CHAPTER XIITHE GAME POACHERSMeanwhile, the woods boy was in trouble.He had walked for several miles through the pines, packing that dandy little Marlin repeater belonging to Teddy, and really wishing he might run across a fighting wild cat, or even a panther, though these latter animals were seldom seen in the Michigan woods in late years. Anything in the shape of game that the law did not protect, but paid a bounty for killing—that was the height of Amos’ ambition as he stalked along. For he wanted to see how it felt to use the gun he had always admired so much; and even a fierce lucivee would have been welcomed.Of course, Amos did not forget for one minute what especial object had lured him abroad on this morning. He kept on the alert to discover traces of wild flowers, and their busy attendants, the little honey gathering, pollen scattering bees.Strange to say there seemed to be a wonderful dearth of the insects right around thatparticular section. Amos was at first surprised, and then nettled. He disliked to give any object up so easily; and when noon came it found him with his head still turned away from the camp, and without having met with any success.Thinking he had better not go further in that direction, Amos began to circle around to the left. This movement would allow of his covering much new ground. Better still, if he kept on, he expected to eventually strike the shore of the lake, at a point, say a mile or two from the camp.It was a nicely arranged plan, but circumstances which he had never forseen, and over which he really had no control, caused it to miss fire.There was undoubtedly a whole lot of luck or accident in the way things came about; but then that can be said with regard to nearly every event that occurs. Think of the western railway train that was five minutes behind time, arriving in sight of the station just so that the horrified passengers saw the cyclone tear that building at which they should have been stopping, into a thousand bits. That happened just the other day, out near Omaha, Nebraska.All of a sudden Amos, sitting on a log and resting, heard a deer jumping. Then came two shots, one close on the heels of the other.A wounded doe ran out of the scrub and fell dead on the ground not twenty feet away from the boy. Then he heard voices approaching. Amos would have shown his good sense by taking to his heels just then, and vanishing. He did nothing of the kind, only stood there, and waited to see who it was shooting deer out of season, and a doe at that. And like as not Amos would quickly repent him of this unwise, even foolish lack of caution.Two men came hurrying forward. The first one Amos recognized as Big Gabe Hackett and he guessed that the other must be Jared Crawley—yes, he remembered the fellow, though some years had passed since last he saw him.Just as they reached the deer they discovered Amos, and both men showed signs of confusion, which quickly changed to anger.Almost before the surprised Amos realized what was happening, the giant poacher had leaped over to his side, and snatched the precious Marlin out of his hands.After that they could not have driven thewoods boy away, for he simply must have refused to return to camp minus Teddy’s pet gun.“What ye doin’ hyar, ye game warden spy?” growled Big Gabe, lifting his fist, as though tempted to strike the boy; but at least Amos did not quail; he looked the other straight in the eye as he replied:“I was trackin’ around in hopes of findin’ a bee tree for the boys; but just concludin’ to give it up and head for camp, when this deer dropped. Somebody shot her, but I didn’t see who fired, so it ain’t any of my business.”“Oh! it ain’t, hey?” roared Gabe, “wall then, I’ll make it yer business,” and with that he placed the repeating gun so close to the deer that when he fired the sound was so muffled that it could not possibly have carried any great distance; which was why those in the camp heard no third discharge.“What’d ye do that for?” demanded Crawley, who was a tough looking old customer, weaker in disposition, perhaps, than Big Gabe, but, Amos believed, every inch as much a rascal.“So he’d have a hand in downin’ the deer,” said the big poacher, with a cunningleer. “Now he dasn’t peach on us, Jared, ’cause Amos, he’s in the same fix himself. And say, this leetle gun handles great. I jest been a lookin’ fur somebody ter make me a present o’ a six shooter like this.”“Well,” said Amos, stoutly, “I guess you’re off your trolley about that gun. Nobody ain’t giving it to you. It belongs to my friend, Teddy Overton, and he’s carried it so long he wouldn’t let it go for a heap.”“Oh! he wudn’t, eh?” growled Big Gabe, frowning.“And you know what his father is; he ain’t afraid of any man or any Lumber Trust on earth. Well, the boy’s a chip of the old block. You try to keep his gun, and see what happens to you. I guess you’ll think some black hornets are singin’ around your head in no time.”Perhaps it was wrong for Amos to taunt the poacher after this fashion. But then Big Gabe, being at the time in a nasty, reckless humor, the chances are he would hardly have backed down anyhow, once he put his hand to the plow.He looked at Amos reflectively.“Say, them fellers think a heap o’ ye, I guess, mebbe, Amos?” he remarked.“They’re mighty fine boys,” admitted the other, falling into the trap.“And like as not,” continued the poacher, a grim smile beginning to creep over his red face, “if they thort as how you was hurted or lost, now, that Overton boy and the Bradley one, son o’ Mark Bradley the rich manufacturer, would sally out, and try to find ye. Ain’t thet so, Amos?”Amos knew it was. But he declined to commit himself. Truth to tell, a terrible fear had suddenly taken possession of him. Evidently these two desperate lawless men had been talking over some wild scheme that had for its main object the demand on Mr. Overton or Mr. Bradley, for ransom money, after the two sons of the wealthy men had been made prisoners.Once the ransom was in their hands no doubt the two men had in mind an asylum across the lake in Canada.That was why a dreadful fear suddenly sealed the lips of Amos. But Big Gabe read his answer in the look of alarm that shot athwart the boy’s face. He laughed harshly, and then went on to say:“Git busy an’ cut up the deer, Amos, none o’ yer puttin’ on airs now or I’ll be tempted to use that on ye,” and he lifted oneof his tremendous fists that had knocked scores of men down in the days when Big Gabe “ruled the roost” as the bully of the logging camp.Amos was no fool. He could be discreet as well as brave. And truth to tell, a wild desire now began to seize upon him to learn in some fashion just what the plans of these two conspirators might be, in order that he could make them come to naught, and save his chums.By running away he would lose all chance of finding this out. And besides, he was apt to take unnecessary risks, because he honestly believed Gabe would shoot after him, using the shot gun in order to simply lame him.And then, there was Teddy’s prized gun—how could he have the face to go back to camp and tell how that had been plucked from his hands without his being able to make the least resistance?So Amos making the best of a bad bargain, took out his knife, got down on his knees beside the slain deer, and started to cut the carcass up. The two men sat there on the log Amos had recently vacated, watching his labors, and occasionally exchanging a remark, generally to the effect of how enjoyable it was to have some one to do all the dirty work.This was no new business to the woods boy.He pretended not to pay any attention to what was said by the men. But he saw that Hackett kept the Marlin gun across his knees all the while, allowing his own old weapon to lie unheeded on the ground.“Now tie up all them parts in the skin, so ye kin tote ’em, Amos,” ordered the despot, when the boy announced that he had taken all the choice portions.There was nothing to do but grin and bear it, though Amos doubtless thought his lines had fallen in anything but pleasant places.“Pick her up!” ordered Big Gabe, as he arose, tucked Teddy Overton’s gun under one arm, and his own under the other. “We got about two miles ter kiver; an’ me ’n Jarda here, bein’ kinder rusty in the j’ints, ain’t as well able ter pack loads acrost kentry as when we was young an’ nimble guides. Head straight into the south, Amos. And I hopes as how ye’re too sensible ter think of tryin’ ter run away, ’cause I’d hate to pepper ye with this ere scatter gun; but I swear I will if so be he tries to skin out.”Amos knew the man, and he believed him. So for various reasons he decided not to make any attempt at flight—just then, at any rate.He wondered where they were taking him. Somewhere or other they must have a camp.Then he remembered Big Gabe mentioning the fact that Crawley had a cabin somewhere.“I wonder if it could be that old place they used to say was haunted?” Amos was whispering to himself, as he walked along, now turning a little to the right, and again to the left as his captor directed, and often the butt of coarse ridicule on the part of Big Gabe, who thought the boy was only a little coward, after all.He did not dream what was passing through the mind of Amos.After a while the boy felt sure they must be making for the cabin of which he had heard more or less talk, but which he had never seen.And sure enough, when the sun was only half way down toward the horizon they came in sight of an old cabin, nestled in the midst of the wildest growth of bush; as though Nature was trying hard to heal the scar made by man’s hand.“Hello! thar, Sallie, open up!” shouted old Crawley; and somewhat to the astonishment of Amos, the cabin door opened to reveal the slender figure of a girl about the twelve years of age—a girl with tawny golden hair, a rather small, pallid face, and the biggest blue eyes he had ever seen in any one.
CHAPTER XIITHE GAME POACHERSMeanwhile, the woods boy was in trouble.He had walked for several miles through the pines, packing that dandy little Marlin repeater belonging to Teddy, and really wishing he might run across a fighting wild cat, or even a panther, though these latter animals were seldom seen in the Michigan woods in late years. Anything in the shape of game that the law did not protect, but paid a bounty for killing—that was the height of Amos’ ambition as he stalked along. For he wanted to see how it felt to use the gun he had always admired so much; and even a fierce lucivee would have been welcomed.Of course, Amos did not forget for one minute what especial object had lured him abroad on this morning. He kept on the alert to discover traces of wild flowers, and their busy attendants, the little honey gathering, pollen scattering bees.Strange to say there seemed to be a wonderful dearth of the insects right around thatparticular section. Amos was at first surprised, and then nettled. He disliked to give any object up so easily; and when noon came it found him with his head still turned away from the camp, and without having met with any success.Thinking he had better not go further in that direction, Amos began to circle around to the left. This movement would allow of his covering much new ground. Better still, if he kept on, he expected to eventually strike the shore of the lake, at a point, say a mile or two from the camp.It was a nicely arranged plan, but circumstances which he had never forseen, and over which he really had no control, caused it to miss fire.There was undoubtedly a whole lot of luck or accident in the way things came about; but then that can be said with regard to nearly every event that occurs. Think of the western railway train that was five minutes behind time, arriving in sight of the station just so that the horrified passengers saw the cyclone tear that building at which they should have been stopping, into a thousand bits. That happened just the other day, out near Omaha, Nebraska.All of a sudden Amos, sitting on a log and resting, heard a deer jumping. Then came two shots, one close on the heels of the other.A wounded doe ran out of the scrub and fell dead on the ground not twenty feet away from the boy. Then he heard voices approaching. Amos would have shown his good sense by taking to his heels just then, and vanishing. He did nothing of the kind, only stood there, and waited to see who it was shooting deer out of season, and a doe at that. And like as not Amos would quickly repent him of this unwise, even foolish lack of caution.Two men came hurrying forward. The first one Amos recognized as Big Gabe Hackett and he guessed that the other must be Jared Crawley—yes, he remembered the fellow, though some years had passed since last he saw him.Just as they reached the deer they discovered Amos, and both men showed signs of confusion, which quickly changed to anger.Almost before the surprised Amos realized what was happening, the giant poacher had leaped over to his side, and snatched the precious Marlin out of his hands.After that they could not have driven thewoods boy away, for he simply must have refused to return to camp minus Teddy’s pet gun.“What ye doin’ hyar, ye game warden spy?” growled Big Gabe, lifting his fist, as though tempted to strike the boy; but at least Amos did not quail; he looked the other straight in the eye as he replied:“I was trackin’ around in hopes of findin’ a bee tree for the boys; but just concludin’ to give it up and head for camp, when this deer dropped. Somebody shot her, but I didn’t see who fired, so it ain’t any of my business.”“Oh! it ain’t, hey?” roared Gabe, “wall then, I’ll make it yer business,” and with that he placed the repeating gun so close to the deer that when he fired the sound was so muffled that it could not possibly have carried any great distance; which was why those in the camp heard no third discharge.“What’d ye do that for?” demanded Crawley, who was a tough looking old customer, weaker in disposition, perhaps, than Big Gabe, but, Amos believed, every inch as much a rascal.“So he’d have a hand in downin’ the deer,” said the big poacher, with a cunningleer. “Now he dasn’t peach on us, Jared, ’cause Amos, he’s in the same fix himself. And say, this leetle gun handles great. I jest been a lookin’ fur somebody ter make me a present o’ a six shooter like this.”“Well,” said Amos, stoutly, “I guess you’re off your trolley about that gun. Nobody ain’t giving it to you. It belongs to my friend, Teddy Overton, and he’s carried it so long he wouldn’t let it go for a heap.”“Oh! he wudn’t, eh?” growled Big Gabe, frowning.“And you know what his father is; he ain’t afraid of any man or any Lumber Trust on earth. Well, the boy’s a chip of the old block. You try to keep his gun, and see what happens to you. I guess you’ll think some black hornets are singin’ around your head in no time.”Perhaps it was wrong for Amos to taunt the poacher after this fashion. But then Big Gabe, being at the time in a nasty, reckless humor, the chances are he would hardly have backed down anyhow, once he put his hand to the plow.He looked at Amos reflectively.“Say, them fellers think a heap o’ ye, I guess, mebbe, Amos?” he remarked.“They’re mighty fine boys,” admitted the other, falling into the trap.“And like as not,” continued the poacher, a grim smile beginning to creep over his red face, “if they thort as how you was hurted or lost, now, that Overton boy and the Bradley one, son o’ Mark Bradley the rich manufacturer, would sally out, and try to find ye. Ain’t thet so, Amos?”Amos knew it was. But he declined to commit himself. Truth to tell, a terrible fear had suddenly taken possession of him. Evidently these two desperate lawless men had been talking over some wild scheme that had for its main object the demand on Mr. Overton or Mr. Bradley, for ransom money, after the two sons of the wealthy men had been made prisoners.Once the ransom was in their hands no doubt the two men had in mind an asylum across the lake in Canada.That was why a dreadful fear suddenly sealed the lips of Amos. But Big Gabe read his answer in the look of alarm that shot athwart the boy’s face. He laughed harshly, and then went on to say:“Git busy an’ cut up the deer, Amos, none o’ yer puttin’ on airs now or I’ll be tempted to use that on ye,” and he lifted oneof his tremendous fists that had knocked scores of men down in the days when Big Gabe “ruled the roost” as the bully of the logging camp.Amos was no fool. He could be discreet as well as brave. And truth to tell, a wild desire now began to seize upon him to learn in some fashion just what the plans of these two conspirators might be, in order that he could make them come to naught, and save his chums.By running away he would lose all chance of finding this out. And besides, he was apt to take unnecessary risks, because he honestly believed Gabe would shoot after him, using the shot gun in order to simply lame him.And then, there was Teddy’s prized gun—how could he have the face to go back to camp and tell how that had been plucked from his hands without his being able to make the least resistance?So Amos making the best of a bad bargain, took out his knife, got down on his knees beside the slain deer, and started to cut the carcass up. The two men sat there on the log Amos had recently vacated, watching his labors, and occasionally exchanging a remark, generally to the effect of how enjoyable it was to have some one to do all the dirty work.This was no new business to the woods boy.He pretended not to pay any attention to what was said by the men. But he saw that Hackett kept the Marlin gun across his knees all the while, allowing his own old weapon to lie unheeded on the ground.“Now tie up all them parts in the skin, so ye kin tote ’em, Amos,” ordered the despot, when the boy announced that he had taken all the choice portions.There was nothing to do but grin and bear it, though Amos doubtless thought his lines had fallen in anything but pleasant places.“Pick her up!” ordered Big Gabe, as he arose, tucked Teddy Overton’s gun under one arm, and his own under the other. “We got about two miles ter kiver; an’ me ’n Jarda here, bein’ kinder rusty in the j’ints, ain’t as well able ter pack loads acrost kentry as when we was young an’ nimble guides. Head straight into the south, Amos. And I hopes as how ye’re too sensible ter think of tryin’ ter run away, ’cause I’d hate to pepper ye with this ere scatter gun; but I swear I will if so be he tries to skin out.”Amos knew the man, and he believed him. So for various reasons he decided not to make any attempt at flight—just then, at any rate.He wondered where they were taking him. Somewhere or other they must have a camp.Then he remembered Big Gabe mentioning the fact that Crawley had a cabin somewhere.“I wonder if it could be that old place they used to say was haunted?” Amos was whispering to himself, as he walked along, now turning a little to the right, and again to the left as his captor directed, and often the butt of coarse ridicule on the part of Big Gabe, who thought the boy was only a little coward, after all.He did not dream what was passing through the mind of Amos.After a while the boy felt sure they must be making for the cabin of which he had heard more or less talk, but which he had never seen.And sure enough, when the sun was only half way down toward the horizon they came in sight of an old cabin, nestled in the midst of the wildest growth of bush; as though Nature was trying hard to heal the scar made by man’s hand.“Hello! thar, Sallie, open up!” shouted old Crawley; and somewhat to the astonishment of Amos, the cabin door opened to reveal the slender figure of a girl about the twelve years of age—a girl with tawny golden hair, a rather small, pallid face, and the biggest blue eyes he had ever seen in any one.
THE GAME POACHERS
Meanwhile, the woods boy was in trouble.
He had walked for several miles through the pines, packing that dandy little Marlin repeater belonging to Teddy, and really wishing he might run across a fighting wild cat, or even a panther, though these latter animals were seldom seen in the Michigan woods in late years. Anything in the shape of game that the law did not protect, but paid a bounty for killing—that was the height of Amos’ ambition as he stalked along. For he wanted to see how it felt to use the gun he had always admired so much; and even a fierce lucivee would have been welcomed.
Of course, Amos did not forget for one minute what especial object had lured him abroad on this morning. He kept on the alert to discover traces of wild flowers, and their busy attendants, the little honey gathering, pollen scattering bees.
Strange to say there seemed to be a wonderful dearth of the insects right around thatparticular section. Amos was at first surprised, and then nettled. He disliked to give any object up so easily; and when noon came it found him with his head still turned away from the camp, and without having met with any success.
Thinking he had better not go further in that direction, Amos began to circle around to the left. This movement would allow of his covering much new ground. Better still, if he kept on, he expected to eventually strike the shore of the lake, at a point, say a mile or two from the camp.
It was a nicely arranged plan, but circumstances which he had never forseen, and over which he really had no control, caused it to miss fire.
There was undoubtedly a whole lot of luck or accident in the way things came about; but then that can be said with regard to nearly every event that occurs. Think of the western railway train that was five minutes behind time, arriving in sight of the station just so that the horrified passengers saw the cyclone tear that building at which they should have been stopping, into a thousand bits. That happened just the other day, out near Omaha, Nebraska.
All of a sudden Amos, sitting on a log and resting, heard a deer jumping. Then came two shots, one close on the heels of the other.
A wounded doe ran out of the scrub and fell dead on the ground not twenty feet away from the boy. Then he heard voices approaching. Amos would have shown his good sense by taking to his heels just then, and vanishing. He did nothing of the kind, only stood there, and waited to see who it was shooting deer out of season, and a doe at that. And like as not Amos would quickly repent him of this unwise, even foolish lack of caution.
Two men came hurrying forward. The first one Amos recognized as Big Gabe Hackett and he guessed that the other must be Jared Crawley—yes, he remembered the fellow, though some years had passed since last he saw him.
Just as they reached the deer they discovered Amos, and both men showed signs of confusion, which quickly changed to anger.
Almost before the surprised Amos realized what was happening, the giant poacher had leaped over to his side, and snatched the precious Marlin out of his hands.
After that they could not have driven thewoods boy away, for he simply must have refused to return to camp minus Teddy’s pet gun.
“What ye doin’ hyar, ye game warden spy?” growled Big Gabe, lifting his fist, as though tempted to strike the boy; but at least Amos did not quail; he looked the other straight in the eye as he replied:
“I was trackin’ around in hopes of findin’ a bee tree for the boys; but just concludin’ to give it up and head for camp, when this deer dropped. Somebody shot her, but I didn’t see who fired, so it ain’t any of my business.”
“Oh! it ain’t, hey?” roared Gabe, “wall then, I’ll make it yer business,” and with that he placed the repeating gun so close to the deer that when he fired the sound was so muffled that it could not possibly have carried any great distance; which was why those in the camp heard no third discharge.
“What’d ye do that for?” demanded Crawley, who was a tough looking old customer, weaker in disposition, perhaps, than Big Gabe, but, Amos believed, every inch as much a rascal.
“So he’d have a hand in downin’ the deer,” said the big poacher, with a cunningleer. “Now he dasn’t peach on us, Jared, ’cause Amos, he’s in the same fix himself. And say, this leetle gun handles great. I jest been a lookin’ fur somebody ter make me a present o’ a six shooter like this.”
“Well,” said Amos, stoutly, “I guess you’re off your trolley about that gun. Nobody ain’t giving it to you. It belongs to my friend, Teddy Overton, and he’s carried it so long he wouldn’t let it go for a heap.”
“Oh! he wudn’t, eh?” growled Big Gabe, frowning.
“And you know what his father is; he ain’t afraid of any man or any Lumber Trust on earth. Well, the boy’s a chip of the old block. You try to keep his gun, and see what happens to you. I guess you’ll think some black hornets are singin’ around your head in no time.”
Perhaps it was wrong for Amos to taunt the poacher after this fashion. But then Big Gabe, being at the time in a nasty, reckless humor, the chances are he would hardly have backed down anyhow, once he put his hand to the plow.
He looked at Amos reflectively.
“Say, them fellers think a heap o’ ye, I guess, mebbe, Amos?” he remarked.
“They’re mighty fine boys,” admitted the other, falling into the trap.
“And like as not,” continued the poacher, a grim smile beginning to creep over his red face, “if they thort as how you was hurted or lost, now, that Overton boy and the Bradley one, son o’ Mark Bradley the rich manufacturer, would sally out, and try to find ye. Ain’t thet so, Amos?”
Amos knew it was. But he declined to commit himself. Truth to tell, a terrible fear had suddenly taken possession of him. Evidently these two desperate lawless men had been talking over some wild scheme that had for its main object the demand on Mr. Overton or Mr. Bradley, for ransom money, after the two sons of the wealthy men had been made prisoners.
Once the ransom was in their hands no doubt the two men had in mind an asylum across the lake in Canada.
That was why a dreadful fear suddenly sealed the lips of Amos. But Big Gabe read his answer in the look of alarm that shot athwart the boy’s face. He laughed harshly, and then went on to say:
“Git busy an’ cut up the deer, Amos, none o’ yer puttin’ on airs now or I’ll be tempted to use that on ye,” and he lifted oneof his tremendous fists that had knocked scores of men down in the days when Big Gabe “ruled the roost” as the bully of the logging camp.
Amos was no fool. He could be discreet as well as brave. And truth to tell, a wild desire now began to seize upon him to learn in some fashion just what the plans of these two conspirators might be, in order that he could make them come to naught, and save his chums.
By running away he would lose all chance of finding this out. And besides, he was apt to take unnecessary risks, because he honestly believed Gabe would shoot after him, using the shot gun in order to simply lame him.
And then, there was Teddy’s prized gun—how could he have the face to go back to camp and tell how that had been plucked from his hands without his being able to make the least resistance?
So Amos making the best of a bad bargain, took out his knife, got down on his knees beside the slain deer, and started to cut the carcass up. The two men sat there on the log Amos had recently vacated, watching his labors, and occasionally exchanging a remark, generally to the effect of how enjoyable it was to have some one to do all the dirty work.
This was no new business to the woods boy.He pretended not to pay any attention to what was said by the men. But he saw that Hackett kept the Marlin gun across his knees all the while, allowing his own old weapon to lie unheeded on the ground.
“Now tie up all them parts in the skin, so ye kin tote ’em, Amos,” ordered the despot, when the boy announced that he had taken all the choice portions.
There was nothing to do but grin and bear it, though Amos doubtless thought his lines had fallen in anything but pleasant places.
“Pick her up!” ordered Big Gabe, as he arose, tucked Teddy Overton’s gun under one arm, and his own under the other. “We got about two miles ter kiver; an’ me ’n Jarda here, bein’ kinder rusty in the j’ints, ain’t as well able ter pack loads acrost kentry as when we was young an’ nimble guides. Head straight into the south, Amos. And I hopes as how ye’re too sensible ter think of tryin’ ter run away, ’cause I’d hate to pepper ye with this ere scatter gun; but I swear I will if so be he tries to skin out.”
Amos knew the man, and he believed him. So for various reasons he decided not to make any attempt at flight—just then, at any rate.
He wondered where they were taking him. Somewhere or other they must have a camp.Then he remembered Big Gabe mentioning the fact that Crawley had a cabin somewhere.
“I wonder if it could be that old place they used to say was haunted?” Amos was whispering to himself, as he walked along, now turning a little to the right, and again to the left as his captor directed, and often the butt of coarse ridicule on the part of Big Gabe, who thought the boy was only a little coward, after all.
He did not dream what was passing through the mind of Amos.
After a while the boy felt sure they must be making for the cabin of which he had heard more or less talk, but which he had never seen.
And sure enough, when the sun was only half way down toward the horizon they came in sight of an old cabin, nestled in the midst of the wildest growth of bush; as though Nature was trying hard to heal the scar made by man’s hand.
“Hello! thar, Sallie, open up!” shouted old Crawley; and somewhat to the astonishment of Amos, the cabin door opened to reveal the slender figure of a girl about the twelve years of age—a girl with tawny golden hair, a rather small, pallid face, and the biggest blue eyes he had ever seen in any one.