Chapter 55. Caesium

Far below him the alders parted, and a woman’s form appeared, with a

basket on her arm. The light was dim, but not too dim to reveal the

woman’s autumnal vigor. She mounted slowly to his very feet, and stood

smiling up at him.

“I am Moira Jamison.”

“Your grateful servant. Miss Jamison.”

“Where is she?”

He numbly descended and led the way. There lay his young love, asleep at

last, the sweet dawn just touching the forbidden lips.

He helped the Red Leaf down, and she kissed the sleeper awake.

“Goodness gracious! Is it you? How in the world did you know?”

“Why, the patrol was hunting for Captain Mahan to give him a telegram.

Ojeeg had to confess his sin, and he came very near being murdered. But

Captain John came home and told his mother, and she sent her husband

down with the telegram and with me. You see the advantage. If anybody

dares to breathe a word against my Naynokahsee, he’ll have to breathe

two against the old Red Leaf.”

Jean was presently off down the hill to thank George Gillies, leaving

Marvin and Moira alone.

“Miss Jamison, what can I say to Dr. Rich?”

“Nothing. He knows that I’m your sufficient chaperon.”

She looked it. She sat there in a hole, but the sun had spied her out

and was fitting a coronet to her coronet face. Her back was as straight

as the ramrod in the rifle that her Indian ancestor used at Quebec. It

was in the loyal arms of that ancestor that the lord marquis Montcalm

died.

Marvin went down into the rifle pit and helped her up, and together they

descended to the river’s edge, where he received the telegram from the

Scotchman’s hands.

He read it aloud:

Proceed by first train to Montreal. Destination Southampton.

Instructions and passport at my banker’s.

Chase Mahan.

“Is that your father?”

“Yes.”

She flushed a little and turned to Mr. Gillies.

“When does the next train for Montreal leave the Canadian Sault?”

“Aboot a minute past noon.”

There was plenty of time, and so they all had breakfast. After that they

returned to the Duckling, where Marvin committed to the Scotchman both

the launch and the tent, the one to be delivered in due time to its

owner, the other to be struck for the present but pitched again when the

camper should return.

The doctor smiled at the adventure and went with them to see the

traveler off. Marvin sat silent beside the Scotchman, but he could hear

behind him the laughing voice of the girl he loved. She was utterly

different from the stranger he had tried to fathom the night before.

With exquisite swiftness she met every thought of the Red Leaf and of

the old scholar, combining with them both.

At the foot of the rapids all the party except her said good-by and

waited in the launch. But she walked up with him to the station and

stood waiting while the train approached from the west, advancing

through mid-air against the blue sky and above the white foam.

“Ojeeg’s affairs will proceed as planned.”

“Won’t it be splendid! The Little Pine will be off to school before you

get back from England. Sometime, several years from now, you must come

back to us and see how he has grown.”

He took her hand, and the warm electric mystery flowed through them.

“Jean,” said he softly, “you ought to melt right now.”

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears.

White Lightning · 第 55 / 92 章