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    <div><span class='xlarge'>THE PIRATE OF JASPER PEAK</span></div>
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    <div>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</div>
    <div>NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS</div>
    <div>ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO</div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='sc'>MACMILLAN &amp; CO., Limited</span></div>
    <div>LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA</div>
    <div>MELBOURNE</div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='sc'>THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.</span></div>
    <div>TORONTO</div>
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    <div><span class='xlarge'>THE PIRATE OF JASPER PEAK</span></div>
    <div class='c000'>BY</div>
    <div>ADAIR ALDON</div>
    <div>Author of “The Island of Appledore,” etc.</div>
    <div class='c000'><i>WITH FRONTISPIECE</i></div>
    <div class='c000'>New York</div>
    <div>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</div>
    <div>1918</div>
    <div><i>All rights reserved</i></div>
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    <div><span class='sc'>Copyright</span>, 1918</div>
    <div><span class='sc'>By</span> THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</div>
    <div class='c000'>Set up and electrotyped.</div>
    <div>Published, September, 1918</div>
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    <div>CONTENTS</div>
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<table class='table0' summary=''>
<colgroup>
<col width='15%' />
<col width='84%' />
</colgroup>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>I.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapI'>A Stranger in a Strange Land</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>II.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapII'>The Brown Bear’s Skin</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>III.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapIII'>Laughing Mary</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>IV.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapIV'>The Heart of the Forest</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>V.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapV'>Oscar Dansk</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>VI.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapVI'>The Promised Land</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>VII.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapVII'>Whither Away?</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>VIII.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapVIII'>A Night’s Lodging</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>IX.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapIX'>Peril at the Bridge</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>X.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapX'>First Blood to the Pirate</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>XI.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapXI'>The White Flag</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class='c001'>XII.</td>
    <td class='c002'><a href='#chapXII'>A Highway through the Hills</a></td>
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</table>

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<div>
  <h1 class='c003'>THE PIRATE OF JASPER PEAK</h1>
</div>

<div>
  <h2 id='chapI' class='c004'>CHAPTER I</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>The long Pullman train, an hour late and
greatly begrudging the time for a special
stop, came sliding into the tiny station of Rudolm
and deposited a solitary passenger upon the platform.
The porter set Hugh Arnold’s suitcase on
the ground and accepted his proffered coin, all in
one expert gesture, and said genially:</p>

<p class='c007'>“We’re way behind time on this run, but we
come through on the down trip at six in the morning,
sharp. You-all will be going back with us
to-morrow, I reckon.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“No,” replied Hugh, as he came down from the
car step and gathered up his belongings. “No,
I’m going to stay.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Stay?” repeated the porter. “Oh—a week, I
suppose. No one really stays at Rudolm
except them that are born there and can’t get
away.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh shook his head.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I am going to stay all winter,” he said.</p>

<p class='c007'>“The whole winter! Say, do you know what
winter <i>is</i> up here?” the man exclaimed. “For
the love of—”</p>

<p class='c007'>A violent jolt of the train was the engineer’s
reminder that friendly converse was not in order
when there was time to be made up.</p>

<p class='c007'>“All right, sah, good-by. I hope you like
staying, only remember—we go through every
day at six in the morning less’n we’re late.
<i>Good</i>-by.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The train swept away, leaving Hugh to look
after it for a moment before he turned to take
his first survey of Rudolm and the wide sheet of
blue water upon whose shore it stood.</p>

<p class='c007'>Red Lake, when he and his father had first
looked it up on the map, seemed a queer, crooked
place, full of harbors and headlands and hidden
coves, the wider stretches extending here and
there to fifteen, twenty, twenty-five miles of open
water, again narrowing to mere winding channels
choked with islands. Hugh would have
liked to say afterward that he knew even from
the map that this was a region promising adventures,
that down the lake’s winding tributaries he
was going to be carried to strange discoveries,
but, as a matter of fact, he had no such foreknowledge.</p>

<p class='c007'>Indeed, it was his father who observed that the
lake looked like a proper haunt for pirates and
Hugh who reminded him that pirates were not
ever to be found so far north. All the books he
had seen, pictured them as burying treasure on
warm, sunny, sandy beaches, or flying in pursuit
of their prey on the wings of the South Sea
winds. Pirates in the wooded regions to the
north of the Mississippi Valley, pirates where the
snow lay so deep and the lake was frozen for
nearly half the year, where only through a short
summer could the waters be plied by “a low, raking,
black hulk” such as all pirates sail—it was
not to be thought of! Even now, when Hugh
stood on the station platform and caught his first
glimpse of the real Red Lake, saw the wide blue
waters flecked with sunny whitecaps, the hundred
pine-covered islands and the long miles of
wooded shore, even then he had no thought of
how different he was to find this place from any
other he had ever seen. Both lake and town
seemed to him to promise little.</p>

<p class='c007'>For Rudolm, set in its narrow valley between
the Minnesota hills, looked as though it had been
dropped from some child’s box of toys, so small
and square were the houses and so hit-or-miss
was the order in which they stood along the one
wide, crooked street. There were no trees growing
beside the rough wooden sidewalks, the street
was dusty and the sun, even although it was October,
seemed to him to shine with a pitiless glare.
He walked slowly along the platform, wondering
why Dick Edmonds had not come to meet
him, thinking that Rudolm seemed the dullest
and most uninteresting town in America and trying
to stifle the rising wish that he had never
come.</p>

<p class='c007'>A soft pad, pad on the boards behind him
made him turn his head as a man walked swiftly
past. Hugh saw that his shapeless black hat had
a speckled feather stuck into the band and that
he wore, instead of shoes, soft rounded moccasins
edged with a gay embroidery of beads.
Plainly the man was an Indian. At the thought
the boy’s heart beat a little faster. He had not
known there would be Indians!</p>

<p class='c007'>His own being in Rudolm was simple enough,
although somewhat unexpected. Hugh’s father
was a doctor, enrolled in the Medical Reserve
since the beginning of the war but not until this
month ordered away to France. The problem of
where Hugh should live during his absence was a
difficult one since Hugh had no mother and there
were no immediate relatives to whom he could go.
He had finished school but had been judged rather
too young for college, and, so his father maintained
in spite of frantic pleading, much too
young to enlist.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I’m sixteen,” was the boy’s insistent argument,
but—</p>

<p class='c007'>“Wait until you have been sixteen more than
two days,” was his father’s answer.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I could go with the medical unit, I know
enough from helping you to be some use as a
hospital orderly,” Hugh begged, “I would do
anything just to go to France.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“They need men in France, not boys just on
the edge of being men,” Dr. Arnold replied,
“when you have had one or two years’ worth of
experience and judgment, then you will be some
help to them over there. But not now.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“The war will be over by then,” wailed Hugh.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Don’t fear,” his father observed grimly,
“there is going to be enough of it for all of us to
have our share.”</p>

<p class='c007'>So there the discussion ended and the question
of what Hugh was to do came up for settlement.
There was a distant cousin of his father’s
in New York—but this suggestion was never
allowed to get very far. Hugh had never met
the cousin and did not relish the idea of going
to live with him, “sight unseen” as he put it,
on such short notice. It was his own plan to go
to Rudolm where lived the two Edmonds brothers,
John, cashier of the bank there and a great
friend of his father’s, and Dick, a boy four years
older than himself, whom he had met but once
yet knew that he liked immensely. Several times
John Edmonds had written to Dr. Arnold—</p>

<p class='c007'>“If Hugh ever wants to spend any time ‘on
his own’ we could find him a job here in Rudolm,
I know. It is a queer little place, just a mining
and lumbering town full of Swedes, but he might
like the hunting and the country and find it interesting
for a while.”</p>

<p class='c007'>It was the idea of spending the time “on his
own” that made Hugh feel that thus the period
of his father’s absence might chance to seem a
little shorter and the soreness of missing him
might grow a little less. John Edmonds had answered
their letters most cordially and had said
that all could be arranged and Hugh need only
telegraph the day of his arrival. The final preparations
had been hastened by the coming of Dr.
Arnold’s sailing orders; the two had bidden each
other good-by and good luck with resolute cheerfulness
and Hugh had set forth on his long journey
northward. He had never seen the Great
Lakes nor the busy inland shipping ports with
their giant freighters lying at the docks, nor the
rising hills of the Iron Range through which his
way must lead, but he noticed them very little.
His thoughts were very far away and fixed on
other things. Even now, as he walked slowly
up Rudolm’s one street he was not dwelling so
much on his forlorn wonder why he did not see
his friends, but was thinking of a great transport
that must, almost at that hour, be nosing her way
out of “an Atlantic port,” of the swift destroyers
gathering to convoy her, of the salt sea
breezes blowing across her deck, blowing sharp
from the east, from over the sea—from France.
For he was certain, from all that he could gather,
that his father was sailing to-day and was launching
upon his new venture at almost the same time
that Hugh was entering upon his own.</p>

<p class='c007'>Somewhat disconsolately the boy trudged on
up the hot empty highway, seeing ahead of him
the big, ramshackle building that must be the
hotel and beyond that, at the end of the road, the
shining blue of the lake. He was vaguely conscious
that, at every cottage window, white-headed
children of all sizes and ages bobbed up
to stare at him and ducked shyly out of sight
again when they caught his eye. Between two
houses he looked down to a sunny field where a
woman with a three-cornered yellow kerchief on
her head was helping some men at work. She
did not look like an American woman at all,
Hugh thought as he stopped to watch her, but
walked on abashed when even she paused to look
at him, leaning on her rake and shading her eyes
with her hand. He rather liked her looks, somehow,
even at that distance, she seemed so strong,
in spite of her slenderness and she handled her
rake with such vigorous sunburned arms.</p>

<p class='c007'>He raised his eyes to the circle of hills that
hemmed in the little town rising steeply from
beyond the last row of houses and the irregular
patchwork of little fields. They were oddly
shaped hills, rolling range beyond range, higher
and higher until, far in the distance there loomed
the jagged mass of one big enough to be called
a mountain. The nearer slopes were covered
with heavy woods of pine and birch, the dense
trees broken here and there by great masses of
rock, black, gray or, more often, strange clear
shades of red.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Red Lake derives its name,” so the atlas had
stated in its matter-of-fact fashion, “from the
peculiar color of the jasper rock that appears in
such quantity along its shores.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh had never seen anything quite like that
clear vermilion shade that glowed dully against
the black-green of the pines. Across the slope of
the nearest hill, showing clear like a clean-cut
scar, there stretched a steep white road that
wound sharply up to the summit and disappeared.
He began to feel vaguely that although the town
attracted him little, the road might lead to something
of greater promise.</p>

<p class='c007'>There were some men lounging before the door
of the hotel when he reached it, miners or lumberjacks
wearing high boots and mackinaw coats.
They were talking in low tones and eyeing Hugh
with open curiosity. Just as he came to the
steps, two figures shuffled silently past him, one,
the Indian he had seen at the station, the other,
a broad-shouldered, broad-waisted woman stooping
under the heavy burden she carried on her
back. The man, erect and unimpeded, strode
quickly forward, but she stopped a moment to
readjust the deerskin strap which passed over
her forehead and supported the heavy weight of
her pack. She turned her swarthy face toward
Hugh and greeted him with a broad, friendly
smile, then bowed her head once more and
trudged on after her master. The boy, not used
to the ways of Indian husbands and their wives,
stood staring after the two in shocked astonishment.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That’s Kaniska, the best guide around here,
and his squaw,” he heard one of the men say
to another. “She’s the only Indian hereabouts
the only one I ever heard of, really, that smiles
at every one she meets. They are all of them
queer ducks; no matter how well you know them
you never can tell what they are thinking about.
I believe she is the very queerest of them all.
The Swedes here call her Laughing Mary.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The two dark figures slipped out of sight
around a corner and Hugh went up the steps
into the hotel. The big, untidy room was apparently
empty except for a bluebottle fly buzzing
against the window. A faint snore, however,
made Hugh aware that he was not alone and
drew his attention to the office clerk, sitting behind
the high desk, his head back, his heels up,
sound asleep. The men outside had ceased talking,
the entire village was so quiet that Hugh
could actually hear a katydid singing its last
summer song loudly and manfully down in the
field.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I never saw such a town before,” he thought
bitterly, “the whole place is either dead or
asleep!”</p>

<p class='c007'>He rapped sharply on the desk to arouse the
clerk and was delighted to see him awake with a
guilty jump.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Can you tell me where I can find—” he began,
but a voice at his elbow interrupted him.</p>

<p class='c007'>Turning, he saw that the woman he had noticed
in the field had left her work to come hurrying
after him, and now stood, a little breathless, at
his side. She had very kindly blue eyes, he
observed, and a rather heavy Swedish face that
lit up wonderfully when she smiled.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You are Hugh Arnold, is it not so?” she said.
“John Edmonds has told me that you would be
here.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh, yes,” cried Hugh with relief, “I was just
asking for him. Can you tell me where he is?”</p>

<p class='c007'>The clerk, a sandy-haired, freckled youth,
leaned over the desk and spoke eagerly.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Why, haven’t you heard—?” he said, but the
woman cut him short.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I will tell the boy of that,” she announced
with decision, then added to Hugh, “The two
Edmonds are not here now, and it is best that you
should come to stay at my house until they come
again. This hotel is no fit place for you.”</p>

<p class='c007'>To this last frank statement the clerk agreed
with surprising warmth.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We have some queer customers here at times,”
he admitted, “and I won’t deny there’s a sight
of them is ugly ones. There’s that fellow from
Jasper Peak blew in last evening and kept me up
all night. When he and his friends are here
there’s always something doing.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Do not begin to talk of them, Jethro Brown,”
the woman said a little impatiently, “or you will
keep us here all day, and this boy is wanting his
dinner, I make no doubt.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The clerk laughed a little, although without
much merriment.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I guess you are right, Linda,” he replied,
“and talk of that gang is only words wasted.
You’d better go along home with Mrs. Ingmarsson,
sonny, you couldn’t be in better hands.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Much nettled at being called “sonny” by this
person so little older than himself, Hugh merely
nodded stiffly, took up his suitcase and followed
Linda Ingmarsson to the door. Jethro, however,
stopped them before they could get outside.</p>

<p class='c007'>“How about your baggage,” he inquired, “got
a trunk or anything at the station?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh was not certain whether his trunk had
arrived with him or not, so the clerk volunteered
to telephone and find out. While he was doing
so, Hugh stood waiting in the doorway, looking
idly down the street and at the hills beyond. He
noticed again the line of white highway that fascinated
him curiously as it slanted upward
through the dense woods. He turned to his companion
who stood so silent beside him and ventured
a question.</p>

<p class='c007'>“What is that road, please?” he asked; “where
does it go?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Linda Ingmarsson looked up quickly toward
the hill, while her face took on a new expression,
wistful, sad, but somehow proud as well.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That is my young brother Oscar’s road,” she
said; “now it goes nowhere but some day—some
day it will go far.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh could not make very much out of this
answer, but did not have time to ponder it long.
Jethro announced that all was well with the baggage,
so Hugh and Linda went out together. It
was a relief to him to think that he was with a
person who knew at least who he was and why
he had come.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You are very good,” he began shyly as they
came out on the steps; “you should not—” but
the rest of his sentence was never spoken.</p>

<p class='c007'>The hot sleepy silence was broken suddenly by
a shrill steam whistle, followed by another and
another. A strident siren joined them; then
came a deep blast from some steamer on the lake;
then a loud clanging of bells added their voices
to the tumult. For full five minutes the deafening
noise continued until Hugh’s ears beat with
it and his head rang. The street had become
alive with people, women with aprons over their
heads, men in overalls, scores of children, as
though each of the little houses had sent forth
a dozen inhabitants. Down at a far corner Hugh
saw the two Indians come into view again, the
man with his head up, listening, like a deer, the
woman with a pleading hand laid upon his arm.
He brushed her aside roughly, and disappeared
beyond the turn, she following meekly after. No
one noticed them except himself, Hugh felt certain,
since every face was turned northward to
the wooded rocky hill that overhung the town.
Puffs of white steam rose here and there among
the trees, showing the mine buildings or the lumber
mills from which the whistling came.</p>

<p class='c007'>This was no ordinary blowing of signals to
mark the noon hour: the excitement, the anxious
faces, the hideous insistence of the noise all told
him that. Just at the instant that he felt he
could not endure the tumult longer, silence fell.</p>

<p class='c007'>“What is it, what is it?” he gasped his inquiry,
and one of the men standing by the steps, the one
who had spoken of Laughing Mary, began to
explain.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You see—about four days ago—” The
words were cut off by a new outbreak of the
clamor. It rose higher this time and lasted
longer, it rolled back from the hills and seemed
to echo from the ground itself. Twice it fell
and twice broke out once more, a long fifteen
minutes of unendurable bedlam. The man, undismayed,
called his explanations into Hugh’s ear,
sometimes drowned out by the uproar, sometimes
left shouting alone in a moment of throbbing
silence. What Hugh caught came in broken
fragments.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Two fellows—hunting—gone four days now—lost
some way—these hills—blowing all the
whistles at once—hoped—might hear—”</p>

<p class='c007'>The screaming and clanging finally died away,
leaving one long-drawn siren to drop alone, while
Hugh’s informant also lowered his voice to ordinary
speech.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We do that hereabouts when people get lost.
Every whistle in three counties is blowing right
now, so if they don’t hear one and follow it, they
may another. Sometimes it brings them back,
more often it doesn’t. It’s an ugly thing to get
lost in these hills.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“How long did you say they had been gone?”
asked Hugh.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Three—four—no, by George, it’s five days.
There’s their pile of mail that’s been collecting on
the window ledge, and those first letters are five
days old.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The man glanced at a pile of envelopes that
lay just inside the window. The upper one was
yellow and caught Hugh’s involuntary attention
as he stood by the door. The people were dispersing
and the excitement evidently was over.</p>

<p class='c007'>The telegraph envelope was one of those transparent-faced
ones, showing the name and address
inside. Half unconsciously Hugh read, “John
Edmonds, Rudolm, Minnesota.” He turned
with a gasp and looked closer. A little of the
typewritten line was visible below, “Thanks for
letter, will arrive—”</p>

<p class='c007'>It was his own message that had never been
received. His two friends, his only two friends
within a thousand miles, were the men who had
vanished into the forest.</p>

<div class='chapter'>
  <h2 id='chapII' class='c004'>CHAPTER II</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>THE BROWN BEAR’S SKIN</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>It was not until some hours after his dismaying
discovery that Hugh was able to get any
particulars of what had really happened to John
and Dick Edmonds. A dozen people at once
tried to tell him of the affair, putting in much
comment on what they themselves thought and
what they had said to friends at the time, with
most confusing results. Although he was so bewildered,
he began at least to understand one
thing, that Rudolm was not at all the town he
had believed it to be. He had considered it
lonely, empty of friends, dull and lifeless, and
behold, it was quite otherwise! In fifteen minutes—probably
the exact length of time required
by little Nels Larson to travel the whole length of
the street and tell every one of the newcomer
who was a friend of the lost Edmonds—words
of kindliness and sympathy began to pour in
upon him. Long before the small, unofficial
towncrier had come to the last house, the first
sunburned face had appeared in Linda Ingmarsson’s
doorway, and the first heavy Swedish voice
had asked for “that boy that vas Edmonds
friendt.” The shyness and reserve that usually
stood firm between these people and any stranger,
melted away at the sight of some one who was in
trouble. It was, at last, by the very greatness of
their proffered kindness that Hugh began to realize
how serious his trouble was.</p>

<p class='c007'>It was only the last visitor who gave him the
actual facts of the affair, Nels Larson, Senior, a
little elderly Swede with a wrinkled skin and
puckered eyes that were mere pin-pricks of blue.
He chanced to be left alone with Hugh and
proved so shy and slow of speech that he was
able to answer direct questions and make the
truth clear without complicating it with opinions
of his own. He said that the two Edmonds boys
had gone hunting, and expected, so far as any one
knew, to be gone but a day, that they had possibly
meant to meet an Indian guide in the woods
but had left Rudolm alone save for their dog.
That one day of their absence had passed, and
two, without causing any anxiety, that search
had been made on the third day and the fourth
and fifth, but without result.</p>

<p class='c007'>“But does no one know which way they went?”
asked Hugh desperately. “Couldn’t they have
got to some other town? Couldn’t they just have
taken a wrong road? Aren’t people often lost
that long and still able to get back?”</p>

<p class='c007'>The other slowly shook his head.</p>

<p class='c007'>“There’s no town between here and Canada,”
he said; “no, indeed, nor for a hundred miles
north of the border either. And there are no
houses in the direction the Edmonds boys went,
nor camps—and roads, bless you, these woods
don’t have roads. Just trees—and trees—and
trees—and Heaven help the man who loses his
bearings amongst them!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Are people still looking for them?” cried
Hugh; “surely they haven’t given up hope yet!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“There is no hope,” Nels answered with a
sigh; “we would look for a year if it would be
of any use; but why go on searching when we
know they cannot be found?”</p>

<p class='c007'>He got to his feet to go, leaving Hugh still
sitting, stunned, trying to think what this cruel
news must mean to him. At the door Nels
paused and, even without the encouragement of
a question, actually volunteered a remark of his
own.</p>

<p class='c007'>“There is something I must tell you also,” he
said, “for others may say it to you and perhaps
not with kindness. It is that John Edmonds left
his accounts in bad shape at the bank, that his
books are confused and there is talk of money
missing. So there are some people, and presently
there will be more and more, who say that
even if he is not dead in the woods he will never
come back.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“That is not true,” cried Hugh, springing from
his seat, “that cannot possibly be true.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“No,” returned Nels, “I do not think it can be.
There are many rascals in this neighborhood, but
John Edmonds is not one of them.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He put on his battered old hat that was so big
it came far down over his ears, took up his thick
umbrella, opened the door and went out. Hugh
sat by the table, his chin in his hand, thinking
deeply long after Nels had gone. It was hard
to know what to believe, what to think and above
all what to do.</p>

<p class='c007'>He could hear Linda Ingmarsson talking to
her children in the next room and presently one
small boy came in and seated himself, without
saying a word, on a chair by the door. He
seemed to think that politeness demanded his sitting
with the guest, although to talk to him was
far beyond his power. Linda’s husband stood
at the door a moment, but went away again. He
was a big, quiet man, seeming much like an overgrown
edition of his small son. Hugh, beginning
to look about him, concluded that this room was
quite the cleanest place that he had ever seen.
The boards of the floor were worn smooth with
much scrubbing, the copper kettles on the shelves
winked in the firelight. In one corner stood a
quaintly carved cupboard, painted a most brilliant
blue, that must surely have come from
Sweden, or have been made by the patient labor
of Ingmarsson’s great rough hands. In the center
of the table was another bit of carving, a
really beautiful wooden bowl with a raised wreath
of water lilies fashioned about its edge. It was
full of moss and gay red bunches of partridge
berries. The Ingmarsson child saw Hugh’s eyes
resting upon it and, with a mighty effort, managed
to speak.</p>

<p class='c007'>“My Uncle Oscar, he made it,” the youngster
said in his little Swedish voice; “he brought
it to us with the berries in it the last time he came
from the mountain.”</p>

<p class='c007'>It was his only attempt at conversation and,
although bravely undertaken, lapsed immediately
into frightened silence.</p>

<p class='c007'>Linda, entering just then, finally broke the
quiet of Hugh’s reflections.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Supper will soon be ready,” she said. “Carl,
take the visitor upstairs and show him where to
put his things.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The small guide went obediently before Hugh,
climbed the narrow stairs and opened the door of
the guest’s room, a tiny place with sloping ceiling
and square dormer windows, everything shining
with the same cleanliness so evident below.
Carl opened the cupboard doors, pulled out the
drawers of the press and finally, evidently thinking
that hospitality demanded his speaking again,
pointed to a picture on the wall.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That is the two Edmonds,” he said; “did you
know them?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh, looking closely at the faded little photograph,
managed to recognize Dick Edmonds, but
had no knowledge of the older brother whom he
had never seen. Beside Dick, with his nose in
his master’s hand, stood a big, white dog.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That is Nicholas,” announced Karl; “he came
from Russia. We Swedes do not like Russians,
but we all loved Nicholas. John Edmonds said
he used to belong to a prince in Russia, so he was
different from our dogs. He used to laugh and
call him the Grand Duke. With men and other
dogs Nicholas was very proud but he always
would play with us. So we liked him. And how
he could run!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“He is a beauty,” Hugh agreed heartily; “I
should like to see him.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He turned toward the window where the
hinged sash stood open and through which he
could look out at the sunset and at the distant
mountain black against a flaming sky. He could
see most of the little town also where the children
were running home and men were coming
from their work and gay voices could be heard
calling greetings from one doorway to another.
The tiny houses had a comfortable, cozy look, now
that he knew what warm-hearted people lived
within. Carl came to his side, seeming to feel
more at ease, and began to point out one place
after another.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That is Nels Larson’s house,” he said, “and
that is the landing where the boats come in from
the lake and that,” pointing to the mountain, “is
Jasper Peak. My Uncle Oscar lives way out
beyond there.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“He lives on the mountain?” said Hugh; “that
must be very far away.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“No, not on the mountain,” corrected Carl,
“beyond it. On the mountain there lives a—a—another
man.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“What sort of a man?” inquired Hugh, caught
by the little boy’s change of tone.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh, a strange man. He is half Indian; people
call him a pirate; his name is Jake.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Has he no other name?” asked Hugh; “is
every one so afraid of him as you are?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“His whole name is Half-Breed Jake, and, yes,
every one is afraid of him except just my mother
and her brother Oscar and maybe Dick Edmonds
and the dog Nicholas. Every one else.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Does he live out there on the mountain all
alone?” Hugh inquired.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yes, he will not let any one live near him.
He will not let any one shoot in his woods or fish
in his streams or paddle a canoe on his end of
the lake.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And are they all his?” In spite of being so
absorbed in other things Hugh was growing interested.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Not really his, he just says they are,” Carl
explained vaguely. “No one dares go near his
place now after—after some things that have
happened. The Indians will do anything he says,
they and even some of the Swedes say that the
bullets from his gun can shoot farther than any
other man’s, and that his ill will can find you
out no matter where you hide. Yes, we call him
the Pirate of Jasper Peak.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But you say your Uncle Oscar lives out there
too?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh, yes,” assented Carl, “but you know with
my Uncle Oscar it is all different.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Linda called from below, causing her small son
to rush clattering down the stairs and leave Hugh
alone. He stood long by the window watching
the sunset fade and pondering deeply.</p>

<p class='c007'>“So there can be pirates this far north after
all,” he was thinking, “and father was right.”</p>

<p class='c007'>With the thought came a sudden pang of homesickness,
a longing for his father, for the comfortable,
ordinary life at home, for everything
that was usual and familiar. What would become
of him here, he wondered, what could be
the end of this venture “on his own”? What a
strange place it was to which his journey had led
him, what strange people he had met or heard
of that day, the clumsy, friendly Swedes, kind-hearted
Linda Ingmarsson, that mysterious Jake
out on the mountain, that brother Oscar whose
road it was that climbed the hill. He ran
through the list over and over and found that his
mind, with odd insistence, kept coming back to
the road that “now went nowhere but some day
would go far.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The announcement that supper was ready interrupted
his reflections, after which he received
a pressing invitation from Carl to go with him
to get the mail. Rudolm knew no such luxury
as a postman, it went every night to fetch its letters
at the general store where John Benson sold
meat and calico and mackinaw coats. The little
postmistress who sorted the mail behind her own
official counter was an expert at her task, for no
one besides herself could make head or tail of
some of the Swedish and Finnish scrawls that
came from the Old Country or the French-Canadian
flourishes on the addresses of the picture
postcards. No one else could have remembered
that Baptiste Redier liked to have his papers accumulate
for six months while he was away at
the lumber camp, or that Gus Sorenson must not
be trusted with the Malmsteads’ mail if he had
been drinking, or that it was a kind act to pretend
to look through the pigeonholes when an Indian
asked for mail, even though it was well known
that none of these Chippewas ever got a letter.
“Stamp-stamp,” would go the marking machine
behind the window, “stamp”—a long pause and
then another brisk “stamp-stamp.” No matter
in what a hurry were the patrons of the Rudolm
postoffice, they must wait, every man, woman and
child of them, until Miss Christina had read all
the postals.</p>

<p class='c007'>The little place was already crowded when
Hugh arrived, mostly with men and children, for
the women did not often come for the mail, it was
their hour for washing dishes. Hugh sat down
on a bench in the corner to listen to the talk going
on about him in all degrees of broken English.
It concerned mostly the lost Edmonds boys, but
occasionally drifted back to the universal subject,
the war, for this was the time when the American
army was gathering in France, when Russia was
crumbling, when the first pinch of winter was
beginning to be felt abroad and the cry was going
up over all the world to America for bread. By
and by the general talk died away and all began
to listen to some one who was airing a grievance
very loudly on the other side of the room. He
was a big man with a rough corduroy coat and
a rougher voice which he raised very loud in the
height of his indignation.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I tell you there wasn’t a better bale of furs
in the whole Green River country. I got some
myself, trapping, and bought some from the Indians,
and there wasn’t one pelt but was a beauty,
but the brown bear skin was the best of all. Five
hundred dollars I would ’a’ got for them, just
that little bale, not a cent less—and when I come
to myself again every hide and hair of them was
gone!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And you can’t tell who took them?” questioned
one of his audience.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I can’t tell but I could guess right enough.
I didn’t see nobody, only a billion or two stars
when I was hit over the head in the dark, and
that was all. There’s only one man around here
who will do that kind of dirty work and he hails
from Jasper Peak. That’s the kind of fur trading
he likes to do, let some other man go through
the snow and the cold, spending his good money,
risking his life, tramping along his line of traps
or from one Indian camp to another, wheedling
the red rascals into selling their furs, and just as
a fellow’s nearly home again, dreaming about the
profit there’s going to be this time, here comes
some one sneaking behind in the dark and the
whole thing’s gone!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“You was lucky he did not shoot you, Ole
Peterson,” commented another friend. “He does
not care much who he shoots, that Jake he
doesn’t.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I would just like to meet up with him somewhere,”
Peterson returned quickly. “A man
can’t do nothing when they sneak up on him in
the dark, but if I ever have the chance, why, I’ll
just show him once. I wouldn’t have sold those
furs for less than seven hundred dollars, I swear.
And that bear skin, I tell you, was a prize.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Wass it so beeg?” asked an old Swede, sitting
in the corner near Hugh.</p>

<p class='c007'>“No, sir, it wasn’t big, but it was rare. Just
a bear cub it was, but a cub that had turned out
blond by some freak and surprised his old black
mother some, I’ll be bound. Not the brown,
even, that grizzly bears are, but a light, gold, yellow
brown. The Indian who had it vowed he
wouldn’t sell it, not for any price, but at last I
got it away from him. And I’d like just to meet
the fellow that stole it from me. Shooting would
be too good, I’d—”</p>

<p class='c007'>Miss Christina opened her window at this point
and put an end to the fearful threats of Ole
Peterson. Hugh received his mail almost the
first of all, a short and very hasty note from his
father, which did not say openly that they were
about to embark but contained more than one
veiled hint to that effect. He read it through
three times, trying to make the most of the censored
information it contained. Then, his attention
caught by the complete silence that had fallen
around him, he looked up to see what had happened.</p>

<p class='c007'>Nothing, apparently, had really occurred except
that a newcomer had entered abruptly and
banged the door behind him. Yet as he strode
over to the middle of the room every person in
the crowded place drew back, the big Swedes elbowing
the quick Canadians, the children standing
on tip-toes to peer under the arms or around
the shoulders of their protecting elders. The
space that had been filled a moment before by a
chattering, friendly group, became all in an instant
silent and empty with the big man standing
quite alone.</p>

<p class='c007'>He was very big, as Hugh noticed at first
glance, taller than any other man there, and
strong and heavy in proportion. One of his
broad shoulders sagged a little under the strap of
a heavy pack which he presently unbuckled and
dropped upon the floor. His hair was very long
and black under his slouch hat and his skin was
so dark that Hugh felt sure he must be an Indian.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Any mail for me?” he called across to the
postmistress without troubling himself to turn
around.</p>

<p class='c007'>Miss Christina had disappeared somewhere
into the protecting depths of the postoffice department.
Her voice rose, trembling, from behind
the partition.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I think so,” she said, “but it’s been here some
time. I will have to look it out.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“No hurry,” returned the man with an insolent
laugh at the quavering of her voice; “don’t disturb
yourself so much. I can wait.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He threw himself down upon one of the
benches and pushed back his hat. Hugh felt
something like a shudder when he first saw his
eyes; they were blue, a pale unlovely blue that
looked terrifyingly strange, set in his dark face.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Hello, friends,” the stranger continued genially.
“I thought I would look in and get my
mail before I was off down-State to sell my furs.
I’ve got a fine lot this year, the best that’s come
out of Canada for a long while.”</p>

<p class='c007'>There was no answer, unless one could call
little Eva Stromberg’s frightened squeak a reply,
or the uneasy shifting of old Nels Larson’s big
feet.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Would you like to see what I’ve got?” the man
went on, seemingly quite untroubled by the lack
of friendliness. “You won’t see anything so fine
again for quite a month of Sundays, nor anything
that’s worth so much money, you poor penny-pinchers.
Come here, sis,” he added to one of
the smaller children; “you would like to see my
furs, now, wouldn’t you?”</p>

<p class='c007'>The little girl, afraid to disobey, advanced with
something of the air of a charmed bird, and came
trembling to his side. He opened the big pack
and spread out its contents on the floor.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That’s otter,” he said to her; “don’t be frightened,
just feel of it. Isn’t it silky and soft?”</p>

<p class='c007'>She passed her hand obediently over the silvery
brown surface and then, bursting into terrified
sobs, ran to take refuge behind her father. The
stranger, undisturbed, went on spreading out his
wares.</p>

<p class='c007'>“This wolf skin now should bring me something
big,” he said. “Of course wolf isn’t much
compared to otter but I’ve never seen finer fur.
Step up, folks, and look, it’s a dead wolf that isn’t
going to bite you.”</p>

<p class='c007'>It was Hugh alone who felt sufficient curiosity
to come nearer. A wolf skin, an otter skin! He
had never seen one before. He came closer and
closer as the man unrolled more and more of the
soft, furry pelts.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Now this—”</p>

<p class='c007'>He stopped, for even he must take notice of the
gasp that went through the crowd, a gasp of surprise
and indignant protest. Only Hugh, eager
and excited, took no notice of the strange tension
in the air, so astonished was he at the sight of
what lay in the man’s hands.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Why,” he blurted out, “it’s Ole Peterson’s
brown bear skin!”</p>

<p class='c007'>A quiver seemed to run through the whole of
the crowd, while the silence became so complete
that Miss Christina’s clock upon the wall went
tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, three times before
any one seemed to move or before the storm of
the stranger’s fury broke forth.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Whose did you say?” he snarled, rising suddenly
and standing over Hugh, a threatening,
towering figure. “Whose did you say it was?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh thought afterwards that never, as long
as he lived, would he forget how terrible were
those shifty, pale-blue eyes in that lowering face.
He could never say it was real courage, but only
rash, hot anger that made him answer defiantly,</p>

<p class='c007'>“I said it was Ole Peterson’s. He told us it
was the only one in the country and that it was
stolen from him.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The man gave a queer, harsh laugh.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Ole, come here,” he ordered.</p>

<p class='c007'>There came out from the corner a very different
Peterson from the reckless, angry person who
had voiced his wrongs a few moments before.
This poor creature was fairly sallow with terror,
and was apparently trying to make his large figure
as small and inconspicuous as possible. He
swallowed convulsively two or three times before
he was able to speak.</p>

<p class='c007'>“What is it, Jake?” he questioned meekly.</p>

<p class='c007'>The man called Jake flung the skin toward
him.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Is that yours?” he asked in a tone that said
plainly, “Claim it if you dare.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Ole passed his hand lovingly over the lustrous
brown gold of the thick fur. He held it up so
that all could see the shape of the chubby little
bear cub whose coat it once had been, and the
dark hairy paws that still dangled from it. He
smoothed the dark shadings of the fur and looked
at them with longing.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Is it yours?” Jake insisted, turning from
Hugh to advance a threatening step toward Ole.</p>

<p class='c007'>“No,” said Peterson at last in a frightened
husky voice. “No, it ain’t mine, Jake.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Then what the—?” The stranger made one
stride toward Hugh and caught his shoulder in
a grasp that made the bones grind together.
The boy looked about him desperately, surely
some one of all these men would come forward
to his aid. He saw pity in the eyes of many of
them, and one or two making a movement toward
him and then drawing back. It needed only that
to prove to him at last that this was the
much-feared Pirate of Jasper Peak.</p>

<p class='c007'>Yet before either could move further, before
Jake could finish his question, help came from an
unexpected quarter. The door beside them
opened and closed quickly, and Linda Ingmarsson
came in. The wind had blown her yellow hair
from under her kerchief, her cheeks were glowing
and her eyes bright. She made a single step
to Hugh’s side and laid her strong, firm fingers
on Jake’s crushing hand. He withdrew it as
quickly as though something had stung him.</p>

<p class='c007'>“So you are at your old bullying ways,” she
said scornfully; “you found long ago that there
was one woman not afraid of you, now you find
a boy. It is like you to believe that he would fear
you as the rest do, but this time you are wrong.
And you know that there is nothing that can
make you so angry as to find some one you cannot
terrify.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He muttered something but did not speak
aloud.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Come,” she said to Hugh, and, “Come, Carl,”
she added as she held out her hand to her small
son and moved toward the door. But Jake
barred the way.</p>

<p class='c007'>“He tried to tell me that bear skin wasn’t
mine,” he blustered. “He said it was Ole Peterson’s,
but Peterson vows it isn’t his. What do
you make of that? Has he any right to call me
a thief?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Linda answered quite undisturbed.</p>

<p class='c007'>“He is a shrewder boy than are we Swedes,”
she said, “and has been quick to see the truth.
Yet he is not the only one to know you for a
thief.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The man’s blazing eyes narrowed into slits and
his grating, harsh voice was full of suppressed
fury.</p>

<p class='c007'>“There are not many who have dared to call
me that, Linda Ingmarsson,” he said, “and whoever
does it, whether man, woman or boy, will
live to be bitterly sorry. John Edmonds did, and
where is he? Out there in the woods, I hear,
lost, dead beyond a doubt, he and his brother, the
worthless two of them. I heard the whistles
blowing as I came down the valley, and I thought
to myself, ‘You can blow them until they split,
but you will never call him back.’” He lowered
his voice, yet still spoke so that all could
hear—“He didn’t want to be called back.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“John Edmonds and his brother will come
back,” insisted Linda steadily, “for they have
friends who believe in them and will help them
still. Whatever John has left in confusion he
will make plain and straight when he returns.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“What friends has he?” cried Jake scornfully.
“Before another day has passed every one in
Rudolm Valley will know just why they went,
both of them, and then where will their friends
be?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“There is still my brother Oscar,” returned
Linda.</p>

<p class='c007'>“And do you think your brother Oscar can save
them? He does not even know what has happened,
and if he did, what help could he give?”
Jake laughed harshly. “He is having all that he
can do to save himself, these days, has Oscar
Dansk.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh could feel Linda’s hand tighten on his
arm as though, in spite of herself, she winced
under the last words. He stepped in front of
her to face their common enemy, but she spoke
before he could.</p>

<p class='c007'>“The Edmonds are not friendless,” she declared.
“No matter what all the world may say
there will still be some of us who know they are
honest and who will find and save them in the
end.”</p>

<p class='c007'>She moved to the door, and Jake, seeing that
he could no longer block her way, suddenly
stepped back and flung it open with a great
flourish.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I wish you luck,” he said; “it will be a long
task, finding and saving two men who either have
fled the country or are already dead.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Linda turned back to speak her last word as
she and Hugh and Carl went out together into
the dark.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I know they have not fled the country,” she
said, “and I am certain they are not dead. Had
anything happened to them, their dog would have
been here to tell us. So I know they are alive
since Nicholas has not come back.”</p>

<div class='chapter'>
  <h2 id='chapIII' class='c004'>CHAPTER III</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>LAUGHING MARY</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>Hugh sat in his little room for a long time
that night, reviewing his adventures of this
scant half day in Rudolm. He found it very difficult
to decide what to do, in the light of this
unexpected turn of his affairs, the disappearance
of the two Edmonds. Of one thing he was hotly
certain, that John Edmonds had not vanished of
his own will. The very fact of Hugh’s being
there, urged to come by both the brothers, showed
that their absence was entirely unplanned. He
was less certain, however, of the chances of their
ever coming safe home again. Linda Ingmarsson
was sure they would, but she was only one
woman holding her opinion against a score of
men. He wished that he could make some effort
of his own to find his friends, wished it more and
more as he went slowly over the situation and
realized how desperate it was. What could he
do, a boy, alone, knowing nothing of woodcraft
and the cruel mysteries of the forest? Nothing,
reason told him plainly, absolutely nothing.</p>

<p class='c007'>Quite evidently he must go back to that cousin
in New York who was to help him if things went
wrong. That things had gone wrong, from the
moment of his getting off the train, onward
through his terrifying interview with Half-Breed
Jake, was not to be denied. This seemed to be
one of the few certain facts in the whirling confusion
of his affairs. He recollected now how
the friendly porter had felt misgivings as to the
length of his stay in Rudolm and had reminded
him that the train that would carry him back to
the world he knew, would go through at six
o’clock in the morning. After long pondering,
he decided to take it.</p>

<p class='c007'>Just as he was about to go to bed he heard a
sound at the window, a handful of pebbles striking
against the glass. He got up to look out and
saw some one standing on the doorstep below.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is I, Jethro Brown,” called a cautious voice.
“Can you come down? I want to talk to you.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh took up his candle and stole on tiptoe
down the stairs. All of the Ingmarssons were
sound asleep. He contrived to shoot back the
bolts and open the front door without a sound.
The clerk from the hotel, looking more lank and
awkward than ever in the candle light, stood waiting
outside.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I saw your window was bright and I had some
things to tell you,” he said. “I am sorry to bring
you down.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh blew out the candle and they sat down
together on the doorstep.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is all right,” he said; “you wouldn’t have
found me to-morrow. I am going away early in
the morning.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Going?” echoed the other in a tone of the
greatest disappointment and dismay. Then he
heaved a deep sigh.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Well,” he remarked, “I suppose it is the only
thing you can do, but somehow I had kind of
hoped you were going to stay.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Why?” Hugh stared in astonishment, for
what difference could it make to any one whether
he remained in Rudolm or went away?</p>

<p class='c007'>Jethro sat staring at the ground between his
feet and shuffled them uneasily several times.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That Half-Breed Jake has been at the hotel
all evening,” he said at last. “He has been talking
a long time about the Edmonds boys and
how they have disappeared because they had to.
It is true that John’s books at the bank were
pretty badly mixed and they have had an expert
up to go over them, but nothing has been proved
yet, one way or the other. It seemed to me, at
last, that Jake talked rather too much. He always
hated the Edmonds boys, they were too
square and honest and they had blocked him more
than once in some of his devilment. If there is
a mean or a cruel or a crooked way of doing a
thing, he will do it. That’s Jake.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But why is every one so afraid of him?” inquired
Hugh. “He is only one man against all
of you.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is just part of living here to be afraid of
him, I suppose, and to try to keep out of trouble
with him,” Jethro answered slowly. “The Indians
fear him so much that they will do anything
he says; he understands them as very few men do
and he uses his knowledge to get what he wants.
A man who can control these Chippewas has a lot
of power. There is a white deer that ranges
these woods once in a long time and is supposed
to bring bad luck. The Indians have a saying
that whoever sees the white deer or opposes
Half-Breed Jake is sure to die inside a year.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But the Swedes have better sense than that!”
exclaimed Hugh.</p>

<p class='c007'>“The Swedes are very superstitious too, and
once they are convinced of a thing it is hard to
make them change. And it does seem that whoever
stands in Jake’s way is cursed with bad fortune
until he gives it up. There are only a few
that ever dared stand out against him, such as
the Edmonds boys, and where are they?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh sat quiet, watching the moon come up
over the eastern rim of the valley. He found
Jethro as talkative as the Swedes were silent,
but he felt no very great interest in these accounts
of Half-Breed Jake, a man whom he instinctively
hated and would, he hoped, never see again.
Only wonder as to why Jethro wished him to
stay in Rudolm and what all these details had
to do with himself, held his lagging attention.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Do you see that road,” Jethro went on heatedly,
“that road yonder that leads over the hill?
That would have meant a lot to the people here,
but it came to nothing. It was to be built through
the woods as far as Jasper Peak and would have
opened up the country at the upper end of the
lake. Jake stopped it. He calls all that country
his, and is bound to keep the fishing and the hunting
and trapping for himself. He killed the plan
with open threats and secret lies: at first the men
went at it with a rush, but in the end somehow the
whole thing fell through. It was the first time
he ever scored a real victory off Oscar Dansk.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh turned, his interest caught at last.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That is one person I want to know about,”
he said. “Who is this Oscar Dansk?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“He is Linda Ingmarsson’s younger brother,”
Jethro answered. “You know that much and it
is hard to tell you a great deal more. Oscar isn’t
like the rest of us. I don’t quite know what to
say about him; he is always dreaming about something
big, some way. His father must have been
quite a great person back in Sweden; he was poor
to the end of his life, just as every one in Rudolm
is poor, but you can see that Oscar and Linda are
not quite the same kind of people as the rest.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“He doesn’t live here in Rudolm?” Hugh said.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Not now, he lives out beyond Jasper Peak.
He is proving up on some kind of a claim, homesteading,
right in the country that Half-Breed
Jake calls his. He was here in April when war
was declared and went down pell-mell to Duluth
to enlist, wanted to go into the Navy, I think,
these Swedes all do. But they wouldn’t take
him, or for the army either, I don’t know why.
He came back in a few days, looking grim and set
and not saying a word to any one. He went
right off into the woods again and we’ve scarcely
seen him since. It was a cruel disappointment,
I think, as bad as when he couldn’t build his
road.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But why did he care so much about the road?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh’s curiosity about that mysterious highway
had grown greater and greater, yet even
now it was not to be satisfied.</p>

<p class='c007'>“He had something big in his mind,” Jethro
said vaguely, “so big I never quite understood
it. He was a fellow who could always see
farther than the rest of us, I think. John Edmonds
used to say he did, although even he lost
faith in the plan about the road at last, and that
nearly broke Oscar’s heart. Some people even
said they had quarreled, but I don’t believe it.
Oscar wasn’t the sort to bear a grudge.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Jethro thrust his hands deep into his pockets
and turned at last to face Hugh squarely.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That is what I am getting at,” he said. “Oscar
Dansk can find John and Dick Edmonds if any
man on earth can do it. But some one would
have to go out through the woods to tell him,
otherwise it might be weeks before he hears what
has happened. And the only person to go is
you.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I?” cried Hugh in amazement, “<i>I?</i> Why,
that’s impossible.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“All right,” said the other briefly, “I was
afraid maybe you would take it that way. Of
course, after all, you oughtn’t to try it. Well,
good-night.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He shambled off into the dark, leaving Hugh
still staring in astonishment. He wished that
he had not said quite so decisively that the plan
was impossible, so that at least he might have
heard more of it. How strange it was that, after
leading up to the subject so long, Jethro should
have dropped it so quickly. Probably he himself
knew that it was impossible as well as did Hugh.</p>

<p class='c007'>Very slowly he went up to bed, still wondering.
It was in vain that he tried to compose his
mind to sleep: he could not, for thinking of what
Jethro had said. For an hour he tossed and
turned and puzzled and pondered. At last he
got up and went to the window, thinking that he
might feel sleepy if he sat there for a while.</p>

<p class='c007'>The moon was very bright now, so that all the
little square houses showed plainly, as did the
white expanse of the empty street. Nothing
stirred in all of the sleeping town; the very quiet
and peace did indeed make him feel drowsy almost
at once. He yawned a great yawn and was
just about to turn from the window when a moving
shadow caught his eye. Some one was coming
down the deserted street, some one who
walked noiselessly but swiftly and with great determination.
It was a woman, he could see, an
Indian squaw, with broad, bent shoulders and
heavy dark hair. Even at that distance and in
the deceiving moonlight he felt certain that it was
the woman he had seen before, Laughing Mary.</p>

<p class='c007'>She turned in at the gate and came hurrying
up the path, but she did not reach the door. Two
men followed her, one lithe and stooping, the
other tall and moving with great strides—there
was no doubt in Hugh’s mind that it was Half-Breed
Jake. He seized the woman by the shoulder
and whirled her about just as, very plainly,
she was on the point of mounting the doorstep
and knocking at the door. There followed an
altercation, whispered, yet so full of fierceness
and passionate gesture that Hugh, at his window,
could feel the fury of their quarrel even there.
It was almost like watching a dance of shadows,
so noiseless did they manage to be, although now
and then he caught a low-voiced sentence, couched
in guttural Chippewa, and once, to his surprise,
he heard his own name, spoken very distinctly
by Laughing Mary.</p>

<p class='c007'>She was not smiling now but speaking volubly,
gesticulating, urging and insisting something, to
which Jake slowly and determinedly shook his
head. She kept pointing to the bale of furs still
under his arm and seemed to be voicing her desire
with such violence in the face of his continued refusal
that finally, in angry impatience, he raised
his arm as though to strike her. She winced and
cowered, but still persisted, advancing her dark
wrinkled face almost into his to utter her last
word. Whatever she said seemed to have effect,
for Jake’s arm dropped to his side and, muttering
angrily, he stooped down to open his pack and
give her what she demanded. What the coveted
article was, Hugh could not see, for the Indian
husband, Kaniska, was standing in the way.</p>

<p class='c007'>Then all three went out quickly through the
gate, as silent and as swift as ghosts. For the
first time, Hugh noticed that Jake, who walked
behind, moved with a slight unevenness in his
giant stride.</p>

<p class='c007'>It had grown so late that Hugh in spite of his
curiosity and excitement was sleepy at last. He
lay down again, going over and over once more
the puzzles of the day. What ought he to do?
What had these strange people to do with him?
Why did Jethro say that he was the only one to
go on that impossible errand, why did the fellow
not go himself? If there were really a chance of
his helping the Edmonds boys, Hugh would have
risked anything gladly, but this plan was such
absolute madness! No, thought Hugh, he had
made up his mind, he would not change it again,
he would go to-morrow.</p>

<p class='c007'>He arose at five, packed his belongings and, on
hearing Linda stirring in the kitchen, went down
to explain to her. She heard him through in
silence and without protest.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I suppose you must know best,” was her only
comment.</p>

<p class='c007'>When he made an attempt to thank her for all
her kindness, she refused to listen.</p>

<p class='c007'>“The Edmonds boys are my friends,” she said,
“and for them I would do much. This was nothing.”</p>

<p class='c007'>She came to the door to bid him good-by and
stood watching him as he went down the path to
the gate. The morning mist lay heavy in the
little valley and stretched upward in wreaths over
the hills. The air was cold, so that he turned up
his coat-collar and walked very briskly. Once
he looked back and saw that Linda Ingmarsson
had come out to the gate and stood leaning over
it almost as though she were about to call him
back. She made no sign, however, so he turned
once more and walked on toward the station.
He found that he was early, that the little building
was still locked and that he must sit down on
the narrow bench at the edge of the platform and
wait. The mist lifted, little by little, until he
began to see the miles of blue water, the hills and
the vast unbroken forest sweeping down to the
water’s edge. How would it be, he thought with
a shudder, to be lost in that unending maze of
green?</p>

<p class='c007'>Presently he heard footsteps coming up the
stairs and around the corner of the building. He
glanced up quickly and saw that it was Jethro
Brown again, wearing a dingy straw hat on the
back of his head and carrying a suitcase. He
loitered at the other end of the platform and
would not have come near, but Hugh arose from
his seat and went straight to him.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You must tell me,” he said, “why you thought
I was the only one to carry that news to Oscar
Dansk. I have thought of nothing else all
night.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Jethro flushed.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I shouldn’t ever have spoken of it at all,” he
stammered, “I don’t know what possessed me. I
just got to thinking and felt that something ought
to be done, that some one ought to go. But I
should not have come to you, of course you
couldn’t do it.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“If I did go,” Hugh persisted, “how would I
ever find the way?”</p>

<p class='c007'>He did not really know himself why he asked
the question.</p>

<p class='c007'>The other turned and pointed.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You would follow that road to the top of the
hill and where it ends you would find a trail that
runs across the range of forest beyond. It leads
to a little Chippewa village on Two Rivers; there’s
an Indian boy there, Shokatan, who could guide
you the rest of the way. He got to be quite a
friend of mine when he came in to the Indian
school near here and he knows English, though
he probably won’t be willing to speak it now. I
could give you a letter and I know he would help
you.”</p>

<p class='c007'>It was plain that Jethro had thought it all out.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh still stood pondering.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Why don’t any of the Swedes go?” he asked,
“aren’t they willing?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“They are willing enough,” Jethro returned,
“but they have given up. They say there is no
hope. Once they have made up their minds there
is no changing them.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And why,” questioned Hugh bluntly, “don’t
you go yourself?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh,” Jethro answered simply, “I forgot to tell
you that. Of course I would go only I am leaving
to-day. I’ve enlisted. I’ve got my orders.
I’m going to Fort Snelling.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh,” cried Hugh, “how did you manage?
My father wouldn’t let me. How old are you?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I am a little under age but I made them take
me,” replied Jethro. “There wasn’t much
trouble about getting consent, I haven’t any one
that my going would make any difference to.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh’s whole view of the affair underwent a
sudden and tremendous change. If Jethro was
going to the war, why, that made everything different!
He must think and think quickly, for,
far off among the hills, he heard the whistle of
the approaching train.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Well,” Jethro said, breaking into his reverie,
“I will be taking the forward coach when the
train comes in, so I may not see you again.
Good-by.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He reached out his huge, red hand and Hugh
shook it, still half dazed.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Did you write that letter to the Indian?” he
said, and, as the other nodded, “Give it to me.
I haven’t decided yet but I—I might need it.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Jethro pulled a paper from his pocket and
handed it to him.</p>

<p class='c007'>“No, no,” he cried, immediately after, “it is
not the right thing at all for you to go. Do not
think about it again. Here’s the train. Good-by.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Good-by,” said Hugh, still in doubt, “good-by
and good luck.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Jethro strode away down the platform just as
the big locomotive came thundering in. Hugh
was turning slowly toward the Pullman coaches
at the further end when he heard quick short
footsteps behind him and little Carl Ingmarsson
very red and breathless came panting up.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I wanted to say good-by,” he said; “we never
knew you were going until Mother told us.”
He laid his square, firm little hand in Hugh’s.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It was good of you to come,” returned Hugh.
“What did your mother say about my going?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“She didn’t say much,” Carl replied, “I think
she had been crying.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Crying?” echoed Hugh; “why?” This
seemed the most amazing thing of all the surprises
that had come to him.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I think she didn’t want you to go,” the little
boy answered, “I don’t understand it. She
doesn’t often cry.”</p>

<p class='c007'>So there was more than one person who wanted
him to help and was confident of his success.
And even Half-Breed Jake and Laughing Mary
seemed to feel that he was in some way involved
in the matter. Should he go or stay? Time was
passing.</p>

<p class='c007'>The grinning porter looked at him doubtfully,
then picked up his stool and climbed up the steps
of the last car. The long train, with its shining
brass rails, hooded vestibules and sleepy passengers
peering from the windows, looked as though
it had come from another world than this wild,
wooded country where such strange things could
come to pass. The brakeman glanced inquiringly
over his shoulder and shouted,</p>

<p class='c007'>“All aboard!”</p>

<p class='c007'>The bell began to jangle, the wheels creaked
and groaned, the heavy cars slowly gathered
headway—there was still time to run and catch
the last step, but Hugh did not move. The line
of cars, with a final echoing whistle, slid away
into the morning mist and disappeared behind
the shoulder of a hill, leaving him behind, committed
at last to his adventure.</p>

<div class='chapter'>
  <h2 id='chapIV' class='c004'>CHAPTER IV</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>THE HEART OF THE FOREST</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>Linda Ingmarsson was standing at the
door when Hugh and Carl came up the path.
She did not seem to be at all surprised to see him.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I met Jethro Brown at the station,” he explained
briefly. “He told me, oh, quite a lot of
things. I decided not to take the train, to go
into the woods instead.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Linda shook her head gravely.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I think I know what he told you,” she said.
“It is a mad plan. You ought not to go.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But I’m going,” returned Hugh, and she
smiled.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yes, I believe you are going,” she answered,
“and perhaps I would not stop you if I could.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The children came clattering in and Ingmarsson
appeared by the door, so there was no more
discussion just then. Later, however, when the
various members of the family had set off to
work or to school, Linda came up to Hugh’s room
bringing an armful of things for him, a pack such
as hunters carry, heavy boots, thick wool socks,
a mackinaw coat.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You will need all these,” she said. “It may
be that you will be gone some time.”</p>

<p class='c007'>She advised him as to which of his own possessions
were the most necessary to take with him
and showed him how to pack them in the smallest
possible space.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Leave all of your other things here,” she directed,
“and most of your money, too; you will
have little need of it where you are going and—you
might meet Half-Breed Jake in the forest.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Does he do that kind of stealing too?” Hugh
asked.</p>

<p class='c007'>“He does every kind,” was her brief reply.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh accomplished the rest of his preparations
in silence except for one question.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Is your brother Oscar old?” he inquired.</p>

<p class='c007'>Linda laughed.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I am not so very old myself,” she answered,
“and he is much younger than I, not a great deal
older than you, I should think. You are not
quite a grown man yet, and he has only just
ceased being a boy. That is all the difference.”</p>

<p class='c007'>She put the last thing into his pack and helped
him to pull the straps tight.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We are ready now,” she said, “and I know
you would like to go at once, but it is not wise.
It is a long day’s journey even to Two Rivers, and
if you set out now you could not reach there until
hours after midnight. So you had better start
at daylight to-morrow.”</p>

<p class='c007'>It was before dawn next day when she knocked
softly at his door. When he had slipped downstairs
and had a hasty breakfast in the kitchen,
she went out upon the steps with him and gave
him the most explicit directions as to how he was
to go. She had never been so far as Jasper Peak
or the end of the lake where her brother lived,
but she could tell him, almost mile by mile, the
way to the Indian encampment where the Chippewa
boy, Shokatan, could put him on the next
stage of his journey.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You should not go,” she said again at the last,
but the light of excitement danced in her eyes as
plainly as in Hugh’s.</p>

<p class='c007'>He shouldered his pack, adjusted the straps
and held out his hand to say good-by. The spotless
house, as he looked about it for the last time,
seemed a very homelike little place even though
he had known it for only a day. The white,
scrubbed floor, the bright blue cupboard, the picture
on the wall of the Edmonds boys and their
great white dog—how soon would he see them all
again?</p>

<p class='c007'>Even in early-rising Rudolm there was no one
yet abroad to see him go. He went out the gate,
past a half dozen houses, across a stretch of
meadow, came out at last upon the road, Oscar’s
road, and set off up the hill.</p>

<p class='c007'>The sun was just coming up over the ridge
to the eastward, the birds were beginning to chirp
in the thickets and the tall, scattered pine trees
were bowing their heads in the autumn wind.
Very little of all this did Hugh notice for he had
eyes of wonder and interest only for the road
upon which he was traveling. It wound up the
slope, grass-grown in many places, as though
very few feet had trodden it in the past year. It
was built of stone and gravel, well built too, as he
could easily perceive, for it mounted the hillside
in easy grades with wide, even curves, and it still
showed the weed-filled ditches that had been dug
to drain it and it spanned a little stream on a high,
stout bridge. Hugh tramped on up the slope,
crossed the summit of the hill and was about to
descend on the other side when—</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh!” he cried suddenly and stood still in surprise.</p>

<p class='c007'>He had known that the road would not carry
him far, but he had not realized that it would end
as abruptly as though sheared off with a knife.
The dense wall of trees and underbrush that had
hemmed it in on both sides had closed together
before him and completely blocked the way. He
could actually see the sharp line where the gravel
roadbed ended and the soft leaf-mold began,
while just before him he spied in the grass a
broken ax and a rusty pick, as though the last
workman had ceased his labors so suddenly as
to have even left his tools. Hugh had to stand
and look for some minutes before he could distinguish
the narrow trail threading its way off
among the trees, the path that he must now follow.</p>

<p class='c007'>Down the hillside it led him, over great tree
trunks, under low-hanging branches, through
thickets that seemed almost impenetrable. The
noonday sun began to feel hot, even among the
trees, and the air seemed close and heavy as he
progressed further and further into the valley.
It was a great relief to hear suddenly the cool
patter of what sounded like falling water and a
great disappointment to find that it came only
from a grove of quaking aspen trees where the
wind among the leaves made just the sound of
rain. Once past these, however, the going was a
little easier, for on the next hill the birches and
poplars gave way to solid pine forest and the
trail led upward between black trunks and over
a carpet of fallen needles. He came out, at last,
on the summit of the slope and stopped a moment
to look back. Nothing but hills beyond hills, forest
beyond forest could be seen; the little town of
Rudolm had utterly disappeared. Only a sharp
glint of blue at the end of the valley and the rising
bulk of the mountain to the westward showed
the familiar landmarks of Red Lake and Jasper
Peak.</p>

<p class='c007'>He sat down here to eat his lunch and to rest
a little, for his knees were beginning to weary and
the pack was heavy on his unaccustomed shoulders.
When he arose at length and trudged on
he found that he could no longer make such good
time; he had perhaps set too fast a pace at first
and worn himself out too soon. It was a long,
long way over the next ridge and down into the
valley beyond, so long that the sun had disappeared
and the hollows were beginning to fill with
shadow when he came finally to the foot of the
steep incline. The long, gray northern twilight
held, however, so that he had no real difficulty
in following the trail, faint as it was, that led
him to the edge of a stream, skirted its bank and
brought him, just as heavy darkness fell, within
sight of a row of fires that must belong to the
Chippewa encampment.</p>

<p class='c007'>Indian dwellings are far more picturesque than
imposing, so at least Hugh concluded as he approached
the huddle of teepees, mere shelters of
skins and blankets stretched over birch poles. A
woman was cooking by the nearest fire; she sat
back upon her heels and gazed at him stolidly,
but made no answer when he asked for the boy
Shokatan. Some children came crawling out
from one of the tents and also stared at him but
not a word could he get from them. He stood
irresolute, not quite knowing what to do, when
another squaw, who sat at the second fire, holding
a baby, suddenly turned and greeted him with a
strange, vacant smile, which he recognized at
once as Laughing Mary’s. Again he asked for
Shokatan, and she pointed silently at a boy who
was coming toward him from the edge of the
stream where he had evidently been fishing.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Jethro Brown sent me to you and gave me
this letter,” began Hugh, but he received no answer,
only the same stolid stare. The boy held
out his hand for the paper, turned it over and
over without making even a pretense of reading
it, then grunted, “No English,” and, turning,
walked away.</p>

<p class='c007'>It was an awkward moment for Hugh and a
most discouraging one. Apparently he was to
get no help here for the continuing of his journey,
while the thought of trying to go back, through
the dark, in his present weary state was quite
too appalling. Almost without thinking, he unbuckled
his pack, laid it down on the grass and
seated himself at the nearest fire. Two children
and an old man moved over to make room for
him, yet no one said a word or regarded his presence
with the least surprise. Presently a woman,
he thought it was Laughing Mary, but in the uncertain
light could not make sure, came over and
put down some food before him.</p>

<p class='c007'>He was hungry enough to have eaten anything,
but he thought then and long afterward that it
was just as well that he should never know of
what that savory stew was made. It might be—no,
he concluded firmly, he would make no guess
as to what it was—nectar and ambrosia was what
it tasted like and he ate it all. Afterward he
went down to the river to wash his hands and to
have a long drink of the cool, running water.
Looking back at the camp he thought what a curious
picture it made with the leaping fires, the
shadowy teepees and the black figures moving
noiselessly to and fro.</p>

<p class='c007'>Somebody startled him by touching his arm as
he sat staring. It was the boy, Shokatan, carrying
Hugh’s pack which he had left beside the fire.
Not a word did the Indian speak, but he motioned
to a canoe that lay bottom upward on the grassy
bank, and, by a grunt, indicated that he wished
Hugh’s help in lifting it. With some wonder,
Hugh arose to assist him, and in a moment had
set it afloat on the rippling shallows of the little
stream. The Indian produced two paddles and
slipped into his place in the stern; Hugh laid his
pack in the bottom of the boat, took up a paddle
and knelt in the bow, as they launched forth
through the reeds and out into the current. Another
stream flowed into the first just below the
camp, making quite a wide brawling little river
that swept away into the dark.</p>

<p class='c007'>Nothing had yet been said, but Hugh began to
realize that this was the second stage of his journey.
Shokatan, feigning complete ignorance of
all English speech, as is the obstinate Indian habit,
had nevertheless read the letter unobserved and
had agreed to help Hugh on his way. Silently
the canoe slipped out into the stream, was caught
by the current and with the aid of the two steady
paddles shot swiftly onward upon its course.
There was no talk as they sped along, as the dripping
paddles rose and fell and mile after mile of
river and forest dropped behind them.</p>

<p class='c007'>The stars began to come out above them and
lay reflected in long drifts of shimmering light
as they crossed a quiet pool. Hugh began to
see more and more clearly the white birches on
the shore, the reeds and rocking lily-pads and the
two lines of ripples that slanted outward from
their swiftly moving bow. There was a long,
long reach of steady paddling while the river
grew ever wider in its twisted course toward the
lake.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh’s blade rose and dipped with the weary
regularity of a machine and his eyes were falling
to with sleepiness. But he was startled suddenly
broad awake when they rounded a sharp bend and
came full upon a gigantic moose, its great shoulders,
bearded chin and wide sweep of antlers
outlined sharp and black against the starlit water.
The huge creature stood knee deep in the cool
flood, a long string of wet lily pads still hanging
from its dripping jaw. It looked so big as to
seem scarcely real and, for a second, stood as still
as though carved in stone. Then, with so
mighty a splashing that the spent waves rocked
the canoe, the great beast plunged to the shore,
scrambled up the bank and was off through the
forest with a stamping and crashing that could
have been heard a mile away.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Ah-h-h—!” sighed Hugh, letting out the
breath that excitement had imprisoned within
him for a full minute.</p>

<p class='c007'>Again they went on in silence, the sound of the
paddle behind Hugh being the only proof that
he was not alone in this whole forest-covered
world. Past one curve and then another they
went, until they began to hear a new sound ahead
of them, a dull muffled roar that he did not in
the least understand. He was about to ask what
it was when the Indian spoke at last, a single
inarticulate word which was evidently meant as a
warning. For in an instant they began to move
faster and faster, the sound grew louder, and
they plunged, all in one breathless second, down
a foaming slope of shouting white rapids. Great
black bowlders shouldered up through the water,
threatening them in a thousand directions, but
somehow the frail canoe threaded its way like
magic in and out among the rocks and came safe
into the calm pool below. Before Hugh could
speak they had swept into another reach of tossing
water and then another, the canoe staggering
back and forth in the furious current, but coming
finally out into the quiet stream again.</p>

<p class='c007'>Then at last, warmed to friendliness perhaps
by Hugh’s calm acceptance of the dangers of the
rapids, the Indian behind him spoke. His English,
learned at the Indian school near Rudolm,
was nearly as good as Hugh’s own, yet had the
guttural burr of all Chippewa speech.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You are going to Oscar Dansk’s?” he asked.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I wish to,” answered Hugh without looking
around. “Can you take me there?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“No,” was the immediate answer; “the white
deer has been seen in the woods near Jasper Peak
and we Chippewas will not go where the white
deer goes.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But I must go on,” insisted Hugh. “How
can I ever find the way without you?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I will take you to the lake,” was the reply,
“and around Harbin’s Channel into the upper end
of the lake you can paddle alone. You can keep
this canoe; it belongs to Oscar Dansk; he left it at
Two Rivers, for his last journey he made overland.”</p>

<p class='c007'>They went on and on, until Hugh, knowing
long since that it was past midnight, began to feel
that morning must be close at hand. They
passed more rapids, threaded narrow stretches of
river, then wider ones, but still the dark held
and the journey seemed never to come to an end.
At last the Indian spoke again.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That squaw whom you whites call Laughing
Mary told me to tell you, I do not know why, that
the man of Jasper Peak passed through Two
Rivers only a few hours before you, and must be
camping in these woods. I think that is his fire
now.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Far off through the black tree trunks there
could be seen a faint red glare that grew brighter
as they went along.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Do you mean Half-Breed Jake?” inquired
Hugh anxiously. “Was he alone?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“There were two Indians with him,” replied
Shokatan. “Yes, that is their camp. It is better
that they should not see us go by.”</p>

<p class='c007'>They came nearer, saw the firelight flickering
among the trees, saw two black figures stretched
upon the ground rolled in their blankets and
sound asleep. One man only was sitting upright,
his back against a pine, his face toward the
stream, but he, too, seemed wrapped in deepest
slumber. The canoe floated so slowly that it
seemed scarcely moving, the Indian’s paddle
dipped and dipped again without a sound. Foot
by foot they worked their way along, skirting the
bank where the shadows lay, sliding past like
shadows themselves. The fire flared high, one of
the burning logs broke and settled with a crash,
the man beside it awoke. Both boys held their
breath, while the canoe floated with the current;
slowly, slowly it crawled into the thick pool of
shade cast by a big maple that overhung the bank.
The man, it was the Indian Kaniska, listened as
though vaguely conscious that something was
stirring, stooped to mend the fire, then stopped
to listen again and to peer into the dark. Almost
imperceptibly the canoe moved on, was swallowed
up in denser shadow, slipped past a bend in the
stream and left the camp out of sight.</p>

<p class='c007'>The moment of danger had roused Hugh into
full wakefulness now and, although he was unbelievably
weary, he bent to his paddling with
redoubled energy. The trees seemed to recede
on either hand, showing overhead a myriad of
stars, the river widened and they came out at last
on the vast dark flood of the open lake. The
canoe’s bow wavered a little, then turned toward
shore where Shokatan, grasping an overhanging
branch, pulled it up to the bank and stepped out.</p>

<p class='c007'>“The rest of the way you go alone,” he said.
“Around that point, through the channel, then
when you are in the open lake again make for
the nearest sandy beach. You will see Oscar
Dansk’s house on the hill above.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Before Hugh could speak, to protest against
being left, to thank the Indian for his help, he had
pushed out the boat again and had disappeared
into the underbrush. Wearily the boy took up
his paddle once more and drove the canoe steadily
onward parallel to the wooded shore.</p>

<p class='c007'>He was thinking of what might be before him
and of the strange journey that lay behind, but
for the most part his tired brain was concentrated
on the rise and dip, rise and dip of the paddle.
One detail of his night’s adventures alone seemed
to stand out in his mind, only because it was the
one thing of all others that he could not understand.
When, at Two Rivers, Laughing Mary
had turned to greet him in the firelight, he had
noticed that her baby was wrapped in something
brownish yellow, that even in the half darkness
he was certain must be the brown bear-cub’s skin.
He was too worn out either to reason the matter
out or to drop it entirely from his mind.</p>

<p class='c007'>Above him the stars were paling at last and the
sky growing gray. He came to the headland
where the lake seemed suddenly to end and where
Jasper Peak, which towered directly over him
now, sent a long rocky spur down to the water’s
edge. Through Harbin’s Channel he crept, out
into the second stretch of open water, a wide expanse,
beginning to show blue instead of gray as
the sky grew brighter. Over at his right he
could see a little inlet and a line of sandy beach,
above it a steep wooded hill with a cottage at the
very summit. The miles of woods beyond, the
bays and bold capes that bounded the lake, the
undiscovered country claimed by the Pirate of
Jasper Peak, for these he had no eyes and no
interest as he struggled wearily toward his journey’s
end.</p>

<p class='c007'>Gently the canoe grounded its bow upon the
sand, just where a narrow trail led off among the
trees and up the hill. With a great sigh of relief,
Hugh stepped ashore, shouldered his pack, and
went slowly up through the dawn to his first meeting
with Oscar Dansk.</p>

<div class='chapter'>
  <h2 id='chapV' class='c004'>CHAPTER V</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>OSCAR DANSK</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>Hugh walked very slowly as he made his
way up the path, for he was worn out,
weary enough to drop by the wayside and sleep
there for half a day. He was stiff from kneeling
all night in the canoe, his shoulders were lame
from the weight of his pack and from the long
miles of paddling, his brain whirled from want
of sleep. On he trudged, past the groups of overhanging
maples, scarlet and gold after the autumn
frosts, past a huge mass of red jasper rock
with a spring bubbling out at the foot of it, up
the hill at last and to the open space where the
cottage stood.</p>

<p class='c007'>It was a little square building of logs, chinked
with plaster, with two small sheds behind it and
a chimney of rough field stones. Small and rude
as the cottage seemed, it had the same air of
neatness and homely comfort that Hugh had noticed
about the little Swedish houses in Rudolm.
A plume of smoke was rising from the chimney
and, at the open window, a white curtain was
blowing in the morning wind. Before he reached
the door, it opened and Oscar Dansk came out
upon the wide stone step. The moment their eyes
met Hugh knew they were to become fast friends.</p>

<p class='c007'>There seemed no more natural thing in the
world than to sit down upon the doorstep—Hugh’s
tired legs could not have carried him farther—and
tell Oscar immediately all about why
he had come. The other seemed to understand
at once just what had happened, just why Hugh
had come to find him and just what he himself
was expected to do. He shook his head gravely
when he heard how long the Edmonds boys had
been gone.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Five days when you first heard,” he said;
“that makes seven now and another night. It is
bad, but not hopeless. If they are alive we will
find them.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Your sister thinks they are alive,” repeated
Hugh, for he had already spoken of Linda’s theory
about the dog.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yes,” replied Oscar, “I know that Nicholas, if
anything had happened to his masters, I am certain
he would have come back. I think Linda is
right.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh, half blind with weariness as he was, had
already begun to notice how like his sister Oscar
was. All things that were attractive in her were
present in Oscar, with much more besides.
There was fire in his blue eyes where hers held
only kindliness, there was no heaviness, nor any
sadness in his expression, but spirit and courage
and love of high adventure. He was taller and
straighter than Linda, also, with more clear-cut
features. As he sat on the doorstone, with the
sun shining on his bright fair hair, and his strong
hands clasped upon his knee, he looked as though
he were indeed, as Jethro had said, “a person who
could see further than others.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is not right,” he said at last, “for me to let
you sit here talking, when the first thing you
should do is to have breakfast and then sleep the
clock around.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He got up and led the way into the cottage,
with Hugh following eagerly, curious to see what
sort of an abode it was. There were two tiny
rooms inside with so wide a doorway between
that they were practically one. Linda Ingmarsson’s
fingers must surely have sewed those curtains
at the windows, the braided rugs on the
floor and the blue and white quilts on the two
narrow bunks. She must also have given her
brother the pot of red geraniums that stood on
the sill of the sunniest window. But she had
never seen the little log cottage, so she could not
have been responsible for the spotless cleanliness
of everything.</p>

<p class='c007'>Never before had Hugh sat down to such an
odd breakfast, nor, even at the Indian camp, had
he ever eaten with such ravenous appetite. There
was half a partridge stewed in brown gravy, wild
rice, flapjacks instead of bread, blueberries and,
strange to say, thick, rich cream.</p>

<p class='c007'>“The blueberries? Yes, it is pretty late for
them, but you still can find a few in the hollows,”
said Oscar, misunderstanding Hugh’s surprise.
“Oh, you mean the cream? Why, that is nothing;
I have a cow.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But how did she get here?” Hugh persisted.
“By water, or through the woods?”</p>

<p class='c007'>He thought of the journey that he himself had
made and decided that, for a four-footed creature,
both routes were equally impossible.</p>

<p class='c007'>“She must have been born hereabouts,” Oscar
answered. “I found her running wild in the
woods when she was still a calf. I brought her
home and built her a stable and fed her for a
month or two and then”—here he indulged in the
silent chuckle that Hugh was to learn was his
only form of laughter—“and then Half-Breed
Jake sent over to say that she was his.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Was she?” Hugh wished to know. He felt a
great interest in what had occurred between
Oscar and the pirate.</p>

<p class='c007'>“In a way she might have been called so. You
see, old Mat Henderson had a little farm up on
the spur of Jasper Peak, where Jake lives now.
I don’t know how Henderson got his live stock
in; I believe he chartered a little steamer to bring
them up the lake and through Harbin’s Channel.
That was before the pirates came; boats do not
come through there now. Henderson was a queer
old soul; he had lots of money, people said, and
just came away up here so that he could live alone.
The next thing we knew Half-Breed Jake and
some Indians were living on the place, claiming
that Henderson had sold it to them and that very
soon after the sale—he had died. There wasn’t
anything to be proved, so we had to let it go.
But we’ll know some day.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He had spoken quietly until the last words,
when his tone turned suddenly to bitter earnestness
and he dropped his big sunburned hand upon
the table with such force that the tin plates
danced in their places. His clear face clouded
with anger and he sat silent, staring out through
the little window. Hugh was almost frightened
at the sudden sternness of his face.</p>

<p class='c007'>“But the cow?” he hinted gently.</p>

<p class='c007'>Oscar hesitated, then the grimness of his face
relaxed and he smiled.</p>

<p class='c007'>“They cared for Henderson’s stock after a
fashion,” he said, “for they knew it might be a
starvation winter for them otherwise. The calf
they evidently did not want to feed and turned it
out into the woods. When they feared that I
would get some good out of it they came over to
fetch it. But they went home empty-handed.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh had a quick recollection of Half-Breed
Jake standing in the postoffice with the brown
bear’s skin in his hand and of the shrinking
claimant, Ole Peterson, slipping away into a corner.
There were not many people, he thought,
who could successfully dispute a question of ownership
with the Pirate of Jasper Peak.</p>

<p class='c007'>He had finished his breakfast and began to
feel, once more, an overwhelming sleepiness. In
spite of the brightness of the morning sun making
squares upon the floor, in spite of the pressing
nature of his errand and the mystery of the green
forest outside, his eyes were dropping shut. One
question, however, loomed so large in his mind
that it must be spoken.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I wish you would tell me, Oscar,” he said, the
name coming as readily to his tongue as though
the friendship were years old, “I wish I knew
why you choose to live here all alone.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The man’s face flushed a little under his sunburn
and his blue eyes, once again, took on that
stern look.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is too long a story, Hugh,” was all he answered.
“Before I tell you about it you must
have your sleep.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The hands of the big Swedish clock in the corner
of Oscar’s kitchen must have come very near
to making a complete round before Hugh awoke.
He had been dreaming so vividly that for a moment
he was bewildered and sat up rubbing his
eyes and wondering where he was. He remembered
in a moment, however, and scrambled
quickly out of bed. The cottage was quite silent
save for the ticking of the clock and the crackling
of the fire on the hearth. Hugh went to the little
window at the foot of his bunk and looked out.
When he had come up the trail that morning he
had noticed little save that the hillside was steep
and the forest dense, but now that he could see
across the little plateau upon which the cottage
stood and down into the next valley, he looked
and looked again.</p>

<p class='c007'>The country through which he had come on his
journey from Rudolm had seemed to him all alike,
one narrow ravine after another with close tangled
woods, precipitous slopes and rocky summits
in endless succession. But here he was looking
out into a broad green basin where the hills drew
back from the lake in a gigantic semicircle, leaving
the half-wooded slope to drop gently to wide
green meadows and a winding stream. Over to
the north the hills closed in a little, but still left a
broad valley through which flowed away toward
Canada the river that was the lake’s outlet.
Groups of trees extended downward from the
woods and stood knee deep in the wild grass of
the sloping meadows. A cheerful tinkle sounded
below the cottage, heralding the fact that Oscar
was driving up his cow from the luxuriant pasture
land, to be stabled for the night.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is a nice place,” thought Hugh. “I do not
wonder Oscar likes to live here, but—well, winters
must be pretty long and lonely.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Oscar came in presently and they had supper
before the blazing fire, a meal as odd and delicious
as breakfast had been. After supper there
was much work to be done in which Hugh lent a
hand, wood to be cut and carried in, water to be
fetched from the spring half way down the hill,
the cow, Hulda, to be fed and milked. The long
twilight was nearly at an end and Hugh already
feeling sleepy again before they finished at last.
Oscar, it seemed, had spent most of the day in
searching the nearest hillsides for traces of John
Edmonds and his brother, but had to report blank
failure so far.</p>

<p class='c007'>“But if they are alive they are in this region,”
he said. “They would not have gone far north,
for the woods and swamps in that direction are
almost impassable. Nor, if Edmonds wanted to
hide for any reason, would he go toward the east
end of Red Lake where there are more settlements
and the Indian reservations.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He brought out a rude map made evidently by
himself, showing in rough drawing the western
end of the lake and the watercourses.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We will divide it off into squares,” he said,
“and search one square of country every day.
Then, if we don’t find where they are, we will at
least know where they are not. We will begin
with this one to-morrow.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Wouldn’t it be quicker just to follow up the
main streams and the most likely valleys first?”
asked Hugh.</p>

<p class='c007'>Oscar was slowly rolling up the map and putting
it in its place.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It would be quicker—and we might miss them
on the way,” he said. “If we are to do the thing
thoroughly, we had better not hurry too much.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh was to learn that this was Oscar’s
method of doing all things. He did not agree
just then that it was the best, but, on looking back
afterward, he wondered at his own stupidity.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Will we meet Half-Breed Jake, do you think?”
was all he asked, however.</p>

<p class='c007'>“No,” returned Oscar, “that fellow and his Indian
friends are nearly always away at this time
of year. You say you saw them in the woods,
but they must have gone back again, for there
has not been a sign of life about their cabin. His
place is over opposite us on the spur of Jasper
Peak; you can see it plainly enough by daylight.
Every season about this time they go down-State
to sell their furs and have a final spree before they
come back for the winter. He is an ugly neighbor,
Half-Breed Jake is, when he has just had his
fling. He does not ever like to stay away very
long, for he likes to watch the place and drive
out any one that might try to settle hereabouts.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But he hasn’t driven you out,” said Hugh.
“Has he tried?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh, yes, he has tried,” replied Oscar cheerfully,
“but he hasn’t succeeded yet.”</p>

<p class='c007'>They set out very early the next morning, having
arisen before sun-up to get their work done
and to cook the dinner they were to carry with
them. Oscar took down his spare rifle from
where it hung upon the wall and gave it to Hugh.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You may have a chance at a partridge or even
a deer,” he said. “You had better take it along.”</p>

<p class='c007'>They walked down past the spring into the
thickly wooded ravine with its little stream that
separated them from Jasper Rock. At one point
they could look up and see even more plainly than
from the hill above, the Pirate’s cabin. It was a
tumbledown log building with a few rude outhouses
and ragged fences. A black hen rose
suddenly from a tuft of weeds at their feet and
ran squawking up the hill toward her unlovely
home.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I hardly know how his stock keeps alive while
he is gone,” observed Oscar, “but the creatures
are all half wild, anyway, and used to ranging
the woods and foraging for themselves.”</p>

<p class='c007'>After they had tramped some distance, Oscar
decreed that they were to separate.</p>

<p class='c007'>“See,” he said, showing Hugh the map, “here
are these two little streams flowing on each side
of this hill, and joining where we are now. You
follow this one, going up and down the slope on
one side of the ravine to find traces of where the
boys might have passed by or camped. When you
reach the swampy land where the stream rises,
turn back and come down the other side. Then
when you get to where the two streams meet, follow
up the other branch in the same way. It will
take you nearly all day to do that and to come
back here, where it is easy enough to find the way
home.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh agreed to follow these instructions carefully
and went off, a good deal elated at being
trusted to search alone. He found the ravine
narrow and the going very rough. He clambered
laboriously up and down, up and down, finding
nothing but some very old deer tracks and the
footprints of some little wood animals that he
could not identify. Before long he grew hot and
rather tired and sat down by the stream to rest.
He began to wonder if there were not some easier
way of performing the task and presently decided
that there was. The valley was so small that he
felt he could easily examine both slopes at once;
then, when he reached the marsh, he could cut
across the intervening hill and follow the other
fork down to the point of junction. His journey
from Rudolm had made him feel quite like an
experienced woodsman already, so that he felt
very confident that he had thought of a better
plan than Oscar’s. He pushed on resolutely and
reached the headwaters of the creek about noon.
There he ate his lunch, rested a little and then
turned gayly to clamber up the hill.</p>

<p class='c007'>It was a longer and a steeper climb than he had
bargained for. More than once he thought he
was at the top and even beginning to descend on
the other side, only to discover that there was
another ascent to be made. He went upward for
what seemed to him an endless time, and began
to be very weary. At last he reached the summit,
but found that the trees were so tall and thick that
he could see no distance even from there, and a
slight, a very slight doubt began to arise in his
mind as to whether he had done the wisest thing
in following a plan of his own.</p>

<p class='c007'>He saw a great mass of rock rising among the
trees not a quarter of a mile away and decided
that he had better climb to the top of it and get
his bearings before going any further. It was a
hard scramble through the thickets and up the
side of the giant red bowlder, but Hugh accomplished
it in ever increasing haste. He wished
to assure himself as quickly as possible that all
his calculations were correct. He was panting
with hurry and excitement when he came out
upon the top of the rock and turned his face toward
where Jasper Peak should be.</p>

<p class='c007'>Somehow it is rather a terrible thing to look
for so reliable a landmark as a mountain or a
lake and not to find it.</p>

<p class='c007'>“They must be there, they must be there,” he
kept repeating half aloud; but, no, there was nothing
to be seen but hills and hills, endless miles of
green in every direction and all utterly unfamiliar.
For a full minute Hugh stood gaping,
before there came over him the sickening knowledge
that he was lost.</p>

<p class='c007'>He had thought the forest beautiful on his
night journey with Shokatan, it had seemed to
him mysterious, wonderful, teeming with adventure.
But now it seemed only dark, threatening
and cruel, as though it existed merely to shelter
dangers and hidden enemies, as though the rolling
hills and valleys swept up to his feet to drown
him in a sea of green.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I mustn’t get excited,” he kept telling himself,
“I must keep my head.”</p>

<p class='c007'>But even as he so thought, he knew that his
brain was reeling and that his bewilderment was
increasing every moment.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I will go back just the way I came,” was his
first plan, but it proved impossible to follow. He
found traces here and there of where he had
passed before, yet the way was so twisted and
uncertain that, after an hour of struggling
through the underbrush he finally came out on
the same ridge again and faced the same mass of
red rock. He climbed the steep bowlder once
more to make sure that he had not been mistaken
and, on seeing again that vast pitiless expanse of
forest, all calmness suddenly left him. He slid
down the rock in a wild scramble, landed on all-fours
among the brambles, picked himself up and
started down the opposite side of the hill at a run.</p>

<p class='c007'>He was quite unconscious of the fact that he
had dropped Oscar’s rifle and had left it behind
him. He never had any idea of where he went
or in what direction. He ran until he could drag
his leaden feet no longer, then he lay panting
upon the ground until he could get up and run
again. Finally he became so exhausted that he
could only walk and had to stop to rest every
few minutes, but still he pressed obstinately on,
determined to get somewhere, anywhere.</p>

<p class='c007'>Once he found himself, not knowing how he
got there, floundering at the edge of a wide marsh
and noticed footmarks in the soft ground beside
him as though some great creature of the woods
had passed there not very long before. The
prints were very large and clear in the wet earth,
but he scarcely noticed them so far gone was he
in weariness and despair. Slowly he dragged
himself on, past a dense poplar thicket, over a
dried-up watercourse, up a hill, through the close
undergrowth at the top—and stood still with a
cry that was almost a sob. Below him spread a
wide valley, green and open and full of sunshine,
at its foot, in exactly the opposite quarter from
where it should be, lay the shining blue of the
lake. Oscar’s little house, still in quite the wrong
direction, stood on the ridge at his right, the
door open, the curtains flying, the red roof basking
in the sun. A pleasant homelike tinkle came
up from the grassy slope below him where the
contented Hulda was grazing peacefully.</p>

<p class='c007'>“<i>Gee!</i>” said Hugh and sat down abruptly on
the grass. “Gee, but I’m glad to see this place
again!”</p>

<p class='c007'>It looked indeed, to his weary desperate eyes,
like a true bit of Paradise. He thought quickly
of the name at which he had laughed a little when
he saw it written in Oscar’s hand upon the map.
It was, after all, not so much amiss to call the
valley “The Promised Land.”</p>

<div class='chapter'>
  <h2 id='chapVI' class='c004'>CHAPTER VI</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>THE PROMISED LAND</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>There was not a great deal said, that night,
about Hugh’s first experiment as a woodsman,
for Oscar seemed to be the sort of person
who knew when it was kinder not to ask questions.
One look at his white, anxious face when he came
home long after dark, one glimpse of his smile of
delight and relief when he found that Hugh had
returned safely after all, these caused the boy
enough remorse without the wasting of any
words. That he had lost Oscar’s rifle was to
Hugh the bitterest and most irretrievable mishap
of the whole day. He might tell himself over
and over that he would replace it when he went
back to Rudolm, but how soon would that be and
how desperately might not the weapon be needed
before that time?</p>

<p class='c007'>When they set out again next day, Oscar gave
his directions without any added warning that
this time Hugh had better not improve upon them
with additions of his own. He trusted the boy
to carry out his share of the search alone and
made no comment when this time they met successfully
at the place that he had chosen.</p>

<p class='c007'>All of that day they searched, and all of the
next, but with no results.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is a good thing that Jake is really gone,”
said Oscar, “for otherwise I would not dare go
so far and leave the cottage alone. This way we
can cover twice as much ground and so must
surely find the boys at last.”</p>

<p class='c007'>They went further and further afield each day
and finally, carrying blankets and provisions,
they penetrated far to the northward, slept in the
woods two nights and returned in a wide circle
that covered the forest for many miles. Footprints
of Indians they found, and of moose and
deer, but of traces that two white men had
passed that way, they saw no single one. They
came home worn and dispirited, each one trying
to talk cheerfully to raise the hopes of the other.</p>

<p class='c007'>The next day they were too weary to set forth
again. It was Sunday, a week from the day that
Hugh had come through the forest from Rudolm.
The day came somewhat as a surprise to him, for
he had quite forgotten that there were such things
as calendars and days of the week. He noticed
that Oscar slept later that morning and reduced
the household tasks of both of them to as few
as possible. He did not however suspect any
other reason beyond weariness until, at the end
of the afternoon, he came out to go to the spring
for water and found his friend seated on the
doorstone, reading his Bible in the thorough,
painstaking manner with which he did everything.</p>

<p class='c007'>“But how do you know when it is Sunday?”
Hugh demanded when Oscar explained that this
was his weekly custom.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Why, I keep count,” he replied, “and then I
somehow think that I ought to feel that it is Sunday
in the air. Doesn’t it look like a Sunday to-day?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Now that Hugh thought of the matter it did.
It was only chance, of course, but the sun was
mild and clear, the blue lake was like a mirror
and the flaming trees in the forest unstirred by
any wind. Even though he knew better, he felt
that, if he listened intently enough, he might hear
church bells ring.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Aren’t you ever mistaken when you think it
feels like a Sunday?” Hugh asked curiously.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh, yes,” Oscar admitted, “I feel that I should
know, but I don’t. Last year when I went down
to Rudolm I found that I was three days out and
had been having Sunday on a Wednesday for a
month. How Linda laughed at me!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Did you ever know how you happened to lose
count?” Hugh inquired idly.</p>

<p class='c007'>He had sat down upon the doorstep also, where
he could see, on one side, the open sunlit valley
and, on the other, the narrow ravine with its little
stream that ran between them and Jasper Peak.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yes, I knew how I missed count,” Oscar
answered, smiling a little queerly as he looked
down at one of his big rough hands. Whether
he would have gone on to explain is not certain,
for just then another thought drifted into Hugh’s
mind and he asked another question.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You say you are sure that Half-Breed Jake
is away?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yes,” returned Oscar. “Why?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Because sometimes I think I see something
moving about in the clearing near their house.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But I have looked for days for any sign of life
there and have seen nothing,” Oscar insisted.
“Perhaps you saw their chickens or their cow.
They are usually gone at this time of year, but
yet, I do not understand it. If Jake had anything
to do with the Edmonds boys’ disappearance—and
I am certain he had—he would be staying.
And you say you saw him in the woods. No, I do
not understand it. Perhaps he is in Rudolm
helping still to spread the report that John Edmonds’
accounts are short and that he ran
away.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Do you think we will ever find them?” Hugh
asked, the discouragement of the whole week suddenly
welling up in his voice.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I do not know,” Oscar admitted, yet trying
to speak cheerfully. “We can only go on looking
until we make sure it is hopeless.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He closed his book since Hugh’s continued
questions had evidently made reading impossible.
They sat together looking down the valley, so
green and quiet in the sun. A lovely place, but
a very lonely one, Hugh was thinking.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I should think you would have a dog, Oscar,”
he observed aloud. “It would be such company
for you.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The grimness of Oscar’s tone as he answered
startled Hugh into turning square about.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I had one,” he said, “and Jake killed him.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“What,” exclaimed the boy, “are they so bad
as that?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“They are as bad as anything you can think
of,” his friend answered.</p>

<p class='c007'>He looked down again at his hand and Hugh
noticed that over the back of it ran a long puckered
scar that extended upward under his sleeve.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That was the time when I lost count of Sunday,”
Oscar went on. “It was before I had been
here very long and Jake and his friends were
bound to run me out. You see I am proving
up on a claim to this land; I have to live here just
so long, build a house and keep up a certain
amount of cultivation. They thought that if they
could drive me away and burn down the cottage
they could jump the claim. They know better
now.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Was it—was it hard to teach them better?”
Hugh inquired eagerly.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It took me three days, no, four or five, I never
quite knew. They lay in the woods at the edge
of the clearing and shot whenever I came near
the door or window. See there,” he laid his
finger upon a rough groove that showed in the
window ledge, “that is some of their work and
there are more marks around the door and even
inside. Little Hendrik—that was the dog—and
I stood the siege for two days; he was a great
help, for he waked me twice in the night when I
had dropped asleep and the Indians were stealing
across the clearing. We stood them off easily
enough for a while, but it got to be bad when our
water gave out.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Oscar told the story as calmly as though it
concerned some one quite other than himself.
He would indeed have dropped the narrative
there had Hugh not urged him on with impatient
questions.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yes, by the third day we were badly off. So
when it was twilight I let little Hendrik out to go
down to the spring and drink. Would you think
it mattered to them whether a little black dog
lived or not? They knew that I—I liked him a
good deal, I suppose, for they killed him halfway
across the clearing. I heard a shot and a yelp
and ran out to him, but when I got there he was
dead.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“You ran out? Didn’t they shoot at you?”
Hugh exclaimed.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yes, and hit me too, but I didn’t even notice
it at the time. I carried little Hendrik back, and
if I was determined to hold out before, I was a
hundred times more determined then. It rained
that night and I caught a little water in a bucket
by the window, so I had that to go on, but I never
really knew quite how long the fight lasted. The
bullet had plowed across the back of my hand
and along my arm and had broken the bone just
above the elbow. It got very sore and made me
lightheaded, so for a while it seemed to be always
glaring daytime and for a while always
night. And then I seemed to wake up from a
long sleep and found the sun just coming up and
a fresh wind blowing off the lake and the pirates
gone. The clock had run down and I had lost
the place on the calendar and that was how I got
Sunday three days wrong.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And Jake and the Indians, did they all get
away?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“There were seven that came, and it seemed to
me that I could still count seven afterward where
I saw them walking around their cabin over there.
But I heard when I went to Rudolm that there
was not a sound man amongst them, and that
two of them had got enough of pirating forever
and did not come back to these parts. And while
it is pretty hard to see for certain, I believe Jake
limps still.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I think he does,” said Hugh, remembering
that tall figure striding away in the moonlight
down Rudolm’s single street.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Over yonder under that maple,” continued
Oscar, “is where I buried little Hendrik, so now
I have no company but Hulda. She is not much
good to talk to, Hulda isn’t, but she is a nice cow
in her way. It has been good to have you here,
Hugh, for it has been a little lonely since little
Hendrik was gone.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He laid his scarred hand on Hugh’s knee and
looked very steadily out across the hills. Hugh
sat very straight, staring at the Pirate’s house
with new and fascinated interest, thinking very
deeply. Presently he broke out again.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oscar,” he said, “why do you live here all
alone? You are in danger, you are not happy,
what good is it going to do you in the end?”</p>

<p class='c007'>His friend answered with a little hesitation,
his words coming almost shyly at first, but gradually
gathering headway as he put into speech the
thought that possessed his whole heart.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is on account of those people back in Rudolm.
They, and my father with them, came
over from Sweden, thinking, like children in a
fairy tale, that they were coming to a new world
where they were to be rich and happy always.
My father was the biggest man amongst them, I
think it must have been he who persuaded them to
come. He was so bitterly unhappy afterward
to see how poor and disappointed they were. He
gave me the best education he could and encouraged
me to work for an even better one after he
died; he said more than once that he hoped I could
help his comrades since he never could.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“How did they find such a place as Rudolm to
come to?” Hugh asked.</p>

<p class='c007'>“A good many Swedes had settled in this part
of the country, for it is like their own, the same
sort of hills and woods full of birch trees and
lakes and little rivers. And there was at that
time a great cry that these mountains were fabulously
rich in iron, some even said in gold and
silver, but the iron was thrilling enough. All
who could came flocking into Rudolm valley to
stake out a claim or to buy one, expecting to grow
rich in a single night. My father spent all the
money he had from selling his farm in Sweden
to buy a few stony acres—where now Linda and
her children work all day long to cut the
hay.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And there were no mines?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“A few, one or two that were worth working
if one had the money to put into them. Some
millionaire or other owns what there are, and
those Swedes who spent everything they had to
buy themselves a hole in the ground, they work
for him and live as best they can.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Why didn’t they all go back to Sweden
again?” Hugh inquired.</p>

<p class='c007'>“They were too proud,” said Oscar. “Would
it be easy, do you think, after your whole village
had turned out to do you honor, after your gateway
had been dressed with wreaths and branches
and all your neighbors had come in to wish you
good-by and good luck and to envy you a little,
in a friendly way, for your boldness and spirit in
going to America to make your fortune, would
it be easy to go back and say you were ruined?
No, one and all of them went stubbornly to work
and never a complaint went back to the Old
Country.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But I don’t quite see—” began Hugh.</p>

<p class='c007'>He could not understand what all this had to
do with Oscar’s living on a lonely hilltop in the
forest.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Linda and I often talked the whole matter
over,” Oscar went on, “and wondered what could
be done, but we never saw a way. Then one
day, when I had been hunting, I came as far as
this valley which Jake had just begun trying to
hold; it was then I saw suddenly whence help
could come. There are only rocky bits of ground
to be tilled near Rudolm, but here is land, and
prosperity for all even though it will not come in
a single day. I thought it out as I lay by my
campfire that night, and in the morning I could
hardly get home quickly enough to tell them of my
plan.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And wouldn’t they listen?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh had moved close up to him to make sure
of missing no single word. He was beginning
to see the reasons for some of the things he had
noticed in Rudolm, the tiny houses, the narrow
fields, the heavy sad faces. He thought of the
road, “Oscar’s road,” that went to the top of the
first hill, and stopped.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It was hard to make them heed, for they had
been deceived once, but in the end they began to
listen. The first step needed was to build a road
through the forest so that the new valley should
not be buried beyond the reach of the world.
We got together a little money, the men came
with their horses, their axes and picks and, at
the summer Festival, with laughing and singing
and a few tears too, so great a plan did it seem to
some, we began to push our way into the wilderness.
But the labor was harder than they
thought and the men began to be discouraged and
to quarrel and to mutter among themselves,
‘That mad Oscar Dansk, he and his father, they
were both dreamers of dreams.’ So the work
went slower and slower until we came at last to
the top of the hill.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You see it was Jake who had commenced to
make trouble. He began to think that this valley
where he hunted and fished would be lost to
him if settlers came. He threatened openly that
any man who worked longer on the road would
be shot in the dark some night, and he got the
women whispering that the whole affair was a
mad scheme that could come to nothing. So
they doubted and hesitated and finally lost heart.
And that was the end of our road-building.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But not the end forever, surely,” Hugh said.</p>

<p class='c007'>“No, for I made up my mind that if I could
not persuade them at that end I could show them
at this. I staked out a claim for a farm of my
own, and I mean to live here until it is mine and
those people in Rudolm see that it can be done
and that Jake’s threats must come to nothing in
the end. It takes fourteen months to prove up on
a claim, but my time is almost done.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And you have lived in this lonely place so
long as that,” Hugh exclaimed. “How did you
ever hold to that one idea for all this time?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I did not,” admitted Oscar, “for I went off
on a wild goose chase, but I came back again.
When I went down to Rudolm last April and
knew that war was declared, there was nothing
I thought of but that I must be a soldier or a
sailor as quickly as chance would let me. I
rushed down to Duluth to enlist; my scheme for
helping Rudolm was forgotten as though it had
never been.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Oscar’s tale stopped suddenly short. Hugh,
looking down, saw his big hand clench suddenly
upon his knee until the knuckles were white and
the cords stood out along his wrist. For a moment
the boy did not dare to speak.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Wouldn’t they take you, Oscar?” he said
gently at last.</p>

<p class='c007'>“They wouldn’t take me,” was the heavy answer,
as though even now the disappointment was
too keen to dwell upon. “It was on account of
what that fight with the pirates had done to my
arm, the bone had been injured so that the elbow
will only move halfway. I never believed it
amounted to anything, but every man at the recruiting
station thought otherwise.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“What did you say to them?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Say—I have no notion what I said. I
shouted and cursed at them, for such anger possessed
me as I had never known before. Finally
I flung out of the building and down the street,
not knowing or caring where I went. I wandered
all night, I think, for when at last I came
out on the docks where the Great Lakes’
freighters were loading, it was beginning to be
morning. I saw iron and steel and flour and
wheat all being dropped into those great holds,
to be carried overseas, so some one told me, to
help toward the winning of the war. I sat there
long in a sort of daze, and watched the steamers
loading, but at last, through my anger, through
the sight that was before my eyes I began to see
this valley again and to dream of what might
come out of it to help us win the war.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Iron—mines?” ventured Hugh inquiringly
after Oscar had sat quiet a minute, seeing his
vision again, perhaps.</p>

<p class='c007'>“No, there is iron in plenty near Rudolm and
in the ranges to the eastward, enough for all the
munition factories we have. No, no, what are
mines alongside of a great valley lying fallow,
ready to help feed a starving world? Can’t you
see those wild grass meadows cut up into great
square fields of green, can’t you see those slopes
all yellow with grain and rippling like water under
the autumn winds? It’s not iron—it’s not
gold—it’s wheat, man, wheat!”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh leaned forward, thrilling to the fervor
of Oscar’s tone. He looked at the wide valley
brimming with sunshine and abundant fertility,
and thought of what a gift it might offer to
famine-stricken France as she cried to America
for aid. He drew a long breath.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is a wonderful idea, Oscar,” he said. “But
can you do it?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I will do it,” said Oscar with all his slow
Swedish determination sounding in his voice.
“I saw it all as I stood and watched a big, black
freighter steaming away into the dawn toward—where
I wanted to go. I saw that if you serve,
you serve, and some other than yourself settles
where you are to be the most useful. So I went
over to the Land Office and explained what I
wanted to do and asked to double the size of my
claim.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“They should have given you the whole valley,”
Hugh said.</p>

<p class='c007'>“They didn’t,” his friend replied drily. “They
didn’t take any stock in me at all. I think they
thought I was trying to dodge military service
for they sent over to the recruiting office to see if
the facts I gave agreed at both places. An officer
came over himself to say, ‘If there is anything for
that shouting madman to spend his energies on,
in the name of Heaven, give it to him.’ So they
let me register for as much as I wanted and told
me to go back and hold it if I could. They were
pretty sure I couldn’t.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But you will, oh, Oscar, I know you will,”
Hugh said. “And now I see why you have called
it the Promised Land.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Oscar laughed a little shamefacedly.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is a foolish name perhaps and we will find
another when the settlers come. But now I call
it that just to—to keep my courage up. If you
have not something big to think of while you are
waiting, the loneliness might eat into your very
soul.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And after the settlers come the road will follow?”
said Hugh.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I have thought many times of how it will be,”
answered Oscar, leaning forward to point. “The
road will come winding down that hillside, white
and smooth and dusty with much travel. There
by that group of pines will be Linda’s house, with
a space for children to play in the meadow below.
Nels Larson’s place will be there just north of it
by that knoll, and Ole Peterson’s across the
stream. And by the bend of the river there will
be a little town with a school and white houses
with gardens and a church with a square spire,
just as it used to be in Sweden. I have pictured
it a hundred times as I sit here by the door. I
know every house and field and meadow, just how
it will all be. Sometimes I think I can almost
hear the church bells ring already or the children
calling to each other as they go across the fields
to school.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“It looks homelike, somehow, even without any
houses in it,” observed Hugh after a long survey
of the quiet landscape. “Oh, Oscar, how like
home it looked the day that I was lost and came
over that hill at last!”</p>

<p class='c007'>He hesitated a moment, for very little had been
said of his adventure in the wood. He had not
even let himself think of it often and, half defiant,
half ashamed, had avoided the subject, but now
let his spoken remorse come with a rush.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I am so sorry that I did not do just as you told
me. You looked for me for hours, I know, and
I have never owned that it was all my fault. And
I lost your rifle, too; I feel so dreadfully about
that. I thought that I could save time and that
you were too careful.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He sat thinking for a second, then added in a
sudden burst of illumination:</p>

<p class='c007'>“Perhaps that was why my father wouldn’t let
me go to France, because he knew I hadn’t sense
enough to obey orders. I understand now what
he meant by my not having enough judgment.
Oh, Oscar, I am so ashamed!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“It iss all right.” The Swedish accent in
Oscar’s voice sounded very distinctly as it was
apt to do when he was moved. “It was my fault
as much as yours; I should have warned you that
you would be tempted to do just such a thing.
When I waited for you and you did not come—well,
I am not so often frightened, but I was
afraid then. It is no little thing to be lost in
these woods. I wish—I wish—”</p>

<p class='c007'>He did not finish his sentence, but Hugh knew
that he was thinking of the Edmonds boys and of
how the search for them was growing more hopeless
every day. He, too, felt that despair was not
far off, but he had a feeling that, if either of them
spoke of it, the idea of failure would suddenly become
a real thing instead of a dreaded possibility.
He tried to turn the talk to another subject and
spoke the first words that entered his mind. It
was the most careless of questions, but it led to
such unexpected consequences that he used to
wonder, later, why the clock had not ceased ticking
or the rising breeze stopped blowing to listen
as he spoke.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Have you seen any wolves about here lately,
or that white deer that the Indians say is in the
forest?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Wolves never come so far south as this in
summer,” answered Oscar, then added sharply,
“Why?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Because when I was lost I stopped by a marsh
and—I haven’t really thought of it very clearly
since—but there were footprints in the ground
that were much too big to have been made by a
fox, I am sure, so I thought they were a wolf’s.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Oscar leaned toward him, his blue eyes suddenly
burning with excitement.</p>

<p class='c007'>“What sort of footprints?” he questioned
tersely. “How big? That makes all the difference
in the world.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Why, I don’t know,” stammered Hugh; “just
footprints of some big animal. They weren’t
very plain.”</p>

<p class='c007'>In wild haste Oscar fumbled in his pockets,
pulled out a pencil and, so great was his eagerness,
drew his rough outlines on the blank page
of his Bible.</p>

<p class='c007'>“If a fox had made them they would be this
big,” he said; “and if a wolf, like this. Were
they as big, bigger than that? As big as this?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh looked over his shoulder and pointed unhesitatingly
to the third drawing.</p>

<p class='c007'>“They were as large as that, or even larger,” he
stated. “Oh, what does it mean?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Oscar drew a long breath.</p>

<p class='c007'>“There is but one creature that could have
made them,” said he; “that is the dog Nicholas.
He is very large, and white, as large as a deer.
Now we have something to go upon at last.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He glanced quickly toward the west and
frowned as he noted that the sun was low.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is too late to go now,” he said, “and would
hardly be worth while, for I suppose the marks
were days old when you saw them. We will
have supper, and go to bed early for a start at
sunrise to-morrow.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Rising, he went into the cabin and, as Hugh
could plainly hear, began to whistle gayly as he
stirred the fire and brought out the frying pan.
He seemed much more cheerful already now that
there was, at last, a little hope. Hugh took up
his pail and went to finish his long interrupted
task of fetching water from the spring.</p>

<p class='c007'>He came running up the path a few minutes
later, spilling the water in wild splashes, and
burst in at the cottage door.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oscar,” he cried, “did you say that you were
sure Jake was still away?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yes,” answered Oscar, looking up from the
fire; “he can’t be back yet.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But he is,” insisted Hugh excitedly. “I
thought so, and now I know. Just this minute
I saw three men walk across the clearing and
there is smoke coming from the chimney of the
cabin on Jasper Peak. Just come to the door
and see.”</p>

<div class='chapter'>
  <h2 id='chapVII' class='c004'>CHAPTER VII</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>WHITHER AWAY?</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>It rained in the night, and blew so fiercely that
the windows of the little house rattled and the
door shook upon its hinges. When Hugh got up
in the morning, all eagerness for the expedition,
there was watery sunlight showing, but great
gusts of wind were still thundering down the valley
and the air was raw and chilly. The smiling
autumn landscape of scarlet and gold was totally
transformed; the flaming leaves had disappeared
in one stormy night and the brown woods stood
bare and bleak and cold.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I wish this storm had waited just one day
longer,” said Oscar as they were having breakfast
before the welcome blaze of the big fire.
“There may even be snow now before many
hours.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He did not say, “If only you had remembered
one day sooner what you saw in the wood!”
Hugh felt that the thought must be in his mind,
so large did it loom in his own. But Oscar’s
fashion of never wasting words was contagious,
so he, too, said nothing.</p>

<p class='c007'>As he opened the door to go out and feed
Hulda, he heard, above the booming of the wind,
a steady dull roar that was quite new to his ears.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That is the stream that runs this side of Jasper
Peak,” Oscar explained. “You could hardly
believe how one night’s rain can carry it over its
banks. Even less of a storm than this will sometimes
make it impassable. Fortunately, where I
want to go to-day is on this side and I will not
have to try to cross it. But I may not be back
until long after dark.”</p>

<p class='c007'>It was not like Oscar to say “I” when there
were two to talk about. Hugh noted this with a
sinking of the heart.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oscar,” he cried, turning back from the door,
“am I not going, too?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Oscar slowly shook his head.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I’m so sorry,” he said with evident understanding
of Hugh’s disappointment, “but you see
if Jake is really back we can’t risk leaving the
cabin alone. The claim is nearly established now
and the closer we come to the end, the closer we
come to trouble. There is bound to be one more
row before the thing finally goes through.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“What sort of a row, Oscar?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Oscar looked down at his scarred hand and
smiled reflectively.</p>

<p class='c007'>“A row like the others we have had,” he said
quietly, “only this time a really good one.
Good-by.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He took up his pack and went out without another
word. The furious wind seemed to seize
him and whirl him away the moment he stepped
outside the door. Hugh had not answered his
farewell, for he was disappointed and indignant
at being left behind and he did not mind how
plainly Oscar saw it. After all, it was he himself
who had seen the footprints by the marsh;
he ought to be the person to go and look for them
again. He went out to feed Hulda, slamming
the door smartly behind him and never looking at
Oscar, who was still in sight, trudging along the
open ridge above the valley. Hugh understood
now why Oscar had asked so many questions
about the region where the footprints had been
seen, about how long the boy had walked before
he came in sight of the cabin, about the contour
of the land and the direction in which the shadows
fell.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh, as he moved sulkily toward the shed,
began composing bitter speeches to be launched at
Oscar when he should return. He stopped for
a moment and looked across at Jasper Peak and
the shack high up on its rocky shoulder. Yes,
there was the plume of smoke again, torn and
whirled about by the wind, but still sending up its
ominous signal. He turned to open the shed
door. He would tell Oscar plainly that—that—But,
after all, why should Oscar have gone at all?
It was a forlorn hope at the best for which he
was risking everything, leaving in Hugh’s safe-keeping
property that was infinitely valuable in
the light of the purpose it was to serve. A sudden
change of feeling overcame Hugh, filling him
with shame for his blind ill-temper.</p>

<p class='c007'>He ran back to the top of the hill to see Oscar
just about to disappear into the forest. It was
too far for a shout to carry, but, yes, Oscar looked
back just as he plunged into the wood. Hugh
raised his arm high in a gesture of farewell and
Oscar waved his woolen cap in generous-hearted
understanding. Thus good feeling was reëstablished
between them before they parted, parted
for a longer time than either of them could have
thought.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh went back to attend to Hulda’s wants
for the day. She was a patient cow, but even
she looked around at him in reproachful surprise
over the awkwardness of his good offices.</p>

<p class='c007'>“And I suppose I will have to try to milk her
to-night,” he reflected with some misgiving. He
was not sure that her patience and forbearance
were great enough for him to attempt such a feat.</p>

<p class='c007'>As he returned to the cabin he was wondering
how he was to spend the lonely day. There were,
he found, however, any number of things to be
done, pans to be cleaned, water to be carried, some
last weeds and dried stalks to be cleared from
Oscar’s vegetable garden and in the small field
that he had cultivated. Oscar had managed to
raise quite a store of wheat, had ground it by
hand in the rude little mill that he had constructed
himself and had put it aside for use during the
winter. He had potatoes, too, and beans, turnips
and other vegetables that could be dried or stored,
so that the supplies that must be carried so laboriously
from Rudolm need be the fewest possible.</p>

<p class='c007'>After he had finished his work in the cabin
and had cooked his dinner, trying to imitate
Oscar’s skill in tossing flapjacks and not succeeding
very well, Hugh took an ax and went out
to the edge of the forest to cut wood. Gathering
the winter’s fuel was an endless task, one upon
which he and Oscar spent all of their extra time.
He looked across at Jasper Peak again as he
came out, but a curtain of rain was falling between
him and the mountain and the cabin opposite
was invisible. It was growing colder and
colder, the wind coming in icy gusts and the roar
of the flooded stream becoming louder as darkness
fell. Hugh worked actively all afternoon,
as much for the sake of keeping warm and occupied,
as for what he might accomplish. He had
a generous store of wood to reward him for his
heavy toil when at last it grew so late that he
could see to wield the ax no longer. He walked
heavily back to the cabin, wet and weary and
wishing that Oscar would come home. In the
shelter of the trees he had not noticed the wind
and was amazed at its strength when he crossed
the open ridge and ran for the cabin door.</p>

<p class='c007'>On looking at the clock he realized that he had
spent more time in the forest than he had intended
and that he must make haste about his evening
tasks. The fire was nearly out and did not
wish to burn, for the wood was wet and the wind,
whistling down the chimney, filled the room with
sparks and smoke. He grew impatient and irritated
at last, kicked the logs into place and received
in return such a puff of ashes in his face
that he was nearly choked. As he went to the
door for a breath of fresh air, he remembered,
with sudden dismay, that he must milk Hulda.</p>

<p class='c007'>For a long time after, Hugh preferred not to
remember that interview between himself and
the indignant cow. Even when he did think of
it, he realized that Hulda showed the greatest
forbearance and that the kick she gave him was
probably an involuntary one, administered when
cow nature could endure no more. She looked
around at him a moment later with apology in
her mild brown eyes, encouraging him to forget
his smarting knee, to sit down upon the stool and
attempt the task again. At last he straightened
his aching back and stood gazing with pride at
the bucket half full of foaming milk.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You are a good cow, Hulda,” he confided to
her; “there are not many who would stand for
what you have.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Very carefully he carried his prize back to the
house, slipping and stumbling on the wet path,
but taking the greatest care that not a drop should
be spilled. He felt prouder of having milked
Hulda without assistance than of anything he
had ever before achieved; he did wish that Oscar
would come home to see. He stood a minute by
the cabin door, trying with vain eyes to peer
through the darkness. Nothing was visible,
hardly even the hand he held before his face,
nothing would pierce that heavy blackness but the
rushing of the flooded stream and the calling of
the wind. With a great sigh he turned at last,
fumbled for the latch of the door and stepped
inside.</p>

<p class='c007'>The fire had burned up during his absence,
making the room look warm and cozy, a welcome
sight after the storm and rain without. He lit
the lamp upon the table, then looked up uneasily
at the clock on the wall. Its hands pointed to
nine. He carried the lamp to the window, drew
back the curtains and set it on the sill.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I wish Oscar would come,” he said aloud.</p>

<p class='c007'>So busy had he been that he had not had his
supper yet. His unaccustomed hands and his
great hunger both served to make the process a
lengthy one, so that when he had finished and set
things in order again, it was nearly eleven. To
tell the truth, he had kept himself occupied as
long as he could in an effort to ignore the fact
that the storm, bad as it had been all day, was
growing worse. Rain thundered on the roof of
the cabin with a noise that was almost deafening,
paused a moment, then came pouring down again.
The windows shook and the lamp flared and flickered
in the sudden gusts that seemed to be trying
to snatch the little dwelling from its foundations.
Once during a momentary pause in the tumult he
heard the sharp crack and then the slow crashing
of a tree blown down in the forest. How
could a storm be so terrible and still grow ever
worse? Oh, why did not Oscar come home?</p>

<p class='c007'>He built up the dying fire and established himself
in the rough armchair to wait. He blinked
up at the clock; it was midnight now. In spite
of his discomfort, in spite of all his anxiety and
his determination to keep awake, he fell into a
doze.</p>

<p class='c007'>A sound aroused him, he had no idea just how
much later. It was a strange noise at the door,
one that at first made him think that here was
Oscar come home at last. He jumped up and ran
eagerly to admit him, but stopped with his hand
almost upon the latch. It was not Oscar, it was
no human being that was making that panting
sound outside, that pushing and shouldering of
some huge body against the door. His heart
seemed to stand still as he waited for a second,
watching the rude boards shake and tremble
under the impact of that strange pressure.
Something sniffed and snuffled along the crack at
the threshold, something padded back and forth
out there in the dark, then the soft fumbling and
shouldering began again.</p>

<p class='c007'>“If I push the table across the door—” thought
Hugh, but the idea came a second too late.</p>

<p class='c007'>The latch suddenly gave way, the door flew
open, letting in a blast of wind and rain and
blowing out the lamp, so that the cabin was left
in inky darkness. A vast white form sprang into
the room, knocking Hugh into a corner, striking
against a chair and upsetting it with a crash.
Then there was utter silence, broken only by a
quick panting over by the inner doorway where
the invading creature must be standing.</p>

<p class='c007'>With a great effort Hugh managed to close the
door against the fury of the wind. Still there
was quiet, no movement from that corner whence
the quick breathing came. Very slowly he took
up the lamp, managed to steady his shaking hand
and fumble for a match. He set the lamp on the
table, lit the wick and turned the light full upon
his strange visitor. Even when he saw the creature
clearly he could not, for a moment, grasp
what it really was. It was a dog, but such an
enormous dog as Hugh had never seen before.
Its shaggy coat was white, and so wet with the
rain that water dripped from it and ran pattering
to the floor. Motionless, it stood there, still panting
from the effort of forcing its way in, and
gazing steadily at Hugh with its great melancholy
black eyes. He had never seen such an animal
before, still there was something familiar—yes,
he could have no doubt. It was the dog of the
picture, Dick Edmonds’ dog, it was Nicholas!</p>

<p class='c007'>The two stood long, staring at each other without
moving, then the dog advanced very slowly
and began sniffing delicately at the edge of
Hugh’s coat. For all his size, he seemed to be
shy and nervous, jumping back when the boy
sought to lay a hand on his long head, advancing
again when he was not looking to sniff at his
clothes again and determine whether this was
friend or foe. All his dignity disappeared, however,
when Hugh brought some food and set it
upon the hearth before him. He fell upon it with
wolfish ferocity, as though he had not eaten a full
meal in weeks. He tore at the meat, crunched
the bones and looked gratefully up at Hugh from
time to time, wagging his long brush of a tail that
swept the floor. But he did not eat all the food,
ravenous as he seemed to be. When the first
edge of his starvation was dulled, when the
warmth of the fire had dried and warmed him
so that he ceased to shiver, he stopped eating,
went to the door and whined to be gone.</p>

<p class='c007'>“What’s the matter, old fellow, aren’t you
happy here?” Hugh asked, whereat the dog
came to him, nuzzled his hand with his long wet
nose, then ran to the door again.</p>

<p class='c007'>His insistence was so great that at last Hugh
felt forced to lift the latch, open the door and let
him go. He bounded over the sill and disappeared
instantly into the dark. Not for long,
however, for Hugh had not had time to close the
door before he was back again, shoving his nose
beseechingly into the boy’s hand, jumping about
him and whining again and again. There was
no doubting what it was he wished.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It’s a nice night for you to be asking me to go
out with you,” remonstrated Hugh, “but—well,
you are Dick Edmonds’ dog and we have been
looking for you and him for a long time.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He stepped back into the cabin with Nicholas at
his heels and took up his coat and cap. At the
sight of this, the dog’s joy knew no bounds; he
leaped about so that the furniture of the little
cabin rocked and swayed under the force of his
gigantic delight. Hugh put on his warmest
clothes, got out a pack and put into it blankets,
food, matches, anything he could think of that
might be needed. He had no idea how far Nicholas
would lead him, how long he would be gone
or what he should find. At the last minute he
took Oscar’s revolver down from the wall; there
had been two, but one his friend had evidently
taken with him. He quenched the fire, put out
the light and was finally ready. With Nicholas
running ahead, barking in loud delight now that
his desire was understood at last, they set out
into the storm.</p>

<p class='c007'>The rain was still driving in sheets across the
hill and the wind sweeping furiously along the
open spaces. The darkness was so dense that at
first Hugh could do nothing but feel his way
down the trail which Nicholas so unhesitatingly
followed. When his eyes became a little more
used to the dark, however, and the trees began
to shelter him from the stinging rain, he could
make out the windings of the steep path, could
distinguish the dog, white and ghostly, traveling
steadily ahead of him, and finally could see the
foaming white flood of the stream that poured
downward to the lake between him and Jasper
Peak. Nicholas advanced to the very edge of
the creek, stopped and looked back.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You don’t mean that we are to cross that?”
exclaimed Hugh in dismay, gazing down at the
tossing water.</p>

<p class='c007'>Such, however, was plainly Nicholas’ intention,
for without further hesitation he plunged in and
began to swim across. The wild current caught
him and whirled him down the stream, as Hugh
could just make out. The black mass of a floating
log shot by and barely missed him, but none
the less he struggled on and finally, a dim white
form in the dark, scrambled out upon the opposite
bank.</p>

<p class='c007'>What a dog could just barely accomplish was
certainly impossible for a boy with a heavy pack.
Hugh remembered that half a mile up the stream
a huge tree had fallen across from bank to bank,
making a bridge by which he might get over if
the rush of the flood had not carried it away.
Nicholas, whining with anxiety, followed along
on the other shore, as Hugh made his way with
difficulty to where the tree should be. Yes, it
was still there, high out of water at each end but
with the furious current pouring across it in the
middle. It looked like none too safe a crossing,
but it was the only one. He attempted, at first,
to walk upright, but soon found that impossible,
so stooped, and was at length reduced to crawling
painfully along on hands and knees. The cold
water swirled about him as he approached the
center of the stream, the current seemed trying,
with direct intent, to tear loose his hold and wash
him away. The tree-trunk quivered and trembled
under the mighty force that was hurled
against it, but it held under his weight as slowly
he crawled along, felt the current lessen, came
into quieter water and was at last safe on the
other side, with Nicholas standing up to lick his
face.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Now, then, where next?” questioned Hugh
as the dog immediately set off up the mountain.
The rain and wind were less violent on this side
of the ravine, so that their progress was quicker
as they climbed upward. It was fortunate that it
was so dark, Hugh thought, for it seemed as
though they were about to pass uncomfortably
close to the Pirate’s cabin. He plodded on, stumbling
over roots, scrambling through bushes, finding
the way very rough indeed. It was not until
they came to the edge of a clearing and saw before
him a little house with one lighted window
and with Nicholas standing waiting on the doorstep
that he realized what was to be the goal of
this strange night journey.</p>

<p class='c007'>Even then he thought of turning back. The
perils of the rain-swept forest and of the swollen
floods were as nothing to the dangers lurking in
that evil dwelling that blinked at him with one
staring red eye. Had not Nicholas run quickly
through the dark to lick his hand, had he not
thought once more of the lost Edmonds brothers
and how he had pledged himself to help them, it
is possible that he might not have gone on. Yet
at last he stepped out of the woods, and, very
firm and straight, walked across the clearing to
the house.</p>

<p class='c007'>He stopped for a moment upon the step and
listened. There was not a sound from within.
Was the place empty, or had some one heard him
coming and was waiting, in stealthy quiet, until
he should enter? What was that, a sigh perhaps,
more like a stifled moan? Without further
hesitation he pushed open the door and
stepped inside.</p>

<div class='chapter'>
  <h2 id='chapVIII' class='c004'>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>A NIGHT’S LODGING</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>It had been the intense darkness of the night
outside that had made the cabin window look
bright, for the room into which Hugh came was
lit only by a dying fire. Close to the hearth a
big chair had been drawn and in this some one
was sitting, some one who whispered and muttered
to himself and stirred uneasily but did not
look round. Nicholas ran to him and began licking
the thin hand that hung limply over the arm
of the chair. A lantern stood on the table, but
it had evidently burned out. A canvas pack,
half-emptied, with its blankets trailing out upon
the floor, lay on a bench. It was quite evident
that, besides the man in the chair, there was no
one in the cabin.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh went over to him, but still he did not look
up. The boy touched the hand that Nicholas
was licking and found it burning with fever.
The man was very thin; he had on the rough
clothes that every one wears in the woods, but he
was fair-skinned and as unlike Half-Breed Jake
and his companions as it was possible to be. It
needed no very long reflection to make it clear to
Hugh that this was John Edmonds.</p>

<p class='c007'>Although it was quite true that Hugh did not
know very much of the woodcraft and that, at
milking Hulda, he had come very near to being a
flat failure, there were still some crises to which
he was equal, for he was not a country doctor’s
son for nothing. He had helped his father more
than once in emergencies very like this one, so
that he was not long at a loss what to do. John
Edmonds must certainly be got to bed, but one
look at the bunks against the walls and the filthy
rags that lay piled upon them, assured Hugh that
the floor was infinitely preferable. He unpacked
his own blankets, gathered up those that lay on
the bench and made a bed upon the rough board
flooring. It required almost unbelievable effort
to arouse John Edmonds and move him, helplessly
weak as he was, to the improvised couch. Hugh
did not stop to rekindle the lantern, but flung
more wood upon the fire and by its light went
about the task of getting his patient partly undressed
and of making him more comfortable.</p>

<p class='c007'>During these ministrations, poor Nicholas, not
realizing that his share of usefulness was over,
contrived to make himself continually in the way.
He seemed at least ten sizes too big for the tiny
cabin and to have the idea that the best thing he
could do was to keep as near to Edmonds as possible.
Hugh pushed him out of the way a score
of times, stumbled over him in the half dark and
felt, every time he stood still for a moment, that
cold nose pushed into his hand as though the big
dog were begging him to do his best. At last the
worried creature subsided, and lay down at the
sufferer’s feet, with his chin on his paws and his
dark eyes still following Hugh wherever he went.
The boy tried everything he knew and, finally,
kneeling beside his patient on the floor, was rewarded
by seeing the uneasy stupor pass into
something like natural slumber. He waited a
long time to assure himself that Edmonds’ breathing
was easier and quieter and that he really slept.
Then he got up stiffly, mended the fire once more
and began to explore the resources of the little
cabin.</p>

<p class='c007'>In a store-shed behind the one room he found
an open window, through which Nicholas had
evidently made his way when he had set out on
his own expedition. He also discovered a can
of oil, with which he filled the lantern so that it
could be lit again. The yellow light, falling upon
the table, showed him something that he had not
seen before, a note scrawled hastily in pencil on
brown paper.</p>

<p class='c007'>“John,” it ran, “I have gone for help, but not
to Oscar Dansk, because I promised you I would
not. I have gone to the Indian village at Two
Rivers and will try to send some one into Rudolm
for a doctor. I will be back before a great many
hours. Dick.”</p>

<p class='c007'>With the letter still in his hand, Hugh sat down
beside the fire to try to think the matter out. It
was evident that the two Edmonds had taken
shelter from the storm in the Pirate’s cabin and
that John had become so ill that his younger
brother, in alarm, had gone for aid. Their
plight must have been desperate indeed for Dick
to leave his brother alone in such a place. But
why should he have gone so far when just across
the ravine help was to be had? Why did he
speak of a promise? It was very hard to understand!</p>

<p class='c007'>Nicholas arose from where he had been lying
and came to stand beside him, arching his curly
neck as Hugh stroked it, and trying to burrow his
head under the boy’s arm.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You could tell me all about it if you could
talk,” said Hugh in a whisper. “Oh, dear, it is
such a puzzle, I wish you could.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He began to remember now that Jethro had
dropped some hint of a misunderstanding between
John Edmonds and Oscar Dansk. He had
hardly noticed it when it had been mentioned, but
now he commenced to recall the fact more clearly.</p>

<p class='c007'>“In the end even John Edmonds lost faith in
Oscar’s plan about the road, and that nearly
broke his heart,” Jethro had said.</p>

<p class='c007'>Plainly, the quarrel had been a serious one, if
Edmonds was so determined not to receive aid
from Oscar’s hands. And how had Oscar taken
it? Even at that moment he was out there in
the storm, risking his life, risking the plan for
which he cared even more than life—he was doing
this for the friend with whom he had quarreled.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh, Nicholas,” exclaimed Hugh as he
squeezed the big dog’s ears, “oh, Nicholas, that
Oscar Dansk is a real man!”</p>

<p class='c007'>One thing still so puzzled him that his baffled
thoughts came back to it again and again. Was
it the two Edmonds who had occupied the Pirate’s
shack yesterday, that quiet Sunday when
he and Oscar had sat talking so long before the
cottage door? Was it the smoke from their fire
that he had seen rising from the chimney?</p>

<p class='c007'>After long reflection, during which his
thoughts began to wander sleepily here and there
and had to be brought back again with a jerk,
he began to be certain that it could not have been
the two Edmonds brothers. He himself had
seen three men walk across the clearing and from
the letter he could make sure that Dick and his
brother had been alone. Besides, the distance
was not so great that he could not have made out
so big a creature as Nicholas, had the dog been
with them. Evidently the pirates had come and
gone before the storm—but why? Evidently the
Edmonds, after the wind and rain had come on
in such fierceness, had taken refuge there—but
how did they dare? And, evidently, he was
growing very sleepy now, but the force of this
new thought served to rouse him completely
again, evidently the pirates would be returning—and
when?</p>

<p class='c007'>The night wore to a slow end, and day broke
at last. With the first gray light there came a
change in his patient, the fever was succeeded by
chills and shivering and for an hour Hugh was
doing his utmost with hot blankets and warming
drinks. Gradually the trembling stopped and
John Edmonds, opening his eyes, gave Hugh a
look of bewildered amazement and stared about
him as though the cabin and the boy were both
totally unfamiliar. It was not until his eyes fell
upon Nicholas that he seemed satisfied and
dropped off to sleep again. It was broad daylight
now and time for Hugh to realize that he was
exceedingly hungry. He fell to examining his
own stores, Edmonds’ and Half-Breed Jake’s, to
see what the combined larder afforded. There
was not much in his pack, for he had not thought
he would be very long away from the cottage;
there was nothing in Edmonds’, but quite a supply
of flour and bacon in Jake’s store room.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I don’t care to use anything that belongs to
that gang unless I have to,” he thought. “It was
probably all stolen in the first place.”</p>

<p class='c007'>As he was putting one of the bags back into
place, he knocked down a gun that had been
standing in the corner and that now fell at his
feet with a loud clatter. He picked it up and
recognized with delight that it was Oscar’s rifle,
the same one that he himself had dropped in the
woods the day that he was lost. This would be a
prize indeed to take back with him when the time
should come to go. But how had the pirates
come by it? Had somebody been following that
day in the forest, was the same somebody even
now following Oscar wherever he had gone?</p>

<p class='c007'>He made his breakfast and fed Nicholas from
his own supplies. Fortunately he knew enough
not to try to give food to John Edmonds, who
was sleeping uneasily again, as though the fever
was once more beginning to rise. Hugh, sitting
beside him, began to do some very intense calculating
as to who would be the most likely to come
back first, Dick Edmonds or Half-Breed Jake.
It was impossible to tell, he could only wait. He
sat, staring down at his patient for a long time.
The only proper thing to do was to try to get
him across the ravine to Oscar’s cottage, but
could a boy of sixteen possibly hope to convey a
heavy, helpless man that far? To all of his questionings
this was the only one to which there was
a definite answer. And the answer was no.</p>

<p class='c007'>The morning passed, one slow hour after another.
It was still raining heavily, with water
pouring from the edge of the cabin roof and
streaming down the windows, and with the
flooded creek still thundering in the ravine below.
Every minute that passed brought nearer the
possible return of Half-Breed Jake, since, so
Hugh began to think, he must certainly be the
one to come first. More than once he thought
he heard steps outside and felt of his revolver to
be ready for whatever might come, but each time
it proved to be a false alarm. Finally he sat
down at the table, facing the door, and laid his
revolver before him, to wait as best he could.
He had risen very early the morning that Oscar
had gone away alone—was it a day or a week
ago? At least he knew that he had slept very
little since and that he must, at all costs, keep
awake now. Yet slowly his head began to nod,
to droop further toward the table; finally it rested
on his arms and he was asleep.</p>

<p class='c007'>It was the deepest of slumbers into which he
had fallen, yet he came out of it with a suddenness
that left him dazed. Nicholas was leaping
at the door, barking loudly to herald some one’s
coming, sniffing along the threshold, then barking
and leaping again. Hugh jumped up, so stiff
that he could not move quickly. He took up his
revolver and tried to reach the door, but was only
half way across the room when it swung open,
and Dick Edmonds came in.</p>

<p class='c007'>He was drenched and dripping, and he, too,
held a revolver in his hand. The two boys stared
at each other for a long moment, then burst into
roars of laughter. The long strain, the sudden
desperate tension, the relief of each one at seeing
a friend when he expected to confront an enemy,
was quite too much for both. Even while they
laid down their threatening weapons and shook
hands they were still laughing. It was Dick who
sobered first and went over to stoop down by his
brother.</p>

<p class='c007'>“He must have been getting steadily worse
from the time I got him here,” he said. “Poor
old Johnny, if he had been as badly off as this I
would never have left him. But this was as far
as I could get him alone and I was so desperate
that I went off for help. I had been hoping
against hope that Jake and his gang were away
for some time, but when I saw by the muddy
footprints on the doorstep that some one had gone
in since I went away, I can tell you I was anxious.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Did you bring some one back with you?”
asked Hugh.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I never got to Two Rivers at all,” replied Dick.
“The first stream I came to was so far over its
banks that I walked for hours trying to find a
place to cross and couldn’t. At last I realized
that, even if I got help, it would risk leaving John
alone too long, so I turned back. A lot of good
I did by going!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“The thing now,” said Hugh, “is to get your
brother away as quickly as we can. The pirates
will be coming back any minute.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I doubt if even the pair of us could ever get
him to Two Rivers,” Dick returned doubtfully.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We’ll take him across to Oscar Dansk’s house,
there beyond the ravine,” Hugh said.</p>

<p class='c007'>Dick hesitated, stammered and flushed.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I promised—” he began.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Whatever you promised,” Hugh interrupted
him, “you will not be asking for help from Oscar
Dansk. He is not there.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Where is he?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Out in the woods—looking for you.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Dick shook his head slowly.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That beats me,” he said. “I always thought
poor Johnny was wrong about Oscar. I never
really understood about that quarrel myself.
And lately John was too sick to know quite what
he did think, and he made me promise over and
over, when he knew that we might be somewhere
near where Oscar lived, that I would not go to
him for help. They are both so obstinately
proud. But I can see for myself that the only
thing now is to do as you say. I should like to
know how you ever got here, Hugh, and about a
hundred other things, but we won’t spend time
on explanations just yet. I suppose we can make
a stretcher of blankets and carry him between us
somehow.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Their preparations were quickly made. John
Edmonds, still unconscious, was lifted to the rude
litter they had constructed, and was carried out
of the cabin. They had covered him well against
the wind and rain, but the journey would be a
perilous one for him, none the less. Slowly, and
with frequent pauses, they got him across the
clearing and down the hill to the stream, then
along its bank to where the fallen tree still held
its place. With the decreasing of the furious
rain the flood had dropped a little, so that to-day
the whole of the rude bridge was out of water.
How they got across, Hugh did not ever quite
know. The tree swayed and shook more than it
had done before, for the water had undermined
the banks and made the frail support even more
uncertain. They worked their way across, holding
their burden high between them, and breathed
a monstrous sigh of relief when at last they were
on firm ground again. Nicholas would not trust
their way of crossing, but swam over, with much
difficulty, and was waiting for them on the other
shore.</p>

<p class='c007'>They were a tired and breathless pair when
they had finally carried Edmonds up the steep
trail and into Oscar’s cottage. Most eagerly, as
they approached the house, did Hugh look for
some sign of his friend’s return. But the door
and the windows were closed, the chimney smokeless,
there was no one there. Only Hulda
greeted them with an impatient call and loud
stampings on the floor of her shed, to signify her
indignation at having been forgotten so long.
Hugh did not stop for any vain wonderings.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Can you get your brother to bed alone,” he
asked Dick, “while I go back?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Go back!” exclaimed Dick. “What for?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“For the things we had to leave behind,” Hugh
answered, “and for Oscar’s rifle. I dropped it in
the woods and Jake had picked it up. I would
risk anything to get it back for him.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“You should not go,” Dick insisted; “the pirates
may come back any second now.”</p>

<p class='c007'>But the door had already closed behind Hugh
and he was speeding down the trail with Nicholas
at his heels. They crossed the stream, even the
dog being willing to use the bridge this time
after his last experience with the wild current.
Hugh reached the cabin and secured the rifle and
the two packs that still lay upon the table.</p>

<p class='c007'>“What luck I have had,” he thought exultantly.
“Now I suppose I ought to put out the fire; it
would not be fair to risk burning up their cabin,
no matter who they are.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He had stepped back to the hearth when a low
growl from Nicholas startled him to sudden attention.
The big dog was standing with ears
and head up and the hair on his back beginning
to bristle. Tiptoeing to the window, Hugh
peered cautiously out. There, on the side of the
clearing away from the stream, he saw three men
coming out of the edge of the wood. Even at
that distance he could recognize the tall figure
and swarthy face of Half-Breed Jake as he came
up the hill a little ahead of the other two. The
door was on the opposite side of the cabin, so that
Hugh could slip out undiscovered, but it was a
long, long open slope that lay between him and
the sheltering woods.</p>

<p class='c007'>Down the hill he plunged, cutting off corners of
the trail, leaping over the rocks and scrambling
through the low-growing bushes. Nicholas
seemed to cover the distance in two bounds with
a speed that Hugh greatly envied. He was burdened
with the two heavy packs and the rifle
slung across his shoulders, but, by some instinctive
obstinacy, he would not drop them for the
pirates to capture.</p>

<p class='c007'>For a minute he thought he could escape unseen,
but his progress was slower than he thought
and he had delayed in the cabin an instant too
long. A shout behind him told that he was discovered.
He looked desperately upward as a
clattering of feet sounded on the stony trail and
saw three men cross the top of the hill and come
running down the path.</p>

<div class='chapter'>
  <h2 id='chapIX' class='c004'>CHAPTER IX</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>PERIL AT THE BRIDGE</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>Any person of real judgment, so Hugh realized
even at the time, would have thrown
away the pack and rifle and run to safety unimpeded.
He did think of it, but somehow he could
not. So he stumbled on, the men behind him
gaining, the river and the fallen tree seeming a
long distance away. He reached the sheltering
underbrush, turned sharply upstream and was
hidden for a moment from his pursuers as they
came dashing down the hill. He had just leaped
upon the tree-trunk when they came out upon the
bank.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Look out, Hugh,” came a shout from the
other shore, where stood Dick, who had shamelessly
deserted his brother. “Look out! They
are going to shoot.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh did not stop to look, but ducked quickly
and heard a bullet whistle over his head. The
next second, “ping,” another buried itself in the
pack that hung from his shoulder. The impact
almost destroyed his balance; he staggered and
dropped to his knees and crawled the last few
yards to safety.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Are you hurt?” cried Dick. “Are you safe?
Lie down behind that log until they have stopped
shooting.”</p>

<p class='c007'>In absolute defiance of his own advice he, as
well as Nicholas, was standing among the trees,
the one shouting, the other barking in wild excitement.
But Hugh would not come, for his very
danger on the now tottering bridge had given him
an idea for the furthering of their own safety.
He was standing knee deep in the running water
with his shoulder against the tree-trunk, pushing
against it with all his might.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Go back; stay with your brother,” he called to
Dick. “What would he do if you were to be
shot?”</p>

<p class='c007'>A bullet carried away his woolen cap and
another cut the bark beside his hand, but he did not
give up. He pushed until the big tree swayed,
moved a little, then suddenly rolled all the way
over. Just as the first Indian’s foot was upon it,
the great log fell splashing into the water, was
whirled over and over by the current and rushed
away down stream. Dripping and delighted,
Hugh ran up the trail to join Dick, the angry
bullets still whistling behind him. He looked
back to see one of the Indians wade into the
water, stand waist deep, reeling under the force
of the flood, then struggle back to the shore. All
three of the pirates strode away through the
bushes, talking earnestly together.</p>

<p class='c007'>For some time after the boys returned to the
cabin they were busied caring for John Edmonds.
While they were working, they exchanged
their various experiences, so that Dick learned
how Hugh came to be in the cabin on Jasper
Peak, and Hugh, of the Edmonds’ adventures in
the forest.</p>

<p class='c007'>This illness of John’s, it seemed, had been
coming on gradually. Dick had noticed that
he was restless, erratic and worried over his
work, at which he often had to toil late into the
night. The hunting trip, Dick had thought,
would help to put him on his feet again, and he
had, indeed, seemed better the first day, but after
that grew rapidly worse.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It was the last thing we could do together,”
Dick explained, “for I was going to enlist when
I got back; I had only been waiting until they
could find some one to fill my place at the mine.
We started off in great spirits; the Indian, Kaniska,
was our guide, a man we had had before,
who always seemed reliable enough. He was a
friend of John’s, in a way, and that queer squaw
of his, Laughing Mary, had always professed to
be devoted to us, especially to my brother. I
can’t imagine how Kaniska could have done such
a thing to us.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And what did he do?” inquired Hugh eagerly.</p>

<p class='c007'>“He took us in a direction we had never been
before,” said Dick, “through a perfect network
of streams and little lakes and swamps, and made
us push on as fast as we could, saying that we
were getting to a place where there was famous
shooting. We did not camp until very late that
first night and I was so tired that I slept like the
dead. When I woke up in the morning, he was
gone.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“He left you alone?” exclaimed Hugh in
horror.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Not only that, but he took all our stores with
him, and our axes and our compass. To leave
men in the woods, stripped of everything they
need, is very little short of murder. I had been
sleeping with my rifle beside me, so he didn’t dare
take that. It was the only thing that saved us.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And you have lived only on what you could
shoot?” questioned Hugh. “Why, you must be
half famished!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I am,” assented Dick, cheerfully, “rather
more than half, to tell the truth, but we must
attend to Johnny first.”</p>

<p class='c007'>When at last there was time to stir up the fire
and prepare a meal, Hugh realized on seeing
Dick eat how near he had been to real starvation.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Berries and things are pretty scarce so late in
the year as this,” Dick continued his tale as they
sat at the table. “I managed to catch a few fish
now and then, and I shot any kind of bird that I
could hit. We ate some queer things, but you
get so that you don’t care much. Nicholas could
catch rabbits and he always brought them to me,
although, poor fellow, he could have eaten a hundred
of them himself.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He related how, after a few hours of bewildered
searching for the vanished Indian, he had
decided that the stream upon which they were
encamped, being larger than the others and flowing
north, must be the outlet of Red Lake and
was therefore the best guide to follow. If he
could find the lake, he could find Rudolm, he
thought, but what a long and hopeless way it
seemed! Now and then, in trying to cut off some
of the windings of the stream, they had strayed
away from it altogether and had only found it
again after the loss of much time and effort.</p>

<p class='c007'>“And all the time Johnny kept getting sicker
and sicker,” he said, “so that I got more frightened
about him than about anything else. At
night he would be out of his head, sometimes,
and in the daytime he would just trudge along at
my heels and never say a word. Only once, when
I said that if we ever found the lake we might
come out somewhere near Oscar Dansk’s house,
he got furiously angry and made me promise that
I would never ask him for help. I don’t know
yet what idea he had in his poor confused head,
but I had to promise, to quiet him.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He told further of their growing weakness, of
the shorter and shorter distances they could travel
in a day, of a final afternoon when, having gone
to shoot a partridge, he had come back and found
his brother had disappeared.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Perhaps I hadn’t realized until that minute
how desperately ill he was. He had wandered
off; I could see the storm coming and I looked
and looked and called and called, but I couldn’t
find him. I felt pretty hopeless, I can tell you.”</p>

<p class='c007'>It was Nicholas who had discovered John Edmonds
at last, lying insensible under a big tree
near the foot of Jasper Peak. They had sat by
him a long time, the boy and the dog, helpless and
exhausted both of them. Dick had caught a
glimpse of the cabin on the side of the mountain
and had decided, when the storm broke, that they
must get there at any cost.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I carried Johnny on my back,” he said, “don’t
ask me how, but some way or other we made it.
I was so anxious to get him in out of the storm
that it didn’t matter much where we went. I
don’t think I had sense enough to mind a great
deal even when I realized it was Jake’s cabin.
We found something to eat, although we didn’t
take more than we could possibly help. John
seemed to revive a little, but still I was desperately
anxious, and felt that I must do something,
no matter what. I think I believed Two Rivers
and Rudolm were much nearer than they are and
I had not counted on the streams all being in flood.
I could see the light from your cabin, but—well,
I had promised. Now, I can understand that the
promise was a foolish business, but your judgment
isn’t quite so good when you are worn out
and half starved, as when you are rested and fed.
You don’t see things quite so clear.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But weren’t you afraid of Jake’s coming
back?” Hugh asked.</p>

<p class='c007'>Dick, it appeared, did not have such horror
of the Pirate of Jasper Peak as had Hugh. He
did not even yet seem to suspect that the half-breed
had been concerned in their being lost in
the forest nor had he heard the full tale of what
Jake had done to Oscar Dansk. One anxiety
had overcome the other and he had left his
brother, ordering Nicholas back when he would
have come too, and finally shutting him in so that
John Edmonds should not feel himself quite
alone.</p>

<p class='c007'>“But almost as soon as I was gone he broke
out and went across the valley to you,” Dick concluded.
“Nicholas had more sense than I had,
didn’t you, old fellow?”</p>

<p class='c007'>The big dog, lying on his side before the hearth,
opened one eye and beat gently on the floor with
his plumy tail at mention of his name. Then he
heaved a great sigh, stretched himself luxuriously
to the fire and fell asleep again, completely
satisfied that those he loved were safe at last.</p>

<p class='c007'>Dick, also, being assured that at least his
brother was no worse, went away to sleep off
some of the exhaustion of his journey through
the forest, and Hugh was left to sit alone, still
watching for Oscar’s return and wondering more
and more anxiously why he did not come. The
little cabin was peaceful and absolutely quiet except
for the ticking of the clock and the deep
breathing of the dog at his feet, but far from
peaceful were Hugh’s racing thoughts. Where
had his comrade been during that furious storm?
What had happened to keep him so long? Oh,
if he only had not parted from Oscar in such
churlish ill-nature how much easier it would be
to bear this anxious waiting!</p>

<p class='c007'>He looked at Oscar’s recovered rifle hanging
on the wall and thought with satisfaction of how
glad he would be to see it. He felt a good deal
of pride in having been able to get it back, but,
as he sat thinking, he began to feel his pleasure
give way to a certain lingering doubt. Had he
really been wise in returning to the Pirate’s
house, was the value of the rifle greater than the
value of the help he could give the two exhausted
Edmonds, help that they would have lost had his
venture ended in his being shot? It was an unwelcome
thought, yet he was forced to conclude
that this was another of those errors in judgment
of which his father had accused him, a rash failing
to count the cost at the critical moment.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh, dear,” he sighed, quite out loud, “when
will I ever get sense enough to qualify for a soldier?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Nicholas, hearing his voice, raised his head to
look at him inquiringly. He seemed to hear
something else also, for he got up, went to the
door and stood listening intently. Then he
turned to Hugh and whined to be let out. Hugh
listened, but heard nothing save the rushing of
the stream and the sighing of the wind in the
trees.</p>

<p class='c007'>“There isn’t anything,” he said to Nicholas, but
the big dog still insisted, so at last he opened the
door.</p>

<p class='c007'>He stood before the cottage, looking in every
direction, north, south, east; the sun was in his
eyes so that he shaded them with his hand to look
across the open meadows to the west. Was that
something moving, was it a distant, plodding,
weary figure slowly making its way up the slope?
He could not be mistaken. It was Oscar!</p>

<p class='c007'>With a shout of joy Hugh ran to meet him,
but stopped short in surprise and dismay when he
came close. Oscar’s forehead was cut and had
been bleeding; his cheek was discolored with a
great bruise; he carried neither pack nor gun,
and he limped as he came toiling painfully up the
hill.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I had a fall,” he explained briefly, in answer
to Hugh’s anxious questions.</p>

<p class='c007'>Long after, Hugh learned the real details of
the mishap, how Oscar had taken shelter from
the storm under a mass of overhanging rock, how
the fury of wind and water had loosened it above
him and how he had been swept down in the
midst of an avalanche of plunging bowlders, sliding
earth and uprooted trees, to lie stunned for
he knew not how many hours, but—</p>

<p class='c007'>“I had a fall,” was all he said, then added
quickly, “What is that? Nicholas, <i>Nicholas</i>!”</p>

<p class='c007'>He sat down abruptly on a fallen tree as though
sudden relief had weakened his knees; he put his
arms around the great dog’s neck. Nicholas, in
turn, overwhelmed him with endearments, licked
his face, nuzzled his hand, nearly pushed him
from the log in his clumsy efforts to show his
joy. There seemed no need to tell Oscar that the
two brothers had been found, for he seemed to
guess the whole of the good news from the mere
presence of the big wolfhound. Hugh, as he
stood looking at the greetings of the two, had a
sudden understanding, from Oscar’s overwhelming
relief and delight, what was the real depth
of the friendship he bore John Edmonds.</p>

<p class='c007'>When he and Hugh reached the cottage, Oscar
went straight to John’s bed and sat down beside
it. The sufferer had lain in heavy stupor for
hours, only arousing once, much earlier in the
day, to stare at the boys with no recognition and
then to drop into unconsciousness again. But
now, almost as soon as Oscar’s firm hand closed
about his wrist to feel his pulse, he opened his
eyes, looked at the other with slowly dawning
comprehension and said:</p>

<p class='c007'>“I was wrong about that road, Oscar, and you
were right.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“It wass no matter,” his friend answered hastily,
his voice sounding Swedish again in the extremity
of his feeling. “Opening up these wheat
lands might not have been advisable then, when
it was just a question of dollars and cents. Now
it is different, it is a matter of daily bread and
lives and victory.”</p>

<p class='c007'>But Johnny Edmonds did not hear. Having
given voice to the thought that had so long been
uppermost in his mind, he drifted contentedly
away into sleep again, real sleep this time, with
no further mutterings and restless movements of
his head upon the pillow. Oscar got up quickly
and went to stand at the window, looking out with
that queer far-off look that his face sometimes
wore. Turning at last he met Dick’s anxious
eyes and smiled slowly and happily.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It was just a year ago we quarreled,” he said.
“I thought he should have stood by me when I
wanted to build the road; he thought, like the rest,
that I was a mad dreamer—perhaps I was. This
war has overturned all things; what was a far
vision once may be what the world most needs
to-day. But your brother is a better friend than
I, Dick Edmonds. I could not have been the first
to say that I was wrong. And now all is well
again.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The next day and the next, John Edmonds’
fever ebbed and flowed, leaving them sometimes
full of hope that recovery was beginning, sometimes
in terror that such recovery might never
be. In the end, however, the crisis passed, leaving
him pale and shaky, but clear-headed and himself
again at last. It was on the first day that he
was able to be propped up in bed that Oscar, sitting
by him, began to discuss, with unreserved
bluntness, what was being said in Rudolm about
John’s books and the state in which the bank’s
affairs had been left. For a moment Edmonds
looked astonished, dismayed and angry, then he
laughed.</p>

<p class='c007'>Three of his clerks had gone to war, he explained,
and he was so short-handed that he used
to work fourteen, sixteen, eighteen hours at a
time, trying to keep things going, reeling with
exhaustion, his brain at last so weary and confused
with illness that he scarcely knew what he
was doing.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Now my head is cleared up again,” he said,
“I begin to realize what queer things I must have
done to those books. The expert who is trying
to make them out must be having a glorious time
of it. I wonder how far he has got and what he
thinks he has found.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Then Oscar broached the plan that he had evidently
been turning over and over in his mind.
Edmonds must get back to Rudolm as soon as
possible, he said, for affairs must be cleared up
and the anxiety of bank directors and stockholders
must be brought to an end. The moment
he could be moved Oscar himself would take him
home; they would go by water, the whole length
of Red Lake, a two or three days’ journey by
canoe. He stated the plan and its urgency very
briefly, even more briefly told the need of the
boys’ staying behind.</p>

<p class='c007'>Both immediately raised their voices in clamorous
objection. Dick must get back, he was
going to enlist; Hugh wished to go with him, in
fact the two boys had been laying their heads
together and making plans of their own. But in
all of their arguments they found Oscar’s calculations
had been before them.</p>

<p class='c007'>Did Dick know the bars and channels and bays
between here and Rudolm? He did not. Could
he, or could he and Hugh together, be sure of
handling a heavily laden canoe successfully in the
face of chance winds on the open stretches of the
lake? They were not able to say they could.
Could John be taken overland, paddled up rivers,
carried around portages, risk a meeting in the forest
with Half-Breed Jake or some of his followers?
No. Or could Oscar go with Dick and
John and leave Hugh behind to hold the cabin
alone? Most certainly not.</p>

<p class='c007'>So the plan stood as Oscar first proposed it,
and, on John’s continuing to improve steadily,
preparations were made for a start three days
later. The night before they were to go, Oscar
went with Hugh all over his small domain, indoors
and out, showing him just how this was to
be cared for and how that was to be done. They
were coming up the path from Hulda’s stable,
picking their way over the rough stones in the
moonlight, the big dog following them, while
Oscar gave his final directions. The wide valley
of the Promised Land lay at their feet in sharp
outline of black and white, while above them
the sky was powdered thick with stars and, across
the ravine, rose the dark heights of Jasper Peak
with one gleaming light shining from its rugged
shoulder.</p>

<p class='c007'>“And you must look out for Jake,” Oscar
ended. “Every hour, every minute, you must
watch for him. In three weeks the date for my
proving up will have passed, the claim will
be really mine—if I can hold it until then.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But surely there is nothing that he can do
now,” Hugh protested.</p>

<p class='c007'>“He and his comrades will perhaps do the
worst they have ever done, between now and that
day,” returned Oscar quietly. “They will not
come openly to shoot or rob or burn, they will lie
in wait and play some trick on you, for the
crooked way is always their way. What they
will do I cannot guess, I can only tell you to
watch and never cease watching and in the end
I know we will win.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Still,” insisted Hugh, “I do not see how they
can ruin your plan so near its end as this.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Suppose,” said Oscar, “he should drive you
out, burn down the buildings and destroy the
fields and, before I can file my final papers, prove
to the Land Office that none of the required improvements
are really here. We could take the
matter into court and establish in time that it was
he who laid things waste, but that would take
months, the season would pass and the lands
would not be open in time for a harvest next year.
And a year in terms of wheat and bread counts
now for more than ten ordinary years.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And you think that when the place is yours
and you are settled here, then the people of Rudolm
will follow?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I know they will. Their fear of Half-Breed
Jake is partly habit, partly a sort of superstition;
it is not real cowardice. When they see that one
man has been able to hold out against him alone
they will not hesitate longer.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“They should be very grateful to you,” observed
Hugh, his voice grave with the thought of
what weight of responsibility was to be laid upon
him. He shivered a little. The autumn air was
very cold.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I do not want gratitude,” returned Oscar
quickly. “What would I have to say to them if
they tried to thank me? No, when I see these
hillsides covered with the grain for which the
whole world is crying; when I can sit here on my
doorstep and see many red roofs warm in the
sunshine, or the moonlight making sharp black
shadows of the pointed gables or yellow lights
shining from the windows there, and there, and
there; when I can think that all within are warm
and safe and happy, why, I can ask for nothing
more on earth, except—except, perhaps, that little
black Hendrik might be back again.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Nicholas, who had been sitting on the grass
beside them while they stood and talked, came
now to rub against Oscar and push his great head
under his hand.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You are a good fellow, Nicholas,” said Oscar,
patting his curly shoulder, “but you are not my
Hendrik. It is strange how a man and a little
black dog can learn to love each other when each
is all the other has.”</p>

<p class='c007'>There was much hurrying to and fro before
dawn next morning when the journey was actually
to begin. There was carrying of loaded
packs down to the canoe, there was running back
for things forgotten, there were many instructions
given by every one to every one else. The
day promised to be a clear one, although now the
sky was dark and the water gray. John Edmonds
was made comfortable in the bottom of the
boat; the packs were put on board; there was no
time for elaborate farewells, even when it came
to pushing out from shore.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Shove her easy,” directed Dick, and—</p>

<p class='c007'>“A little more,” said Oscar. “There, now we
are afloat. Good-by, good-by.”</p>

<p class='c007'>His paddle dipped, the canoe shot forward, a
sharp ripple rose beneath her bow. The two
boys stood watching as she moved steadily away.
The water was turning from gray to silver and
shining in the morning light, while a gold and
scarlet glow behind Jasper Peak showed where
the sun was soon to rise. Hugh and Dick still
stood as the boat dwindled to a black speck on
the glittering lake, turned into Harbin’s Channel
and disappeared. Even then they waited, shading
their eyes, hoping for one more sight of it.
Finally Hugh heaved a long sigh and the two
turned to look at each other. The valley of the
Promised Land was their very own, to hold or to
lose.</p>

<div class='chapter'>
  <h2 id='chapX' class='c004'>CHAPTER X</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>FIRST BLOOD TO THE PIRATE</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>On returning to the cottage, the first thing
that Hugh did was to mark off the date on
the calendar just as he had seen Oscar do every
morning.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We mustn’t lose count of the days,” he said
to Dick.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh, there won’t be so many of them as all
that,” Dick answered.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh said nothing. Oscar had talked to him
more fully than to his comrade about the task of
righting John Edmonds’ affairs.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It may not be so simple to put them in order
as he hopes it will,” he had said, “so the time
may be three weeks or a month or perhaps more.
I will not hide from you the chance that, if there
is very bad weather soon, I may not get back to
you for some time. The snow can lie very deep
in these valleys.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Snow,” Hugh had exclaimed, “why, it is only
October!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Remember it will be November in a week,”
Oscar replied, “and that this is a climate very different
from yours. Here the winter begins early
and lasts long and we have to be ready for it.
There are supplies enough to last until spring, I
have made sure of that, and plenty of wood, so
that there is no danger of your needing anything.
I will come back to you as soon as I can, but at
this season all plans go by the weather.”</p>

<p class='c007'>So Hugh had written a long letter to his father
for Oscar to send, explaining why mail must be
uncertain and just what he was doing.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I ought to learn a great deal from this experience,”
he ended, “enough to make even you feel
that I am fit for service in France. I am bound
that I will make it before I am twenty-one.”</p>

<p class='c007'>It did not look much like winter to-day, even
though the woods were so bare and the hillsides
so brown. The boys had arranged that they
would hunt and fish as much as possible for the
purpose of saving Oscar’s stores for future use,
and that they would go out alone on alternate
days, so that the cottage might never be left unguarded.
Neither one was ever to go so far
away that a certain signal of rifle shots could
not call him back. It was agreed that Hugh was
to go shooting the first day, so, very blithely, he
had made ready, shouldered his rifle and started
forth.</p>

<p class='c007'>He stopped a moment before the door to look
down at the lake, which was very still this morning
and very blue. He knew now why Oscar
had elected to start before the dawn, for two
canoes were skimming over the quiet surface,
pirate vessels, although not of the accepted type.
Often before Hugh had seen them patrolling these
waters that Half-Breed Jake called his own, swift
craft, dark and sinister, ready to shoot any man
or sink any boat that ventured through Harbin’s
Channel. Harbin, he had learned, was an explorer
who, fifty years ago, had coasted up and
down Red Lake, mapping the islands and the bays
and inlets. His boat had been wrecked in this
channel: one could see its bleaching bones still
wedged among the rocks, and he himself had perished
at the hands of hostile Indians. Although
the Indians had now nearly vanished and civilization
had, since then, been creeping steadily
nearer, the upper reaches of Red Lake were still
as wild, unexplored and perilous as in his day.
But—thus Hugh registered a vow within himself—they
would soon be so no longer.</p>

<p class='c007'>A long day’s tramp brought him fair sport,
several partridges, two quail, but no sight of
larger game. Hugh was a good shot and did not
often fail to bring down his quarry.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I wish I could get a deer,” he thought, but
knew that for that he must go out at night.</p>

<p class='c007'>The air was so still and the woods so silent that
it seemed he must be the only person within a
hundred miles. There was a sleepy swaying of
the branches above his head and a quiet rustle
of the leaves under his feet, otherwise there was
scarcely a sound. Surely in this peaceful region
there could be no such thing as quarreling and
bloodshed. It was hard to believe that, only a
few miles away, the dingy cabin clung to the
slope of Jasper Peak and within it Half-Breed
Jake and his Indian comrades were planning any
sort of violence that would lead to the ruin of
Oscar’s cherished scheme.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It must be a mistake,” Hugh reflected almost
aloud. “I believe I dreamed it. I don’t think
this adventure is real.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He had crossed a little brook, in the late afternoon,
and was climbing the long slope beyond it
when he realized that he was thirsty and that the
route he was about to follow lay along the ridge,
high above any water for many miles.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I am not much of a woodsman,” he told himself.
“I should have remembered to drink when
I could. It would be better to go back.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Quickly he ran down the hill, making a good
deal of noise as he crashed through the underbrush.
He stooped long to drink at the edge of
the pool and then stood up to continue his journey.
He glanced across at his own trail coming
down to the water’s edge on the other shore,
stared at it a moment, then ran splashing through
the stream to look again. Close beside his own
footprints and fresher even than they, were the
marks of moccasined feet, as plain as those footprints
of the big dog, Nicholas, that he had seen
once, as plain and much more ominous. Some
person had been following him through the wood,
tracking him so closely and eagerly that he had
not taken the pains to cover his own trail.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh stood still and looked and listened with
every nerve tense, but there was nothing to be
seen, nothing to be heard. The forest was as
silent as a forest in a dream. He crossed the
brook again, and climbed the hill hastily. More
than once he turned his head quickly and looked
back over his shoulder, but there was never a stirring
leaf nor a snapping twig to prove that he
was being followed. He made his way homeward
in the straightest line possible, thinking
deeply all the way.</p>

<p class='c007'>Time passed, the weather grew colder and the
daylight shorter, but still the pirates made no
move. Only the blue haze of their smoke going
up from Jasper Peak showed that they were still
there, watching and ever watching. Game began
to be scarce in the restricted limit the boys allowed
themselves for hunting, so that they fell to
dipping deeper and deeper into Oscar’s stores.
Everything was kept in the small shed backing
up against the cottage with its door opening into
the main room. This place was carefully inspected
every day, according to instructions.</p>

<p class='c007'>“For,” Oscar had said, “if the fieldmice get in
and chew up your bacon or a leak comes in the
roof and spoils your flour and meal, where are
you? In case of bad weather your lives might
depend on these supplies being safe.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The vigilance of Nicholas sniffed out any overbold
mouse that ventured within, while the boys’
watchfulness prevented any mischance from wind
and rain, so that for a time all went well. They
began, indeed, to feel such a sense of security that
it did not seem possible anything could go amiss
and it appeared that, when Oscar returned, the
report given him would be quite barren of adventure.
Hugh, however, thinking of those footprints
by the stream, still remembered that what
danger did lurk about them was bound to be unsuspected
and unseen.</p>

<p class='c007'>It had been, one day, Hugh’s turn to replenish
the empty larder so that he had spent the whole
afternoon fishing about a mile from the cottage.
Dusk was just beginning, yet he lingered for
“just one more bite,” since luck had not been
good and he wished to carry home enough fish
for one meal at least. He waited long for a
nibble, shifting impatiently from foot to foot.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It must be getting too cold for fishing,” he
commented to himself. “Why, it feels like winter
all of a sudden; it has changed a great deal
since morning.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He had just pulled in a flopping trout and had
dropped it into the basket when a sudden sound
startled him so that he dropped his rod. It was
the sharp crack of a rifle, followed immediately
by a second and a third, the prearranged signal
of alarm. The pirates had struck at last!</p>

<p class='c007'>A mile is a long way to run when the course is
over a heavily wooded ridge and through a valley
of poplar thickets. Hugh covered it in extraordinarily
short time, although it seemed to him
unnumbered hours. He was just coming, panting,
up the last slope, when he met Dick, equally
breathless, running toward him.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It’s Hulda,” gasped his friend. “The Indians
are trying to drive her off; they have headed her
away off yonder, over the hill.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He pointed, for even as he spoke, they caught
sight of Hulda crossing a clearing, running with
the awkward gait common to excited cows and
lowing her amazement and dismay at the indignity
put upon her.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You strike across the ridge and I will run
down into the valley,” directed Dick. “I think I
can head her off. They sha’n’t steal Hulda!”</p>

<p class='c007'>With a shout, the two boys plunged to the rescue.
Hugh was quick enough to reach her, halfway
down the slope, but totally unable to check
her course. The mild Hulda, now thoroughly
alarmed, came down the hill with a blind rush,
blundered against him and rolled him head over
heels. He picked himself up, unhurt, and ran
after her in determined pursuit. Indeed the pirates
were not to be allowed the triumph of stealing
Hulda!</p>

<p class='c007'>On the more open ground below Dick succeeded
in slowing her a little and Nicholas, flying
through the thickets, like a streak of white lightning,
to leap and bark beneath her very nose,
managed to turn her back up the hill. Here the
boys were able to gain on her terrified speed once
more, and, on Hugh’s closing in and turning her
again, she ran close by Dick, who triumphantly
seized her by the halter and brought her to a
standstill.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I’ve got her,” he shouted to Hugh, raising his
arm high in signal of victory. “She’s—ouch!”</p>

<p class='c007'>For a sharp report sounded from a thicket and
a bullet, speeding just over Dick’s head, nipped
his uplifted hand. Hugh, on coming up, found
him applying his thumb to his mouth, as undisturbed
as though he had scratched it with a pin.
Poor Hulda still plunged and dragged at her
halter, her sides heaving and her gentle eyes wide
with fright.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I was just coming up from the spring,” Dick
recounted as between them they led the cow
homeward, “when I heard Nicholas bark, so I
ran around the corner of the cabin and there she
was, just going over the hill a quarter of a mile
away. At first I thought I could stop her alone,
but when I saw the two Indians driving her, I
ran back and signaled for you. Here, let’s lead
her along the valley. I am out of breath chasing
her up hills.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Aren’t you hurt?” inquired Hugh anxiously
as they trudged along.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hulda still made the going difficult, jerking and
snorting with excitement. Her calm disposition,
once completely roused, seemed almost impossible
to soothe.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Pshaw, no, the bullet hardly touched me,”
Dick replied. “What surprises me is that they
let us get her with only one shot fired. I don’t
quite understand.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I wonder—” began Hugh, then paused, for a
thought had struck him.</p>

<p class='c007'>It struck him so deeply that he dropped Hulda’s
rope and turned to run up the hill. There was a
growing misgiving in his heart that turned
swiftly to real terror as he sped along: it seemed
as though he would never reach the summit.
Yet even while he was struggling up the slopes
he began to see a red glow behind the trees that
seemed to grow brighter and brighter. In spite
of a contrary wind there was a queer suffocating
smell in the air.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Dick, Dick,” he called, “leave Hulda; come
quickly.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The loss of forty cows could be nothing beside
the disaster before him, as he reached the hilltop.
Scarlet flames licked across the roof of
Oscar’s cabin, with dense clouds of smoke rolling
out toward the lake and with a single tall figure
moving swiftly across the clearing, black against
the brilliant blaze.</p>

<p class='c007'>Dick always maintained that Jake shot twice
at Hugh as he raced across the clearing, but if he
did so, Hugh was quite unconscious of the fact.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We can’t put it out—we can’t put it out—there
is so little water!” he caught himself gasping
aloud as he ran.</p>

<p class='c007'>Fortunately Dick, when he came from the
spring, had set down his full pail by the doorstep
when he went to rescue Hulda. Dashing inside,
Hugh dragged the blankets from the bunks,
plunged them into the water and then swung himself
up over the eaves to the burning roof.
Blindly and furiously he beat at the flames, choking
in the dense smoke, feeling sparks and coals
burn through his coat, yet caring for nothing
but that he must quench the fire. Dick handed
him up pail after pail of water from below; how
he ever went and came from the spring so quickly
was impossible to understand.</p>

<p class='c007'>It was Hugh who had the presence of mind to
realize that the water must be husbanded and
thrown upon the fire in well-aimed dipperfuls
rather than poured pell-mell across the roof. It
was Dick who shouted up to him that he must
try to drive the flames back from the cabin proper,
since saving the blazing shed behind it was already
beyond hope. How they toiled, now getting
a little the better of the fire, now driven back
by a fresh outburst of flame, too excited either to
hope or to despair, feeling only one instinct—to
fight. Hours passed, they were drenched, blackened,
their clothes singed, their hands and faces
burned, they were exhausted; breathless, but at
last victorious.</p>

<p class='c007'>Slowly the flames died down to smoldering
ashes, the smoke cleared away, the last glowing
coal was stamped upon, the last spark went out.
Hugh slid to the ground, finding his knees suddenly
a little shaky, and stood looking happily
into Dick’s blackened face.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We did it,” he said; “Oscar’s got his cabin
still.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yes,” the other assented a trifle quaveringly;
“I thought once or twice it was really gone.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And now,” went on Hugh, “where’s Hulda?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Fires, it seemed, did not excite Hulda in the
least, for she was discovered grazing peacefully
at the edge of the clearing, her former agitation
entirely vanished. Nicholas had followed the
boys at first, but, after getting a few sparks in
his furry coat, had decided to retreat and was sitting
solemnly beside her, mounting guard. The
cow’s stable, set at a little distance, was untouched
by the flames, so Hulda was driven in, her manner
showing plainly that she was glad to get home
again after the disturbing events of the last few
hours. The boys lit a lantern and tended her
together, as though she might escape again were
one of them to minister to her alone. They made
no comment on the fire, both seeming to avoid the
subject as long as possible.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It’s cold,” commented Dick, once, shivering
in his dripping garments, to which Hugh replied:</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yes, and getting colder every minute.”</p>

<p class='c007'>That was all of their conversation.</p>

<p class='c007'>They finished at last and, coming out of the
shed, closed the door very carefully behind them.
Not until they were halfway up the path to the
cottage did either of them speak. Yet the extent
of their tragedy must be faced.</p>

<p class='c007'>“There’s quite a hole in the roof,” observed
Dick, “but we can mend that easily enough.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And we can block up the store room door,”
said Hugh. “We’ll nail the whole thing over
with boards to keep the cold out.”</p>

<p class='c007'>They were quiet again—but at last Dick burst
out:</p>

<p class='c007'>“Hugh, do you realize that our supplies are
burned, the shed and everything in it? That we
haven’t one thing left to eat?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I know it,” replied Hugh soberly. “I—I’ve
been thinking about just that thing for the last
hour.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“They must have meant to do it all along,”
observed Dick. “They drove off Hulda just for
a blind. Oh, that Jake, that skulking blackguard!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oscar said they would choose the mean,
crooked way,” Hugh agreed. “He told me they
would try some trick or other. I wish we could
have guessed beforehand.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“But Oscar will be back soon,” insisted Dick
eagerly. “He must be back soon. Gee, it’s
cold!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yes,” returned Hugh, “he may be back any
day now.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Yet he spoke absent-mindedly, as though his
thoughts were upon other things. It was because
he was swinging the lantern as he went
along and his attention had been suddenly caught
by something unexpected. In the circle of yellow
light he saw a whirling flurry of tiny flakes of
snow.</p>

<div class='chapter'>
  <h2 id='chapXI' class='c004'>CHAPTER XI</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>THE WHITE FLAG</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>Hugh had thought, when he saw those first
snowflakes, that he understood a little of
what was before them. He had later to learn
that winter as he knew it and winter as it could
be in northern Minnesota were two very different
matters. To lose all their possessions at just the
season when cold weather was closing in was a
mishap desperate indeed, yet the boys, after a
moment of being stunned by the gravity of the
situation, faced it gayly.</p>

<p class='c007'>That same night Hugh insisted on going out to
look for the fishing basket that he had thrown
aside when he ran to the rescue of Hulda. With
Nicholas to help him, he managed to find it, so,
that evening at least, they did not have to go
supperless to bed. Early next morning they
arose to search the ruins of the storehouse for
anything that might have escaped destruction.
Part of a side of bacon was found wedged under
a fallen beam and a very small quantity of flour,
happening to be in a tin container, had not been
consumed. That was the whole extent of their
salvage.</p>

<p class='c007'>The snow had only been falling fitfully during
the night, but about the middle of the morning
the storm settled down, like a blinding white curtain
that shut off all the rest of the world. Once
or twice the rising wind tore the dense veil apart,
showing them the stormy lake, the bowing woods
and Jasper Peak for a fleeting moment, before all
was blotted out again. The boys had managed
to mend the hole burned in the roof and to shut
off the door that had once led into the storehouse,
and now were warming themselves at the fire
after their severe labors outside. Dick went to
the window and took a long survey of the snow.</p>

<p class='c007'>“If I know anything of Minnesota weather,”
he remarked, “this is the sort of storm that will
last for days, three or four, at least, and then it
will clear and get cold, colder than anything you
ever dreamed of—thirty—forty—fifty below
zero, maybe. If we should start now, we might
be able to get to Rudolm, but if we wait until the
snow is deep we could not even attempt it. What
do you say, Hugh, shall we go or stay?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I don’t know,” answered Hugh from beside
the fire; “do you want to go?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I do not,” returned Dick promptly, “but we
have got to decide which is the wiser thing to do.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh looked up at the calendar on the wall.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oscar has been gone two weeks and three
days,” he said, “so his time for proving up on the
claim will be over in five days. Jake arranged
his plan well. He meant to burn the cabin and
just give himself time to get down to the Land
Office to make trouble over Oscar’s statement
that the land is improved and so tie the whole
thing up. He knows we have lost our stores; he
is watching from over there to see if we go. He
will still have time to put the thing through if
we do.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Then let’s stay,” decided Dick with determination.
“We have food enough for two days
and we’ll whistle for luck for the other three.
Fortunately we have plenty of wood.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And let’s make a big smoke in the chimney,”
said Hugh, “so that when the storm lifts for a
second Jake can see that we are still here and are
going to stay.”</p>

<p class='c007'>It was a welcome idea and quickly carried out.
Certainly if Half-Breed Jake had any curiosity as
to whether the cottage was still inhabited, he had
no need to cross the valley to find out, on that day
at least. Dick and Hugh built up such a roaring
blaze that there was danger of their setting fire
to the cabin again; then they sat down before it,
toasting their shins and reflecting on the probable
disappointment of the Pirate of Jasper Peak.</p>

<p class='c007'>The hours passed very slowly, for the two had
little to do and had chosen to have no midday
meal, but to eat of their scanty stock only night
and morning. The storm increased; the snowfall
was no longer steady, but came in whirling
gusts, piling high before the cabin door. About
the middle of the afternoon, Dick took his rifle
and sallied forth with Nicholas in desperate hope
of bringing home some game. He was gone two
hours, returning at last empty-handed.</p>

<p class='c007'>“And very lucky I was to get home at all,” he
said as he came in, stamping the snow off his big
boots. “I vow I have been walking in a circle
for five miles: it was only Nicholas who ever got
me here again.”</p>

<p class='c007'>All night the wind screamed in the chimney and
fairly rocked the walls of their little dwelling.
The snow seemed twice as deep when they fought
their way out to the stable to attend to the wants
of Hulda. Her placid air was somewhat reassuring,
although Hugh observed wisely:</p>

<p class='c007'>“She really doesn’t know just how things are.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The pail of milk that they carried back between
them was even more comforting, for it was plain
that with Hulda’s help they could not quite
starve.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We can get pretty hungry, though,” observed
Hugh grimly as he saw Nicholas disposing of his
share in three laps and then looking up to beg
mutely for more.</p>

<p class='c007'>There could be no thought now of going out to
shoot. The snow was drifted over the window
sills and banked against the door and still filled
the air in white clouds driven by the roaring
wind. The spring, their one water supply, was
as inaccessible as though it had been ten miles
away, so they melted snow in a pot over the fire
and found it a most unsatisfactory process, since,
as Dick said, “A bucketful of snow makes about
a thimbleful of water.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Their supply of food was quite gone by the
fourth day, in spite of all their care, so there was
nothing left but the milk night and morning.</p>

<p class='c007'>“That won’t keep one very long,” Hugh remarked.</p>

<p class='c007'>He had been obliged to gulp down his share
in the stable, being much too hungry to wait
until he got back to the house. Dick immediately
followed his example and, when he had finished,
stood eying the storm through the narrow slit of
a window.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It can’t last a great deal longer, it simply
can’t,” he asserted.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh, shaking down hay for Hulda, envied
her the pleasure with which she ate it and answered
gloomily:</p>

<p class='c007'>“Perhaps it can’t, but I am beginning to think
that it will.”</p>

<p class='c007'>This day also wore by somehow and at last
night came.</p>

<p class='c007'>“There certainly will be a change by morning,”
Hugh assured himself as he fell asleep.</p>

<p class='c007'>When he awoke, however, and got up at once
to press his face against the snow-blurred window
he saw just the same blinding, swirling
storm. It looked like some sort of dream that
would go on and on and never end. Dick, awaking,
sat up quickly, but, on looking at Hugh’s
face, forebore to ask any questions.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You had better lie down again,” he advised,
dropping his head once more upon the pillow.
“It is wiser to spend as much time sleeping as
you possibly can.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Stumbling out through the drifts to Hulda,
Hugh began suddenly to realize such weakness
that he wondered whether he could make the
journey again without dropping in the snow.
Through the day he noticed that Dick no longer
prowled from door to window, looking at the
storm. He sat, instead, immovable in the big
chair by the fire, only stirring now and then to
add fresh logs to the blaze. The strain of his
journey through the wood, his anxiety about his
brother, with these present hardships, had tended
to break him sooner than Hugh. He tried to
speak some words of broken apology when Hugh
went about the work of the cabin alone, but the
truth was plain enough, that he could scarcely
move. Nicholas lay listlessly in a corner, following
Hugh always with great hungry eyes.
Night seemed to come with unbelievable slowness,
even though the winter days had grown so
short.</p>

<p class='c007'>They crawled into bed at last, too weak and
dispirited, almost, to bid each other good-night.
Hugh tossed and turned upon his bunk; he was
too hungry to sleep. Suddenly sitting bolt upright,
he addressed Dick, who was awake also,
even though he lay so still.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Dick,” he said sharply, “are you sorry we
stayed?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“No,” came the answer promptly. “No, by
George, I’m not sorry, no matter what happens.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Nor I,” said Hugh, and lay down again,
quieted somehow, so that soon he went to sleep.</p>

<p class='c007'>He awoke, hours later, with a vague knowledge
that something was wrong. After rubbing the
drowsiness from his eyes and thinking a little, he
decided that, even under his mountain of blankets,
he was very cold. He got up hastily, huddled on
all of his clothes, even to his mackinaw coat, and
went into the other room to crouch before the
hearth. The fire was not yet dead, but such
warmth as it could give made little impression
upon the terrible benumbing chill that filled the
cottage. Nicholas, shivering and whining, came
to his side and the two crept close together, each
getting a little comfort from the other. Dick
was still asleep; they could hear his breathing in
the utter quiet, and the clock tick-ticking above
them on the wall. In the flickering light Hugh
could see the hands moving slowly until they
pointed to twelve.</p>

<p class='c007'>It was midnight, the last hour of Oscar’s last
day. The cabin was safe, the claim was his, the
first step of his great plan was made certain at
last.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We’ve beaten Jake,” cried Hugh, in a quick
whisper and threw his arms about Nicholas in a
great hug of delight. Then he got up stiffly and
went to the window to survey the weather. He
pushed aside the curtain, rubbed a clear space in
the thick frost on the pane and looked out. He
gasped and looked once more, with a cry of
amazement, as though some strange vision had
been presented to his eyes. Yet all he saw was
calm, quiet night, a world of glittering snowfields
and a clear sky all alight with stars.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Dick, Dick,” he shouted, and his comrade
jumped up hastily.</p>

<p class='c007'>“What is it?” he asked. “Oh, brr-rr, but it is
cold.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He came to Hugh’s side, looked out also and
gave the same gasp of joy.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I didn’t know,” he cried, his voice almost
breaking, “I didn’t know that stars could shine
so bright, Hugh!”</p>

<p class='c007'>What happened next would have shocked
Linda Ingmarsson, careful housekeeper that she
was, and might even have given some pain to
Oscar’s tidy Swedish soul. For both boys, fully
dressed, got into one bunk together, with Nicholas
between them, “just for company,” as Hugh
said. The big dog accomplished wonders in the
matter of doubling up his long legs, so that the
combined supply of blankets sufficed to cover
them all. Gradually, as they began to be a little
warmer, both the boys relaxed a little from their
long anxiety during the storm. The claim was
safe, there was a chance that they could go into
the woods in the morning and shoot a partridge
or two, if they could manage to drag themselves
that far. And now the storm was over, certainly
Oscar would come soon. Hugh did not think
upon these matters long, however, for he was
growing very drowsy.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Listen,” said Dick at last, rousing himself
very sleepily; “what is that sound at the door?
Look, Nicholas hears it too.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The dog had raised his head and was sniffing
anxiously, but without moving, as though he, too,
were too weary to stir. Hugh listened and heard
a sound outside like a soft shuffling in the
snow.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I don’t care what it is,” he announced.
“There is nothing on earth that can make me get
up now that I am warm and sleepy at last. Here,
Nicholas, spare me a bit more blanket. I am
going to sleep for a hundred years and dream of
a million ham sandwiches.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He dropped off almost while he was still speaking
and Dick, apparently no more energetic than
he, closed his eyes also. Nicholas lay with cocked
ears listening until the soft sounds gradually
ceased, then he, too, dropped into the unheeding
slumber that held them all until daylight.</p>

<p class='c007'>When Hugh awoke his first thought was that it
was a pleasant dream he had had of the storm’s
being over and the stars visible. Yet when he
sat up and saw bright sunlight pouring through
the windows of the little cabin he knew that it
must be true and sprang from his bunk with a
hurrah of delight. The air was of a more bitter
cold than anything he had ever imagined, the
breath rose from his nostrils in two columns like
steam and was frozen in white crystals all along
the edge of the blanket where Dick still lay.
Nicholas jumped down after him, shook himself
by way of making a morning toilet and ran to
sniff and snuffle under the door. There returned
to Hugh a vague recollection of the sounds he
had heard in the night, so that he undid the fastenings
hurriedly and threw the door open. The
dazzling sparkle of the snow almost blinded him
for a moment, while the rush of intense cold made
him draw his breath in quick gasps. Yet nothing
could blind his eyes to what lay upon the
doorstep—a big sack of flour, a bag of dried
beans and the frozen carcass of a deer.</p>

<p class='c007'>The sight of food when one is nearly starved
has sometimes a strange and disquieting effect.
Hugh was ashamed of the savage eagerness with
which he fell upon the treasures and dragged
them within. He kept thinking that they must
vanish from his sight even as he held them and
wished earnestly that Dick were not asleep that
he might ask him whether he saw them too. It
seemed too bad to wake him if the gifts did not
turn out to be real. Yet the food remained very
solid and genuine in his hands, even while he was
preparing it for cooking and cutting off a venison
steak. It afforded presently a perfume more delicious
than all the sweets of Araby, when at last
the meat began to broil. Nicholas lay with his
nose almost in the fire, his eyes never moving from
the feast as Hugh turned it over and over before
the blaze.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You are going to have the first one,” said
Hugh. “You deserve it if ever a dog did. You
are the only one of the three of us that has not
grumbled.”</p>

<p class='c007'>The second steak was nearly ready, flapjacks
were browning in the pan and the beans had been
buried in the coals to bake for another meal, when
Dick awoke. Hugh laughed delightedly at the
sight of him, sitting bolt upright among the blankets,
his mouth and eyes both round with unbelieving
astonishment.</p>

<p class='c007'>“What is it, Hugh?” he asked, sniffing delightedly.
“I could live on that smell for a week.
Did the witches or the angels bring it?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I don’t know,” laughed Hugh delightedly,
“but however it came, it’s real. Get up quickly
or I will eat it all without you.”</p>

<p class='c007'>They speculated long over every possible source
for the mysterious gift, but could come to no conclusion.
On examining the space before the cottage
they saw that some one had come on snowshoes
up the hill and had removed them to walk
in the narrow trampled path that the boys had
made, deep in the drifts, up to their door.
They could see where the snowshoes had been
stuck upright against a bank while the owner
came up to the doorstone: the footsteps were
short, shuffling ones made by moccasined feet.</p>

<p class='c007'>“But no Indian man that ever I saw walks with
such a short stride as that,” Dick insisted, staring
thoughtfully at the marks in the snow, “and think
what a load he must have carried!”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh had a sudden rapid memory of two figures
he had seen that first day he walked through
the streets of Rudolm, a swift, silent Indian striding
ahead and behind him his wife bearing just
such a load as this on her bent shoulders
and by the deerskin strap across her forehead.
Yet he did not speak of the thought in his mind,
it was far too fantastic and impossible.</p>

<p class='c007'>They dined like lords that day, but spent most
of the time still hugging the fire, for the cold was
as fierce as had been the storm that went before
it. The sun shone brilliantly, turning everything
to diamond and silver and making their little
world, as they looked out upon it, a strange and
unfamiliar place. Jasper Peak opposite was
sheathed in white from base to summit, with high-banked
drifts and curving blue-shadowed hollows.
The lake’s surface was blue again, an odd
clear greenish blue, for it was ice. During the
tumult of the storm it could not freeze over, but
now was a glistening expanse, with white broken
rifts here and there, where the floating masses of
ice had been caught and frozen in. The long
shore showed sharp lines of dark and white in
its crowded pine trees with their burden of snow.</p>

<p class='c007'>An hour after noon they had gone out to clear
a path to the stable, a heavy task in snow that had
drifted six and seven feet high wherever shelter
offered. Nicholas, running about them, floundered
shoulder deep in even the open places and
more than once succeeded in burying himself entirely.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Hugh,” said Dick at last—he had been leaning
on his shovel and staring across the ravine—“I
wish you would look over there at the pirates’
cabin and tell me what you see.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh turned to look as he was bid, yet for a
moment saw only the half-buried shack and the
group of pointed, snow-covered pines behind it.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I don’t see anything,” he answered. “What
do you think is there?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Come over by me so that the chimney is in line
with those trees. Don’t you see now, something
fluttering on a pole?”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh came close and looked again, long and
carefully.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Why, they have a flag flying,” he exclaimed at
last, “and, Dick, it’s a white one!”</p>

<p class='c007'>“That’s it,” cried Dick excitedly. “I thought
I saw it this morning, but with the sun in our
eyes I couldn’t make it out. It is plain enough
now; it looks as though they wanted help.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“They deserve to get it, don’t they?” commented
Hugh bitterly, digging his shovel very
deep into the snow.</p>

<p class='c007'>They finished clearing the path in silence, then
walked slowly back to the cottage. They sat before
the fire for a little, each deep in the same
thought.</p>

<p class='c007'>“He shot Oscar’s dog,” Hugh suddenly broke
out. “He made it so that Oscar couldn’t go to
war, he—he—Dick, does a man who can do such
things deserve any help?”</p>

<p class='c007'>“He has done worse things than any you know
about,” returned Dick, “and I know now that he
had a hand in that Indian Kaniska’s leaving us to
starve in the woods; he has done every sort of
thing, but—but—”</p>

<p class='c007'>As if with one movement, they both looked
up at Oscar’s snowshoes hanging on the wall.</p>

<p class='c007'>“There is only one pair,” observed Hugh.
“We can’t both go.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Then,” said Dick, and neither had occasion to
tell the other that a final conclusion had been
reached, “then we will have to draw straws.
And it is very generous of me to give you even
a chance, because I know I am better on snowshoes
than you.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I have tried them in the Adirondacks,” Hugh
replied. “I am not so clumsy with them as you
seem to think. Well, straws it is. The longest
one goes.”</p>

<p class='c007'>They arranged the straws with great show of
fairness and secrecy and drew.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oh, Hugh, you have all the luck!” exclaimed
Dick in bitter disappointment as he gazed at his
abbreviated straw and at Hugh’s irrepressible
grin of satisfaction.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It is really better,” was Hugh’s answer, in
which he tried to keep the excited delight from
his tone. “We have not either of us come
through this last week feeling any too husky, but
it has been harder on you because it was your
second try at starving. If we weren’t both of us
so well fed now, I think we would quarrel.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“It isn’t fair,” cried Dick jealously. “After
all, you ought to stay here. Some one must milk
Hulda and I don’t know how.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“Nonsense,” returned Hugh rudely. “For
myself, I never want to see milk again. Where
is that extra revolver? Lend me your mittens,
they are drier than mine.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He strapped on the snowshoes, ordered Nicholas
back in spite of the delighted preparations
the dog was making to join the expedition, bade
Dick a sympathizing good-by and turned his face
stoutly toward Jasper Peak. The dry, stinging
cold was so intense as almost to take his breath
away, but he was growing a little more used to it
at last. The big snowshoes seemed awkward at
first; he soon fell into the proper swing, however,
and made good speed down the hill to the edge of
the stream. The brook itself had disappeared
completely under snow which was so soft that
here he sank and floundered in spite of the snowshoes.
It was difficult going up the steep incline
on the other side, but in his eagerness and curiosity
he managed to climb quickly.</p>

<p class='c007'>There was no sign of life about Jake’s cabin,
only the white flag—it looked like a torn shirt—was
still fluttering from its rough pole beside the
chimney. There were footprints about the door,
those same heavy, shuffling steps that he had
seen before their own cabin. He knocked loudly
and stood waiting, thinking of the last time he
had stood upon that doorstep. There was a
pause and such silence that he could hear his
heart hammering excitedly against his ribs.
Then a sound of slow, dragging feet came from
within, there was a fumbling at the lock, the door
opened and a broad awkward figure appeared on
the threshold. Somehow, in spite of his surprise,
he felt that he had half expected to see that
swarthy face and wide, strange, mirthless smile.
It was Laughing Mary.</p>

<div class='chapter'>
  <h2 id='chapXII' class='c004'>CHAPTER XII</h2>
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c005'>
    <div>A HIGHWAY THROUGH THE HILLS</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c006'>The woman made only an inarticulate sound
of welcome and motioned Hugh to come in.
Like all Indians she preferred to converse
through grunts and signs rather than by means of
such English as she had at her command. When
Hugh had entered she made no further comment,
merely pointed silently at a bunk in the corner.</p>

<p class='c007'>There, half propped up amid a mass of torn
and dirty blankets, lay Half-Breed Jake. He did
not move or speak when Hugh came near, but his
little pale eyes turned quickly and his heavy black
brows knitted in a scowl. The boy stood looking
from one to another, puzzled, not yet knowing
the meaning of that signal flying above the roof.
At last the Indian woman, seeing his bewilderment,
condescended to explain.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I think—dying,” she remarked briefly in her
thick English.</p>

<p class='c007'>Jake’s pale eyes flickered at the words, but still
he did not speak. Hugh went closer to look at
him and saw that his hands and feet were clumsily
wound with rags and that the dirty bandage had
slipped down from one wrist, showing the angry
discoloration of flesh that had been frozen. He
asked Laughing Mary many questions, but received
no answers but shakings of the head.</p>

<p class='c007'>Finally he unbuckled his revolver, took off his
cap and mackinaw and turned his attention to
doing what he could for the helpless man. He
had a feeling of intense repulsion when first he
touched him, but none the less he bathed the
swollen hands and feet and rebandaged them.
He had a certain knack in such matters, inherited
from his father and increased by such training
as he had got in helping him. He set the filthy
mass of rags in order to make some semblance
of a bed; he built up the fire and showed the
woman how to make civilized broth from the
abundant deer’s meat in the storeroom.</p>

<p class='c007'>As she stood stirring the pot he made another
attempt to question her, trying again and again to
get some explanation of how affairs had come to
such a pass. But Laughing Mary merely jerked
her head toward the bunk and said:</p>

<p class='c007'>“Old—live hard—die.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Thus she summed up what was, to her, the
most ordinary thing in life.</p>

<p class='c007'>It was the second time that he had tended a
sick person in that house, so that Hugh already
knew the full resources of the Jasper Peak cabin.
In John Edmonds’ behalf he had worked feverishly,
feeling nervous, excited, starting at every
sound from his patient, wondering and puzzled as
to what to do next. Now he felt himself entirely
calm, at no loss what to do even though the state
of this man was far more desperate than the
other’s. He realized how much even a small
amount of experience can do and how immeasurably
older he had grown even in the month that
had passed since he had been in this same place.</p>

<p class='c007'>He came and went steadily until at last he had
done all he could, then he sat down by the fire to
wait, and to watch for results. Laughing Mary
sat on her heels on the floor opposite him, nodding
with drowsiness while both of them were
watched unwaveringly, as the long hours passed,
by the pale eyes of that helpless figure in the bunk,
the broken, ruined Pirate of Jasper Peak.</p>

<p class='c007'>And Laughing Mary, since no one pressed her
for her story, or disturbed her dim, wandering
mind by questions, finally began to speak. She
startled Hugh first by rising suddenly, fetching
something from the corner and flinging it upon
his knee.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Should be yours—make all the trouble,” she
said brokenly.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh, in wonder, held it up to the firelight. It
was the brown bear’s skin!</p>

<p class='c007'>He had learned by now that it was better to
say nothing and so sat silent, without question or
comment for a long time. He was rewarded by
her telling him the whole truth at last in abrupt,
queerly-spoken sentences, uttered at long intervals,
often after an hour had gone by without a
word. Little by little he was able to piece together
all the facts that had puzzled him so long
and to learn the truth about that adventure in
which he had so unexpectedly become involved.</p>

<p class='c007'>As he listened he knew at last that the vital
figure in the whole affair was Laughing Mary.
Nothing had happened as it should and every plan
had gone awry, merely through the strange irresponsibility
of an Indian woman’s mind. He and
the Edmonds boys who did not know her well, and
Oscar and Linda and Half-Breed Jake who did,
had all been equally deceived. They had been
drawn together by a strange web of circumstance
of which she was the center. They had
all of them had their own ambitions and hopes
and misgivings and fears, and the rock they had
all split upon was Laughing Mary.</p>

<p class='c007'>Jake, it seemed, had long ago formed the plan
of setting the two brothers adrift in the forest
and of casting suspicion on John Edmonds’ memory.
He had applied to the Indian Kaniska to
help him, but the man had refused on account of
his friendship for John. So the matter had apparently
ended until one night, passing through
Two Rivers, Jake had shown the Indians his furs
and Laughing Mary had seen the brown bear’s
skin.</p>

<p class='c007'>Indians have still so much of the child in them
that, when they see something they greatly desire,
they will barter away their last property on earth
to gain possession of it. With just such longing
did the woman covet the bear skin. Jake’s price
was her husband’s help in his scheme against the
Edmonds and that was the bargain they finally
made. Certainly she had not realized fully what
Jake had in mind, or known, when she lent herself
to do his bidding, what she had really done.</p>

<p class='c007'>Only when the days passed and the Edmonds
boys did not come back, when she discovered,
moreover, that Jake was withholding the bear
skin and had no intention of really giving it to
her, did she begin to see in the depths of her
fumbling, clouded mind, what it was she had
brought about. She had gained possession of the
coveted skin by threatening to tell the whole
truth to Hugh, as the Edmonds’ friend, and she
had learned, from the consternation of both Jake
and her husband, just how ugly a deed they had
accomplished between them.</p>

<p class='c007'>She had learned more of the gravity of the
matter when Hugh went through Two Rivers to
seek help from Oscar Dansk; she had sat brooding
by the fire day after day, more and more repentant
yet never knowing what to do. She had
finally come through the forest to learn for herself
how matters stood and had arrived the night
of the fire, just before the storm. She had been
imprisoned in the cabin with Jake during those
five days of fierce snowfall and she made Hugh
understand, even in her halting English, that it
was much the same as being within the same four
walls with a madman. Her husband had returned
to Two Rivers, so that she was alone with
Jake and must listen hour after hour to the tumult
of words that she scarcely understood. All his
hopes of holding the valley, of keeping Oscar
from establishing his claim, of proving that no
one could successfully defy him, all this must
stand or fall by whether the boys could hold the
cottage and Oscar Dansk could register his claim.</p>

<p class='c007'>At first he had been certain that they would go
the moment their stores were destroyed. When
he had learned from the smoke in their chimney
and the steady light in their windows that they
were to stay, his fury knew no bounds. Even
during the storm, in which no ordinary man could
walk abroad and live, he went forth every night
to go close to the cottage on the hill and see if its
defenders were not weakening. It had been the
last stab to Laughing Mary’s dumbly repentant
heart to hear that the boys were starving in the
cabin opposite and it had been she who, the moment
the snowfall cleared, had robbed Jake’s
larder and toiled across the valley to bring them
food.</p>

<p class='c007'>Jake had already been behaving strangely that
night, his rage, excitement and the long life of
hardships and excesses had probably brought him
near to the breaking point. He had tried to follow
Laughing Mary, had floundered into a drift
and had lain there in the fearful cold until she
found him and dragged him home. His desperate
fury at what she had done made her fear to
come near him, and his terrible, helpless suffering
from his frozen hands and feet made her feel that
she must call for aid.</p>

<p class='c007'>“When white man give up—wave white flag,”
she said and pointed upward toward where she
had raised the signal on the roof. That was the
end of her story.</p>

<p class='c007'>To all of it Jake had listened, with never a
change of expression, never moving his eyes from
Hugh, powerless to interrupt or to deny. Only
when the Indian woman once mentioned Linda
Ingmarsson’s name there was a change, a momentary
wincing and a quivering of those steady
eyes. Perhaps Hugh’s sensibilities had been
sharpened by his recent experiences, for certainly
he guessed quickly and as surely as though some
one had told him that Jake must have loved Linda
long ago, but that his bullying ways had failed
before her courageous scorn of him.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Old—live hard—die,” said Laughing Mary
again when she came to the end. Such was her
only comment on the fall of that once-feared
master of Jasper Peak.</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh sat musing, stroking the bear skin on
his knee and wondering what he might say to the
woman, who looked up at him with such unhappy
eyes.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It might have been,” he said at last, “that if
you and Kaniska had refused to do what Jake
wanted, he would have found some one who
would, some one who did not care so much and
who would never have helped us in the end, as
you have done. So perhaps the brown bear’s
skin has saved us all.”</p>

<p class='c007'>She seemed to go over his words laboriously,
as though their meaning came very slowly.
Then, when she had caught what he meant, she
gave a quick little cry and turned away. The
stoical Indians never weep; if Hugh had not
known that well, he would have sworn that there
was a glint of tears in her eyes.</p>

<p class='c007'>So intently had he been listening, pondering
and putting together the story from her fragments
of information, that he had paid no heed
to the passage of time. He saw now, as he got
up from his seat, that the flame in the smoky lantern
was burning very dim, that faint moonlight
was coming in at the little windows and that the
night was far advanced. He went over to stand
by the helpless man.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Is there nothing you want, is there nothing I
can do for you?” he asked.</p>

<p class='c007'>He felt a strange wave of pity for this broken
being who had lived his life so hopelessly wrong
and who was so near the end. Nothing he could
do? What could be done, thought Hugh, so late
as this? Plainly the man was of the same opinion,
for his eyes looked only dull and weary
hatred and, although his lips moved a little, he
did not speak.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Do you want to rest?” Hugh asked Laughing
Mary, but she shook her head. “Then watch for
me a little, for I am dead for sleep.”</p>

<p class='c007'>It was bright morning when he opened his eyes
and started up in dismay at having slept so long.
Laughing Mary, sitting beside Jake’s bunk,
looked up at him and gave him a smile, a smile
of relief and gratitude this time, not the queer
empty one that had given her the name. There
seemed to be little change in Jake, his pulse was a
trifle weaker, perhaps, and his eyes stayed shut
for longer and longer at a time. Hugh went into
the storeroom to see what food would be best for
him; he looked carefully through every box and
canister to make certain what was there. So
occupied was he that he did not hear the swishing
of snowshoes over the frozen slopes outside nor
even heed a quiet knock at the door. It was not
until some one came into the room and laid a hand
upon his arm that he turned quickly to see Oscar
Dansk.</p>

<p class='c007'>That their greeting was a joyful one need
hardly be said, but the first words of Hugh’s
eager welcome were broken off by his shout of
delight when he saw what Oscar was pulling from
his pocket, a great handful of letters addressed
in his father’s handwriting.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Miss Christina, at the postoffice, has been
much worried about the way your mail was piling
up,” said Oscar. “She said I was to give these
to you before I said a word, for she was sure I
would forget them if we once got to talking.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh snatched the letters, sat down upon a box
and then and there read them all through to the
end. They told of the voyage, of Dr. Arnold’s
arrival at the base hospital, of his work and his
associates and the war. One of the letters, the
last, made Hugh exclaim aloud in delighted happiness.
It said:</p>

<p class='c007'>“Since I have been here and have seen how
things stand and have thought the matter well
over, I have begun to think that there might, after
all, be a place for you in this hospital work. I
know that I will be sent home in the spring, for a
month, on some business for the Medical Department,
and it is possible—remember, I make no
promises—it is possible that I may consider taking
you back with me.”</p>

<p class='c007'>Hugh looked up from his letter to tell the good
news to his friend, but did not speak, so struck
was he by the odd expression on Oscar’s face.
His eyes shone in a way that the boy had never
seen before, while there was about him the air of
suppressing some excited secret.</p>

<p class='c007'>“What is it?” Hugh cried.</p>

<p class='c007'>“I will show you,” returned the other.</p>

<p class='c007'>He opened the door into the main room and
went in, Hugh following, filled with curiosity and
wonder. As they crossed the cabin, he caught
Oscar’s sleeve and began to tell him of Half-Breed
Jake.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We will speak of that later,” was the answer.
“Put on your coat, come quickly.”</p>

<p class='c007'>They went outside into the clear, glittering
cold: how good it seemed after the close, dark
little shack! Oscar led Hugh across the clearing,
in the opposite direction from his own house,
along the ridge that ran down to the lake. The
sun was very bright, the air absolutely still. He
stopped where the ground was so open that they
could see out across the forest.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Look,” he said, and pointed.</p>

<p class='c007'>Crowning the top of the next hill stood a giant
pine that towered high above its fellows. As
Hugh watched, its branches commenced to tremble,
although never a breath of wind was stirring.
The whole tree began to rock and sway, to bow
forward as though shaken by a furious gale; then
with a roar that sounded through the whole valley,
it fell crashing and disappeared.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Oscar,” cried Hugh, “what does it mean?”</p>

<p class='c007'>There was a little silence, then Oscar spoke in
a voice husky with excitement.</p>

<p class='c007'>“It means the road,” he said; “they are clearing
the way to build it at last.”</p>

<p class='c007'>They watched another tree fall and another,
as they stood there in the breathless cold, while
Oscar told his story. His return with John Edmonds
and his news that Jake had been unable to
prevent the establishing of a claim, had stirred
the people to belief in his plan at last. First a
few and then more and more had agreed to help
him, until now nearly all the men of Rudolm were
at work in the forest, clearing the way, and hauling
out the logs over the frozen ground, preparatory
to building the road in the spring.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Now that they know the land is mine, safe in
spite of Jake, there are a hundred more who are
ready to dare the same thing. Ingmarsson and
my sister Linda will come first, others will follow;
they will be here soon enough to break the
ground and plant it in wheat this spring. The
road will be slower; it has many hills and valleys
to cross, but by summer when the harvest is ripe,
it will be ready to carry the grain away. Some
day we will be able to fill one of those great ships
whose sailing once so nearly broke my heart.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“And that man there?” questioned Hugh,
motioning upward toward the cabin that lowered
at them from above on Jasper Peak.</p>

<p class='c007'>“We can carry him out to Rudolm, now that
the way is cleared,” Oscar answered. “I think
he may live a little time longer, but his power to
do harm is gone forever. Yet when he tried to
burn the cottage he came, but for you, very near
to beating us at last.”</p>

<p class='c007'>They walked down the hill to the edge of the
lake so that Hugh might catch a glimpse, around
an intervening spur, of the line of cleared ground
that wound across the valleys. They sat down
upon a snowy log and talked long and earnestly
of what had passed and of what was to come.
Suddenly Hugh looked down and recognized the
big tree trunk upon which they sat.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Look,” he said, “it is the very tree that made
a bridge for us to cross the creek when it was in
flood. Here are even the marks where the bullets
cut the bark.”</p>

<p class='c007'>It had been washed ashore and lay now, one
end frozen in the ice, one high and dry upon the
bank. Here it would lie for years to come, peaceful
and undisturbed, the sun hot upon it, fishes
darting about its outer end, the turtles climbing
up to bask in the noonday summer heat. So it
would lie, unmindful of the part it had played in
the events of that stirring night, lie until the
valley of the Promised Land was settled, until
Oscar’s road, white and travel-worn, lay slanting
across the hills to bear the gifts of the new country
to the old. It would fall slowly into decay
and the sharp hoof of the last of the wild deer or
giant moose, coming down to drink, would stamp
it into powder in the end. For the close of the
struggle had come and peace had settled over the
domain of the Pirate of Jasper Peak.</p>

<p class='c007'>“You will stay to help us?” Oscar was saying.
“You will see the fields planted and watch the
harvest come in.”</p>

<p class='c007'>“I will help you this winter,” Hugh answered,
“and perhaps stay in the spring to see the planting.
But,” and he patted the letter in his pocket,
“by the time the harvest comes I will be in
France.”</p>

<p class='c007'>He wished a moment after that he had not
spoken, for Oscar’s face clouded, yet quickly
cleared again.</p>

<p class='c007'>“Yet there will always be things to do at
home,” he said, “for us who are not so lucky as
you who go to France.”</p>

<div class='nf-center-c0'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div>THE END</div>
    <div><span class='small'>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</span></div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='pbb'>
 <hr class='pb c000' />
</div>

<p class='c008'>The following pages contain advertisements of Macmillan
books for boys and girls.</p>

<div class='pbb'>
 <hr class='pb c000' />
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='xlarge'>The Island of Appledore</span></div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='sc'>By</span> ADAIR ALDON</div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='lg-container-r'>
  <div class='linegroup'>
    <div class='group'>
      <div class='line'><i>Illustrated, $1.25</i></div>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c008'>The action of the tale, and there is lots of it, takes
place on an island off the coast of Massachusetts immediately
prior to the United States’ declaration of war on
Germany. The hero is a lad of sixteen who is foiled in
his plans to go camping, and “forced,” as he puts it, “to
spend the summer on a little two by four island with an
old maid aunt.” But adventure unrolls before him and
he does not have at all the stupid and uninteresting time
which he had anticipated. Quite the contrary, he encounters
excitement enough for any red-blooded American
youth. The book is a stirring one which would be
read with avidity by young folks at any time, but particularly
so now, when events connected with the great
war are so much in the foreground.</p>

<p class='c008'>“Its power to thrill and inspire will make it appeal to
a public that knows no age limit.”—<i>The Living Age.</i></p>

<p class='c008'>“Everybody must be fascinated with this vivid and
red-blooded story of boyish heroism and constancy at the
outbreak of the great war.”—<i>N. Y. Tribune.</i></p>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</div>
    <div><span class='small'>Publishers&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;64-66 Fifth Avenue&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;New York</span></div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='pbb'>
 <hr class='pb c000' />
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div><i>NEW BOOKS FOR BOYS</i></div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='xlarge'>That Year at Lincoln High</span></div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='sc'>By</span> JOSEPH GOLLOMB</div>
    <div>With illustrations by <span class='sc'>E. C. Caswell</span></div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='lg-container-r'>
  <div class='linegroup'>
    <div class='group'>
      <div class='line'><i>$1.35</i></div>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c008'>This is a rousing story of public school life in a big city, a
story full of incidents ranging from hotly contested athletic
meets—baseball and basketball games—to mysterious secret
society initiations.</p>

<p class='c008'>The principal character is, perhaps, one J. Henley Smollet,
whose well-to-do father decrees that he shall go to the nearby
public school instead of to the aristocratic private institution on
which the boy’s heart had been set. There is a good reason for
the senior Smollet’s action, as the story shows. Hardly less
appealing as a character is Isadore Smollensky, of the East Side,
whose first encounter with J. Henley is of a pugilistic nature,
but who ultimately becomes his warm friend.</p>

<p class='c008'>Not only is the story vivid and exciting, but it gives, as well,
a mighty good idea of the democratizing process going on in
our public schools of to-day.</p>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div><span class='xlarge'>Under Orders: The Story of Tim and “The Club.”</span></div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='sc'>By</span> HAROLD S. LATHAM</div>
    <div><i>Illustrated by</i> <span class='sc'>E. C. Caswell</span></div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='lg-container-r'>
  <div class='linegroup'>
    <div class='group'>
      <div class='line'><i>$1.35</i></div>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c008'>This is a book that belongs decidedly to the American boy of
the present day. It is the story of Tim Scarsboro, a happy-go-lucky,
lovable lad who finds an outlet for his boundless energy
in the Pettibone Boys’ Club.</p>

<p class='c008'>How Tim and the other boys of this club go camping, get up
a minstrel, sell Thrift Stamps and do other patriotic work, as
well as have a “grand, glorious time” on numerous occasions
is described in a series of interesting chapters, culminating in a
scene of such life and spirit as will appeal to any American lad.</p>

<p class='c008'>Incidentally, in <i>Under Orders</i>, the boys’ club movement gets
some of the credit that is due it for the good that it is doing
in building up the ideals of American youth.</p>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</div>
    <div><span class='small'>Publishers&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;64-66 Fifth Avenue&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;New York</span></div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='pbb'>
 <hr class='pb c000' />
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div><i>NEW BOOKS FOR BOYS</i></div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='xlarge'>The Boy’s Own Book of Great Inventions</span></div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='sc'>By</span> F. L. DARROW</div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='lg-container-r'>
  <div class='linegroup'>
    <div class='group'>
      <div class='line'><i>With many illustrations.</i></div>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c008'>Every boy—and many a girl, too—likes to make things, and
it is out of this certain interest which youth has in invention
that this book has grown. Its appeal is primarily to the inventive
faculty latent in every youngster. Not only does Mr.
Darrow describe the great inventions of man, but he applies the
principles underlying them to simple apparatus which the boy
can construct for himself. The aëroplane, the balloon, the various
kinds of engines, the telephone, the telegraph, the submarine,
the telescope—all these and many more come in for consideration,
followed in each case with simple experiments which the
reader can make for himself, and in many cases with explicit
directions for the construction of an adaptation of the machine
or instrument.</p>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div><span class='xlarge'>Stephen’s Last Chance</span></div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='sc'>By</span> MARGARET ASHMUN</div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='lg-container-r'>
  <div class='linegroup'>
    <div class='group'>
      <div class='line'><i>Illustrated, $1.50</i></div>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c008'>Here’s a little boy, alone and friendless, in Last Chance Gulch.
His aunt, who was his only relative, has just died. The future
looks pretty dark to him—and that is where the story begins.</p>

<p class='c008'>What happens to Stephen after Emery and Sara Clark take
him back to their ranch out in the wildest part of Montana, how
he rides the bucking “Scratch Gravel,” helps to capture the bank
robbers, and how he saves Emery Clark’s life by doing a very
brave (and hard) thing, and best of all, how he takes his “last
chance,” is told in the most interesting and exciting way.</p>

<p class='c008'>Boys will like this book immensely because it is full of adventure
and something happens on every page. What happens?
Well—that’s telling!</p>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</div>
    <div><span class='small'>Publishers&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;64-66 Fifth Avenue&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;New York</span></div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='pbb'>
 <hr class='pb c000' />
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div><i>NEW BOOKS FOR GIRLS</i></div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='xlarge'>Isabel Carleton’s Friends</span></div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='sc'>By</span> MARGARET ASHMUN</div>
    <div>Author of “Isabel Carleton’s Year,” etc.</div>
  </div>
</div>

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    <div class='group'>
      <div class='line'><i>Illustrated, $1.35</i></div>
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<p class='c008'>The girls who have read and enjoyed the preceding Isabel
Carleton stories will be delighted to know that in this new
volume, Isabel’s life grows even more interesting, as she goes
on through the university. What happens in Jefferson, how the
war is brought home to Isabel and the story of two of her
friends in particular makes an absorbing narrative.</p>

<p class='c008'>Isabel Carleton has always been a lovable, straightforward,
human girl, and all of these qualities are heightened in the new
chronicle.</p>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div>ANOTHER ELIZABETH BESS STORY</div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='xlarge'>The Loyalty of Elizabeth Bess</span></div>
    <div class='c000'><span class='sc'>By</span> E. C. SCOTT</div>
    <div>Author of “Elizabeth Bess”</div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='lg-container-r'>
  <div class='linegroup'>
    <div class='group'>
      <div class='line'><i>Illustrated, $1.35</i></div>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c008'>This book tells more of the delightful little girl who was the
central figure in a story published last year which has met with
the favor of thousands of young people.</p>

<p class='c008'>Elizabeth’s active interest in her “fambly” leads her to the
doing of unheard of things in their behalf. These experiences
and adventures, of which not the least appealing is that growing
out of her secret alliance with a fairy king who was to turn
stones into gold when his wand, which unfortunately was mislaid,
should be recovered, comprise a volume which is different
from the average child story.</p>

<p class='c008'>It is full of whimsical humor and of the sort of entertainment
which girls in their teens—and younger and older perhaps—find
most satisfying.</p>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</div>
    <div><span class='small'>Publishers&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;64-66 Fifth Avenue&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;New York</span></div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='pbb'>
 <hr class='pb c000' />
</div>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div>ANOTHER “GIRL PATRIOT” STORY</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c008'><span class='xlarge'>Girls of ’64</span></p>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div><span class='sc'>By EMILIE BENSON KNIPE and ALDEN A. KNIPE</span></div>
    <div>Authors of “A Maid of ’76,” “Polly Trotter, Patriot,” etc.</div>
  </div>
</div>

<div class='lg-container-r'>
  <div class='linegroup'>
    <div class='group'>
      <div class='line'><i>Illustrated, $1.35</i></div>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c008'>Dorothea Drummond, a young Scotch girl on a visit to relations
in the South during the Civil War, learns that in the household
there is a member of the “Red String,” a mysterious society,
pledged to work against the Confederacy and to help
escaping prisoners. Who is it? Beautiful April May, a rebel
through and through, who has parted from her lover because he
did not volunteer? Quaint Miss Imogene, with her memories
of a favorite suitor from the North? Mrs. May, an avowed
submissionist? Val Tracy, a care-free Irishman fighting for the
love of a good fight? Or is it one of the servants, daring much
when freedom is near?</p>

<p class='c008'>Mr. and Mrs. Knipe tell a story of tangled fortune in “Girls
of ’64” that a girl of 18 (or 19) will hardly put down before
its happy ending is reached.</p>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div>OTHER BOOKS FROM THE “GIRL PATRIOT” SERIES</div>
  </div>
</div>

<p class='c008'><span class='xlarge'>A Maid of ’76</span></p>

<p class='c008'>It is full of action and holds the interest from the first page;
it gives a much more vivid picture of colonial times than a
child could get from half a dozen histories.</p>

<div class='c009'><i>Illustrated, $1.35</i></div>

<p class='c008'><span class='xlarge'>Polly Trotter, Patriot</span></p>

<p class='c008'>“The books which Dr. and Mrs. Knipe have written are more
than worthy of praise, for they represent the best type of juvenile
fiction.”—<i>Boston Herald.</i></p>

<div class='c009'><i>Illustrated, $1.35</i></div>

<p class='c008'><span class='xlarge'>A Maid of Old Manhattan</span></p>

<p class='c008'>With rare ability the authors have woven their careful historical
knowledge about an exciting tale of Peter Stuyvesant’s
time. It will inspire the reader with the same sympathy for
those early patriots as the other books in this splendid series.</p>

<div class='c009'><i>Illustrated, $1.35</i></div>

<div class='nf-center-c1'>
  <div class='nf-center'>
    <div>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</div>
    <div><span class='small'>Publishers&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;64-66 Fifth Avenue&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;New York</span></div>
  </div>
</div>

<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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