"The poor 'n' pious kin callate the crumbs fallin' from the
rich man's table'll be few 'n' skimpy."--Old Cy Walker.
An enemy we can meet in the open need not appall us; but an enemy who
creeps up to us by day, or still worse by night, in a vast wilderness,
becomes a panther and an Indian combined.
Such a one had spied upon Martin's camp that night, and all the tales
of this half-breed's cunning and fierce nature, told by Levi, were now
recalled. Like a human brute whose fangs were tobacco-stained, whose one
evil eye glared at them out of darkness, the half-breed had now become a
creeping, crawling beast, impossible to trail, yet certain to bide his
time, seize Chip, or avenge her loss upon her protectors.
Now another complication arose as Martin, Old Cy, and Levi left the
spot where this enemy had watched them--what to do about Angie and the
girl? From the first warning from Levi that they were in danger from
the half-breed, Martin had avoided all hint of it to them. Now they
must be told, and all peace of mind at once destroyed. Concealment was
no longer possible, however, and when Angie was told, her face paled. Her
first intuition, and as the sequel proved, a wise one, was for them
to at once pack up and quit the woods as speedily as possible.
But Martin was of different fibre. To run away like this was cowardly,
and besides he cherished only contempt for a wretch who had played the
role of this fellow, and was so vile of instinct. With no desire to
do wrong, he yet felt that if sufficient provocation and the need of
self-defence arose, the earth, and especially this wilderness, would be
well rid of such a despicable creature.
Then Levi's advice carried weight.
"We ain't goin' to 'scape him," he said, "by startin' out o'
the woods now. Most likely he's got his eye on us this minute. He
knows every rod o' the way out whar we'd be likely to camp. He'd
sure follow, an' if he didn't cut our canoes to pieces some night,
he'd watch his chance 'n' grab the gal 'n' make off under cover
o' darkness. We've got a sort o' human panther to figger on, an'
shootin' under such conditions might mean killin' the gal. We've got
to go out sometime, but I don't believe in turnin' tail fust go-off,
'n' we may get a chance to wing the cuss, like ez not," and the
glitter in Levi's eyes showed he would not hesitate to shoot this
half-breed if the chance presented itself.
Old Cy's opinion is also worth quoting:--"My notion is this hyena's a
coward, 'n' like all sich'll never show himself by daylight. He knows
we've got guns 'n' know how to use 'em. The camp's as good as a
fort. One on us kin allus be on guard daytimes, an' when it's time
to go out--wal, I think we ought to hev cunnin' 'nuff 'mongst us to
gin one hyena the slip. Thar's one thing must be done, though, 'n'
that is, keep the gal clus. 'Twon't do to let her go over the hog-back
arter berries, or canoein' round the lake no more."
And now began a state of semi-siege at Birch Camp.
Chip was kept an almost prisoner, hardly ever permitted out of
Angie's sight. One of the men, always with rifle handy, remained on
guard--usually Old Cy, and for a few nights he lay in ambush near the
shore, to see if perchance this enemy would steal up again.
With all these precautions against surprise, came a certain feeling of
defiance in Martin. With Ray for companion he went fishing once more,
and with Levi as pilot he cruised about for game.
Only a few more weeks of his outing remained, and on sober second
thought, he didn't mean to let this sneaking enemy spoil those.
But Old Cy never relaxed his vigil. This waif of the wilderness and her
pitiful position appealed to him even more than to Angie, and true to
the nature that had made all Greenvale's children love him, so now did
Chip find him a kind and protecting father.
With rifle always with him, he took her canoeing and fishing; sometimes
Angie joined them, and so life at Birch Camp became pleasant once more.
A week or more of happiness was passed, with no sight or sign of their
enemy, and then one morning when Old Cy had journeyed over to the
ice-house, he glanced across the lake to a narrow valley through which a
stream known as Beaver Brook reached the lake, and far up this vale,
rising above the dense woods, was a faint column of smoke.
The morning was damp, cloudy, and still--conditions suitable for
smoke-rising, and yet so faint and distant was this that none but
the keen, observant eyes of a woodsman would have noticed it. Yet there
it was, a thin white pillar, clearly outlined against the dark green
of the foliage.
Old Cy hurried back, motioned to Levi, and the two watched it from the
front of the camp. Martin soon joined them, then Angie and Chip, and all
stood and studied this smoke sign. It was almost ludicrous, and yet not;
for at its foot must be a fire, and beside it, doubtless, the half-breed.
"Can you locate it?" queried Martin of his guide, as the delicate
column of white slowly faded.
"It's purty well up the brook," Levi answered; "thar's a sort of
Rocky Dundar thar, 'n' probably a cave. I callate if it's him, he's
s'pected a storm, 'n' so sneaked to cover."
And now, as if to prove this, a few drops of rain began to patter on
the motionless lake; thicker, faster they came, and as the little group
hurried to shelter, a torrent, almost, descended. For weeks not a drop of
rain had fallen here. Each morn the sun had risen in undimmed splendor,
to vanish at night, a ball of glorious red.
But now a change had come. Wind followed the rain, and all that day the
storm raged and roared through the dense forest about. The lake was
white with driving scud, the cabin rocked, trees creaked, and outdoor
life was impossible. When night came, it seemed a thousand demons were
wailing, moaning, and screeching in the forest, and as the little party
now grouped around the open stove in the new cabin watched it, the fire
rose and fell in unison with the blasts.
"It's the spites," whispered Chip to Ray. "They allus act that way
when it's stormin'."
The next day the gale began to lessen, and by night the moon, now half
full, peeped out of the scurrying clouds. At bedtime it was smiling
serenely, well down toward the tree-tops, and Chip's spites had ceased
their wailing.
Fortunately, however, Martin's quest for game had been successful. A
saddle of venison, a dozen or more partridges, and two goodly strings of
trout hung in cold storage.
But utter and almost speechless astonishment awaited Old Cy at the
ice-house when he visited it the next morning, for the venison was
gone, not a bird remained, and one of the two strings of trout had
vanished.
In front, on the sand, was the same tell-tale moccasin tracks.
"Wal, by the Great Horn Spoon! if that cuss hain't swiped the hull
business," Old Cy ejaculated, as he looked in and then at the tracks.
"Crossed over last night," he added, noting where a canoe had cut its
furrow, "an' steered plumb for my ice-house! The varmint!"
But Martin was angry, thoroughly angry, at the audacious insolence of
the theft, and the thought that just now this sneaking half-breed was
doubtless enjoying grilled venison and roast partridge in some secure
shelter. It also opened his eyes to the fact that this chap would hang
about, watching his chance, until they started out of the wilderness, and
then capture the girl if he could. For a little while Martin pondered
over the situation and then announced his plans.
"There's law, and officers to execute it," he said, "if a sufficient
reward be offered; and to-morrow you and I, Levi, will start for the
settlement and fetch a couple in. I'll gladly give five hundred dollars
to land this sneak behind the bars. If he can't be caught, we can at
least have two officers to guard us going out."
All that day he and Levi spent in hunting. Another deer was captured,
more birds secured, and when evening came plans to meet the situation
were discussed.
"You or Ray must remain on guard daytimes near the cabin," Martin said
to Old Cy. "My wife and Chip had better keep in it, or near it most of
the time; and both of you must sleep there nights. One or the other can
fish or hunt, as needed. We must be gone a week or more, even if we have
good luck; but fetching the officers here is the best plan now."
Levi was up early the next morning, and had the best canoe packed for
a hurry trip ere breakfast was ready. No tent was to be taken, only
blankets, a rifle, a bag of the simplest cooking utensils, pork, bread,
and coffee. A modest outfit--barely enough to sustain life, yet all a
woodsman carries when a long canoe journey with many carries must be
taken.
There were sober faces at the landing when Martin was ready to
start,--Chip most sober of all,--for now she realized as never before
how serious a burden she had become.
No time was wasted in good-bys. Martin grasped the bow paddle, and with
"Old Faithful" Levi wielding the stern one, they soon crossed the lake
and vanished at its outlet.
And now, also, for the first time, Angie realized how much the
presence of these two strong and resourceful men meant to her. All
that day she and Chip clung to the cabin, while Old Cy, a long, lanky
Leatherstocking, patrolled the premises, rifle in hand.
"We hain't a mite o' cause to worry," he said, when nightfall drew
near. "That pesky varmint's a coward, 'n' knows guns are plenty
here, an' we folks handy in usin' 'em. I've rigged a fish line to
the ice-house door, so it'll rattle some tinware in the cabin if he
meddles it again. I sleep with one eye 'n' both ears open, an' if he
comes prowlin' round night-times, he'll hear bullets whizzin' an'
think Fourth o' July's opened up arly."
But for all his cheerful assurance, time passed slowly, and a sense of
real danger oppressed Angie and Chip as well. Ray shared it also. He was
not as yet hardened to the wilderness, and like all who are thus tender,
its vast sombre solitude seemed ominous.
Only the hermit, with his moonlike eyes and impassive ways, showed no
sign of trouble. What this half-breed wanted, other than food, he seemed
not to understand; and while he helped about the camp work and followed
Old Cy like a dog, he was of no other aid.
One, two, three days of watchful guard and evenings when even Old Cy's
cheerful philosophy or Ray's banjo failed to dispel the gloom, and then,
just as the sun was setting once again, a canoe with one occupant was
seen to enter the lake and head for the landing.