CHAPTER IVA HUMAN TALKING MACHINE
"Of course, of course. I—I—well, I'll talk to my friends about it," answered Tom lamely. He was flustrated and flushed, greatly to the enjoyment of the Overland girls.
"That's all right, Tom," soothed Grace. "I am positive that Miss Shafto—"
"Mrs. Shafto," corrected the woman. "Mrs. Joe Shafto. Git the handle right."
"I am positive that Mrs. Shafto will answer our purpose very nicely," finished Grace.
"Yes, yes. I—I agree with you," mumbled Tom. "If you have time, or when you do have time, we shall have to talk over our plans with you and—"
"Ain't got no time for nothin' to-day. Had yer dinners?"
"We had luncheon on the way," replied Grace.
"Lucky for ye. I'll go work at the ironin'; then I've got to clean house. Mebby then I'll talk to ye."
Joe stamped back into the house, slamming the door behind her, and the Overland Riders lost themselves in gales of laughter, galloping their horses on beyond the house so that Joe might not hear. Tom followed along slowly, considerably crestfallen.
"Tom Gray, you surely have distinguished yourself," declared Anne Nesbit.
"My Hippy couldn't have done worse," added Nora.
"It gives me a pain in my back just to look at her," averred Elfroda. "Listening to her is worse."
"I shan't listen at all. Thank goodness I have the voices of nature to listen to," observed Emma.
"Girls, I admit that I have made a mess of it. I suppose we can go on without a guide, but really it is not wise for you girls, inexperienced as you are in woodcraft, to venture into the Big Woods."
"I do not agree with you folks," interjected Grace. "That woman is sharp-tongued, but she is a sturdy and dependable character. It is my opinion that we might have done a great dealworse in selecting a guide. Let's go back to the house, make camp nearby, and wait until the sturdy warrior is ready for us. She will be out again to talk to us soon enough, if I am a judge of human nature."
The Overlanders acted upon the suggestion and pitched their little tents among the trees across the trail from Joe Shafto's home. While they were thus engaged Joe came over and watched the operations, but without uttering a word until the camp was made and a little cook fire started for a cup of afternoon tea.
"What's that for?" she demanded, pointing to the fire.
"Afternoon tea now, and to cook our supper on later," answered Grace.
"Yer all goin' to eat supper with me."
The girls protested, but Joe, when once she had made an assertion, would brook no opposition.
"Six o'clock; no earlier, no later. To-morrow mornin' we start at four o'clock. I've got all yer fodder, which-all I'll carry on June and July. Them's my pack mules. Work singly or in pairs. Kin kick like all possessed. No great scratch whether there's anythin' to kick at or not, but they know better'n to kick me, though they ain't no love for Henry, and he gives them heels plenty of room, 'cept one time when he forgothisself and got kicked clear out into the road, and nigh into kingdom come, and I'll bet the pair of 'em that ye folks ain't got a hoss in the outfit, not even that bronco with the glassy eye, that kin kick once to June or July's twenty kicks, and, if you don't believe it, just heave a tin can at one or t'other of 'em and see if ye can count the kicks, but keep the road between ye and the kicks or I shan't be responsible for what happens to ye, because I know them mules and I know what they can do, and then agin—"
"Oh, help!" wailed Emma.
"The voice of nature," chuckled Hippy. "And to think we've got to listen to it for weeks to come."
"What's that ye say?" demanded Joe.
"I—I think I was thinking out loud. I didn't mean to say anything. Honest to goodness I didn't," apologized Hippy lamely.
Joe fixed him with threatening eyes, then launched into another monologue on mules, which wound up with some remarks on lumberjacks, and a leaf from her family history.
The Overland Riders learned that Joe's husband, who was a timber cruiser, had been killed by lumberjacks, and that she was the sworn enemy of every man who wore a Mackinaw coat and worked in the woods.
"Since my man's death I've been livin' uphere in the woods, guidin' huntin' parties, makin' an honest livin' and layin' for the men who killed my man. I'll find 'em yet. Now who be ye all? I hain't had no interduction except as Mister Gray interduced himself to me, and—"
"This is my wife, Grace Harlowe Gray," said Tom.
The forest woman shook hands and glared into Grace's smiling eyes.
"Glad to meet ye, Miss Gray. Ye look like one of them boudwarriors that I seen pictures of in the high saciety papers."
"Miss Emma Dean," announced Tom, pointing to Emma.
"Glad to meet ye." Joe gave Emma a searching look. "Pert as a bird, ain't ye?"
"Some of my ancestors, I have reason to believe, were birds, and it is quite possible that I have inherited some of their traits," answered Emma airily.
"Sparrows! No good. Don't git swelled up over some of yer folks wearin' feathers. The kind ye belong to they shoot on sight. And now who beye?" demanded the woman, stepping up to the dignified J. Elfreda Briggs.
Elfreda introduced herself.
"Glad to meet ye. Yer quite set up, but I guess ye might come down a peg after ye git acquainted."
Nora Wingate and Anne Nesbit then introduced themselves, and Joe was "glad to meet" them, but she forgot to address personal remarks to them, for her eyes, glaring through the big spectacles, were fixed on Hippy Wingate's grinning face. All this was "a powerful good joke to him," as Emma confided to Grace in a loud whisper.
Joe strode over to Hippy and peered down into his face as he sat playing with Hindenburg.
"I reckon some of yer ancestors must been monkeys, judgin' from that monkey-grin on yer face. What's yer name?"
Hippy told her, adding that he had been a flying ace in the world war, which announcement he made pompously.
"Glad to meet ye, Lieutenant; but look smart that ye don't try any of yer flytricks on Joe Shafto. Six o'clock, folks. Remember!" was Joe's parting word as she strode swiftly from their camp, screwing up her face into a long-drawn wink as she passed Grace Harlowe. In that wink Grace read what she had been searching for. Joe Shafto was human and a humorist, crude, but with a keen mind and a love for banter that promised much enjoyment for the Overland Riders.
"I wonder who is the Henry that she mentioned?" reflected Grace out loud.
"Perhaps Henry may be a tame goose. Think of 'June' and 'July' as names for mules," chortled Hippy. "Oh, we're going to have a merry, merry time this coming two months—especially Hindenburg and myself."
Afternoon tea was an enjoyable occasion that day, at which the principal topic was their new guide.
At five minutes before six, after stamping out their little campfire, the Overland party started for the log cabin. As they crossed the road Hippy sniffed the air.
"I smell food!" he cried.
"Onions! Save me!" moaned Emma.
"No. It is something far and away ahead of mere onions," answered Hippy. "I don't know what it is, but were this not so formal an occasion, I should break into a run for it."
The door of the cabin stood open, so the party filed in unbidden. The table was long enough for a lumberjack boarding house, constructed of boards nailed together with cleats and placed on two boxes. Oilcloth covered the boards and hung clear to the floor on either side. The ends were open. There was a freshness and wholesomeness about the place that attracted the girls at once.
"Set down!" commanded Joe, entering with a heaping platter of meat.
"That is what I smelled!" exclaimed Hippy. "May I ask what that meat is, Mrs. Shafto?"
"Venison."
"Eh? Don't wake me up," murmured Hippy.
"Is the deer season on?" questioned Tom.
"No. Not till November fifteenth. This is smoked venison, killed last season. I put down a lot of it in caches where the water will keep it cool."
Another dish, a tinpanful of baked potatoes, came on with other smaller dishes of vegetables; then the coffee was poured into the thick serviceable cups that had already been placed by the plates, which, together with two loaves of bread, comprised the meal. Appetites were at concert pitch and it was with difficulty that Hippy Wingate restrained himself until the girls were seated.
"Miss Dean, set down at the end where I can watch ye that ye don't fly away. Sorry ye have to set on a box, but there ain't chairs enough to go around. I give the Lieutenant a chair 'cause a box ain't safe for him. He's a big feeder and the box ain't strong. Dip in, folks. Get started. Help yourselves. This ain't no saciety tea."
The food was passed along and each Rider helped herself from platter and pan, and every plate was heaped under the observant eyes thatwere glaring through the big horn-rimmed spectacles to see that each person helped herself to liberal portions.
Exclamations were heard all around the table when the girls had tasted of the smoked venison. Hippy, however, was too busy to talk or exclaim unless he were forced to do so.
"Lieutenant, did ye et like that when ye was chasin' the flyin' Dutchmen in France?" demanded Joe.
Hippy nodded.
"It's a eternal wonder ye didn't fall down then."
"I couldn't. I lived on angel food most of the time, and, after a while, I could fly. See? You live on angel food long enough and you can fly, too," promised Hippy gravely.
"I reckon I would at that," answered the forest woman, pursing her lips, the nearest thing to a smile that the Overland Riders had seen on her stern, rugged face.
The girls laughed merrily, and Nora turned a beaming face on her husband.
"Hippy, my darlin', you've met your match this time," she said.
"I met you first, didn't I?" retorted Hippy, then returned to his absorbing occupation and shortly afterwards passed his plate for another helping.
"My land!" exclaimed Joe. "Ye do beat the bears for eatin'. Never seen one that could stow it away the way ye do."
"You should see him when he is hungry," advised Emma. "Why, when we were riding in the Kentucky Mountains last year we—"
"Well?" demanded the guide.
Emma had abruptly ceased speaking as she felt something rubbing against her foot. At first she thought it was Hindenburg who had slipped into the house and crawled under the table to salvage the crumbs. Now something surely was nosing at her knee.
Emma Dean's face contracted ever so little when a cold something brushed the back of the hand that hung at her side.
"Hi—Hippy, where's the pup?" she questioned weakly.
"Tied to a tree out yonder. Why?"
Emma groped cautiously with the hand, first wishing to assure herself that she was not imagining, before making an exhibition of herself. The hand came in contact with what she recognized instantly, as a cold nose. Light fingers crept gingerly along the nose and paused at a huge, furry head, now well at her side. She gave a quick, startled glance down at what lay under her hand, and her face went ghastly pale.
Uttering a hysterical scream, Emma Dean toppled over backwards, crashing to the cabin floor.
CHAPTER VOVERLANDERS GET A JOLT
As she went over, Emma Dean's feet hit the under side of the table. Her plate of venison slid off to the floor, and Hippy Wingate's coffee landed in his lap. The Overlanders sprang to their feet, but Joe Shafto sat glaring from one to the other of them in amazement.
"A bear! A bear! A bear under the table," screamed Emma and sank back in a dead faint.
It was then that the Overland Riders saw what had so frightened her, for a black bear ambled out from under the table and began gulping down the venison from Emma's overturned plate. To the eyes of the girls he appeared to be a huge animal, and his growls, as he swallowed choice morsels of venison, were far from reassuring.
"Don't be skeert! It's only Henry," cried the forest woman. "Set down!"
No one heeded her advice. Elfreda Briggswas standing on a chair, Anne Nesbit had run into the garden which she had reached by a short cut through an open window. Tom and Hippy, having sprung back, were gazing on the intruder in startled amazement, while Nora Wingate, standing on the table with one foot in the platter of venison, was screaming.
Grace, who had backed into a corner, was trying to subdue her own individual panic sufficiently to reason out the situation. Joe Shafto's words, when Grace finally absorbed them, brought enlightenment.
"Will he bite, Mrs. Shafto?" she called.
"Won't bite nothin' if ye don't bother him."
Grace ran to Emma and bathed her face with water.
"Get down!" commanded Lieutenant Wingate, holding up a hand to Nora. "Don't you see you're spoiling a perfectly good lot of venison? I never saw such a parcel of 'fraid cats in all my life."
"Neither did I," grumbled Mrs. Shafto. "I didn't know Henry was down there or I'd a shooed him out before ye set down."
"I won't get down until that beast is out of the house," declared Nora. "Whoever heard of such a thing. Don't!"
Hippy pulled her down without ceremony and placed Nora in a chair.
"Behave yourself! You will see more bears, and then some, before you finish this journey."
Joe took a broom and shooed Henry out into the yard. A scream out there followed almost instantly, for Henry had ambled around the house to make the acquaintance of Anne Nesbit.
"The beast is chasing me!" she panted, as she ran back into the house.
No one gave heed to her, so she ran to Nora and the two consoled each other. In the meantime, Grace had revived Emma.
"Ha—as he gone?" she wailed weakly.
"Yes. That is Mrs. Shafto's tame bear, you silly."
"Merely a voice of nature that you heard, Emma," reminded Hippy. "By the way, what message did Henry convey to you?"
"Henry is the name of Mrs. Shafto's pet," explained Grace.
"Fright!" moaned Emma in answer to Hippy's question.
"Mrs. Shafto, if you don't mind, I believe I will have another piece of deer," said Hippy.
"Yer wife stepped in it," replied Joe.
"It's all in the family," observed Hippy, holding out his plate.
One by one the Overlanders returned to the table, with the exception of Emma, whose appetite had left her, but Hippy had the rest of the venisonall to himself. The meal was finished off with apple pie, and the girls said they had not eaten so much since their first meals at home on their return from service in France.
Following the meal, the Overland Riders discussed their proposed journey with the forest woman, looked over the supplies she had bought and pronounced themselves satisfied, not only with her purchases, but with Joe Shafto herself. Nothing more was seen of Henry that evening. The woman said he probably had gone into the woods to sleep or to forage for food.
"Where did you get the beast?" questioned Emma.
"When he war a cub. I shot his mother and brought the cub home, and he's one of the family. I kin make him mind just like a dog, and sick him on like a dog. I'll call him in and show ye."
"No, no," protested Emma and Nora in chorus.
"I shall dream of bears all night, but don't you dare let him out while I am here," begged Emma.
"Henry's my watchdog. He sleeps on the front steps, and he'll chaw up anything that comes in the yard after I git to bed, so keep out or you'll git bit."
"Oh, I shall keep out, never fear," answered Emma in a tone of voice that brought a laugh from everyone at the table.
Before leaving Mrs. Shafto that night the Overland girls acquainted her with such plans as they had made for their outing, Tom telling her of the work that lay before him and expressing his wish to have the party as near to his work as possible. "Good nights" finally were said, and the guests departed for their little camp among the trees. A fire was built to light up the tents while the girls were arranging their blankets and preparing themselves for bed.
"Hindenburg gets free range for the night," volunteered Hippy. So, with the bull pup on watch, all hands turned in, for an early start was to be made on the following morning. They were awakened by his barking at daybreak.
Joe Shafto was hallooing to them.
"Git a hustle on ye," she called in answer to Tom Gray's answering hail.
There was a scramble in the camp of the Overlanders, for they desired to show their guide that they were no novices at breaking camp and getting under way. Just as they were finishing their breakfasts Joe led over June and July, and waited observantly while Tom and Hippy rolled their belongings into packs which Mrs. Shafto lashed to the mules with her own hands.
"Ye see the twins don't like to have strangers monkeyin' around 'em," she explained. "I'llgit goin' now and ye kin foller along. I've got to git Henry first."
"Eh? What's that?" demanded Hippy.
"I don't go nowheres without my Henry."
"You—you aren't going to take that beast with you, are you, Mrs. Shafto?" cried Emma.
"I sure be, and I reckon ye'll be mighty glad to have him along before we git through with this here hop into the Big Woods."
Emma groaned dismally.
"Never mind," soothed Hippy. "You can practice your nature reading stunt on him. Who knows but that you may learn the bear language, so that by the time we finish our work up here you will be able to go out in the forest and tell the bears your life history, and listen to them telling you theirs. Of course they might eat you, but that would not matter."
"Huh!" grunted Miss Dean, elevating her nose and turning her back on him.
"Mount!" ordered Hippy, after each girl had saddled her pony and stood waiting for the start. They swung into their saddles with agility, and jogged out into the road with Hindenburg racing ahead and darting back, barking joyously. He was already feeling the call of the wild.
"There's Joe," called Emma, as they rounded a bend in the road.
"I do not see the bear," wondered Tom.
"Perhaps she decided to leave him at home to shift for himself. I hope so."
Grace said she hopednot, for the bear would make life interesting for them.
Joe was sitting on the back of one of her pack mules jogging along, leading the second mule behind, but, though she must have heard the Overlanders shout to her, she neither replied nor looked back. Hindenburg, however, darted ahead and began barking at the mules, dodging their heels successfully for several minutes, much to the amusement of the party following. At last, however, he caught a glancing blow from a mule foot that sent him rolling into the bushes. In a few moments he was out again, circling mules and rider, barking his angry protests, then dodging off the trail into the bushes where they heard him barking with a different note in his voice.
"There comes the bear!" cried Nora. "Look at him!"
"Yes, and there comes Hindenburg bucking the line," added Hippy.
The bear, followed by the dog, burst into sight just at the moment that Hindenburg nipped the bear's hind leg. Henry whirled, made a pass at the pup, and missed him. The bear then charged Hindenburg with mouth wide open, and the battle was on.
The Bear Advanced, Sparring Like a Prize Fighter.The Bear Advanced, Sparring Like a Prize Fighter.
"Call off yer dog," shouted Joe.
"Call off your bear," answered Hippy Wingate.
The guide tried to do so and failed. Hippy's efforts to draw Hindenburg from the fray met with no better success.
It was at this juncture that the bear scored first blood. With a well placed blow of his paw he knocked the pup into the middle of the road, and the lead mule, at whose heels Hindenburg had fallen, kicked him the rest of the way into the bushes.
"Sick 'im, Henry!" yelled Joe.
"No you don't," shouted Hippy as the bear ambled across the road in pursuit of the injured pup.
"I'll learn that fresh pup to bite my bear," flung back the forest woman.
"And I'll kill that brute of a bear if he gets the pup," retorted Hippy, galloping his pony to the point at which the two animals had disappeared, and leaping from Ginger's back, regardless of the risk of losing his mount.
Hippy plunged into the bushes to the rescue of the bull pup. The dog's yelps indicated that he was in further trouble, which Hippy discovered to be the fact when he came in sight of the combatants. Henry was boxing the unfortunate dog with both fore paws. Hindenburg, from whose mouth and nose the blood was running, wasstaggering about weakly, but trying his utmost to get a hold and hang on.
"Let go, Henry, you brute!" commanded Hippy.
Henry, however, instead of letting go, ambled at the dog with wide open mouth, thoroughly angered and determined to finish with his teeth the battle he had begun with his paws.
Lieutenant Wingate sprang into the fray and delivered a kick on the side of the bear's head with all the strength he could throw into the blow.
Henry rose in his might, rearing on hind legs, and advanced on Hippy, snarling and showing his teeth, and sparring like a prize fighter.
"That's your game, is it?" jeered the Overland Rider.
Whack!
Hippy planted a blow with his fist full on Henry's nose, the most tender part of a bear's body. Henry reeled, backed away, followed by Lieutenant Wingate who sparred skillfully, frequently planting other blows on the tender nose of his adversary.
Boxing with a bear was a new experience for him, but his success thus far made Hippy careless, and in a particularly savage blow he threw his body too far forward, missed the nose, and was obliged to spring towards the animal to save himself from falling.
Henry, despite his rage and aching nose, did not miss his opportunity. Both powerful front legs closed about Hippy Wingate like a flash, and the man and the bear went down together.
CHAPTER VICAMPING UNDER THE GIANT PINES
Tom Gray heard the two crash into the bushes, as he was on his way to the scene followed by Joe Shafto and part of the Overland outfit.
As he went down Hippy had the presence of mind to thrust both hands under the bear's chin and press upward with all his strength, though, in that tight embrace, it was difficult to do anything except gasp for breath and wonder how long it would be before he heard the snap of his ribs breaking in.
With the bear's breath hot on his face, Lieutenant Wingate afterwards remembered wondering why it was that Henry did not bite when the biting was good. Never having bitten a human being and having no recollection, in all probability, of any associates outside of human beings the bear may not have been inclined to bite.
On the other hand, the bear's temper appeared to be rising, for his growls were growing more menacing with the seconds.
"Hindenburg! Sick 'im!" gasped Hippy.
He heard the pup, weak from loss of blood, give a feeble yelp, then a snarl, and in the next second Hindenburg had fastened his teeth in Henry's neck.
A heavy paw swept Hindenburg away and left him quivering and moaning. The respite had been sufficient, however, to enable Lieutenant Wingate to roll out of the clutches of the beast, but his freedom was brief. Hippy had hardly sprung to his feet when the bear rose and snatched him again.
It was at this juncture that Tom and the guide arrived, just in time to see Hippy Wingate deliver another blow squarely on Henry's all too tender nose.
"Henry!" yelled the woman. "Let go, Henry!"
Henry plainly was in no mood to let go, and it was evident that it was now his intention to bite and bite hard, for the snarling mouth was wide open when Joe Shafto sprang to the rescue. Joe carried a hardwood club, which she evidently carried as a handy weapon.
"Now will ye mind me!" she shrieked, bringing the club down with a mighty whack on thebridge of Henry's head. "Take that, and that, and that!" she added, delivering three more resounding whacks.
Henry uttered a howl, released his hold on Hippy Wingate and rolled over on his back, feet in the air, where he lay whining and plainly begging for mercy like a child that was being punished.
Hippy had quickly rolled out of the way and jumped up, his face bloody, and his clothes showing rents where Henry's claws had raked them. Hippy ran to Hindenburg whom he found whimpering and licking his wounds.
"You poor fish! Why did you do it?" rebuked Lieutenant Wingate.
"Git up!" commanded Joe Shafto, poking Henry in the ribs with her stick. "Come with me and behave yerself, or I'll wallop ye till ye won't be able to smell venison for a year of Sundays." The guide fastened on one of Henry's ears and started for the trail, Henry ambling along meekly at her side. "Lieutenant, keep that pup away from my Henry," ordered Joe.
"Joe, keep that bear away from my pup," retorted Hippy, carrying Hindenburg in his arms and gently depositing him in the saddle bag.
"Oh, Hippy, what happened to you?" cried Emma.
"I've been communing with nature," he answered briefly.
"Darlin', let me wipe the blood from your face," crooned Nora. "Did the naughty bear scratch oo bootiful face?"
The Overlanders shouted and Hippy, very red of face, sprang into his saddle with such a jolt that Ginger gave him a lively minute of bucking in which poor Hindenburg got a shaking up that made him whimper.
The forest woman with her mules had already started and was now some distance in the lead, with her pet bear shuffling along at the edge of the road abreast of the leading mule.
"Ye git nothin' to eat to-day, Henry. I didn't bring ye up to brawl and to fit with yaller dogs, ye lazy lout," scolded Joe.
When the party halted for its noon rest and luncheon, Henry sat morosely at one side of their camping place, now and then licking his chops, while Hindenburg, performing the same service for his wounds, occupied a position on the opposite side of the camp. Neither animal appeared to be aware of the other's existence.
"Behold the forest," said Tom Gray later in the afternoon, halting his pony on a rise of ground, and encompassing a wide range of country with a sweep of his arm.
It was an undulating sea of deep green, almostas limitless as the sky itself, that the Overland Riders gazed upon.
"Them's the Big North Woods," Joe informed them. "We take a log trail just beyond here, and to-night we'll be in the 'Pineys.'"
"And to-morrow I shall be off and at work," announced Tom.
They were soon picking their way along a shady fragrant trail, tall, straight, noble pines about them seeming to be vieing with each other in their efforts to reach the blue sky. The wind now bore a new fragrance, and the air was heavily pungent with the odor of pine.
"Emma, does your nature cult explain to you why the trees grow so tall and so straight?" asked Tom, riding up beside Miss Dean.
Emma shook her head.
"Because they are fighting the battle of nature—fighting for existence, for their very lives, just as all the world of humans is fighting its battle. A tree must have light and air, or it dies. To get these it must grow up, it must keep up with its competitors, the trees about it, and forge ahead of them if possible, ever reaching up and up for sunlight and air. Once let it fall behind and it is lost; it is overwhelmed by the sturdier giants; it pales and pines and seems to lose its ambition. The tree, knowing it has lost its grip, then seems to grow thin and gaunt, and one day it goescrashing down, to rot and furnish nourishment for the giants that overwhelmed it. The tree's life, like ours, is a struggle for existence, with the survival of the fittest."
"Were I a tree I think I should prefer to grow alone out in an open field," decided Emma.
"Not if you were a wise tree, you would not," laughed Tom. "Out there you would be the plaything of the winds. Your body would be exposed to the glaring sun, the full blast of every passing storm, and the bitter cold of winter, which would, unless you were very hardy, have a tendency to retard your growth and weaken your vigor. Trees, like humans, do not enjoy a lonely life, but when they get together they immediately enter into bitter competition. Isn't that quite human?"
"Where are you heading, Mrs. Shafto?" interrupted Grace, as the guide struck off, leaving the trail and entering the dense forest.
"Goin' to find a campin' place while I kin see," she answered. Now and then Joe would halt to examine an old blaze on a tree, occasionally making a new blaze with her short-handled woodsman's axe on the opposite side of the tree so that, upon returning along that trail, the new blaze might be easily seen.
"I fear that I was not born with a woodsman's sense," complained Anne.
"No one is. That is why a woodsman blazes trees," answered Tom. "I do not know whether you people are familiar with 'blazes.' Grace knows something about them."
"The only 'blaze' I know anything about is the blaze I make when I try to start a cook fire," laughed Hippy.
"You will need more knowledge than that if you stray a hundred yards from camp in the Pineries," replied Tom as they rode along. "A blaze is made by a single downward stroke of the axe, the object being to expose a good-sized spot of the whitish sapwood, which, set in the dark framework of the bark, is a staring mark that is certain to attract attention."
"Yes, but suppose the traveler tries to find the trail a year or so later?" questioned the practical Elfreda. "Hasn't it grown up so high that he can't see it?"
"No. A blaze always remains at its original height above the ground, because a tree increases its height and girth only by building on top of the previous growth. There is much of interest that I could tell you along this line, but I will merely describe the various blazes and their meanings, leaving the rest until some other time. It is well to remember that a trail blazed in a forest is likely to have been made either by a hunter, a lumberman, atimber-looker, or a surveyor. A hunter's line is apt to be inconspicuous. So is a timber-looker's, because he is searching for a bonanza and doesn't wish anyone else to discover it. A surveyor's line is always absolutely straight, except where it meets an insurmountable object, when it makes a right-angle turn to avoid the object, then goes straight ahead again.
"All trees that stand directly on the line of a survey have two notches cut on each side of them and are called 'sight trees.' Bushes on or near the line are bent by the woodsman at right angles to it.
"When a blaze line turns abruptly so that a person following it might otherwise overlook it, a long slash is made on that side of the tree which faces the new direction. There are other forms of blazes, such as marking section corners, boundaries and the like, which it is unnecessary for you to know now, but with which it might be wise for you to familiarize yourselves as you go along. This is the end of your first lesson."
"There's the fork of the river that we are goin' to camp on," called Joe, riding down a steep bank, followed by the Overlanders, their ponies slipping and sliding until they had reached the more level ground near the stream.
"We camp here," announced the forestwoman. "If ye don't like it, pick out yer own camp. The bear and I stay right here."
Dismounting, Tom strode over to the tree under which Joe had announced her intention of making camp, and, placing a hand on it, gazed up along its length, then at the adjacent trees.
"She's stood here for a hundred years or more, and I reckon no wind will blow her down to-night. All right!" announced Tom.
"Get busy, girls," called Grace.
The Overlanders, dismounting, inhaled deeply of the air, heavily pungent with the odor of the pine, then set to work with a vim to pitch their camp. Tom, in the meantime, climbed the bank to look at a huge pile of logs that lay on a skidway above their camping place.
"Someone got left last spring," he said upon his return to his companions. "Those logs were cut last winter, but the water in the river last spring was evidently too low to float them down, so they must stay where they are until next spring awaiting the freshets. The blocks will then be knocked from under the skidway and those hundreds of thousands of feet of timber will go thundering down into the river. You will observe that they have cut a channel or 'travoy,' as it is called, through which the logs will roll after leaving the skidway, andpass on to the stream. This 'travoy' is pretty well grown over with second growth, but the logs will roll the growth down, and when they do you would think that all the tremendous forces of nature had been let loose."
By this time the camp was nearly finished, and the tents of the Overlanders looked like tiny doll houses under those giant pines, and in this, the very heart of nature, in the silence and the grandeur of it all, the girls felt a deep sense of something that they could not define, which left them disinclined to laugh or chatter.
Soon after dark the sky became overcast, the pines began dripping moisture, and a gentle breeze was heard murmuring in the tops of the trees.
"Come, little nature child! What are the wild winds in the tree-tops saying?" teased Hippy, breaking an awed silence of several minutes.
"I—I don't rightly know," answered Emma, after listening intently to the whisperings in the pines. "I—I think that the message they are trying to convey to me—to us—is a warning of something to come, something that is near at hand. I wish Madam Gersdorff were here. She could read the warning and tell us what peril it is that is hovering over us."
Nora uttered a shrill peal of laughter.
"Don't," begged Anne.
"You've got a bad attack of the willies," groaned Hippy in a tone of disgust that brought a half-hearted laugh from his companions, though, had they been willing to admit it, they too felt something of the depression that was reflected in Emma Dean's face and voice.
Work on the camp finished, the Overland Riders put out the fire and turned in, Henry rolling himself up into a furry ball, Hindenburg snuggling down between Tom and Hippy. Only forest sounds, now faint and far away, marred the solemn impressive stillness of the Big North Woods, a stillness that was destined to be rudely interrupted ere the dawn of another day.
CHAPTER VIIFELLED BY A MYSTERIOUS BLOW
When Grace awakened late in the night the feeling of oppression with which she had gone to sleep still lay heavy upon her. The faint soughing of a breeze in the tree tops, the light thuds of falling pine cones, were the only sounds to be heard outside of the breathing of her companions who were sleeping soundly.
Suddenly her ears caught a distant roar, and a few drops of rain pattered on the tent.
"It is going to storm," murmured Grace. "I hope no dead limbs fall from the trees on our camp." Pulling the blankets over her head to shut out the sounds she tried to go to sleep, but sleep would not come, so Grace uncovered her head and lay listening.
The wind seemed to die down for a while, but it soon sprang up with renewed strength, and was sweeping violently over the tops of the pines, which were creaking and groaning under the strain. A distant crash told of some forest giant that had gone down under the blast; thenthe rain fell, a deluge of it, which finally beat through the little tents and trickled down over the sleeping Overland girls.
"Are you all right in there?" called Tom from the outside.
"Yes, but we are getting wet. Is it going to last long?" asked Grace.
"Not being able to get a view of the sky, I can't say positively. It seems like only a shower to me."
"Wait a moment. I'll join you."
Grace hurriedly dressed and, throwing on her rubber coat, stepped out.
"I don't just like the way some of these trees are acting," said Tom. "Perhaps you haven't noticed how the ground is heaving."
"Yes I have, but I did not know that it meant anything alarming."
"It shows that the wind is throwing a great strain on the trees and that there is too much play in the roots for the good of the trees—and ourselves," he added. "I hope our supplies do not fall down under the whipping they are getting."
The provisions had been slung in sacks from a rope strung between two trees, about ten feet above the ground, to keep them out of reach of Henry and other prowling animals.
"How long have you been up?" asked Grace.
"Half an hour or so. I went up to the ridge to the rear of the camp, thinking that I had heard something unusual going on up there, but hurried back when the rain started. What I heard must have been the trees creaking."
They listened to the storm for several minutes, Tom Gray trying to interpret the sounds.
"Awaken the girls!" he directed, acting upon a sudden resolution. "Get them out as quickly as possible." Tom had heard a sound coming from the ridge that stirred him into quick action. "Tell them to fetch the blankets and our rifles. We mustn't lose any of those things."
"Will you call Hippy and Joe?"
"Yes, yes. Hurry!"
"Turn out!" shouted Tom at the opening of Hippy's tent. "Be lively. Blankets and weapons with you."
"Wha—at, in this storm?" wailed Hippy.
"Better get wet than get killed," retorted Tom, springing over to Joe Shafto's tent. Joe answered his hail with a sharp demand to know what he wanted.
"Pile out as quickly as possible. We are likely to have trouble. And call your bear off."
Henry was sniffing at Tom's heels and growling ominously, but he obeyed the incisive command of his master and retired to his position in front of her tent.
The girls, he found, were already out of their tents, blankets over their heads, all shivering in the chill rain, all too cold to speak except Emma Dean.
"I—I to-o-old you something was go-going to happen," she stammered. "The v-v-v-voice of nature to-o-old me so."
"N-n-n-nature is an old fogy," jeered Hippy mockingly. "Nothing has happened and I don't know why we have been dragged out into this rotten storm."
"Follow me and watch your step," directed Tom tersely. He led the way to the river and along its bank to the tethering ground. "Lead your ponies to a safer place, further up the stream," he ordered.
This hurried departure from their camp was a good deal of a mystery to the Overland Riders. They did not understand why, nor did Tom Gray tell them.
"Hippy, help me tie the horses," he said, after having gone several rods further up stream. "One at a time with the ponies, folks, then go make yourselves as comfortable as possible under the bluff of the bank. The bushes there will offer you more protection from the wind and rain than the trees would."
Shortly thereafter Tom and Hippy joined their shivering companions, and the party, withblankets stretched over their heads, huddled miserably as they sat on the wet ground under the blanket roof, Hindenburg on Hippy's lap, and Henry outside in the rain licking the water from his dripping coat of fur.
"How are you, J. Elfreda?" teased Grace.
"Saturated and satiated," answered Miss Briggs briefly.
"I wonder what the voices of nature are saying at the present moment?" mused Hippy. "If they feel anything like I do, their remarks are more forceful than elegant."
"Even if you were to hear them you would be no wiser," observed Emma. "Only persons with unusual minds can read the messages that nature conveys."
Someone under the blanket roof giggled, and Hippy articulated "Ahem!"
"As I was about to say—What's that?" he exclaimed sharply.
A boom, that reminded all who heard it of the explosion of a high-powered shell at a distance, smote the ears of the Overland Riders. Then a succession of resounding reports and terrific crashings shook the earth.
"Stay where you are!" shouted Tom Gray as, with single accord, the girls sprang to their feet and started to run. They halted at sound of Tom's voice.
Something from the air struck the ground with a thud, and Hippy Wingate toppled over against Elfreda Briggs and sank down, uttering a faint moan.
"Hippy's hurt! Something hit him. Quick, Tom! Show a light!" cried Miss Briggs.
Tom Gray flashed a ribbon of light from his pocket lamp and sprang to his companion.
"Hippy! Hippy!" he begged.
Nora uttered an anguished wail, and in an instant her arms were about Lieutenant Wingate's neck.
"Let go and give him air," commanded Tom.
Hippy lay as he had fallen, half on his side, one arm doubled under his head. A red welt across his forehead showed where the blow that felled him had fallen.
The reverberating crashes that had shaken the earth were dying out and now seemed much further away than at first.