyril was ill for several weeks after the assault upon him by the -angry men at Mr. Ellison's saw-mill. When at last he crept out of -his bedroom, looking pale and thin, winter had begun in good earnest, -and the rough roads through the forest were quite impassable. The -snow was coming down as if it never meant to stop, and the keen, cold -wind blew it in great drifts on every side. - -Whilst Cyril lay ill on his hard mattress two travellers going south -to Chicago had called at the saw-mill; with either of them he might -have travelled had he been well enough to do so. It was all very -trying, and sometimes the boy was inclined to murmur at the cruel -results which had followed his well-meant attempt to defend the cause -of the poor Indians. But then again he was reassured, as his -constant attendant, old Davidson, told him of first one and then -another of the men having expressed contrition about their treatment, -not only of the boy, but also of the poor Indian women. It had never -struck them before, they said, that it was wrong to cheat a redskin. -Until the English boy stood up and called their conduct monstrous it -had seemed quite the proper thing. They had bitterly resented being -corrected, and had beaten their monitor for doing it, but afterwards, -as Mr. Ellison had foretold, they saw that he was in the right. -Under the influence of these better feelings they were easily led by -the Davidsons to unite in sending Cyril a message that they -apologised for thrashing him, and promised that in future they would -respect the rights even of poor Indians. - -The thought of all this greatly consoled Cyril, and helped him to -bear patiently his pain and weakness, and the disappointment about -his delayed return home. - -When at last he was strong enough to travel, and the roads were not -so bad, no one happened to be going south, and Mr. Ellison really -could not send him just then. As the time went on, therefore, he -felt very sad and lonely. - -One evening, however, as he sat musing sorrowfully in the men's -sitting-room--his heart too sore to allow him to join in the usual -fun--he heard the sound of approaching horses clattering over the -frozen yard. Then there was a loud rap at the door, followed by many -others, louder and louder still, as the person outside endeavoured to -make himself heard within the house. - -Mr. Ellison strode to the door and threw it open. - -"Who is there?" he demanded. - -"I have come in search of--" began a rich, courteous voice. - -"Father!" The cry, so joyous, so eloquent with tenderness, rang -through the room. Then Cyril flew across the boarded floor and flung -himself into the open arms of the new-comer. - -"Oh, father! father! father!" - -"My dear boy! My Cyril! Thank God! Oh, thank God!" and the tall, -fur-clad man in the doorway clasped his child to his heart. - -* * * * * * - -"But, father," asked Cyril an hour later, as they sat together -talking in his little bedroom, which Mr. Morton had obtained Mr. -Ellison's permission to share with his son that night--"but, father, -I can understand your coming round after everyone had thought you -dead, and also your having quite a long illness after that, but I -don't know yet how it was you found me. Why have you not told me -that, father dear?" - -"We have been so very happy, Cyril, for this last hour, and that is a -sad story. Must you hear it to-night, my boy? Can you not wait till -to-morrow?" - -"Oh! tell me now, please," said Cyril wistfully. - -"Very well, my boy." But the father sighed. "You know the police -were busy a long time, trying to find the scoundrels who attacked the -train. They did so at last, and after a desperate fight some of them -were secured. They were tried in the police-court in Menominee, -where I and some others had to bear witness against them. It was -proved that two of them had been guilty of murder. The captain was -one and Whiterock, the man who attacked me, was another." - -"But, father, Whiterock didn't kill you after all!" said Cyril -quickly. - -"No, not me. But unfortunately he killed someone else, and he was -condemned to die. Shortly before the hour of his death the prison -chaplain sent me a note to tell me that the criminal, Whiterock, -greatly desired to see me. Of course I visited his cell as soon as I -could. Then Whiterock told me that he wished to do one just deed -before he died. He had carried you away from the train and caused -you to fall into the brigands' power; he would try to atone for that -by telling me all about you and where you were." - -"But how did he know----" began Cyril. - -"Oh, he said he and his party generally got to hear all that they -wanted to know about people. You and the man who left them had not -been here very long before they were aware of it. However, it did -not suit their purpose to molest either of you, although they meant -to punish their renegade comrade at some future date. I was deeply -thankful to know that you were here in safety, and I came for you as -soon as I could. Whiterock left this message for you, Cyril--'Tell -your son,' he said, 'that I've found at last that honesty _is_ the -best policy. And tell him, too, that he did right to speak those -brave, true words to us, and right, too, not to pretend, even for an -hour, that he could be one of us--villains.'" - -"Poor Whiterock," said Cyril softly. "He saved my life once, father! -He was good to me then." - -"We will only think of that," said Mr. Morton, "and of his kindness -in telling me where I might find you. And now, my boy, we must go to -bed. To-morrow, as I have had to give up my fruitless search for -your uncle, we will start for home." - -"Home," murmured Cyril, as his head touched the pillow, "with -father," and he fell asleep. A smile rested on his face. He was a -happy boy. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -_LEAVING THE SAW-MILL._ - -"This is very awkward! Very!" exclaimed Mr. Morton the next day, -when, on joining his host at the great breakfast-table, he heard that -his guide of the day before had changed his mind about returning with -him to the nearest railway station, twenty miles away. The man -wished to remain at the saw-mill, having found an old mate there. - -"I can do with him very well," said the saw-miller, "as I am rather -short of hands just now. All the same, I don't wish to take the -fellow from you." - -"Well, of course, I engaged him to guide me here and back, and I can -make it worth his while to return with me." - -"Oh, I'll compel him to do that, if you like!" said Mr. Ellison. -"But you might find him a bit nasty. I know the man, who has been -here before; he has an ugly temper." - -"Then we are better without him. After all, I believe I can remember -the way; we can scarcely call it a road. It is in nearly a straight -line, is it not?" - -"Yes, for about half the distance. Then you come to a place where -the track, or way, branches out in two directions. You must take the -turn to the right--you'll remember right's right--and go straight on. -There is no difficulty." - -"Well, then, I'll dispense with Smith's services." - -"I should if I were you. It's nice weather, clear and frosty, the -snow as hard as any road. You'll find your horses, animated by the -fine exhilarating air, will gallop over it splendidly." - -"Will you sell me a mount for the boy?" asked Mr. Morton. - -"He has his own pony. Of course he will take that." - -"May I?" asked Cyril eagerly. "Oh, Mr. Ellison, may I really take -Blackie?" - -His eyes shone with delight. He had been thinking that morning how -hard it would be for him to leave his dear pony, notwithstanding his -great happiness. - -"Why, of course, Cyril. The pony is your own. I gave it to you long -ago," answered Mr. Ellison. - -"And he's such a stunning pony, father. He follows me like a dog, -and he's never tired; he goes like the wind. And such a beauty! -There isn't one like him in England, I'm sure; at least, I don't -think there can be." - -"I must see him," said his father. "You've been very kind to my -boy," he added gratefully to the saw-miller. - -The big man laid his hand on Cyril's head as he sat beside him. "I -would give half of all that I possess," he said to Mr. Morton, "to -have a boy like him. My wife and infant son died thirteen years -ago," he added rather huskily. - -Mr. Ellison grasped his hand. "I have lost Cyril's mother too, for a -time," he said very softly. - -"A time? What do you mean?" - -"Please God, we shall meet again in a better world," replied Mr. -Morton in low tones full of deep feeling. - -"Ah, you are a happy man!" said the saw-miller, so low that no one -else could hear. "It's all plain sailing with you. You'll get to -heaven, I've no doubt. But with me it's very different. It's a -rough life this of mine, trying to wrest a living out of the heart of -the forest, far from any help of religion or even civilisation; I try -to keep straight, but----" - -"I know you do," exclaimed Mr. Morton. "You've been so good to my -boy. You know our Lord's words, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto -one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me.'" - -The saw-miller's eyes filled with tears of surprise and joy; he -brushed his hand across them hastily lest they should be seen. At -heart he was a very humble man, although he had to appear stern and -proud to the men, who, generally, obeyed him as if he were a sort of -king over them. - -"And you are not really alone," continued Mr. Morton, still speaking -in the low tones which could not be heard by the others at the table. -"Although you have no outside spiritual aids, no place of worship, -and no clergyman, you have the promise, 'Lo, I am with you always.'" - -"But was that meant for me?" asked the saw-miller. "I always thought -that was only meant for the parsons." - -"It was meant for everyone who, in all future times, should endeavour -ever so humbly to tread in the steps of our great Exemplar, the Lord -Jesus Christ." - -That was all that passed just then. The "boss" was obliged to turn -to his men, and dismiss them to their work with a few pointed -directions. But when Mr. Morton was ready to ride away, after having -looked round the place where his little son had lived so long, -thanked the Davidsons for their kindness to him, and seen the -affectionate way in which they and some of the other men parted from -him, the saw-miller came up hastily and wrung his hand, saying, -"Good-bye. I can understand now how it is Cyril became what he is. -I shall think of your words after you have gone." - -"Good-bye. God bless you!" said the grateful father. - -Cyril threw his arms round the saw-miller's neck and kissed him for -the first and last time on his hard, bronzed face. "Good-bye, dear -Mr. Ellison," he said, "I shall write you ever such long letters from -England. And I'll tell you all about how Blackie likes the old -country. I can't thank you enough for giving me Blackie. I can't -indeed." For he estimated the gift of Blackie more highly than any -other kindness the great saw-miller had shown him. - -Then he had to follow his father, who had already ridden on, and the -saw-miller stood looking after them until they were out of sight -among the trees. - -"I'm afraid, boss," remarked Ben Davidson, meeting him as he crossed -the yard to his office, "that we shall have snow again, after all, -before long. It has begun to grow darker during the last five -minutes," and he scanned the sky with a troubled face. - -"Well, I hope it won't come until they have arrived at the station. -I did not think there would be snow, or I should not have allowed -them to go, although Mr. Morton was most anxious to be off home." - -And with these words the saw-miller passed into his office, looking -disturbed and not altogether happy. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -LOST IN THE SNOW. - -Mr. Morton and Cyril rode on briskly, Blackie keeping up most -cleverly with the larger horse, until when they were about eight -miles on their way the snow which Ben Davidson had prognosticated -began to fall heavily and in the most bewildering manner. - -"I never saw such snow in my life!" exclaimed Mr. Morton. "It does -not come down straight, it whirls all about and rises again and beats -upon one in such a blinding fashion. Stay near me, Cyril, my boy. -Can you keep your pony up?" - -"Yes, father. He stumbles rather, but he won't fall. He's such a -good pony, isn't he, father?" - -"Splendid! And you're a capital rider!" - -They pushed on as rapidly as possible, but it soon became exceedingly -difficult for their horses to advance. The newly fallen snow was so -much softer than the hard iced snow covering the track, it rolled -into balls under the horse's hoofs, making them stumble and flounder -sadly. At last Mr. Morton's horse fell down, slightly crushing his -foot, which he had not time to release from the stirrup. He turned -very white with the pain, and it was a few moments before he could -extricate himself from the horse. Cyril was in an agony of -apprehension. - -"Oh, father, are you hurt?" he cried. Then, as Mr. Morton made no -reply, he jumped off his pony and caught hold of him by the arm. - -"I shall be all right soon," his father replied with an effort, -leaning heavily on him. "My foot is sprained, I think. It rather -pains me, that's all." But he grew pale to the lips. - -His horse stood by, hanging his head and looking quite ashamed. - -"My Blackie wouldn't have done that!" cried Cyril, and as if the pony -understood him he came poking his nose into his master's hands. - -All the time the snow was falling fast, whirling round, and beating -in their faces. It had covered the track now, so that except for the -opening in the trees they could not tell where it was. - -Mr. Morton endeavoured to mount his horse again, but in vain. -Frightened by his fall and the bewildering snow the animal jumped -about and would not stand still, whilst the pain his master's foot -gave him when he stood upon it crippled all his efforts. - -Letting go Blackie's bridle--the pony would not stir without -him--Cyril held his father's horse, patted his neck, and endeavoured -to pacify him, but in vain. - -It grew darker; the snow rose in great drifts now, and flung itself -upon them with stinging force. - -Mr. Morton struggled hard against the faintness and drowsiness which -was stealing over him. "My boy," he said, "it is no use. I cannot -ride. The horse would only fall again." - -"But, father, what shall we do?" cried Cyril. "I've heard of people -in this country being buried in the snow whilst yet alive, and of -their being starved to death too." - -"If only there were some shelter!" sighed his father, "a hollow tree, -or a cave, or something. Look round, Cyril, can't you see anything?" - -Cyril endeavoured to look through the snow, but could see nothing -except snow--snow in all directions, whirling about, drifting high, -covering the trees till it made them look gigantic cloud-like -mountains, and piling itself up against them as they stood until it -really seemed to be trying to bury them all alive. - -Tinkle! Tinkle! Tinkle! The sound of sleigh bells, proceeding -slowly in their direction, was the most welcome music to their ears -that they had ever heard. - -"Thank God!" exclaimed Mr. Morton, making a renewed effort to resist -the faintness stealing over him, "thank God!" - -"Oh, father, it's a sleigh! I know the sound of sleigh bells!" -exclaimed Cyril, "and there will be people, and they will take us -somewhere!" In his glad excitement he let go of the bridle he was -holding, upon which the horse immediately turned tail and bolted, -floundering through the snow. - -"Oh, dear! I couldn't help it!" cried the boy. - -"Never mind; he was of no use. Who--who is coming?" faltered his -father, still struggling with the deadly weakness. - -"Hullo! Hey! What's up?" exclaimed a sharp, girlish voice, as a -two-horse sleigh came up with frantic plunges and great difficulty on -the part of the horses. A girl, warmly clad in furs, who was -shovelling snow off the sleigh with one hand, whilst with the other -she held the reins, peered through her wraps at the obstruction on -the road. - -"We've had an accident," answered Cyril, in shrill tones of -excitement. "We were riding to the station at Iron Mountain when my -father's horse fell. He's badly hurt and faint. _My_ pony didn't -fall!" he added quickly, in spite of his trouble, still proud of -Blackie. "But I don't know what to do about my father. His horse -finished off with bolting, you know." - -The girl was staring through the blinding snow at Cyril as he spoke. -"Why, it's only a child!" she ejaculated. - -Cyril thought her rude, and felt hurt she should imagine he was -small, but that was no time for thinking of himself. He was alarmed -because his father did not speak, though he stood swaying in first -one direction and then another as the snow beat upon him. - -"Bless me!" cried the girl. "We must get your dad on my sleigh, -though I doubt whether the horses can pull him." She jumped off the -sleigh as she spoke and towered above Cyril, being a fine, tall young -woman, as she offered her arm to his father. "You must rouse -yourself, sir," she said commandingly, "and get into this sleigh. -See! I'll help you! Make a great effort. For your life, sir!" - -Her loud voice reached the injured traveller in the far-away region -into which he seemed to have sunk; he made a great effort, and with -the help of the girl and Cyril succeeded in getting on the sleigh. -There he sank down unconscious, and the girl pulled a big skin rug -over him. - -"Now, little one," she cried sharply, "jump on your pony and show us -what stuff you are made of! If you can ride on in front my horses -will follow you!" - -It was no time to resent the freedom of her speech. Cyril knew their -lives depended upon getting through that terrible snow as speedily as -possible. - -"Blackie, Blackie," he cried in his pony's ear. "My dear old -Blackie, do your best!" - -The pony neighed and struggled on as best he could, but it was -terribly hard work and he floundered about miserably. It was all -Cyril could do to stick on. Once he thought it would be impossible -to do so any longer, and looked back. - -Then he saw the girl who had come so opportunely to their aid had a -still harder task than his. Leaving the horses to follow his pony, -she was working hard with both hands at shovelling the snow off the -sleigh, which jumped about and jolted up and down owing to the -plunges of the horses and the drifts of snow it encountered. - -"I don't care if she does call me a little one!" said Cyril to -himself, forgiving her everything at that moment. "She's a heroine, -a real, splendid heroine!" And again he urged Blackie forward. - -He was absorbed in the difficulties of the way, and so blinded by the -snow that he was quite unconscious they had passed the place where -the track parted in two directions, and were now pursuing the left -one instead of the right. But the girl knew what she was doing, and -when at last even Blackie fell on his knees and Cyril alighted on his -hands and feet, unhurt, on the snow and a yard ahead of his pony, she -called out encouragingly-- - -"It's all right. We're just close to a house. You're a brave lad, -for all you are so small!" - -Cyril got up, leaving Blackie to recover his feet as he could, and -made his way to her side. - -"Do you say there is a house?" he asked eagerly. - -"Yes; through those trees. Do you see that narrow opening? There. -Look! 'Tis a path that leads to the door. It isn't many yards." - -"Hurrah!" cried Cyril. "How can we get father there?" he asked. - -"I don't know. We must be sharp. I guess you had better run to the -house and see if there's anybody there. It's just a chance there may -be. And bring them back to help us carry your father. Woa!" she -cried to the horses, which, stung by the snow, were plunging about -again. "Steady there! Look sharp, boy." - -Cyril made his way as fast as he could over the snow-path through the -trees; fortunately for him it was so sheltered that not much new snow -had fallen upon it. After proceeding a few yards he stepped out of -the shelter of the trees into what seemed a great snow-drift, which -at first appeared impassable; by degrees, however, he perceived a way -round it, which eventually brought him suddenly to the window-frame -of a wooden house. - -Looking in Cyril perceived a man dressed as a hunter kneeling on the -floor, apparently digging a hole in the earth about the centre of the -room; some boards he had taken up lay beside him. - -"Come," cried Cyril to him, "come, my father----" - -He was interrupted by a great cry, as the man, springing to his feet, -flung up his arms in extreme terror. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -_A CONFESSION OF GUILT_ - -Cyril stared at the terrified man in amazement. The latter's cry -rang through the empty house and filled his ears. What had so -frightened him? - -"My father," began Cyril again, wishing to explain his sudden -appearance by saying that his father was lying out in the snow, -waiting to be carried into shelter. - -"Oh! Stop, stop!" cried the man, interrupting him in apparent -anguish. "Mercy, father! Father, have mercy!" He turned wildly as -if to flee, but thought better of it, and coming to the window threw -himself down on his knees before it, looking up into Cyril's face -with wild, unseeing eyes. "I didn't mean to kill yer, my father," he -said. "I only wanted the gold. And I can't find it. I can't find -it. And the snow-blindness is coming over me. I can scarcely see! -Oh, my punishment is great enough! Have pity on me! Have pity on -me!" - -"What have you done?" The voice that asked the question was not -Cyril's. It was that of the girl, who had followed him to the house, -and her tone was loud and very angry. "Tell me again," she demanded. -"I must hear it in your own words again." - -"I will tell yer. Oh, I will! Have mercy, father!" wailed the -unhappy man. "I wanted money so much, father, so very much. I'd -lost a wager--a hundred pounds--to some men at Iron Mountain, who -said they would duck me in a pond if I did not pay them it. And I -begged yer on my knees, but yer wouldn't give me any. So I thought -I'd help myself. I knew yer hid your money in a hole under the -flooring 'ere, and was looking for it when yer came to me. I -shouldn't 'ave killed yer if yer 'adn't angered me with bad words. -Then I was that put to, it seemed as if I killed yer before I knew -what I was doing." - -"And Mr. Gerald? What did he do?" - -"Oh, 'e knew nothing about it. I guess I blamed 'im to get the blame -off myself. Now I've told yer all," the wretched man whimpered. -"I've told yer all. Mercy! Mercy, I beg!" Lifting up his hands, he -cried still louder for mercy. - -"Begone, then!" exclaimed the girl. "Begone this moment! No, not -that way. Out of the door at the back of the house, and then fly -southwards. If you ever return it will be at your own risk--your own -risk!" - -"I never will, father! I never will!" The wretched man fled through -the house, out of the back door into the snow, running against trees -and stumbling over drifts in his hurry to be gone. - -The girl leaned against the window-frame, looking extremely pale. - -"What does it mean?" asked Cyril. "What does it all mean?" - -"Mean?" she said, and now once more she spoke in her natural -voice--the one she had been using to the man was shrill and hard. -"Mean? Why, just this. There is an old saying, 'Conscience makes -cowards of us all.' 'Tis true in this case. His guilty conscience -made a coward of yon man. His father, a rich old miser, who lived in -this house, was killed six months ago--it was supposed for his money. -Yon wretch accused a hunter, who had been lodging with them, of the -crime. His name was Gerald; he was a nice man, a real gentleman, -though very poor. Appearances seemed against him and he fled. 'Twas -the worst thing he could do. Everyone, nearly, thought he must be -guilty then. The house has been considered haunted by the old man's -ghost ever since. It is lonely enough. And yon wretch, returning to -find the money which he had not got after all, saw you, and being -half blind--if it's true he has snow-blindness[1] coming on--and -frightened almost out of his wits, he thought you were his father. -But," she changed her voice, "we must now return to your father. We -shall have to get him here the best way we can." - - -[1] Snow-blindness is rather common in those parts.--E.C.K. - - -To their surprise and delight, however, they met Mr. Morton coming -towards them a minute later. He had recovered consciousness, and -finding himself alone on a strange sleigh, wrapped in rugs, whilst -its two horses stood quite still, stupefied now with fatigue and -cold, he arose and made the best of his way along the only semblance -of a path visible. - -"Where am I? What has happened?" were his first questions. - -The girl looked up into his face and smiled. "'Pears like I have -seen you before," she said. "But come in. Don't talk now. Come -straight in and sit down. We'll have a fire in no time, and some hot -water for your poor foot." She led the way into the house as she -spoke. - -A few articles of furniture, too poor or too heavy to be worth -carrying away, had been left in the room with the hole in the floor. -The girl dragged forward an ancient arm-chair of the most elementary -workmanship and begged Mr. Morton to sit down in it, near a strong -table supported on what looked like tree-trunks instead of legs. - -"Now, my boy," she said to Cyril, "let's make a fire. There'll be -wood in that chimney-corner, I'll be bound. Here's a match. Oh, and -here's some paper!" She pulled the latter articles out of a huge -pocket under her furs. "Can you make a fire, boy?" - -"Yes, I can," he replied quickly. "I've often done it at the -saw-mill." - -"His name is Cyril Morton," interposed his father. "I should like to -know yours," he added to the girl. - -"Mine's Cynthy--Cynthy Wood," she said, taking an old kettle she had -found to a running spring in the kitchen. "I'll rinse this old thing -out, then the water will be sweeter," she said cheerily. - -"I ought to thank you," began Mr. Morton. - -"Don't now. Don't thank me," she said. "I've been repaid a -thousandfold for coming here." - -Cyril looked round at her wonderingly. A vivid blush had overspread -one of the prettiest faces he had ever seen. Her blue eyes shone -with gladness. Her voice betrayed its happiness every time she -spoke. She seemed altogether a different person from the girl who -had driven his father there. - -"Now, you're wondering what has repaid me," she said to Cyril. -"Shouldn't be surprised if I tell you after tea. You make that -kettle boil sharp." - -The boy laughed and poked the wood, which was nice and dry, with his -boot. But Cynthy reproved him for that, "Waste not, want not!" she -exclaimed. "It's wrong to burn holes in good leather. Now, sir," -she added to Mr. Morton, "let me try to take your boot off." - -With gentle hands, in spite of his protest, she deftly removed Mr. -Morton's boot from his injured foot, then, fetching a basin from the -inner room, she bathed it in warm water, filling the kettle up again -after she had emptied it. - -"It's swollen, sir," she said to her patient, "but I think it's more -bruised than sprained; I'll bind it up for you." - -"You are very kind, Miss Wood," said Mr. Morton. - -"Now don't," she said. "Call me Cynthy, everyone does. Cyril, you -fetch me that stool," pointing to one with three legs. "Now, sir, -you must keep your foot up on the stool. Cyril, you and I must go -back to the sleigh for some things I left there." - -It was no easy task, but they struggled through the snow back to the -sleigh, which was already nearly buried in it. - -"The poor horses," said Cynthy; "I'd forgotten them. I shall cut -them loose; they must look after themselves. I have no food for -them. I think they will go home. Then my father will send to seek -us." - -Blackie was delighted to see Cyril again; he had stood still, waiting -for him to return, and now he put his cold nose in the boy's hands, -and seemed to ask him not to go away again. - -"What shall I do with my dear old pony?" asked Cyril. "He has -nowhere to go--he loves me so, he will never leave me!" - -"Can you get him along the path to the house?" - -"Oh! yes. He followed me before, but I sent him back. He's very -intelligent." - -"Seems so," said Cynthy. "Well, you bring him along. I guess he'll -be able to get into the kitchen." - -"Oh! do you think so?--but the people of the house----" - -"There are none. The old man who owned it is dead. And his son and -heir daren't come back, because he thinks his father's ghost has -returned!" Cynthy laughed. "Remember this, Cyril," she added, -"there's nothing like a guilty conscience to make an out-and-out -coward." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -_THE DISCOVERY IN THE LOFT._ - -Blackie followed Cyril into the house through the back door when they -entered it on their return from visiting the sleigh. - -He did more; not content with his strange quarters in the kitchen he -followed his master into the larger room, and trotted round it, -looking hard at everything, including Mr. Morton in the arm-chair, -and poking his nose into the hole in the middle of the floor as if to -see why it was left there. - -"I guess he's a smart pony, but you must take him right out, Cyril," -said Cynthy. - -"Oh, yes, of course. Come, Blackie." He led him into the little -kitchen, telling him repeatedly that he was to be a good pony and -stay quietly there. But Blackie whinnied a little, seeing no -prospect of food. - -"Oh, poor Blackie!" cried the boy sympathisingly; "what will you do -without food?" He returned to Cynthy, who was spreading out a nice -little repast of sandwiches, bottled milk, cheese, and bread and -butter on the rough table. - -"Were all these things in that basket?" asked Cyril, looking at the -one they had fetched from the sleigh. - -"All except the sandwiches. Your father provided those," she replied. - -"But I say, Cyril," she added, "aren't you going to feed that pony of -yours?" - -"I only wish I could," he replied earnestly. "But unless you would -give me a slice of bread for him, I don't know what there is for him -to eat." - -"Why, what do you imagine there is in this bag?" asked the girl, -producing a coarse canvas bag from amongst the rugs she had thrown -down in a corner. - -"Oh! is it corn?" - -"Corn and chopped hay," she replied. "The very thing for Blackie. I -brought it for my horses, but didn't give it to them, for they can -find their way home." - -Cyril seized the bag eagerly, and with a grateful look, without -waiting to thank her, he ran to Blackie and spread its contents out -upon the floor. Then he really enjoyed seeing his pony eating the -food with relish. - -"Cyril! Cyril!" called Cynthy at last. "Come and have some dinner -yourself." - -All at once, feeling very hungry, Cyril returned to the other room -and joined the others at the nice impromptu meal. - -After it was over, and the things were cleared away--what was left of -the food being carefully put by--Cynthy told Mr. Morton what she had -already explained to Cyril, about the late owner of the house and his -wicked successor. "He might have killed us too," she said in -conclusion, "or at any rate have been very awkward, if I had not -terrified him by pretending to be his late father. That was the only -plan I could think of to frighten him away--yes, I see you look -grave; it was trading on his fears, I know. But we really were in a -desperate case. The horses could not possibly drag the sleigh -another inch, and it was absolutely necessary we should have shelter -from the snow." - -"But what did that mean about Mr. Gerald? I did not quite -understand," interposed Cyril. "Who is Mr. Gerald?" - -"He is one of the best and gentlest of men," answered the girl, "so -generous that he can never keep a cent in his pocket if he thinks -anyone else has need of it. He told me once he had been extravagant -and foolish in his youth away in England, and had done harm to a few -people without really meaning it, and that made him very anxious to -do all the good he could to others." - -"A beautiful way of retrieving the past!" said Mr. Morton. "Would -that everyone tried to do that sort of thing!" - -"You said that exactly as Mr. Gerald might have done," exclaimed -Cynthy, looking searchingly at her patient. "You do remind me of -him." - -"I believe you like Mr. Gerald a great deal," observed Cyril. - -"I do indeed," said Cynthy, very earnestly. - -"Can you tell us why?" asked Mr. Morton, regarding her with great -interest. - -Cynthy blushed deeply. "I'm engaged to be married," she said, "to a -young man named Harry Quilter. He got into difficulties, and would -have been ruined by some men, up at Iron Mountain, if it hadn't been -for Mr. Gerald. He took his part and stuck up for him, besides -paying some money Harry owed. And afterwards he got my Harry to go -about hunting with him until he'd got all sorts of Mr. Gerald's wise -maxims and good thoughts into his head. Now Harry has set up a -store--a shop, you know, only they call them all stores here--and -he's doing well. My father says Mr. Gerald has been the making of -him." - -"I am not surprised you think gratefully of him," said Mr. Morton. -"But how did such a man come to be lodging in this lonely house?" - -"Well, I don't know exactly, but I think he took compassion on old -Jabez, who always posed as a very poor, half-starved old man, and -thought it would be kind to lodge with him and pay him well for it -when he hunted in this neighbourhood. He was always doing kind -things like that. Pete, the old man's son, was a hunter too, and -perhaps he helped to persuade Mr. Gerald to lodge here, telling him -it was a good centre from which to hunt deer in the forest round. He -used to go out hunting with Mr. Gerald. Perhaps he thought even then -that if he killed the old man whilst Mr. Gerald was with them he -might swear the latter did it. He's that cunning, is Pete." - -"How was the old man killed?" - -"No one knows rightly. Pete declared that Mr. Gerald had knocked him -down with the butt end of his gun and thrown him into the river--the -body was never recovered." - -"But how was it such a man as Pete could be believed before this Mr. -Gerald?" - -"Well, you see the folks about here had known Pete from a child; he -had grown up amongst them, and they never thought he could do it. -Then the trappers and hunters and such-like all hang together, and -what one man says the others always hold by. Besides, Mr. Gerald was -an Englishman--and some of the people here are rather set against the -English just now--and he had made himself a bit unpopular by taking -the cause of the weak and despised against the richer, stronger men, -and these last couldn't make out what he did it for. 'We shall see -through his little game one day,' they said. So when Pete said Mr. -Gerald had killed his father and taken all his money--a very -considerable amount--they believed him. But there weren't any police -here, and there was some delay, during which Mr. Gerald got away! It -was a pity he did that. But he never cared much for people's -opinion, and he may have thought he would rather go away than fight -the matter out." But Cynthy sighed. "It always makes a man look -guilty," she added, "when he runs away. However, Cyril, you've heard -as well as I Pete's confession, that he committed the crime himself." - -"Yes, he said so! What a fright he was in!" cried the boy. "I never -saw anyone so much afraid in my life!" - -"A guilty conscience is a terrible thing," remarked Mr. Morton. -"But, Cynthy," he added to the American girl, "it is rather a -coincidence that the reason we came to North America was to find a -brother of mine, who went there many years ago, named Gerald Morton." - -"What was he like?" asked the girl at once, for she had been greatly -struck by Mr. Morton's resemblance to her hero. "Tell me just what -he was like." - -"He was five feet ten inches in height," said Mr. Morton. "His hair -a blend between gold and red, his eyes were blue, and he used to look -very young and boyish." - -Cynthy nodded. "Mr. Gerald was all that you have said, except the -last," she remarked. "He looked anything but boyish, but then he had -had a hard struggle to get on. You know this country is not so easy -for gentlemen without money to get on in. Poor men do better, -because they have strength with which to labour, and they often know -a trade. Mr. Gerald had knocked about a great deal, I know, before -he settled down as a hunter." - -"I wonder if he can possibly be my brother," said Mr. Morton. "I -should like to see the room he occupied when he was here. There -might be some traces of him in it." - -"Oh, it is the bedroom he had. Up that ladder it will be," said -Cynthy. "No, sir, please sit still. I can't let you try to get up -with that foot. Cyril can go up with me, and we will look round and -see if Mr. Gerald has left anything." - -Cyril had already jumped up and run to the wooden ladder leading up -to a trap-door in the boarded ceiling. He climbed up before Cynthy, -and pushing open the trap-door, entered the loft-like bedroom. - -Cynthy followed him in, and they looked round. A bed on the floor, a -three-legged stool, a table of very amateurish construction, and some -torn papers in a heap behind the door seemed to be all. - -"What a poor place!" cried Cyril. "Oh, I don't think my Uncle Gerald -can have lived here!" - -"Let us look at these papers," said Cynthy, kneeling down beside the -heap on the floor. "I'd scorn to look at any man's torn letters," -she said; "but if there should be Mr. Gerald's real name on these, -and it should lead to his friends finding him, why it would be such a -good thing! These, however, are mostly torn memoranda and receipted -bills. See, there is my father's name on one. He keeps a big store -at Monkton, six miles off. But what's this?" She held up an -envelope with the words written upon it, "Cyril Morton, Esq.," and -the name Brooklands below, and on the next line the letter T and a -blot, as if the address had never been completed." - -"Why, that is papa's address!" exclaimed Cyril. "Do you see the -writer was just beginning to write Truro when he stopped? The next -word would have been Cornwall, and then it would have been finished. -And my father will know the writing." - -"That he will. We'll take all these papers to him," said Cynthy, -gathering them up. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -_THE GHOST._ - -Mr. Morton was much affected when they placed in his hands the -handwriting of his long-lost brother, and he perceived that Gerald -had at least been thinking of him and beginning a communication to -him. There was no longer any doubt about the matter, his only -brother had lived in that poor frame-house for weeks together, and -had fled from it under suspicion of a terrible crime. That the -suspicion was utterly false could now be proved, thanks to Cyril and -Cynthy's having surprised and frightened the real culprit. But -Gerald had gone, and it might be long before the good news reached -him. - -"We will not go home, Cyril," said Mr. Morton, "until we have found -your uncle. That is of the most importance now." - -"If he has gone to the lumberers, as Pete said," remarked Cynthy, "I -have an idea in which direction we must go to find him. If only the -snow has ceased to-morrow I will guide you to the place. I should -like nothing better," she added, as Mr. Morton demurred about giving -her so much trouble. "They are used to my going away for a few days -at once, at my home; I have relations scattered about the country, -and they will conclude I am visiting them." - -Then, as night was drawing in, the clever girl made up a good -fire--fortunately there was a sufficiency of wood in the house--and -arranged the rugs for Mr. Morton and Cyril to sleep on near the fire. - -"I guess I'm going upstairs," she said, when this had been done, and -she ran lightly up the ladder to the loft above before they could -stop her. - -"She'll be so cold up there, father!" exclaimed Cyril. "She'll -freeze. There isn't a fireplace in the room, or anything but a poor -bed on the floor." - -"Run after her with this rug, Cyril," said Mr. Morton, choosing the -largest skin-rug. "Tell her I won't have it and neither will you. -We shall be miserable if she starves herself." - -Cyril did as he was told with great willingness, but he had immense -difficulty in making the generous-hearted girl consent to take the -rug. - -"I'm young and strong, Cyril," she said, "and you and your father are -delicate. Besides, you belong to Mr. Gerald, so you ought to have -the best of everything." But Cyril insisted, and she had to yield at -last. The tired travellers slept well and long, being much exhausted -with all they had gone through. - -Mr. Morton awoke first, and had lighted the fire before Cynthy -appeared. - -"I have been awake some time, but did not like to disturb you too -soon," she said, busying herself with filling the kettle. "Oh, now, -sir," she added, "you'll hurt your foot standing about on it so, and -there is no need. I can soon do everything." - -"I'm glad to say my foot is much better," rejoined Mr. Morton, "and I -am not going to allow you to do everything." - -Cynthy smiled brightly. "I am glad you are better," she said. "But -oh, look at the snow!" she added, removing one of the boards with -which she had filled in the empty window-frame. - -The snow was piled up until it almost reached the top of the window, -and they could see that more was still coming down. It was -impossible to open the door, which Cynthy tried next; a great -snow-drift was piled up against it. - -"We are snowed in!" she exclaimed. "And no one will think of looking -for us here in the haunted house--unless my Harry does. He knows I'm -not a bit superstitious. Still, I don't think he'll suppose we are -here," and she grew thoughtful, weighing the pros and cons. - -They had to be very economical of food that day, and there was none -left for poor Blackie, much to Cyril's grief. Cynthy gave him some -lumps of sugar for his pony, but she could not spare any bread. - -They all talked a great deal about Gerald Morton in the course of the -day, Cynthy relating many anecdotes of the kindly deeds he had done -for other people, all of which much delighted Mr. Morton, who asked -many questions about them. He told Cynthy his brother had been left -to his charge by a dying mother, and it was a great grief to him -when, having failed in business and become ruined in fortune, Gerald -left England, as he said, to seek his fortune in another country. "I -shall not return until I have found it," were his parting words, "and -it is of no use your writing, for I am going to try to travel about." - -Mr. Morton, therefore, did not know where to write, and neither did -he like to leave his delicate wife to go in search of him when he -heard from a traveller that a gentleman like Gerald Morton had been -seen in the forest country north of Lake Michigan. But when she was -dying, Mrs. Morton, thinking of his dying mother's request, begged -him to go in search of his brother, and he had started with Cyril for -that purpose after her death. - -Cyril then related his adventures. Cynthy was exceedingly interested -in them all. She had heard of the trial of robbers at Menominee, -when Whiterock and his captain were condemned to death, and knew what -an immense amount of harm the band of robbers had done. It seemed to -her a wonderful thing that one of the band--Davidson--should have -repented and returned to a civilised life. "You'll be glad all your -life that you helped him, Cyril," she said in her hearty way, "and I -hope, sir," she added to Mr. Morton, "that when you have found Mr. -Gerald you will tell him. He'll like to hear that." - -Last thing that evening, just when they were all endeavouring to -persuade each other that they were not at all hungry, because there -was no food left, they all at once heard a great knocking at the very -top of the outer door. - -Who could it be? It was beginning to get dark. Was it the ghost? -Cyril asked the question half laughingly, but he looked considerably -startled. When people have resigned themselves to the fact that they -are many miles away from any other person, it is rather queer to find -someone knocking at the door. It was Cynthy who cried out first, -"What do you want? Who is there?" - -[Illustration: "'What do you want? Who is there?'"] - -The others could not hear the answer, but it evidently reassured her, -for she gave a cry of joy, and her eyes shone with delight as she -again tried to open the door, but in vain. Then she turned to -explain to the others. "It's my Harry," she said. "He's found us. -I thought he would." - -"Yes," sang out a hearty voice from the other side of the door. "No -matter what difficulties intervene love can find a way." - -Cynthy blushed, and tried to hide her face from her companions, but -Mr. Morton reassured her by kind words and a reminiscence of a -far-off time when the dear lady who became his wife was lost with -some others on a mountain, and he alone was able to find her, because -he persevered after the others gave up the search. All this time the -man outside was digging the snow away from the door. As he did so he -called out, "Why, Cynthy, I hear you've Mr. Gerald inside there. -'Tis his voice, I'm sure." - -"No 'tisn't," returned she, "but it is his brother and nephew, whom I -came across in the snow some little time before getting here." - -"That's lucky," cried the man outside, "for I've found out where Mr. -Gerald is!" - -They were all very glad to hear that, and when at length the snow was -cleared off sufficiently to admit a fine, tall young man they -besieged him with questions. - -Harry Quilter related with much pleasure, as he shook hands with Mr. -Morton and Cyril, that a hunter had informed him at which lumberer's -camp he had lately seen the missing man. "It was only about ten -miles off as the bird might fly," he said, which caused Cynthy to -exclaim it would be nearly double that distance if they rode there. - -Harry then proceeded to empty his pockets, which were stuffed with -tea, dried deer-flesh, salt bacon, and a great hunk of bread. Asked -how it was he knew of the whereabouts of his young lady, he answered -that a trapper he had met had informed him that he had seen a great -quantity of smoke issuing from the chimney of the haunted house. It -was impossible to believe that a mere ghost could have lighted a fire -so large as to cause all that smoke, and as Harry was anxious about -the non-appearance of Cynthy Wood at her home he had put on his -moccasins and plodded through the snow. He had brought as much food -as he could carry, in case there should be a difficulty about -returning that night. - -They would have been almost merry, as they sat round the rough table -enjoying the welcome food, if it had not been for the thought of the -tragedy which had deprived that poor house of its owner, and also the -fact that Blackie was still calling out for food, which made the -tears come into his master's eyes every now and then. He would have -taken his own plate into the kitchen if Cynthy had not forbidden it. - -"You need support more than that fat pony of yours does, Cyril," she -said in her brisk way. "But here is some more lump sugar. Now I -can't spare anything else. Sugar is very feeding, you know." - -"And Blackie loves it. Thank you, Cynthy. Oh, just come and see my -pony, will you, Mr. Harry?" he added to the stranger. - -"What! Do you keep ponies in my house?" cried a harsh voice behind -them. - -They all turned to look at the door, which had silently opened. In -the doorway stood an old man, with a hooked nose and long, neglected -hair. He was so thin that he looked almost like a skeleton, and he -leaned heavily upon a strong, notched stick. On his feet he wore -moccasins, with which he had been able to walk through the snow. - -"Is it the ghost?" faltered Cyril, whose imagination had been much -exercised about the haunted house. - -Cynthy did not smile; she looked at the figure in the doorway with a -pale, frightened face. "It is Mr. Jabez Jones," she faltered. - -"Aye, it's Jabez Jones, at your service," said the old man, coming -forward. "And he would like to know what you are doing in his house, -and what a horse is doing in his kitchen?" He almost screamed the -last words as Blackie neighed more loudly than ever. - -"We are travellers who have come here for shelter from the snow," -said Mr. Morton wonderingly. - -"And I've come in search of one of them," said Harry Quilter, finding -his voice at length. "You know me, Jabez Jones, don't you?" - -"Aye, aye, and I know her," said the old man, pointing to Cynthy, -"but I don't know these," looking at the Mortons. "However, never -mind. I guess I'll have a cup o' yon tea." - -"Take my place," said Harry, offering his three-legged stool. - -"Nay, I'll ha' my own arm-chair," said the old man rudely. - -Mr. Morton at once rose, and placed it for him with gentle courtesy. - -"Well, you can't be a ghost, for you're just old Jabez and no one -else!" cried Cynthy. "But everyone thinks you were drowned in the -river six months ago," she added. "Do tell us how you escaped." - -"I wasn't drowned," said the old man. "But who has been after my -money?" He put down the cup he was just raising to his lips and went -up to the hole in the floor to investigate it, chuckling as he did so. - -Cynthy, reassured that it was really Jabez Jones in life exactly as -he had ever been, described to him the scene that she and Cyril -witnessed on their arrival at the house, which the old man heard with -grunts of satisfaction. - -"So Pete has begun to repent!" he said. "I'm glad of that. And see -now, my money isn't here after all. I took it away to the bank at -Menominee last fall, and when I got out of the river--for I was able -to float in it until washed on shore miles away lower down--having -some gold with me, I just went across country to Menominee to see if -it was safe. Happening to read in a newspaper that I had been -killed, and my house was haunted, I thought I'd stay away a bit and -frighten my graceless son well, and let him seek the money in vain. -You see, everyone thought I kept it hid in a hole somewhere, because -I always talked against banks, saying they were the worst places in -which a man could keep his money. But talking is one thing and -doing's another." He returned to the table and drank his tea. - -Mr. Morton shook his head sadly over the hardened old man, and as the -lovers sat together in the chimney-corner, talking after tea, whilst -Cyril gave Blackie its lump sugar, he tried to make him see that the -love of money is a great evil, and that in his case it had led his -son into sin. But the old man's mental state was a very dark and -unenlightened one, and not much impression could be made. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -_THE MEETING IN THE FOREST._ - -All through the winter the lumberers work in the woods, from sunrise -to sunset, making the forest resound with the strokes of their axes -as they fell tree after tree in amazing quantities. Often they -divide into bands of six or eight men, each company striving to -outrival the other in the amount of work it gets through. At night -they return to the great wooden shanty, in which they sleep in the -bunks arranged on two tiers of wooden shelves all around the place. -They eat salt pork and drink strong tea, and at night sit round the -huge log fires, smoking and chewing tobacco, and sometimes singing -and telling stories. - -Men who are strong and used to physical exertion enjoy the work, and -return to it again and again, for the wages are good, and the bold, -free life out of doors is not without its charms. But Gerald Morton -was not strong enough, or yet rough enough, for the labour and the -company it entailed. The men perceived this, and did not like to -work with him, in spite of his pleasant, cheery ways. They nicknamed -him "the gentleman," and at last their foreman was obliged to admit -that it would be well for him to go to some other sphere of labour. - -"You're not adapted to this life, nor yet strong enough for it," he -said to Gerald, "so you had better go." - -Gerald was thinking of these words as he spent his last day in the -woods at the lumbering. On the morrow he must again set out on the -wearying search for work. He was no nearer finding a fortune than on -the first day of his life in America, but he thanked God in his heart -as he worked that he had found in those huge American forests that -which was of more value than any earthly money. Through his head -were ringing the words of an old, old Book, which he carried -everywhere with him, at first because it was his mother's, and -afterwards for its own sake:-- - -"_The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring for ever: the judgments of -the Lord are true, and righteous altogether._ - -"_More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold: -sweeter also than honey, or the honeycomb._ - -"_Moreover, by them is Thy servant warned: and in keeping of them -there is great reward._" - -"Father! Father! That must be Uncle Gerald! Look! See! He's just -like your and Cynthy's description of him!" - -Cyril's glad cry caused the axe to drop from the tired lumberer's -hand. He turned and saw a little company of equestrians coming -quickly up to him, their horses crunching the hard snow and the -broken boughs strewing the ground. - -"Gerald! Gerald! My dear Gerald!" cried Mr. Morton, dismounting and -holding out an eager hand. - -"Cyril! Cyril!" - -Gerald clasped the hand as if he would never let it go. - -* * * * * * * - -"We have both been lost in the backwoods, Uncle Gerald," said Cyril, -with a fine sense of comradeship, as they returned home in a great -Transatlantic steamer. - -"And you have both been found," said his father, with deep -thankfulness. "My two beloved ones," he added mentally, looking at -them with glad eyes, as he thought that neither would have been -restored to his friends if it had not been for his strenuous efforts -to do right and serve God when to do so was an extremely difficult -task. "Truly there is a reward for the righteous," he said to -himself, and he was not thinking merely of the earthly result of -their conduct. - - - -THE END. - - - - PLYMOUTH - WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, PRINTERS - - - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOST IN THE BACKWOODS *** - -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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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