Half supporting her, one arm about his neck, her hands clinging to his
as if she was afraid some unseen power would take him from her, the
two regained the camp, the blaze of freshly heaped-up logs having
lighted the way.
"Give Dinsmore something hot to drink at once," were Thayor's first
words on reaching the group. "He's been in water up to his neck. Had
it not been for him we should have had to lie out all night; he sees
in the dark like an owl. We've had a hard tramp." He stood steaming
before the fire as he spoke--drenched to the skin, the others crowding
round him, too happy for the moment to ply him with questions. He
himself was quivering with an inward joy. Alice's kisses were still on
his lips.
The trapper edged nearer. "And what did them fellers say, Mr. Thayor,
when ye found 'em?" he asked. He had asked the question before, but
Thayor only waved his hand saying he would wait until they reached
camp so all could hear the story.
"What did they say to me, Hite? They told me for one thing that they
had done their best to find me, and I guess that was true," and he
smiled grimly. "And now, who do you think was leading them, Billy?"
"Shank Dollard, I guess," returned Holcomb.
"No--Le Boeuf!"
"That Frenchman--and you kept the doctor a week to look after him!"
exclaimed Holcomb indignantly.
"Yes. That was the reason he hunted for me."
The men crowded about the speaker, the women drawing closer, the old
dog closest of all. Dinsmore, who was seated on a stump just outside
the firelight, listened eagerly. He had heard the story before, but
he wanted every detail of it again. His father had pulled the dripping
coat from his back when they reached the fire, and he was now wrapped
in one of the blankets that Margaret had placed about his thin
shoulders.
"Yes--Le Boeuf," continued Thayor. "His arm was still in a sling, but
he and his crowd--there were six of them in all--had done their best
to overtake us before we got to the railroad. He was more afraid of me
than I was of him. When I walked in among them he jumped to his feet
and came straight toward me. I was alone--with Mr. Dinsmore within
reach but out of sight--and, Hite, they never saw your son--just as I
promised you--"
"'I hear you men are looking for me,' I said. 'What can I do for you?'
They all stood around, their eyes on Le Boeuf, as if they wanted him
to speak. A more surprised and frightened lot of men I never saw.
"'Well, we didn't burn de house,' Le Boeuf began. 'We 'fraid you come
and 'rest us. We haf no money to fight reech man like you--we want
work for you again. We know who burn de house--it not us.'
"'That's all right, Le Boeuf,' I said. 'I know you didn't have
anything to do with the fire or you wouldn't be here. Now go back home
all of you, and if I rebuild Big Shanty I'll send for you to help.
Good-bye!' and I turned on my tracks, picked up Mr. Dinsmore where he
had hidden himself and started back. We really have been running away
from our shadows--" and Thayor laughed one of his hearty laughs that
showed how greatly his mind was relieved.
"And what kep' ye so long?" broke in the trapper.
"The fear of running across some of them who would know your son. You
see we had to go around the lake, and we didn't know which side of it
they would take. The rain, too, made the night settle the earlier.
We were almost within sight of the camp here when we saw the torches.
Holcomb and Margaret reached us first. I guess you carried her over
the rough places--didn't you, Billy? Well, I don't blame you, my
boy." There was a twinkle in his eye when he spoke. He was very happy
to-night! "And so you see we have had our scare for nothing."
"And now one thing more before I turn in," he added in his quick,
business-like way. "This has been on my mind all day, and as we have
no secrets now that we can't share with each other, I want you all to
hear what I am going to say. Will you come closer, Mr. Dinsmore"--it
was marvellous how he never omitted the prefix; "would you mind moving
up so that you can listen the better? I am going to do what I can to
end your sufferings." The hide-out shambled up and sat in a crouching
position, the blanket about his shoulders, his hollow eyes fixed on
Thayor.
"What I want to say to you all is this: I have had several conferences
with this poor fellow and he has my deepest sympathy. I believe every
word he has told me. What I intend to do now is to find a place for
him among the lumber gangs in the great Northwest. There he will
be safe; there, too, he can earn his living for he knows the woods
thoroughly, but he must get to Canada without a day's delay. I can
handle the matter better there than here. I have some friends in
Montreal who can help, and some others farther north--correspondents
of mine."
The head of the hide-out dropped to his breast; then he muttered, half
to himself:
"I dassent--ain't nobody to look arter her but me; 'taint much, but
it's all she's got."
Thayor turned quickly. "You mean your little girl? I've thought of
that; she shall join you whenever you're safe." Then he added in
a lower tone--so low that only Dinsmore heard: "Your wife was in
Montreal, remember, when you last heard from her, and now that
Bergstein's dead she may get free."
The owl-like eyes stared at the slowly dying fire; hot tears trickled
over the cavernous sockets and stopped in the unkempt beard. Before he
could answer there came a voice behind him:
"Didn't I tell ye so, son--didn't I tell ye ye could trust him?"
"I hope so, Hite," returned Thayor--"and you heard what I said about
his getting to Canada, didn't you?"
"Yes, I heard ye, Mr. Thayor." "And are you willing?"
"Yes."
Thayor paused a moment, then he said thoughtfully: "There is only one
thing that worries me and that is how to get him clear of the woods
and across the line. Somebody must help. The question is now whom can
we trust?"
"That needn't worry ye a mite," answered the old man in a decided
tone. "He's got all the help he wants."
Thayor looked up. "Who?" he asked in some surprise.
"Me and the old dog. We'll git him thar."