All through the night that followed Sam Thayor slept soundly on his spring bed of fragrant1 balsam, oblivious2 to the Clown's snoring or the snapping logs burning briskly in the stove, his head pillowed on his boots wound in his blanket. Beneath the canopy3 of stars the torrent4 roared and the great trees whined5 and creaked, their shaggy tops whistling in the stiff breeze. Not until Hite laid his rough hand on his shoulder and shook him gently did he wake to consciousness.
"Breakfus's most ready," announced the trapper cheerfully.
Thayor opened his eyes; then, with a start, he sat up, remembering where he was. As he grew accustomed to the light he caught a glimpse outside of Billy and the Clown busy over the frying pan, and the steaming pail of coffee. Its fragrance7 and the pungent8 smoke from the fire now brought him fully6 awake.
"How'd ye sleep, friend?" inquired Hite, his weather-beaten face wrinkled in a kindly9 grin.
"How did I sleep?" returned the millionaire smiling; "like a top—really I don't know; I don't remember anything after Holcomb covered me up."
"Breakfast!" shouted the Clown from without.
"Wait'll I git ye some fresh water," said the trapper, tossing the soapy contents of a tin basin into the sun and returning with it re-filled. "Thar, dip yer head into that, friend—makes a man feel good, I tell ye, on a frosty mornin'." Then lowering his voice to a whisper he added: "The old dog's sot on gittin' an early start; he's mighty11 pertickler 'bout12 it. The old feller's been up 'long 'fore13 daylight. He told me he never seen no nicer mornin' for a hunt. If we don't git a deer 'fore noon you kin10 have all that's on my plate." There was a confident gleam in the old man's eyes—an enthusiasm that was contagious14.
The gray head of the millionaire went into the tin basin with a will. Big Shanty15 Brook16, that morning, was as cold as ice. He rubbed his face and neck into a glow, combing his hair as best he could with his hands. He was as hungry as a wolf. Thayor was now beginning to understand their unwillingness17 to accept pay for their services.
Breakfast over, the four struck into the woods in single file, en route for their runways, Hite taking the lead, the old dog trotting18 at the Clown's heels in silence, Holcomb bringing up the rear.
"Now, friend," began Hite in a low tone to Thayor, "you'd better come with me, I presume; and, Billy, we'll go slow so's you'll have time to git down to whar that leetle brook comes into Big Shanty." And the banker and the trapper, followed by the dog, struck off to the left, up the densely20 wooded side of the mountain.
It was all a mystery to Thayor, this finding a blind trail in the forest, but to the trapper it was as plain as a thoroughfare.
"'T won't be long 'fore the old dog'll git down to business this mornin'," he muttered to Thayor in his low voice, as he steadied him along a slippery log. "The dog says Freme's allys sot on keepin' up too high. He thinks them deer is feedin' on what they kin git low down in the green timber underneath21 them big slides. I ain't of course, sayin' nothin' agin Freme. Thar ain't a better starter in these hull22 maountins, only him and the old dog ain't allus of the same idee."
Presently Big Shanty Brook flashed ahead of them through the trees, and the trapper led the way out to a broad pool, a roaring cauldron of emerald green steaming in mist. Just above it lay a point of boulders24 out of which a dense19 clump25 of hemlocks26 struggled for a rough existence—the boulders about their gnarled roots splitting the course of the mountain torrent right and left.
"Thar, Mr. Thayor!" shouted the trapper in a voice that could be heard above the roar of water. "Guess you'll be better off here whar ye kin see up and down—if the deer comes through here he's liable to cross jest above whar ye see them cedars27 noddin' to us, or like's not he'll take a notion to strike in a leetle mite28 higher up, and slosh down till he kin git acrost by them big rocks. Take your time, friend, and if ye see him comin' your way, let him come on and don't shoot till he turns and ye kin see the hull bigness of him."
"I'll do my best," returned Thayor above the roar, as he settled himself behind the pile of driftwood the trapper had indicated. "But where are you going, Mr. Holt?"
"Me? Oh, further up. 'T ain't likely he'll come my way, but if ye was to miss him I'll be whar he can't git by without my gittin' the gun on him if he undertakes to back track up the brook. Let's see!" he exclaimed, after a moment's hesitation30, again casting his keen eyes over Thayor's vantage point. "Guess ye'd be more comfortable, wouldn't ye, if ye was to set over thar whar ye won't git sloppin' wet. Gosh! how she's riz!" he remarked, as Thayor re-settled himself. "If you was to hear me shoot," said the old man, as he took his leave, "come back up to whar I be. 'T ain't more 'n half a mile."
Thayor watched the gaunt figure of the trapper as he went off to his runway, leaping with his long legs from one slippery boulder23 to the next, as sure-footed as a goat—watched until he disappeared beyond the clump of torrent-scarred trees.
The man from the city was alone. He sat there listening and watching as eager as a boy. An hour passed. Time and again since he had taken up his vigil he had started up excitedly, glancing here and there, confident he heard the baying notes of a hound above the roar of Big Shanty. Voices, too, rang in his ears from out of that deceptive31 torrent as it boiled and eddied32 past him in the sunlight. Again, it seemed as if quarrelling had broken out among the boulders—quarrels that changed to girlish laughter and distant choruses. Once his mind reverted33 to the note he had sent by Blakeman; he wondered what effect the news had had upon Alice. When he faced her again would he have to go through what he had gone through before? or would she come to her senses, and be once more the loyal, loving wife she had always been until—No; he would not go into that. Then Margaret's eyes looked into his. Again he felt her arms about his neck; the coo and gurgle of her voice, and laughter in his ears. Here she, at least, would be happy, and here, too, they could have those long days together which he had always promised himself, and which his life in the Street made impossible.
He rose to stretch his legs. As he did so the strange fascination34 of the mountain torrent—fascination that grew into a stranger feeling of isolation35, almost of fear, took possession of him. He knew the trapper was somewhere, but half a mile above him. He was glad of this unseen companionship, and yet he realized that he was helpless to find his way back to the shanty. Big Shanty Brook had lost men before, and could again.
Suddenly the hoarse36 bellowing37 of a hound brought him again to his feet.
"Oo—oo—wah!" it rang over the roar; then the baying grew fainter from far up under the black slides as the dog turned in his course.
At this instant he became conscious of a presence which he could not at first make out—but something alive—something that moved—stood still—still as the tree behind which it slunk—and moved again. He grasped his Winchester and peered ahead, straining his eyes. Before him, barely thirty yards away, stood a man, the like of whom he had never seen before. Gaunt, hollow-eyed, unshorn, his matted beard and hair covered by a ragged38 slouch hat. Resting in the hollow of his arm was a rifle, and around his waist a belt of cartridges39. That he had not seen Thayor was evident from the way he stood listening to the baying of the hound, his hand cupped to his ear.
Suddenly the figure crouched40; sank to the ground and rolled behind a fallen log. At the same instant the old dog bounded out of the bushes and sprang straight at where the man lay concealed41.
Thayor waited, not daring to breathe. The old dog had evidently lost the deer tracks.
Thayor settled once more in his place, now that the mystery was explained; looked his rifle over, laid it within instant reach of his hand and gave a low cough in the direction of the concealed figure. Should the deer charge this way it was just as well to let the man know where he sat, or he might stop a stray bullet. Quick as the answering flash of a mirror a line of light glinted along the barrel of a rifle resting on the fallen log, its muzzle42 pointed43 straight at him.
Thayor shrank behind the drift and uttered a yell. Almost every year someone had been mistaken for a deer and shot.
At this instant there rang through the forest the stamping splash of hoofs44 in the rapids above him; a moment more and he saw the spray fly back of a boulder. Then he gazed at something that obliterated45 all else.
A big buck46 was coming straight toward him. He came on, walking briskly, his steel-blue coat wet and glistening47, a superb dignity about him, carrying his head and its branching horns with a certain fearless pride, and now that he had struck water, wisely taking his time to gain his second wind.
In a flash the buck saw him, turned broadside and leaped for the clump of nodding hemlocks.
Bang! Bang! Thayor was shooting now—shooting as if his life depended upon it. His first shot went wild, the bullet striking against a rock. The second sent the buck to his knees; in a second he was up again. It was the fourth shot that reached home, just as the deer gained the mass of boulders and hemlocks. The buck sprang convulsively in the air—the old dog at his throat—turned a half somersault and fell in a heap, stone dead, in a shallow pool. With a cry of joy the trapper was beside him.
"By Goll! you done well!" Hite declared with enthusiasm. "By Goll! friend, you done well! I knowed you had him soon's I heard the gun crack. Thinks I, he ain't liable to git by ye if he comes in whar I knowed he would. Well, he's consider'ble of a deer, I swan!" he declared, running his hand over the branching prongs.
"He's a beauty!" cried Thayor.
"Yes, sir, and he'll dress clus to a hundred and seventy. Must have made him think this perticler section was inhabited when ye was lettin' drive at him. Fust shot I know ye shot too quick. I warn't mor'n a hundred yards from him, then I knowed ye was gittin' stiddier when I heard ye shoot again."
"Hurrah48, boys!" shouted a voice from the bank. It was Holcomb.
"There's our saddle for Randall," he cried as he leaped toward them.
"But, Billy, I came pretty near not getting him after all," exclaimed Thayor with a laugh. "I was trying to keep your friend in the runway across the brook from shooting me, but I forgot all about him when I heard the deer come crashing down stream. If he got a crack at him at all I didn't hear it, I was so excited. You ought to have told me, Mr. Holt, you had somebody else watching out across the brook, or I might have let drive at him by mistake, or he at me." And Thayor laughed heartily49. He was very happy to-day.
The trapper looked at him in wonder.
"Freme warn't down this way was he, Billy?"
Holcomb shook his head—a curious expression on his face.
"Oh, it wasn't Freme," retorted Thayor. "This man was half the size of Skinner, and a regular scarecrow. Looked as if he hadn't had anything to eat for weeks—but he could handle a gun all right. That's what worried me; I was afraid he would use it on me until the old dog lay down beside him."
The trapper gazed at the hound long and earnestly as if to read his mind, and then he answered thoughtfully:
"No—he warn't none of our folks, Mr. Thayor—one o' them gunners, I guess. They all know the old dog. And now," continued the old man, "I presume, likely, arter we've washed up a mite, we'd better be makin' tracks for home. I'm gittin' hollerer 'n a gourd50. How be you, friend; hongry?"
"Hungry as a wolf," returned Thayor, still beaming over his good luck.
The Clown now appeared, and drawing his heavy knife, began dressing51 the buck.
"Here, Freme," cried the trapper, when the deer had been quartered, "that's yourn," and he slung52 the forequarters over the Clown's neck. "Ride nice?" asked the old man. "Kinder hefty, ain't it, Freme?"
"Wall, it ain't no ear-ring," laughed the Clown, shifting his burden to a finer balance.
"I'll take the hind29 quarters," said Thayor, straddling them across his neck, as the Clown had done, and with his own and Thayor's rifle spliced53 to the buck's head, the Clown led the way back to camp.
* * * * *
Some mornings after the hunt, during which Thayor had become so saturated54 with the life about him that the very thought of his work at home was distasteful, the banker called Holcomb to one side, and the two took their seats on a fallen tree, sections of which had warmed their tired and rain-soaked bodies more than once during his stay in the wilderness55.
The open-air life—the excitement of the hunt—the touch of the cool woods, had removed from Thayor's mind every lingering doubt of his future plans. With the same promptness which characterized all his business transactions, he decided56 to return to New York the next day.
"Billy," began the banker, when he had settled himself comfortably, and lighted his cigar, "do you suppose Skinner can get a despatch57 out for me in the morning?"
"Yes, he might," replied Holcomb.
"Well, will you please see that he does then? And, Billy, one thing more—how many acres did you tell me the other day there was as far as we can see?" and he waved his hand to the stretch below him.
"About fifteen thousand, sir."
"Well, that will do for a beginning. I'm going to settle here, Billy, permanently—all my life. I want you to start to-morrow and find out who owns, not only this fifteen thousand acres, but what lies next to it. I'm going to buy if I can, and you're the man to help me."
"But, Mr. Thayor," faltered58 the young woodsman.
"No—there are no buts. I am not buying timber land, you understand, in the ordinary way, to destroy it. I want this beautiful country to be my own. No," he added smiling, "our own, Billy. That's the better way to put it."
"I'll do my best," replied Holcomb simply, when he got his breath.
"It's a big purchase and I must go slowly."
"Then the sooner you begin on them, my boy, the better. I shall send my lawyer, Mr. Griscom, up to you immediately; he will see that we get fair play legally, but as to the question of what and what not to buy, I leave that entirely59 to your judgment60; what money you need you have but to ask Mr. Griscom for."
"I'm afraid they will hold the tract61 at a high price, Mr. Thayor," said Holcomb.
"Whatever they hold it at within reason I'll pay," declared the millionaire.
"Then you'll have it," replied the young woodsman in a positive tone, "at the fairest figure I can get it for."
"I haven't a doubt of it, Billy. And now let me tell Holt and Freme—they are just inside the shanty. Ah—Mr. Holt, I was just telling Holcomb that I'm off in the morning, and before I go I want to tell you and Freme that I shall miss you dreadfully—miss you more than I can tell.
"Yes—so we mistrusted," answered Freme, in a regretful tone, "when we overheard ye talkin' 'bout telegrams."
"Goll! I hate to have ye go," declared the trapper, clearing his throat. "Seems 'ough you hain't but jest come, Mr. Thayor. But you got what ye come for, didn't ye? I dunno as I ever see a nicer deer."
"Yes, thanks to you and the old dog. But I'm coming back."
"Thar! what did I tell ye, Hite?" exclaimed the Clown.
"And when I do come back it will be to stay—at least during the summer months—perhaps for all the months."
The Clown and the trapper looked up with a puzzled expression.
"And as it is a decision which concerns all of us," Thayor resumed, "I want to tell you now that I have decided to buy Big Shanty Brook as far as we can see, and build a home here for myself and my family."
"Gee62 whimey!" cried the Clown. "I want to know!" The keen eyes of the trapper opened wide in astonishment63.
"I have left the matter of purchase," continued Thayor, "entirely in Holcomb's hands. He will be my superintendent64. I now ask your help, my friends, both of you; and so if you are willing you may consider yourselves under salary which Billy will settle with you, beginning from the morning I first saw this shanty. And now, Billy, if you don't mind, I want to see Big Shanty Brook once more before it gets dark. Maybe we can pick out a place for the new camp."
For some time neither the trapper nor the Clown spoke65. Both sat amazed, silently gazing into the fire. Then Hite said slowly, turning to the Clown:
"Freme, I dunno as if I ever seen a nicer man."
* * * * *
Once outside Thayor stretched his arms above his head.
"Ah—what a day, it has been, Billy," he sighed. "What a full, glorious day, and what a rest it has all been. At what hour do we start in the morning?" and a touch of sadness came into his voice.
"At seven," Holcomb replied; "Freme will take us out to the railroad with a team from Morrison's. We can send your telegram there."
"Good!" cried Thayor, brightening. "And, Mr. Holt—isn't he coming too?"
"I'm afraid not; he said to me before lunch that he and the dog were going to stay on for a spell."
"What—not alone! Oh, Billy, I wouldn't want to leave him here alone. He's an old man, you know, even if he is tough as a pine knot. Can't we persuade him to go with us? He's been so loyal and lovable I hate to leave him."
"I don't think you need worry, sir—he won't be alone."
"But Skinner is going with us."
"Yes—but he'll have company."
"Who?"
"The man you saw yesterday. You didn't suspect, perhaps, but that was
Bob Dinsmore, who killed Bailey."
"The hide-out!" exclaimed Thayor, with a start.
"Yes, he's been around here ever since we came."
"Oh! I'm so sorry! Why didn't you let me see him?"
"Well, we didn't think any good would come of it, sir. Hite won't let him go hungry if he can help it, and he can now. We haven't eaten half the grub we brought."
Thayor stood for a moment in deep thought, reached down into his pocket and took from it a roll of bills.
"Hand this to Holt, Billy, and tell him to give it to the poor fellow from me."
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1
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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unwillingness
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| n. 不愿意，不情愿 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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hemlocks
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| 由毒芹提取的毒药( hemlock的名词复数 ) | |
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cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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hind
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hesitation
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deceptive
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| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
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eddied
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| 起漩涡，旋转( eddy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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45
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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50
gourd
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| n.葫芦 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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spliced
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| adj.（针织品）加固的n.叠接v.绞接( splice的过去式和过去分词 )；捻接（两段绳子）；胶接；粘接（胶片、磁带等） | |
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54
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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55
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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58
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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59
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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60
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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