THE TENT DWELLERS.
Somehow Cuthbert could not get to sleep.
He was constantly thinking of Owen and his fortunes, weaving castles in
the air that might be fulfilled, providing the sturdy young Canuck could
be convinced that it was right and proper for him to become reconciled
with his grandfather, and let bygones be forgotten.
So an hour or two passed.
Cuthbert finally arose and cast his blanket aside, for he had not made
use of his sleeping bag on this night.
Stepping out of the tent he looked around; the night was fair and not a
sign of trouble could be detected in atmosphere or sky, for the heavenly
monitors shone overhead with their usual brilliancy, and there was not
much of a tang in the drowsy night wind.
Cuthbert thought it suspiciously quiet, knowing how it often grows calm
before a storm.
Really he was beginning to feel worried a bit about the non-appearance
of Owen, when he caught the soft sound of footsteps and the object of
his solicitude appeared close by.
"Hello, keeping watch?" he asked, a little surprised to find one of his
companions up and looking around.
"No, I just happened to wake up, and not finding you in the shack, crept
out to take a peep around, and see if there was any sign of your coming.
I had begun to fear our mutual friends, Stackpole and Dubois, might have
waylaid you, old fellow; but now I see I was wrong. You've been taking a
bit of exercise, no doubt--didn't get enough on our way here, eh? It did
me up, all right, and I was glad to drop down and rest. Now you're in
camp I'll resume my nap," answered Cuthbert, leaving it to the other as
to whether he wanted to explain.
Owen seemed a trifle confused, but he was a straightforward fellow and
without a trace of guile in his make-up.
"To confess the truth, Cuthbert, I hung around for a long time to get a
glimpse of that little cousin you spoke of, and fortune was kind enough
to let me see her several times. Just as you say, she looks like a fairy
and somehow made me think of a picture I have of my mother when she was
young. I had quite a little talk with her, too, which made it very
pleasant. And while I'm about it I might as well own up that the sight
of her, together with the thoughts swarming into my mind, caused me to
finally wander off into the woods, where alone I could fight the whole
thing out and come to such a conclusion as the mother I loved would have
had me do. It's been a hard tussle, I tell you, but I think I've won
out," he said, with a quiver in his voice, and it was easy to see that
the lad had been recently racked by emotions that for some time he had
succeeded in keeping under restraint.
Cuthbert understood better than words could have told him what the
nature of that battle under the stars must have been, and to show his
sympathy for this new but dear chum he impulsively thrust out his hand
and gripped that of Owen.
"I'm awful glad to know it--say no more, old fellow, for I can give a
pretty good guess how it turned out. Come, tumble into your blankets and
get some of your beauty sleep. There's another day coming, when I hope
all of these twists and misunderstandings may be smoothed out and
everything look bully. Now, crawl in and feel for your nest--it's on the
side to the right, first blanket."
"Wait a bit," said Owen, "there's something else you ought to know.
Perhaps you heard all that racket awhile ago. Well, I was partly the
cause of that," and then he went on to tell the wondering Cuthbert what
a strange thing had occurred while he was still lingering near the room
that held Jessie Ferguson.
The Virginia lad was also pleased, because he knew the reconciliation
could not be much longer delayed, and presently he lay down once more to
sleep.
Owen was accustomed to turning in all standing, as a sailor would
say--that is, with simply pulling off his boots or moccasins, whichever
he chanced to be wearing, for a life in the woods does not allow of the
customary preparations for bed; even the other two boys only removed
their outer garments, though when the weather had been milder Cuthbert
had indulged in the delight of pajamas; but the first frost had chilled
his ardor in that line, and he had gradually come to copying Eli, who
had the habits of the loggers of the great Michigan woods and waived all
ceremony.
When ten minutes had passed Cuthbert fancied from the regular breathing
that came from the spot where the Canadian lad lay that he was far along
the road to the Land of Nod, and giving a satisfied grunt, he himself
turned over, to let himself slip away on the tide.
Those who spend much time in the woods, in camps are restless during the
night, and rarely sleep through without once or twice arousing, lifting
their head to listen through habit or caution, or even crawling out to
renew the fire.
True, there was no need of these things now with our boys, but
nevertheless Cuthbert seemed to rest under the impression that it would
not be a good thing to break a settled habit, and so along about one
o'clock in the morning he poked his head out of the tent to take a
perfunctory look around, just as an old and tarry sailor, from habit,
jerks his head up while passing along the street of a city, not so much
to survey the skyscrapers that tower above him, but from sheer habit of
glancing aloft at the shivering sails of the old hooker upon which he
labors twenty hours of the day.
He found that the sky was covered with clouds, and there was beginning
to be quite some wind--indeed, it may have been a corner of the tent
which was whipping monotonously in each rising gust that had aroused
him.
Anyhow, he bent down and secured the flapping end, so that it would not
awaken the others with its antics, after which he took another survey of
the situation and again crawled under cover, convinced that by the dawn
they might anticipate a storm of some kind.
It was a bit pleasant to know that they were now in such a decent sort
of shelter and could keep quite dry, no matter how the rain came down,
and if it so happened that the first real touch of winter was sprung
upon them, why surely it would not be hard to keep cozy, with plenty of
wood to burn and a storehouse so close at hand, from which any amount of
provisions could be obtained, since he possessed the "open sesame" in
the way of cash.
He thought he heard Owen move as he crawled back into the tent again,
but was not quite positive, and he did not want to arouse both of the
others, in case they were asleep, by asking questions.
The last he remembered after that for some time was of lying there and
listening to the increasing moan of the wind among the tops of the great
hemlocks that stood close by the corner of the stockade; it seemed after
a time like a lullaby soothing him to sleep, for Cuthbert was too old a
hand at this sort of game to allow himself to grow nervous over the
coming of a little whirl, such as this no doubt would prove to be.
Then he lost consciousness and slept heavily, unmindful of the wind,
the mournful hoot of a great northern owl in the dead tree nearby, or
even the howls of big gray timber wolves grown bold with the nearness of
winter.