A WISE OLD OWL
"What's the trouble, Tom? Oh, stop them!" cried Grace.
"Let her finish it," answered Tom briefly.
"Sick 'em, Henry!" shouted Hippy Wingate, who saw the black bear humping
himself across the camp, not yet having discovered what the uproar was
about. "What's this? What's this?" he cried, suddenly comprehending.
Tobe Skinner, with streaming face which Joe Shafto had hit with a pot of
hot coffee, was sprinting for the timber, after having taken a shot at
the bear with his revolver. Following him came Chet Ainsworth puffing
and raging, with Henry on his hind legs in close pursuit, making
frequent swings with his powerful arms and soundly boxing the head of
the fleeing man, and Joe Shafto prodding the bear to urge him on to
further effort.
Neither Tom nor Hippy made a move to interfere, but Grace sped forward
and placed a firm hand on the forest woman's arm.
"Stop him!" commanded Grace sternly. "Stop him, I say! He will kill the
man."
"Serve the houn' right if the bear did. I'll larn 'em to mind their
business, the sarpints! Henry!" A sharp rap over the bear's shoulder
slowed the animal down. A second tap brought him to all fours, with his
mistress's hand fastened in the hair of his head.
"That'll do, Hen. These soft-hearted folk ain't goin' to let ye chaw the
gentleman up to-day, but, if ever I set eyes on either of the scum agin,
I'll give the varmints what's comin' to 'em, and I'll do it sudden-like,
and I'll do it so it stays done, and there won't be nobody to stop me
next time. If ye don't believe it, jest give me the chance. And to think
I had to waste a perfectly good pot of coffee on that timber-robber's
head. He's a skin and a tight-wad, and I'll bet my month's wage that he
robs the birds of their eggs to save the price of keepin' a hen of his
own."
"Please! Please," begged Grace laughingly. "Which one of the pair do you
mean?"
"Both of 'em. They ain't here for no good. Wait till I tell ye what they
did and ye'll see--"
"Just a moment. Tell it to all of us," urged Grace, leading the irate
woman and her tame bear up to her companions.
"Why did you stop them, Grace?" growled Hippy. "First fun we've had
since Emma discovered the animal under the table. What's the joke, old
dear?"
The forest woman was so angry over her recent experience that she forgot
to chide Hippy for his familiarity.
"Matter? Matter enough. As I was sayin' to Miss Gray, them varmints
ain't here for no good, and ye ain't heard the last of 'em by a long
shot. They'll be back. Take Joe Shafto's word for that, and they won't
be back alone, 'cause they're too big cowards. Yaller streaks in both of
'em. I'll bet the pair of 'em was trying to get this timber lot away
from ye. Don't ye have no dealin's with 'em. Don't want no truck with
them kind of cattle, and I'll tell ye right now that if they show their
yaller faces 'round here agin, I'll set my Henry on 'em for keeps." Mrs.
Shafto gasped for breath preparatory to entering on a fresh tirade, when
Tom Gray, embracing the opportunity, got in a question.
"Suppose you tell us what the row was about. What was it?" he asked.
"The varmints tried to bribe me, that's what."
"Bribe you!" exclaimed the Overlanders in chorus.
"That's what I said."
"Why didn't you take it?" demanded Hippy. "That was easy money."
"To do what?" questioned Elfreda, her professional interest instantly
aroused.
"To find out what ye paid for the section and just what ye opined ye'd
do with it. They reckon ye're holdin' it on 'spec' and that they kin git
it fer a little mor'n ye paid for it. If they can't do that, I opined
from what the varmints said, that they'd git the property some other
way. Wanted me to find out just what yer plans was and to writ' 'em down
and leave 'em in a holler log up next the dam above the one ye're
buildin'."
"What did you say to that?" questioned Elfreda.
"I sicked Henry on 'em and soaked the guide feller with part of the
breakfast. I'd a done a heap more if I'd had the time."
"How much did they offer you?" inquired Emma interestedly.
"Two dollars and a half, and said they'd leave as much more after they
got what they wanted."
"Two dollars and a half!" exclaimed Hippy. "And you refused two dollars
and a half? Why, old dear, that's a fortune. I am amazed that they
should have been so liberal. Positively reckless, I should say. Discard
such riches? It is unbelievable."
"When were they to call for this information?" questioned Miss Briggs.
"They didn't say. I was to leave it there, that's all," growled Joe,
stalking to her breakfast fire and resuming her operations there.
"Would it not be a good plan to have Willy Horse watch the log and see
if he can give our 'friends' a scare?" asked Grace.
"Yes, but Willy is inclined to be violent," laughed Tom. "You saw what
happened to Ainsworth and his guide when they sneaked up to our camp
last night, didn't you? Next time the Indian might do something rash.
What do we care, who or what? The property is ours and we are going
ahead with our plans. We shall soon put in a portable mill at the mouth
of the river, float our logs down and saw them there where the lake
steamers can pick up the lumber. Let the disappointed ones rage if they
wish."
The forest woman, having pressed the dents out of her damaged coffee pot
and prepared a fresh supply of coffee, now summoned the Overlanders to
breakfast, which was a somewhat hurried meal, for Tom and Hippy were
eager to get out to direct the work on their dam, which already was
moving along satisfactorily, and which they hoped to finish in about
another week.
Following breakfast, the girls saddled their ponies, packed luncheons in
their mess kits and started down the river for a day's outing by
themselves, leaving Joe Shafto at home. The party returned just before
dark, Elfreda Briggs proudly exhibiting a duck that she had shot on the
lower river. After supper, for which all hands had keen appetites, Hippy
announced that Willy Horse had been appointed official hunter for the
lumber outfit at seventy-five dollars a month, which meant riches to the
Indian. It would be Willy's duty to provide fresh meat for the
lumberjacks. Added to this, the Indian would shoot wolves and collect
the bounty, and, when not otherwise engaged, act as the faithful
watchdog for the Overland Riders.
"You Big Friend," was Willy's only comment when informed of his new job,
but they observed that he puffed more vigorously at his pipe, and gazed
more intently into the fire than usual.
"Do you see things in the fire?" questioned Emma, sitting down by the
Indian.
He nodded.
"Tell me what you see," she urged in a confidential tone.
"See white girl fly like bird."
The girls broke into a merry peal of laughter.
"He has your measure," laughed Tom.
"See owl up tree. Mebby come see white girls," added the Indian, and
then, to their amazement, the raucous voice of an owl was heard in the
branches high above their heads. The owl continued his hoarse night
song, the Overland girls interestedly watching Emma Dean's rapt
expression as she listened.
"He is trying to say something," she half-whispered, holding up a hand
for silence. "He is speaking, perhaps, of the mysteries of the
universe--our immediate universe."
"Yus-s-s-s," observed Hippy solemnly. "Tell me, I prithee, little
bird-woman, what is the wise old owl saying? Has he a message for me?"
"Yes. And I can tell you what it is. He says, 'you simp, you simp, you
simp, you simp-simp.' Interpreted freely, this means, in addition to the
truth of the owl's wise assertion, that you have gathered all the
ingredients of a calamity, but you don't know it. Beware, Hippy Wingate,
of dire things to come!" finished Emma, amid a shout of laughter. The
Indian puffed on his pipe in stolid silence.