WHAT WAS IN THE NAME
Thrusting back the hair that had fallen over her eyes, Margot sprang
up and stared at the floundering mass of legs, arms, and wings upon
the wide lounge--a battle to the death, it seemed. Then she caught the
assailant in her strong hands and flung him aside, while her laughter
rang out in a way to make the stranger, also, stare, believing she had
gone crazy with sudden fear.
But his terror had restored his strength most marvelously, for he too,
leaped to his feet and retreated to the furthest corner of the room,
whence he regarded the scene with dilated eyes.
"Why--why--it's nobody, nothing but dear old Tom!"
"It's an eagle! The first----"
"Of course, he's an eagle. Aren't you, dear? The most splendid bird
in Maine, or maybe Canada. The wisest, the most loving, the---- Oh!
You big blundering precious thing! Scaring people like that. You
should be more civil, sir."
"Is--is--he tame?"
"Tame as a pet chicken. But mischievous. He wouldn't hurt you for
anything."
"Humph! He would have killed me if I hadn't waked and yelled."
"Well, you did that surely. You feel better, don't you?"
"I wish you'd put him outdoors, or shut him up where he belongs. I
want to sit down."
"There's no reason why you shouldn't," she answered, pushing a chair
toward him.
"Where did you get it--that creature?"
"Uncle found him when he was ever so young. Somebody or something, a
hunter or some other bird, had hurt his wing and one foot. Eagles can
be injured by the least little blow upon their wings, you know."
"No. I know nothing about them--yet. But I shall, some day."
"Oh! I hope so. They're delightful to study. Tom is very large, we
think. He's nearly four feet tall, and his wings---- Spread your
wings, sir! Spread!"
Margot had dropped upon the floor before the wide fireplace, her
favorite seat. Her arms clasped her strange pet's body while his white
head rested lovingly upon her shoulder. His eyes were fixed upon the
blazing logs and his yellow irises gleamed as if they had caught and
held the dancing flames. But at her command he shook himself free, and
extended one mighty wing, while she stretched out the other. Their
tips were full nine feet apart and seemed to fill and darken the whole
place.
In spite of this odd girl's fearless handling of the bird, it looked
most formidable to the visitor, who retreated again to a safe
distance, though he had begun to advance toward her. And again he
implored her to put the uncanny "monster" out of the house.
Margot laughed; as she was always doing; but going to the table filled
a plate with fragments from the stew and calling Tom, set the dish
before him on the threshold.
"There's your supper, Thomas the King! Which means, no more of
Angelique's chickens, dead or alive."
The eagle gravely limped out of doors and the visitor felt relieved,
so that he cast somewhat longing glances upon the table, and Margot
was quick to understand them. Putting a generous portion upon another
plate, she moved a chair to the side nearest the fire.
"You're so much stronger, I guess it won't hurt you to take as much as
you like now. When did you eat anything before?"
"Day before yesterday--I think. I hardly know. The time seems
confused. As if I had been wandering, round and round, forever. I--was
almost dead, wasn't I?"
"Yes. But 'twas our housekeeper who was first to see it was
starvation. Angelique is a Canadian. She lived in the woods long
before we came to them. She is very wise."
He made no comment, being then too busy eating; but at length,
even his voracity was satisfied and he had leisure to examine his
surroundings. He looked at Margot as if girls were as unknown as
eagles; and indeed such as she were--to him, at least. Her dress was
of blue flannel, and of the same simple cut that she had always worn.
A loose blouse, short skirt, full knickerbockers, met at the knees by
long shoes, or gaiters of buckskin. These were as comfortable and
pliable as Indian moccasins, and the only footgear she had ever known.
They were made for her in a distant town, whither Mr. Dutton went for
needed supplies, and, like the rest of her costume, after a design
of his own. She was certainly unconventional in manner, but not from
rudeness so much as from a desire to study him--another unknown
"specimen" from an outside world. Her speech was correct beyond that
common among schoolgirls, and her gaze was as friendly as it was
frank.
Their scrutiny of each other was ended by her exclaiming:
"Why--you are not old! Not much older than Pierre, I believe! It must
be because you are so dirty that I thought you were a man like uncle."
"Thank you," he answered drily.
But she had no intention of offense. Accustomed all her own life to
the utmost cleanliness, in the beginning insisted upon by Angelique
because it was "proper," and by her guardian for health's sake, she
had grown up with a horror of the discomfort of any untidiness, and
she felt herself most remiss in her attentions, that she had not
earlier offered soap and water. Before he realized what she was about,
she had sped into the little outer room which the household used as a
lavatory and whirled a wooden tub into its centre. This she promptly
filled with water from a pipe in the wall, and having hung fresh
towels on a chair, returned to the living room.
"I'm so sorry. I ought to have thought of that right away. But a bath
is ready now, if you wish it."
The stranger rose, stammered a little, but accepted what was in truth
a delightful surprise.
"Well, this is still more amazing! Into what sort of a spot have I
stumbled? It's a log house, but with apparently, several rooms. It has
all the comforts of civilization and at least this one luxury. There
are books, too. I saw them in that inner apartment as I passed the
open door. The man looks like a gentleman in the disguise of a
lumberman, and the girl--what'll she do next? Ask me where I came from
and why, I presume. If she does, I'll have to answer her, and
truthfully. I can't fancy anybody lying to those blue eyes. Maybe she
won't ask."
She did, however, as soon as he reentered the living room, refreshed
and certainly much more attractive in appearance than when he had had
the soil and litter of his long wandering upon him.
"Oh! how much more comfortable you must be. How did you get lost? Is
your home far from here?"
"A long, long way;" and for a moment, something like sadness touched
his face. That look passed quickly and a defiant expression took its
place.
"What a pity! It will be so much harder to get word to your people.
Maybe Pierre can carry a message, or show you the road, once you are
strong enough again."
"Who's Pierre?"
"Mother Ricord's son. He's a woodlander and wiser even than she is.
He's really more French than Indian, but uncle says the latter race is
strongest in him. It often is in his type."
"A-ah, indeed! So you study types up here, do you?"
"Yes. Uncle makes it so interesting. You see, he got used to teaching
stupid people when he was a professor in his college. I'm dreadfully
stupid about books, though I do my best. But I love living things; and
the books about animals, and races, are charming. When they're true,
that is. Often they're not. There's one book on squirrels uncle keeps
as a curiosity, to show how little the writer knew about them. And the
pictures are no more like squirrels than--than they are like me."
"A-ah," said the listener, again. "That explains."
"I don't know what you mean. No matter. It's the old stupidity, I
suppose. How did you get lost?"
"The same prevailing stupidity," he laughed. "Though I didn't realize
it for that quality. Just thought I was smart, you know--conceit.
I--I--well, I didn't get on so very well at the lumber camp I'd
joined. I wasn't used to work of that sort and there didn't seem
to be room, even in the woods, for a greenhorn. I thought it was
easy enough. I could find my way anywhere, in any wilderness,
with my outfit. I'd brought that along, or bought it after I left
civilization; so one night I left, set out to paddle my own canoe. I
paddled it into the rapids, what those fellows called rips, and they
ripped me to ruin. Upset, lost all my kit, tried to find my way back,
wandered and walked forever and ever, it seemed to me, and--you know
the rest."
"But I do not. Did you keep hallooing all that long time? or how did
it happen we heard you?"
"I was in a rocky place when that tornado came and it was near the
water. I had just sense enough left to know they could protect me and
crept under them. Oh! that was awful--awful!"
"It must have been, but I was so deep in our cave that I heard but
little of it. Uncle and Angelique thought I was out in it and lost.
They suffered about it, and uncle tried to make a fire and was sick.
We had just got home when we heard you."
"After the storm I crawled out and I saw you in the boat. You seemed
to have come right out of the earth and I shouted, or tried to. I kept
on shouting, even after you were out of sight and then I got
discouraged and tried once more to find a road out."
"I was singing so loud I suppose I didn't hear, at first. I'm so
sorry. But it's all right now. You're safe, and some way will be found
to get you to your home, or that lumber camp, if you'd rather."
"Suppose I do not wish to go to either place? What then?"
Margot stared. "Not--wish--to go--to your own dear--home?"
The stranger smiled at the amazement of her face.
"Maybe not. Especially as I don't know how I would be received there.
What if I was foolish and didn't know when I was well off? What if I
ran away, meaning to stay away forever?"
"Well, if it hadn't been for the rocks, and me, it would have been
forever. But God made the rocks and gave them to you for a shelter;
and He made me, and sent me out on the lake so you should see me and
be found. If He wants you to go back to that home He'll find a way.
Now, it's queer. Here we've been talking ever so long yet I don't know
who you are. You know all of us: Uncle Hugh Dutton, Angelique Ricord,
and me. I'm Margot Romeyn. What is your name?"
"Mine? Oh! I'm Adrian Wadislaw. A good-for-nought, some people say.
Young Wadislaw, the sinner, son of old Wadislaw, the saint."
The answer was given recklessly, while the dark young face grew sadly
bitter and defiant.
After a moment, something startled Margot from the shocked surprise
with which she had heard this harsh reply. It was a sigh, almost a
groan, as from one who had been more deeply startled even than
herself. Turning, she saw the master standing in the doorway, staring
at their visitor as if he had seen a ghost and nearly as white as one
himself.