“Uncle, uncle! Don’t look like that! Don’t. He’s gone and shall never come back. Everything’s gone, hasn’t it? Even that irreparable past, of which I’d never heard. Why, if I’d dreamed, do you suppose I’d even ever have spoken to him? No, indeed. Why you, the tip of your smallest finger, the smallest lock of your hair, is worth more than a thousand Adrians! I was sorry he’d treated me so rudely. But now I’m glad, glad, glad.I wouldn’t listen to him now, not if he said good-bye forever and ever. I love you, uncle, best of all the world, and you love me. Let’s be just as we were before any strangers came. Come, let’s go out on the lake.”
He smiled at her extravagance and abruptness. The times when they had gone canoeing together had been their merriest, happiest times. It seemed to her that it needed only some such outing to restore the former conditions of their life.
“Not to-day, dearest.”
“Why not? The potatoes won’t hurt and it’s so lovely.”
“There are other matters, more important than potatoes. I have put them off too long. Now—Margot, do you love me?”
“Why—uncle!”
“Because there is somebody whom you must love even more dearly. Your father.”
“My—father! My father? Of course; though he is dead.”
“No, Margot. He is still alive.”
Pierre’sill-temper was short-lived, but his curiosity remained. However, when Adrian steadily refused to gratify it his interest returned to himself.
“Say, I’ve a mind to go the whole way.”
“Where?”
“Wherever you’re going. Nothin’ to call me back.”
“Madoc?”
“We might take him along.”
“Not if he’s sick. That would be as cruel to him as troublesome to us. Besides, you need go no further than yonder shore.”
“Them’s the woods you got lost in.”
“I know them better now.”
“Couldn’t find your road to save your life.”
“I think I could. Besides, you will be wanted at the island. I don’t think Mr. Dutton is a well man. With nobody but an old woman and a young girl he’ll need somebody. You’re not much good,still——”
Pierre laughed. They had about reached the forest and he rested his paddle.
“You hear me. I’m going to where you go. That was the master’s word. I wouldn’t dare not do it. If I did, my mother’d make me sorry. So that’s settled.”
Adrian had doubts as to the truth of this statement of the islander’s commands. He recalled the words: “as far as you desire.” After all, this was not setting a time limit, and it was perfectly natural that anybody should like company through the wilderness. Why, it would be a wild, adventurous journey! the very sort of which he had dreamed before he had tasted the prosaic routine of the lumber-camp. He had his colors and brushes, the birch-bark which served so many forest purposes should be his canvas, they had food,and Pierre, at least, his gun and ammunition—no lad could have protested further.
“All right. It will be a lark after my own heart. We can quit as soon as we’re tired of it; and—look here. Mr. Dutton said you were paid to take me to the nearest town. How far is that? How long to get there?”
“Oh! I don’t know. Donovan’s nighest. Might go in four days—might a week. Canada’s closer, but you don’t want to go north. South, he said.”
“Ye-es. I suppose so. Fact is, I don’t care where I go nor when. I’m in no hurry. As long as the money and food hold out, I’m satisfied.”
“Speakin’ of money. I couldn’t afford to waste my time.”
Adrian laughed at this sudden change of front. It was Pierre who had proposed the long road, but at the mention of money had remembered prudence.
“That’s all right, too. It was of that I wasthinking, you greedy fellow. What do guides get, here in the woods?”
Pierre stepped ashore, carefully beached his canoe, and as carefully considered his reply before he made it. How much did this city lad know? Either at camp or on the island had he heard the just rates of such service?
“Well—how much you got?”
“I’m asking a question, not you.”
“About four dollars, likely.”
“Whew! not much. You can get the best of them for two. I’ll give you a dollar a day when we’re resting and one-fifty when we’re traveling.”
Adrian was smiling in the darkness at his own sudden thrift. He had taken a leaf out of his comrade’s own book, and beyond that, he almost loved his precious earnings, so soon as the thought came of parting with them. He instantly resolved to put aside a ten dollar piece to take the “mater,” whenever he should see her. The rest he would use, of course, butnot waste. He would paint such pictures up here as would make his old artist friends and the critics open their eyes. The very novelty of the material which should embody them would “take.” Already, in imagination, he saw dozens of fascinating “bits” hung on the line at the old Academy, and felt the marvelous sums they brought swelling his pockets to bursting. He’d be the rage, the hit of the next season; and what pride he’d have in sending newspaper notices of himself to Peace Island! How Margot would open her blue eyes, and Angelique toss her hands, and the master slowly admit that there was genius where he had estimated only talent.
“There’s such a wide, wide difference in the two!” cried Adrian, aloud.
“Hey? What?”
The dreamer came back to reality, and to Pierre, demanding,
“Make it one-seventy-five, and I’ll do it.”
“Well. I will. Now, for to-night. Shall we camp right here or go further into theforest? In the woods I’m always ready for bed, and its later than usual now.”
“Here. I know the very rocks you got under in that storm. They’ll do as good as a tent, and easier.”
Adrian, also, knew that spot and in a few moments both lads were asleep. They had not stopped even to build the fire that was customary in such quarters.
Pierre was awake first, on the next morning, and Adrian slowly rose, stretching his cramped limbs and yawning widely.
“Well, I must say that Angelique’s good mattress beats rocks. You don’t catch me doing that again. I guess I’ll walk down to the water and have a last look at the island.”
“I guess you won’t. You’ll eat your breakfast right now. Then you’ll fix that birch for the carry. If I do the heavy work you’ve got to do the light.”
“Sounds fair enough, but you’re paid and I’m not.”
“It is fair.”
Adrian did not contest the point; the less readily because he saw that the fried chicken Angelique had given them was rapidly diminishing in quantity.
“Think I’ll fall to, myself. My, but I’m hungry! Wish I had a cup of coffee.”
“Can’t waste time now. We’ll have some to-night.”
“Did they give us some?”
“Look in the pack.”
“After breakfast, I’ll oblige you.”
Pierre grinned and helped himself to a wing.
Adrian seized the tin basin which held the fowl and placed it behind himself. “Enough’s as good as a feast. We shall be hungry again. See here. What kind of a bird was this? or birds? all legs and arms, no bodies. Freaks of nature. Eh? How many breast portions have you devoured?”
“Three.”
“Oh! Then, travel or no travel, you get no wage this day. Understand. I’m commanderof this expedition. I see to the commissariat. I’ll overhaul the pack, and take account of stock.”
Pierre assisted at the task. Though he had been impatient to get away from that locality, still too dangerously near his mother’s rule, he intended to keep an eye on everything. Paid or not paid, as Adrian fared so would he—only rather better.
“Why, they must have thought we would be in the woods a long time. They were certainly generous.”
They had been, but Pierre considered that they might have been more so.
“This was for both trips. Half is mine.”
“Nonsense. But—there. We’re not going to squabble all the time, like children. And we both know exactly what we have to depend on. We must fish andshoot——”
“How’ll you do that? The only gun is mine.”
“It’s part of the outfit. Let’s see. A little good tent cloth—not big enough to cover anybut good-natured folks—salt pork, beans, sugar, coffee, tea, flour, meal,dishes——Hello! We’re kings, Ricord! Monarchs of Maine.”
“Cut the splints.”
After all, it seemed to be Pierre who did the ordering, but Adrian had sense to see that he was the wiser of the two in woodcraft; even though he himself had made it a study during the last weeks. He seized the axe and attacked a cedar-tree, from which he had soon cut the binding strips he wanted. Then he laid the paddles in the boat, fastening them with rootlets to the three thwarts. He also fastened two broad bands of the pliable splints in such a way that when it was inverted, the weight of the canoe could be borne in part by the forehead and shoulders. He was ready almost as soon as Pierre had retied the pack, which was to be Adrian’s burden.
“All right! I’ll swing her up. This ‘carry’ isn’t a long one and the first thoroughfare is ten miles before we come to deadwater. But it’s up-stream that far and we’ll have to warp up some. Part is fair, but more is rips.”
If Pierre thought to confound his mate by his woodland slang he was disappointed. Margot had been a good teacher and Adrian had been eager to learn what he had not already done from the loggers. Pierre had been puzzled by “commissariat” and “expedition” and felt that he had evened matters nicely.
“Oh! I know. A thoroughfare is a river, and a dead water is a lake. And a carrier is—yourself!”
To show his new skill he caught up the canoe and inverted it over his own head. He, also, had been calculating a bit, and realized that the birch was really the lighter burden. So he generously left the pack to his neighbor and started forward bravely.
“All right, like you say. One little bit, then you change. Then, too, maybe I’m not ready.”
With a whistle and spring Pierre hoisted the pack to his shoulders, wound its straps around his body and started off through the forest at a sort of dog-trot pace, pausing neither for swamp nor fallen tree; and Adrian realized that if he were to keep his companion in sight he must travel equally fast.
Alas! this was impossible. The birch which had seemed so light and romantic a “carry” became suddenly the heaviest and most difficult. He caught its ends on tree trunks and righting these blunders he stumbled over the rough way. The thongs that had seemed so smooth cut his forehead and burned into his chest, and putting pride in his pocket, he shouted:
“Pierre! Pierre Ricord! Come back or you’ll get no money!”
It would have been a convincing argument had it been heard, but it was not. Pierre had already gone too far in advance. Yet at that moment a sound was borne on the breeze toward Adrian which effectually banished allthought of fatigue or of ill-treatment. A long-drawn, unmistakable cry that once heard no man with the hunter instinct ever forgets.
“A moose! And Pierre has the gun!”
ButPierre, also, had heard that distant “Ugh-u-u-ugh!” and instantly paused. His own anxiety was lest Adrian should not hear and be still. Fortunately, the wind was in their favor and the sensitive nostrils of the moose less apt to scent them. Having listened a moment, he dropped his pack so softly that, heavy as it was, it scarcely made the undergrowth crack. His gun was always loaded and now making it ready for prompt use, he started back toward his companion. The Indian in his nature came to the fore. His step was alert, precise, and light as that of any four-footed forester. When within sight of the other lad, listening and motionless, his eye brightened.
“If he keeps that way,maybe—— Ah!”
The moose called again, but further off. This was a disappointment, but they were on good ground for hunting and another chance would come. Meanwhile they would better make all haste to the thoroughfare. There would be the better place, and out in the canoe they’d have a wider range.
“Here, you. Give me the boat. Did you hear it?”
“Did I not? But you had the gun!”
“Wouldn’t have made any difference if you’d had it. Too far off. Let’s get on.”
Adrian lifted the pack and dropped it in disgust. “I can’t carry that load!”
Pierre was also disgusted—by the other’s ignorance and lack of endurance.
“What you don’t know about the woods beats all. Haven’t you seen anybody pack things before? I’ll show you. When there’s big game handy is no time to quarrel. If a pack’s too heavy, halve it. Watch and learn something.”
Pierre could be both swift and dexterous ifhe chose, and he rapidly unrolled and divided the contents of the cotton tent. Putting part into the blanket he retied the rest in the sheeting, and now neither bundle was a very severe tax.
“Whew! What’s the sense of that? It’s the same weight. How does halving it help?”
Pierre swung the canoe upon his head and directed:
“Catch hold them straps. Carry one a few rods. Drop it. Come back after the other. Carry that a ways beyond the first. Drop it. Get number one. All time lap over, beyond, over, beyond. So.”
With a stick he illustrated on the ground, and wasting no further time nor speech, clasped his gun the tighter under his arm and trotted forward again.
Adrian obeyed instructions, and though it seemed, at first, a waste to go back and forth along the carry as he had been directed, found that, in the end, he had accomplished his task with small fatigue or delay.
“Another bit of woodcraft for my knowledge box. Useful elsewhere, too. Wish I could get through this country as fast as Pierre does. But he’ll have to wait for me, anyway.”
For a time Adrian could easily trace the route of his guide by the bruises the canoe had given the leaves and undergrowth but after awhile the forest grew more open and this trail was lost. Then he stopped to consider. He had no intention of losing himself again.
“We are aiming for the south. Good. All the big branches of these hemlocks point that way—so yonder’s my road. Queer, too, how mossy the tree trunks are on the north sides. I’ve heard that you could drop an Indian anywhere in any forest and he’d travel to either point of the compass he desired with nothing to guide him but his instinct. Wish I were an Indian! Wish, rather, I had my own compass and good outfit that went over in my canoe. Hurrah!There’s a glimmer of water. That’s the thoroughfare. Now a dash for it!”
Adrian was proud of his new skill in finding his own way through a trackless forest, but though he duly reached the stream he could not for a time see anything of Pierre. He did not wish to shout, lest the moose might be near and take fright, but at last he did give a faint halloo and an answer came at once. Then the boat shot out from behind a clump of alders and made down the river toward him.
The current was swift and strong and there was considerable poling to be done before it touched the shore and Pierre stepped out.
“I’ve been looking round. This is as good a place to camp to-night as we’ll find. Leave the things here, and might as well get ready now. Then we can stay out all day and come back when we like.”
“But I thought we were to go on up the thoroughfare. Why stop here at all? Other camping places are easy to find.”
“Are they? My, you can ask questions. Good many things go to making right sort of camp. Dry ground, good water to drink, fire-wood,poles——Oh! shucks! If you don’t know, keep still and learn.”
This was excellent advice and Adrian was tired. He decided to trust to the other lad’s common sense and larger experience, and having so decided, calmly stretched himself out upon the level bank of the stream and went to sleep.
Pierre’s temper rose still higher and after he had endured the sight of Adrian’s indolence as long as possible he stepped to the river and dipped a bucket of water. Then he returned and quietly dashed it over the drowsy lad. The effect was all that Pierre desired.
“What did you do that for?”
“Take this axe and get to work. I’ve chopped long enough. It’s my turn to rest. Or would be, only I’m after moose.”
Adrian realized that he had given cause foroffense and laughed good-naturedly. His nap had rested him much more than his broken sleep of the night under the rocks, and the word “moose” had an inspiration all its own.
“I’ve cut the fire-wood. You get poles for the tent. I’ll get things ready for supper.”
Adrian laid his hand dramatically upon his stomach. “I’ve an inner conviction already that dinner precedes supper.”
“Cut, can’t you?”
“Cut, it is.”
In a few moments he had chopped down a few slender poles, and selecting two with forked branches he planted these upright on a little rise of the driest ground. Across the notches he laid a third pole, and over this he stretched their strip of sheeting. When this was pegged down at a convenient angle at the back and also secured at the ends, they had a very comfortable shelter from the dew and possible rain. The affair was open on one side and before this Pierre had heapedthe wood for the fire when they should return after the day’s hunt. Together they cut and spread the spruce and hemlock boughs for their bed, arranging them in overlapping rows, with an added quantity for pillows. Wrapped in their blankets, for even at midsummer these were not amiss, they hoped to sleep luxuriously.
They stored their food in as safe a spot as possible, though Pierre said that nothing would molest it, unless it might be a hungry hedgehog, but Adrian preferred to take no risks. Then with knives freshly sharpened on the rocks, and the gun in hand, they cautiously stepped into the canoe and pushed off.
“One should not jump into a birch. Easiest thing in the world to split the bottom,” its owner had explained.
Adrian had no desire to do anything that would hinder their success, therefore submitted to his guide’s dictation with a meekness that would have amused Margot.
She would not have been amused by theirundertaking nor its but half-anticipated results. After a long and difficult warping-up the rapids, in which Adrian’s skill at using the sharp-pointed pole that helped to keep the canoe off the rocks surprised Ricord, they reached a dead water, with low, rush-dotted banks.
“Get her into that cove yonder, and keep still. I’ve brought some bark and’ll make a horn.”
There, while they rested and listened, Pierre deftly rolled his strip of birch-bark into a horn of two feet in length, small at the mouth end but several inches wide at the other. He tied it with cedar thongs and putting it to his lips, uttered a call so like a cow-moose that Adrian wondered more and more.
“Hmm. I thought I was pretty smart, myself; but I’ll step down when you take the stand.”
“’Sh-h-h! Don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t breathe, if you can help it.”
Adrian became rigid, all his facultiesmerged in that one desire to lose no sound.
Again Pierre gave the moose-call, and—hark! what was that? An answering cry, a far-away crashing of boughs, the onrush of some big creature, hastening to its mate.
Noiselessly Pierre brought his gun into position, sighting one distant point from which he thought his prey would come. Adrian’s body dripped with a cold sweat, his hands trembled, specks floated before his staring eyes, every nerve was tense, and, as Margot would have said, he was a-thrill “with murder,” from head to foot! Oh! if the gun were his, and the shot!
Another call, another cry, and a magnificent head came into view. With horns erect and quivering nostrils the monarch of that wilderness came, seeking love, and faced his enemies.
“He’s within range—shoot!” whispered Adrian.
“Only anger him that way. ’Sh! When heturns——”
“Bang! bang—bang!” in swift succession.
The great horns tossed, the noble head came round again, then bent, wavered and disappeared. The tragedy was over.
“I got him! I got him that time! Always shoot that way,never——”
Pierre picked up his paddle and sent the canoe forward at a leap. When there came no responding movement from his companion he looked back over his shoulder. Adrian’s face had gone white and the eagerness of his eyes had given place to unspeakable regret.
“What’s the matter? Sick?”
“Yes. Why, it was murder! Margot was right.”
“Oh! shucks!”
Whereupon Pierre pulled the faster toward the body of his victim.
Threemonths earlier, if anybody had told Adrian he would ever be guilty of such “squeamishness” he would have laughed in derision. Now, all unconsciously to himself, the influence of his summer at Peace Island was upon him and it came to him with the force of a revelation that God had created the wild creatures of His forests for something nobler than to become the prey of man.
“Oh! that grand fellow! his splendidly defiant, yet hopeless, facing of death! I wish we’d never met him!”
“Well, of all foolishness! I thought you wanted nothing but the chance at him yourself.”
“So I did. Before I saw him. What if it had been Madoc?”
“That’s different.”
“The same. Might have been twin brothers. Maybe they were.”
“Couldn’t have been. Paddle, won’t you?”
Adrian did so, but with a poor grace. He would now far rather have turned the canoe about toward camp, yet railed at himself for his sudden cowardice. He shrank from looking on the dead moose as only an hour before he had longed to do so.
They were soon at the spot where the animal had disappeared and pushing the boat upon the reedy shore, Pierre plunged forward through the marsh. Adrian did not follow, till a triumphant shout reached him. Then he felt in his pocket and, finding a pencil with a bit of paper, made his own way more slowly to the side of his comrade, who, wildly excited, was examining and measuring his quarry. On a broad leaved rush he had marked off a hand’s width and from this unit calculated that:
“He’s eight feet four from hoof to shoulder, and that betters the King by six inches. See. His horns spread nigh six feet. If he stood straight and held them up he’d be fifteen feet or nothing! They spread more’n six feet, and I tell you, he’s a beauty!”
“Yes. He’s all of that. But of what use is his beauty now?”
“Humph! Didn’t know you was a girl!”
Adrian did not answer. He was rapidly and skilfully sketching the prostrate animal, and studying it minutely. From his memory of it alive and the drawing he hoped to paint a tolerably lifelike portrait of the animal; and a fresh inspiration came to him. To those projected woodland pictures he would add glimpses of its wild denizens, and in such a way that the hearts of the beholders should be moved to pity, not to slaughter.
But, already that sharpened knife of Pierre’s was at work, defacing, mutilating.
“Why do that, man?”
“Why not? What ails you? What’d we hunt for?”
“We don’t need him for food. You cannot possibly carry those horns any distance on our trip, and you’re not apt to come back just this same way. Let him lie. You’ve done him all the harm you should. Come on. Is this like him?” And Adrian showed his drawing.
“Oh! it’s like enough. If you don’t relish my job—clear out. I can skin him alone.”
Adrian waited no second bidding, but strolled away to a distance and tried to think of other things than the butchering in progress. But at last Pierre whistled and he had to go back or else be left in the wilderness to fare alone as best he might. It was a ghastly sight. The great skin, splashed and wet with its owner’s blood, the dismembered antlers, the slashed off nose—which such as Pierre considered a precious tid-bit, the naked carcass and the butcher’s own uninviting state.
“I declare, I can never get into the sameboat with you and all that horror. Do leave it here. Do wash yourself—there’s plenty of water, and let’s be gone.”
Pierre did not notice the appeal. Though the lust of killing had died out of his eyes the lust of greed remained. Already he was estimating the value of the hide, cured or uncured, and the price those antlers would bring could he once get them to the proper market.
“Why, I’ve heard that in some of the towns folks buy ’em to hang their hats on. Odd! Lend a hand.”
Reluctantly, Adrian did lift his portion of the heavy horns and helped carry them to the birch. He realized that the pluckiest way of putting this disagreeable spot behind him was by doing as he was asked. He was hopeless of influencing the other by any change in his own feelings and wisely kept silence.
But they hunted no more that day, nor did they make any further progress on their journey. Pierre busied himself in erecting a rude frame upon which he stretched the moose skinto dry. He also prepared the antlers and built a sort of hut, of saplings and bark, where he could store his trophies till his return trip.
“For I shall surely come back this same way. It’s good hunting ground and moose feed in herds. Small herds, course, but two, three make a fellow rich. Eh?”
Adrian said nothing. He occupied himself in what Pierre considered a silly fashion, sketching, studying “effects,” and carefully cutting big pieces of the birch-bark that he meant to use for “canvas.” To keep this flat during his travels was a rather difficult problem, but finally solved by cutting two slabs of cedar wood and placing the sheets of bark between these.
Whereupon, Pierre laughed and assured the weary chopper that he had had his trouble for his pains.
“What for you want to carry big lumber that way? Roll your bark. That’s all right. When you want to use it put it in water.Easy. Queer how little you know about things.”
“All right. I was silly, sure enough. But thanks for your teaching. Maybe, if you were in my city I might show you a thing or two.”
Both lads were glad, however, when night came, and having cooked themselves a good supper and replenished their fire, they slept as only such healthy lads can sleep; to wake at sunrise, ready for fresh adventures, and with the tragedy of the previous day partly forgotten even by Adrian. Then, after a hearty breakfast, they resumed their trip.
Nothing eventful occurred for some time after. No more moose appeared, and beyond winging a duck or two and fishing now and then, Pierre kept his hunting instincts down. In fact, he was just then too lazy to exert himself. He felt that he had labored beyond all reason during the past summer and needed a rest. Besides, were not his wages steadily going on? If Adrian was silly enough topaint and paint and paint—all day, this old tree and that mossy stump, he was not responsible for another man’s stupidity. Not he. The food was still holding out, so let things take their course.
Suddenly, however, Adrian realized that they were wasting time. He had made sketches on everything and anything he could find and had accumulated enough birch-bark to swamp the canoe, should they strike rough water; and far more than was comfortable for him to carry over any portage. So one morning he announced his intention of leaving the wilderness and getting back to civilization.
“All right. I go with you. Show me the town, then I’ll come back.”
“Well. As you please. Only I don’t propose to pay you any longer than will take us, now by the shortest road, to Donovan’s.”
“Time enough to borrow that trouble when you see it.”
But Pierre suggested that, as Adrian wished to learn everything possible about the woods,he should now take the guidance of affairs, and that whenever things went wrong he, Pierre, could point the way. He did this because, of late, he fancied that his young employer had taken a “too top-lofty” tone in addressing him; and, in truth, Adrian’s day-dreams of coming fame and his own genius were making him feel vastly superior to the rough woodsman.
They had paddled over dead water to a point where two streams touched it, and the question rose—which way?
“That!” said Adrian, with decision, pointing to the broader and more southern of the two.
“Good enough.”
For a moment the leader fancied there was a gleam of malice in his hireling’s eye, but he considered it beneath his notice and calmly turned the canoe into the thoroughfare he had chosen. It was wonderfully smooth and delightful paddling. In all their trip they had not found so level a stream, and it was nothingbut enjoyment of the scenery that Adrian felt, until it seemed to him that they had been moving a long time without arriving anywhere. “Haven’t we?” he asked.
“Oh! we’ll get there soon, now.”
Presently things began to look familiar. There was one curiously shaped, lightning-riven pine, standing high above its fellows, that appeared like an old friend.
“Why, what’s this? Can there be two trees, exactly alike, within a half-day’s rowing? I’ve certainly sketched that old landmark from every side,and——Hello! yonder’s my group of white-birches or I’m blind. How queer!”
A few more sweeps and the remains of the camp they had that morning left were before them, and Pierre could no longer repress his glee.
“Good guide, you! Trust a know-it-all for making mistakes.”
“What does it mean?” demanded Adrian, angrily.
“Nothing. Only you picked out a run-about, a little branch of river, that wanders out of course and then comes home again. Begins and ends the same. Oh! you’re wise, you are.”
“Would the other lead us right?”
“Yes.”
“But it turns north. We’re bound south.”
“That’s no matter. Can’t a river turn, same as runabouts?”
“I give up. You guide. I’ll stick to my brush.”
This restored affairs to the ground which Pierre considered proper; and having paused long enough to eat a lunch, they set out afresh. The new track they followed ascended steadily, and it proved a difficult stream to get up; but the ascent was accomplished without accident and then the surface of the land altered. Again they reached a point where two branches met and Pierre explained that the waters of one ran due north, but the other bent graduallytoward the south and in a little while descended through one of the most dangerous “rips” he had ever seen.
“Only saw them once, too. When I went as far as Donovan’s with the master, year before last.”
“Didn’t know he ever came so far from the island.”
“Why, he goes once every summer, or fall, as far as that New York of yours. Likely he’ll be going soon again.”
“He does? Queer he never mentioned it.”
“Maybe. I’ve a notion, though, that the things he don’t say are more important than what he does. Ever shoot a rip?”
“No. I’ve tried and failed. That’s how I happened to get lost and wandered to Dutton’s.”
“He’s the boss hand at it. Seems as if the danger fired him up. Makes him feel as I do when I hunt big game. He didn’t need my help, only fetched me along to take backsome truck. That’s how he picked me out to show you. He knew Iknew——”
“And I wish I knew—lots of things!”
“One of ’em might be that round that next turn comes the first dip. Then, look out.”
The stream was descending very perceptibly; and they needed no paddling to keep them moving. But they did require to be incessantly on the watch to guard against the rocks which obstructed the current and which threatened the safety of their frail craft.
“You keep an eye on me and one on the channel. It’ll take a clear head to carry us through, and no fooling.”
Adrian did not answer. He had no thought for anything just then but the menace of those jagged points which seemed to reach toward them as if to destroy.
Nor did Pierre speak again. Far better even than his silent companion could he estimate the perils which beset them. Life itself was the price which they would pay for a moment’scarelessness; but a cool head, a clear eye, and a steady wrist—these meant safety and the proud record of a dangerous passage wisely made. A man who could shoot those rapids was a guide who might, indeed, some time demand the high wages at which Adrian had jeered.
Suddenly, the channel seemed barred by two opposing bowlders, whose points lapped each other. In reality, there was a way between them, by the shortest of curves and of but little more than the canoe’s width. Pierre saw and measured the distance skilfully, but he had not counted upon the opposing force of the water that rushed against them.
“Look—out!take——”
Behind the right-hand rock seethed a mighty whirlpool where the river speeding downward was caught and tossed back upon itself, around and around, mad to escape yet bound by its own power.
Into this vortex the canoe was hurled; tobe instantly overturned and dashed to pieces on the rock.
On its first circuit of the pool Adrian leaped and landed upon the slippery bowlder—breathless, but alive! His hand still clasped the pole he had been using to steer with, andPierre——?He had almost disappeared within the whirling water, that tossed him like a feather.
Foran instant Adrian closed his eyes that he might not see the inevitable end. But—was it inevitable? At the logging camp he had heard of just such accidents as this and not all of them were fatal. The water in its whirling sometimes tossed that which it had caught outward to safety.
He flung himself prone and extended the pole. Pierre’s body was making another circuit of that horrible pit and when—if—shouldit——The drowning boy’s head was under the current, but his legs swung round upon its surface, faster and faster, as they drew nearer the centre.
Then—a marvel! The long pole was thrust under the invisible arms, which closed upon it as a vice.
“Hold! Hold! I’ll pull you out!”
But for the hard labor of the past few weeks Adrian’s muscles could not have stood the strain. Yet they did, and as he drew the nearly senseless Pierre upon the rock beside himself his soul went up in such glad thanksgiving as he had never known, or might know again. A life saved. That was worth all things.
For an hour they lay there, resting, recovering; then Pierre, himself, stood up to see what chance there was for a fuller deliverance. He was a very sober and altered Pierre, and his drenched clothing added to the forlornness of his appearance.
“Nothing left but—us. Came nigh bein’ only you. Say, Adrian, I shan’t forget it.”
“How are we going to get ashore?”
“’Tisn’t much harder’n Margot’s stepping-stones. Done them times enough.”
Again Adrian was grateful for his forest experience, but he asked with some anxiety:
“Suppose you are strong enough to do it?”
“Isn’t any supposin’ about it. Got to. Might as well died in the pool as starve on this rock.”
Adrian didn’t see that there was much better than starvation before them even if they did reach shore, but he kept his fear to himself. Besides, it was not probable that they had been saved from the flood to perish in the forest. They would better look at the bright side of the situation, if they hoped to find such.
“I can jump them.”
“So can I.”
“Don’t let go that pole. I mean to keep that as long as I live—’less you want it yourself. If youdo——”
“No, Pierre, it belongs to you, and doubly now. Which should go first—you or I?”
“Draw lots. If that one falls in, the other must fish him out. Only we won’t try it on this side, by the pool.”
They carefully surveyed the crossing, almost as dangerous an affair as shooting therapids had been. Yet, as Pierre had said, they “had to.”
Adrian picked a bit of floating weed that had swept within his reach and broke it into unequal portions. The shortest bit fell to him and with as cheerful a “here goes!” as he could muster he sprang for the next stone. He made it; more easily than he had hoped, and saw that his best chance lay in looking straight ahead to the next landing-point—and the next—never down at the swirling river.
“Landed! Come!”
Pierre was heavier but more practiced than his mate, and in a few seconds the two stood together on the shore, regarding the ruins of their boat and thinking of what they would not have for supper.
All at once Pierre’s eye brightened.
“Say! there’s been a camp here. Not so long ago, either. See that barrel in the brush? There’s an old birch shed yonder. Hurrah!”
They did not linger, though Adrian kepthoping that something from their lost outfit might be tossed outward toward them, even as Pierre had been; but nothing came in sight and he reached the dilapidated shed only a few feet behind the other.
“There’s a bed left still, but not such a soft one. And there’s pork in that barrel. Wonder the hedgehogs haven’t found it.”
But as Pierre thrust his nose into the depths of the cask he understood the reason of its safety.
“Whew! Even a porkypine wouldn’t touch that! Never mind. Reckon our boots’ll need greasing after that ducking, or mine will, and it’ll answer. Anything under the shed?”
“Don’t see anything. Wait. Yes, I do. A canvas bag hung up high. Must have been forgotten when the campers left, for they took everything else, clean sweep. Hurrah! It’s beans!”
“Good. Beans are good fodder for hungry cattle.”
“How can you eat such hard things? Should think they’d been resurrected from the Pyramids.”
“Well, I don’t know ‘Pyramids,’ but I do know beans, and how to cook them. Fall to. Let’s get a fire. I’m nearly frozen.”
“Fire? Can you make one?”
“I can tryand——I’ve got to. When needs must, you know.”
Adrian hastily collected some dry twigs and decaying chips and heaped them in the sunniest place, but for this was promptly reprimanded by the shivering Pierre.
“Don’t you know anything at all? Wood won’t light, nor burn after ’tis lighted, in the sunshine. Stick up something to shade the stuff,whilst——”
He illustrated what he did not further say, by carefully selecting some hard stones and briskly rubbing them together. A faint spark resulted and a thistle-down caught the spark. To the thistle-down he held a dried grass blade and another. By this small beginningthey had soon a tiny blaze and very soon a comforting fire.
When they were partially dried and rested, said Pierre:
“Now, fetch on your beans. While they’re cooking, we’ll take account of what is left.”
Adrian brought the bag, refraining from any questions this time. He was wondering and watchful. Pierre’s misadventures were developing unsuspected resources and the spirits of both lads rose again to the normal.
“You’re so fond of splitting birch for pictures, split me some now for a bucket, while I sharpen this knife again. Lucky for me my pocket buttoned, else it would have gone to the bottom of that pool. Got yours?”
“Yes. I didn’t fall in, you know.”
“Then I don’t ask odds of anybody. I’d rather have a good axe, but when I can’t get my rather I take the next best thing.”
Adrian procured the strips of birch, which grows so plentifully to hand in all that woodland,and when Pierre had trimmed it into the desired shape he deftly rolled it and tied it with stout rootlets, and behold! there was a shapely sort of kettle, with a twig for a handle. But of what use it might be the city lad had yet to learn.
Pierre filled the affair with water and put into it a good handful of the beans. Then he fixed a crotched stick over his fire and hung the birch kettle upon it.
“Oh! don’t waste them. I know. I saw Angelique soak them, as they did at camp. I know, now. If we can’t cook them we can make them swell up in water, and starving men can exist on such food till they reach a settlement. Of course we’ll start as soon as you’re all right.”
“We’ll start when we’re ready. That’s after we’ve had something to eat and have made our new canoe. Never struck a spot where there was likelier birches. ’Twon’t be the first one I’ve built or seen built. Say. Seems as if that God that Margot is always sayingtakes care of folks must have had a hand in this. Doesn’t it?”
“Yes. It does,” answered Adrian, reverently. Surely, Pierre was a changed and better lad.
Then his eyes rested on the wooden dinner-pot, and to his astonishment it was not burning but hung steadily in its place and the water in it was already beginning to simmer. Above the water line the bark shrivelled and scorched slightly, but Pierre looked out for this and with a scoop made from a leaf replenished the water as it steamed away. The beans, too, were swelling and gave every promise of cooking—in due course of time. Meanwhile, the cook rolled himself over and about in the warmth of the fire till his clothes were dry and all the cold had left his body. Also, he had observed Adrian’s surprise with a pardonable pride.
“Lose an Indian in the woods and he’s as rich as a lord. It’s the Indian in me coming out now.”
“It’s an extra sense. Divination, instinct, something better than education.”
“What the master calls ‘woodcraft.’ Yes. Wonder how he is, and all of them. Say. What do you think I thought about when I was whirling round that pool, before I didn’t think of anything?”
“Your sins, I suppose. That’s what I’ve heard comes to a drowning man.”
“Shucks! Saw the mére’s face when she broke that glass! Fact. Though I wasn’t there at the time. And one thing more: saw that ridiculous Xanthippé, looking like she’d never done a thing but warble. Oh! my! How I do wish Margot’d sell her.”
“Shall I help you get birch for the canoe now? I begin to believe you can do even that, you are so clever.”
This praise was sweet to Pierre’s vain ears and had the result which Adrian desired, of diverting the talk from their island friends. In their present situation, hopeful as the other pretended to find it, he felt it best forhis own peace of mind not to recall loved and absent faces.
They went to work with a will, and will it was that helped them; else with the poor tools at hand they had never accomplished their undertaking. Indeed, it was a labor of considerable time. Not only was that first meal of boiled beans cooked and eaten, but several more of the same sort followed. To vary these, Pierre baked some, in the same method as he had boiled them, or else in the ashes of their fire. He even fashioned a sort of hook from a coat button and with cedar roots for a line, caught a fish now and then. But they craved the seasoning of salt, and even the dessert of blue-berries which nature provided them could not satisfy this longing, which grew almost intolerable to Adrian’s civilized palate.
“Queer, isn’t it? When I was at that lumber camp I nearly died because all the meat, or nearly all, was so salt. Got so I couldn’t eat anything, hardly. Now,just because I haven’t salt I can’t eat, either.”
“Indians not that way. Indians eat one thing same’s another. Indian just wants to live, don’t care about the rest. Indian never eats too much. I’m all Indian now.”
Adrian opened his eyes to their widest, then threw himself back and laughed till the tears came.
“Pierre, Pierre! Would you had been ‘all Indian’ when you tackled Angelique’s fried chicken! Umm! I can taste it now!”
But at length the new canoe was ready. They had put as few ribs into it as would suffice to hold it in shape and Pierre had carefully sewn it with the roots of the black cedar, which serves the woodsman for so many purposes, where thread or twine is needed. They had made a paddle and a pole as well as they could with their knives, and having nothing to pack except themselves and their small remnant of beans, made their last camp-fire at that spot and lay down to sleep.
But the dreams of both were troubled; and in the night Adrian rose and went to add wood to the fire. It had died down to coals, but his attention was caught by a ring of white light upon the ashes, wholly distinct from the red embers.
“What’s that?”
In a moment he had answered his own question. It was the phosphorescent glow from the inner bark of a half burned log, and further away he saw another portion of the same log making a ghostly radiance on the surrounding ground.
“Oh! I wouldn’t have missed that for anything. Mr. Dutton told me of beautiful sights he had witnessed and of the strange will-o’-the-wisps that abound in the forest. I’ll gather some of the chips.”
He did so, and they made a fairy-like radiance over his palm; but while he was intently studying them, he felt his hand rudely knocked up, so that the bits of wood flew out of it.
“Pierre! Stop that!”
“Don’t you know what that is? A warning—a sign—an omen. Oh! if I had never come upon this trip!”
“You foolish fellow. Just as I thought you were beginning to get sense. Nothing in the world but decayed bark andchemical——”
Pierre stopped his ears.
“I was dreaming of the mére. She came with her apron to her eyes and her clothes in tatters. She wasscolding——”
“Perfectly natural.”
“And beggingme——”
“Not to eat so many half-baked beans for supper.”
“There’s something wrong at the island. I saw the cabin all dark. I saw Margot’s eyes red with weeping.”
“No doubt Tom has been into fresh mischief and your mother has punished him.”
Pierre ignored these flippant interruptions,but rehearsed his dismal visions till Adrian lost patience and pushed him aside.
“Go. Bring an armful of fresh wood; some that isn’t phosphorescent, if you prefer. That’ll wake you up and drive the megrims out of your mind.”
“’Tis neither of them things. ’Tis a warning. They were all painted with black, and all the Hollow creatures were painted, too. ’Tis a warning. I shall see death before Iam——”
Even while he maundered on in this strain he was unconsciously obeying the command to fetch wood, and moved toward a pile left ready. Now, in raking this together, Adrian had, also, swept that spot of ground clean and exposed; and what neither had observed in the twilight was plainly revealed by the glow and shadows cast by the fire.
This was a low, carefully made mound that, in shape and significance, could be confounded with no other sort of mound, wherever met. Both recognized it at once, and even uponAdrian the shock was painful; but its effect upon superstitious Pierre was far greater. With a shriek that startled the silence of the forest he flung himself headlong.
“Getup, Pierre. You should be ashamed of yourself!”
It needed a strong and firm grasp to force the terrified lad to his feet and even when he, at last, stood up he shivered like an aspen.
“A grave!”
“Certainly. A grave. But neither yours nor mine. Only that of some poor fellow who has died in the wilderness. I’m sorry I piled the brush upon it, yet glad we discovered it in the end.”
“Gla-a-ad!” gasped the other.
“Yes. Of course. I mean to cover it with fresh sods and plant some of those purple orchids at its head. I’ll cut a cedar headstone, too, and mark it so that nobody else shall desecrate it as we have done.”
“You mustn’t touch it! It’s nobody’s—only a warning.”
“A warning, surely; that we must take great care lest a like fate come on us; but somebody lies under that mound and I pity him. Most probable that he lost his life in that very whirlpool which wrecked us. Twice I’ve been upset and lost all my belongings, but escaped safe. I hope I’ll not run the same chance again. Come. Lie down again, and go to sleep.”
“Couldn’t sleep; to try in such a haunted place would be to be‘spelled’——”
“Pierre Ricord! For a fellow that’s so smart at some things you are the biggest dunce I know, in others. Haven’t we slept like lords ever since we struck this camp? I’m going to make my bed up again and turn in. I advise you to do the same.”
Adrian tossed the branches aside, then rearranged them, lapping the soft ends over the hard ones in an orderly row which would have pleased a housewife. Thus freshenedhis odorous mattress was as good as new, and stretching himself upon it he went to sleep immediately.
Pierre fully intended to keep awake; but fatigue and loneliness prevailed, and five minutes later he had crept close to Adrian’s side.
The sunshine on his face, and the sound of a knife cutting wood awoke him; and there was Adrian whittling away at a broad slab of cedar, smiling and jeering, and in the best of spirits, despite his rather solemn occupation.
“For a fellow who wouldn’t sleep, you’ve done pretty well. See. I’ve caught a fish and set it cooking. I’ve picked a pile of berries, and have nearly finished this headstone. Added another accomplishment to my many—monument maker. But I’m wrong to laugh over that, though the poor unknown to whom it belongs would be grateful to me, I’ve no doubt. Lend a hand, will you?”
But nothing would induce Pierre to engage in any such business. Nor would he touchhis breakfast while Adrian’s knife was busy. He sat apart, looking anywhere rather than toward his mate, and talking over his shoulder to him in a strangely subdued voice.
“Adrian!”
“Well?”
“Most done?”
“Nearly.”
“What you going to put on it?”
“I’ve been wondering. Think this: ‘To the Memory of My Unknown Brother.’”
“Wh-a-a-t!”
Adrian repeated the inscription.
“He was no kin to you.”
“We are all kin. It’s all one world, God’s world. All the people and all these forests, and the creatures in them—I tell you I’ve never heard a sermon that touched me as the sight of this grave in the wilderness has touched me. I mean to be a better, kinder man, because of it. Margot was right, none of us has a right to his own self. She told me often that I should go home to my ownfolks and make everything right with them; then, if I could, come back and live in the woods, somewhere. ‘If I felt I must.’ But I don’t feel that way now. I want to get back and go to work. I want to live so that when I die—like that poor chap, yonder,—somebody will have been the better for my life. Pshaw! Why do I talk to you like this? Anyway, I’ll set this slab in place, andthen——”
Pierre rose and still without looking Adrian’s way, pushed the new canoe into the water. He had carefully pitched it, on the day before, with a mixture of the old pork grease and gum from the trees, so that there need be no delay at starting.
Adrian finished his work, lettered the slab with a coal from the fire, and re-watered the wild flowers he had already planted.
“Aren’t you going to eat breakfast first?”
“Not in a graveyard,” answered Pierre, with a solemnity that checked Adrian’s desire to smile.
A last reverent attention, a final clearing of all rubbish from the spot, and he, too, stepped into the canoe and picked up his paddle. They had passed the rapids and reached a smooth stretch of the river, where they had camped, and now pulled steadily and easily away, once more upon their journey south. But not till they had put a considerable distance between themselves and that woodland grave, would Pierre consent to stop and eat the food that Adrian had prepared. Even then, he restricted the amount to be consumed, remarking with doleful conviction:
“We’re going to be starved before we reach Donovan’s. The ‘food stick’ burnt off and dropped into the fire, last night.”
Adrian remembered that his mate had spoken of it at the time, when by some carelessness, they had not secured the crotched sapling on which they hung their birch kettle.
“Oh! you simple thing. Why will you go through life tormenting yourself withsuch nonsense? Come. Eat your breakfast. We’re going straight to Donovan’s as fast as we can. I’ve done with the woods for a time. So should you be done. You’re needed at the island. Not because of any dreams but because the more I recall of Mr. Dutton’s appearance the surer I am that he is a sick man. You’ll go back, won’t you?”
“Yes. I’m going back. Not because you ask me, though.”
“I don’t care why—only go.”
“I’m not going into the show business.”
Adrian smiled. “Of course you’re not. You’ll never have money enough. It would cost lots.”
“’Tisn’t that. ’Twas the dream. That was sent me. All them animals in black paint, and the blue herons without any heads,and——My mother came for me, last night.”
“I heartily wish you could go to her this minute! She’s superstitious enough, in all conscience, yet she has the happy faculty of keeping her lugubrious son in subjection.”
Whenever Pierre became particularly depressing the other would rattle off as many of the longest words as occurred to him. They had the effect of diverting his comrade’s thoughts.
Then they pulled on again, nor did anything disastrous happen to further hinder their progress. The food did not give out, for they lived mostly upon berries, having neither time nor desire to stop and cook their remnant of beans. When they were especially tired Pierre lighted a fire and made a bucket of hemlock tea, but Adrian found cold water preferable to this decoction; and, in fact, they were much nearer Donovan’s, that first settlement in the wilderness, than even Pierre had suspected.
Their last portage was made—an easy one, there being nothing but themselves and the canoe to carry—and they came to a big dead water where they had looked to find another running stream; but had no sooner sighted it than their ears were greeted by the laughterof loons, which threw up their legs and dived beneath the surface in that absurd manner which Adrian always found amusing.
“Bad luck, again!” cried Pierre, instantly, “never hear a loonbut——”
“But you see a house! Look, look! Donovan’s, or somebody’s, no matter whose! A house, a house!”
There, indeed, it lay; a goodly farmstead, with its substantial cabins, its outbuildings, its groups of cattle on the cleared land, and—yes, yes, its moving human beings, and what seemed oddest still, its teams of horses.
Even Pierre was silent, and tears sprang to the eyes of both lads as they gazed. Until that moment neither had fully realized how lonely and desolate had been their situation.
“Now for it! It’s a biggish lake and we’re pretty tired! But that means rest, plenty to eat, people—everything.”
Their rudely built canoe was almost useless when they beached it at last on Donovan’s wharf, and their own strength was spent.But it was a hospitable household to which they had come, and one quite used to welcoming wanderers from the forest. They were fed and clothed and bedded, without question, but, when a long sleep had set them both right, tongues wagged and plans were settled with amazing promptness.
For there were other guests at the farm; a party of prospectors, going north into the woods to locate timber for the next season’s cutting. These would be glad of Pierre’s company and help, and would pay him “the going wages.” But they would not return by the route he had come, though by leaving theirs at a point well north, he could easily make his way back to the island.
“So you shot the poor moose for nothing. You cannot even have his horns!” said Adrian reproachfully. “Well, as soon as I can vote, I mean to use all my influence to stop this murder in the forest.”
The strangers smiled and shrugged their shoulders. “We’re after game ourselves, aswell as timber, but legislation is already in progress to stop the indiscriminate slaughter of the fast disappearing moose and caribou. Five hundred dollars is the fine to be imposed for any infringement of the law, once passed.”
Pierre’s jaw dropped. He was so impressed by the long words and the mention of that, to him, enormous sum, that he was rendered speechless for a longer time than Adrian ever remembered. But, if he said nothing, he reflected sadly upon the magnificent antlers he should see no more.