THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL
"What ye moonin' 'bout?" demanded Joe Shafto, giving Nora Wingate a prod
with a long bony finger.
"I am worrying about Mr. Wingate, Mrs. Shafto. He was to have been back
in two days, and here it is nearly two weeks since he and the Indian
went away."
"Indians is all varmints, anyway, but don't ye worry 'bout that man of
yers. Ain't worth it. None of 'em is."
"Don't you say that about my Hippy," rebuked Nora indignantly. "I love
my husband, just as you loved yours."
The forest woman laughed harshly.
"Ain't no such thing as love. A man's just a man, kind of handy to do
the chores and bring home the venison. Henry's worth a whole pack of
husbands, and I kin wallop Henry when he don't mind. Best thing 'bout
Henry is that he can't jaw back at me."
"He can growl at you, can't he?" returned Nora, laughing in spite of her
worry.
"He kin, and he kin git a clip on the jaw, like I give my man once. No,
sir. Bears is better company than is men. I know for I've tried 'em
both. Take my advice and when ye wants to git another husband, jest git
a bear instead."
"But bears are beasts," laughed Grace, who had joined the two in time to
hear Mrs. Shafto's advice.
"So's men. Bears growl--so does men. Mules kick, like June and July--so
does men. Animiles live for nothin' but to git fed and sleep. So does
men. What's the difference?"
The girls laughed heartily.
"Your logic is excellent, but your philosophy is not sound," replied
Grace. "There is such a thing as companionship and helpfulness, and the
finer things of human association."
The forest woman sniffed.
"Ain't no such thing," she retorted. Joe stalked away to attend to her
duties, and in a few moments the Overland girls heard her berating the
bear.
Tom Gray, during the period of Lieutenant Wingate's absence, had made
frequent trips to the section that Hippy wished to buy, and now knew to
a certainty that it was a prize plot of timber. Tom was in the Overland
camp on this particular day, mapping out the timber tract in detail,
though with little idea that it could be purchased at a price within
their means. He was at work on the map when he heard Hindenburg barking
excitedly.
"Something unusual must be on to make the bull pup raise such a
disturbance," muttered Tom, tossing his map aside and crawling from the
tepee.
He saw Nora was running, crying out that Hippy had returned.
"Hooray! Meet me with food!" shouted Hippy. "I've been living on iron
rations for two days because bears ate up our fresh stuff and tried to
eat the mess kits too. Hulloa, Tom!"
"What luck?" asked Tom, after shaking hands.
"The best. We have met the enemy and he's 'ourn,' as Mother Shafto would
say. Don't ask me a question until my stomach begins to function."
A luncheon was quickly prepared, and Hippy had plenty of attention, all
the girls standing about while he ate, ready hands passing food until
Hippy could eat no more.
"Where's that pesky Indian?" demanded the guide, frowning.
"He is coming along with a bunch of men and supplies to show them the
way to our claim. Twenty jacks, a cook and a fiddler will be here late
this afternoon, together with a knock-down bunk-house, sufficient food
supplies for two weeks, tools, and I've got a supply of cash to pay the
hands. Now what have you to say for yourself, Tom Gray?"
"I was waiting to inquire what sort of a deal you made."
"Say, folks! Had it not been for Willy Horse I should not have got the
property at all. That chief with the iron toes is a shrewd old duffer.
He has owned the property for some years, and all that time the Hiram
Dusenbery Company has been trying, by fair means or otherwise, to buy it
of him, but Old Iron-Toe put the price so high that they preferred to
wait, hoping that when he got hard up he might be willing to sell for
less."
"Did he know that timber-thieves had been helping themselves to trees?"
questioned Elfreda.
"No. Willy told him. Willy saw the chief first and the deal really was
made before I even saw the old fellow. Well, we smoked a pipe of peace
together and he didn't say a word for a whole hour after I was
introduced. Finally he grunted:
"'You Big Friend Willy Horse. Big Friend me, too. What you give?'
"I told him to make his own price and I would consider it--that I wished
to take no advantage, nor did I desire to pay a price that would not
leave me a profit. Well, we sat and the chief smoked for another hour.
"'You give ten thousand money. You give one-eighth what you make to
Chief Iron-Toe. You Big Friend.'
"'It's a bargain!' I said, just like that. Old Iron-Toe handed me his
pipe again. I took another pull at it. Bah! It was awful. It nearly
strangled me, but it sealed the compact. We went to the county seat
where the property was transferred to Wingate & Gray and the deed filed,
after which I gave him my check for ten thousand dollars."
Tom, who had been doing some rapid figuring while Lieutenant Wingate was
speaking, glanced up, smiling.
"I don't know how you did it, but you have a wonderful bargain. There is
a fortune in those trees."
"I didn't do it at all. Willy Horse did it, and he is going to have the
best job that can be dug up for him, provided my influence has weight
with the firm of Wingate & Gray. Tom, it's up to you, now. You are the
brains of this establishment. Go to it. I've done my share so far as it
has gone."
"You have, indeed. How is the equipment being brought in?"
"By mule teams. I reckon, too, that they will have a fine tune getting
in here on the trail that leads to the Dusenbery Company's works above
our section and--"
"I say, Mister Lieutenant, do I understand ye to say that a pa'cel of
lumberjacks is comin' here?" interrupted Joe Shafto.
"Yes."
"Then I quits right now. Don't want no truck with them critters."
"That's all right, old dear. You just keep right on with the outfit, and
if a lumberjack so much as looks at you, set the bear on him. I know
what Henry can do in that direction, having had a run-in with him
myself."
"Don't ye 'old-dear' me!" growled Joe. "Started that agin, have ye? Miss
Wingate, if ye don't tame that husband of yers with a club, I will." Joe
winked at Nora as she said it.
"Leave him to me, Mrs. Shafto. Hippy, go wash your face. You are a
perfect sight. I'm positively ashamed of you."
"That's all right, Nora. That relieves me of the necessity of being
ashamed of myself. Joe, you merely imagine that you dislike lumberjacks.
There are some good fellows among them. They aren't all so bad as you
paint them," said Hippy soothingly.
The forest woman flared up.
"I hate the whole pack and pa'cel of 'em! I-hate 'em wuss'n a scalded
pup hates vinegar on his back. I'll stay, of course, but I'll sick Henry
on 'em if they bothers me; then I'll turn my back and fergit that
Henry's chawin' up a human bein'. So there!"
The Overland girls laughed merrily, and Grace linking an arm into the
guide's led her down to the river where the two sat down, Grace to give
Joe Shafto friendly advice, and Joe to accept it as she would from no
other member of the Overland Riders.
In the meantime Tom and Hippy were discussing their plans. They spent a
good part of the day doing so. After dinner Grace and Elfreda paddled up
the river in the bark canoe, returning just before suppertime, faces
flushed from their exercise, and eyes sparkling.
Early next morning Willy Horse and the advance guard of the timber
outfit arrived on the scene, as was evidenced by sundry shouts up-river.
Tom and Hippy hurried upstream to meet the party, and later in the day
the Overland girls came up to watch the work already in progress. A
knock-down bunk-house was rapidly going up, and the cook with pots and
kettles over a brisk fire in the open was preparing supper for the
lumberjacks.
The jacks were a hardy two-fisted lot of men, Swedes, Norwegians, French
Canadians, half-breeds and a few sturdy Americans, though the latter
were greatly outnumbered. Tom was bossing the gang and doing it like a
man who had handled lumberjacks before.
"Why so rough with them?" remonstrated Grace.
"Because I know the breed. Be easy with jacks and they think you are
afraid of them, and will promptly take advantage of you. One must, not
for a moment, let them feel that he is not master of the situation and
of them. You will discover that sooner or later."
By night the bunk-house was ready for occupancy, though the bunks were
not yet in place and the men would be obliged to sleep on the floor for
one night at least. After a hearty supper, well cooked under the
observant eyes of Tom Gray, the lumberjacks retired to their shack, and
the sound of the fiddle and the shuffle of dancing feet, accompanied by
shouts and yells, rose from the bunk-house, which was located near
enough to the Overland Riders' camp to enable them to hear, and to see,
if they wished, what was going on.
Willy Horse was the guest of the Overlanders, though he refused to eat
with them, and sat all the evening by the fire saying never a word,
which is the Indian's idea of friendly conversation.
On the following day, under Tom Gray's supervision, the construction of
the dam for the new owners was begun across a narrow part of the river,
a little upstream from the Overland camp. In order to lower the water in
the river while they were driving the spiles, Tom had the men put the
gates in place in the dam built further up the stream by the
timber-pirates. This, in the low condition of the river, would keep the
water back for several days and give Tom's men a better opportunity to
build his dam.
Henry had made several cautious visits to the scene of operations, which
he viewed from the high branches of a tall pine, and, upon descending,
soundly boxed the ears of a lumberjack who attempted to make friends
with him.
"Tom," said Grace one evening after a few hours spent by her watching
the work, "who is the short, thick-set lumberjack with the red hair?"
"The one with the peculiar squint in his eye?"
"Yes. That is the man."
"The men call him Spike. I don't know what the rest of the name is.
Why?"
"I don't like his looks. Then again there is something about him that
reminds me of someone that I have seen--I mean in unpleasant
circumstances."
"I fear our guide has prejudiced you against lumberjacks, and I know
that she has taught Henry to hate the whole tribe. One shouldn't look
for drawing-room manners in a lumberjack. We have a loyal gang of men,
men who will fight for us, if necessary, and who certainly can work.
That, it appears to me, is the answer."
"Very well. I shall keep my eye on him, just the same. Hark! I thought I
heard someone coming."
Tom and Grace were sitting by the campfire. The others of their party,
with the exception of Mrs. Shafto and the bear, were listening to the
fiddle and the thudding of the hob-nail boots of the lumberjacks as
they danced away the early hours of the evening.
"Never mind. The pup will take notice."
"The only thing the pup takes notice of is, as Emma Dean says, food!"
laughed Grace. "Someone _is_ coming, Tom."
"Hindenburg!" commanded Tom Gray sharply.
The bull pup, sleeping by the fire, roused himself, wiggled his stubbed
tail, and, rolling over on his side, yawned and promptly went to sleep
again. Tom Gray glanced quickly towards the shadows that lay to the rear
of them, and, as he did so, a figure appeared.
"Willy, is that you?" he demanded, as a familiar movement revealed the
identity of the figure.
"Yes."
Grace asked the Indian where he had been. He mumbled an unintelligible
reply, then turned to Tom.
"Two men come. They watch shack. Me want to shoot, but not do."
"Certainly not," rebuked Tom. "What do you think they want?"
"Come spy on camp. I spy on them. Fix guns and creep up. Look in windows
and whisper. Bah! No good. What do?"
"Have they rifles? Perhaps they are hunters," suggested Tom.
"No hunt. Me watch." Willy Horse melted into the shadows.
"Who can it be?" wondered Grace.
"Hunters, of course. Willy Horse's zeal has run away with his judgment.
I think--" Tom paused. Protesting voices were heard back in the forest,
voices raised in angry resentment. Two men suddenly burst out into the
light of the campfire, followed by Willy Horse close at their heels, his
rifle pressed against the back of a panting man.