A NIGHT’S LODGING
It had been the intense darkness of the night outside that had made the
cabin window look bright, for the room into which Hugh came was lit only
by a dying fire. Close to the hearth a big chair had been drawn and in
this some one was sitting, some one who whispered and muttered to
himself and stirred uneasily but did not look round. Nicholas ran to him
and began licking the thin hand that hung limply over the arm of the
chair. A lantern stood on the table, but it had evidently burned out. A
canvas pack, half-emptied, with its blankets trailing out upon the
floor, lay on a bench. It was quite evident that, besides the man in the
chair, there was no one in the cabin.
Hugh went over to him, but still he did not look up. The boy touched the
hand that Nicholas was licking and found it burning with fever. The man
was very thin; he had on the rough clothes that every one wears in the
woods, but he was fair-skinned and as unlike Half-Breed Jake and his
companions as it was possible to be. It needed no very long reflection
to make it clear to Hugh that this was John Edmonds.
Although it was quite true that Hugh did not know very much of the
woodcraft and that, at milking Hulda, he had come very near to being a
flat failure, there were still some crises to which he was equal, for he
was not a country doctor’s son for nothing. He had helped his father
more than once in emergencies very like this one, so that he was not
long at a loss what to do. John Edmonds must certainly be got to bed,
but one look at the bunks against the walls and the filthy rags that lay
piled upon them, assured Hugh that the floor was infinitely preferable.
He unpacked his own blankets, gathered up those that lay on the bench
and made a bed upon the rough board flooring. It required almost
unbelievable effort to arouse John Edmonds and move him, helplessly weak
as he was, to the improvised couch. Hugh did not stop to rekindle the
lantern, but flung more wood upon the fire and by its light went about
the task of getting his patient partly undressed and of making him more
comfortable.
During these ministrations, poor Nicholas, not realizing that his share
of usefulness was over, contrived to make himself continually in the
way. He seemed at least ten sizes too big for the tiny cabin and to have
the idea that the best thing he could do was to keep as near to Edmonds
as possible. Hugh pushed him out of the way a score of times, stumbled
over him in the half dark and felt, every time he stood still for a
moment, that cold nose pushed into his hand as though the big dog were
begging him to do his best. At last the worried creature subsided, and
lay down at the sufferer’s feet, with his chin on his paws and his dark
eyes still following Hugh wherever he went. The boy tried everything he
knew and, finally, kneeling beside his patient on the floor, was
rewarded by seeing the uneasy stupor pass into something like natural
slumber. He waited a long time to assure himself that Edmonds’ breathing
was easier and quieter and that he really slept. Then he got up stiffly,
mended the fire once more and began to explore the resources of the
little cabin.
In a store-shed behind the one room he found an open window, through
which Nicholas had evidently made his way when he had set out on his own
expedition. He also discovered a can of oil, with which he filled the
lantern so that it could be lit again. The yellow light, falling upon
the table, showed him something that he had not seen before, a note
scrawled hastily in pencil on brown paper.
“John,” it ran, “I have gone for help, but not to Oscar Dansk, because I
promised you I would not. I have gone to the Indian village at Two
Rivers and will try to send some one into Rudolm for a doctor. I will be
back before a great many hours. Dick.”
With the letter still in his hand, Hugh sat down beside the fire to try
to think the matter out. It was evident that the two Edmonds had taken
shelter from the storm in the Pirate’s cabin and that John had become so
ill that his younger brother, in alarm, had gone for aid. Their plight
must have been desperate indeed for Dick to leave his brother alone in
such a place. But why should he have gone so far when just across the
ravine help was to be had? Why did he speak of a promise? It was very
hard to understand!
Nicholas arose from where he had been lying and came to stand beside
him, arching his curly neck as Hugh stroked it, and trying to burrow his
head under the boy’s arm.
“You could tell me all about it if you could talk,” said Hugh in a
whisper. “Oh, dear, it is such a puzzle, I wish you could.”
He began to remember now that Jethro had dropped some hint of a
misunderstanding between John Edmonds and Oscar Dansk. He had hardly
noticed it when it had been mentioned, but now he commenced to recall
the fact more clearly.
“In the end even John Edmonds lost faith in Oscar’s plan about the road,
and that nearly broke his heart,” Jethro had said.
Plainly, the quarrel had been a serious one, if Edmonds was so
determined not to receive aid from Oscar’s hands. And how had Oscar
taken it? Even at that moment he was out there in the storm, risking his
life, risking the plan for which he cared even more than life—he was
doing this for the friend with whom he had quarreled.
“Oh, Nicholas,” exclaimed Hugh as he squeezed the big dog’s ears, “oh,
Nicholas, that Oscar Dansk is a real man!”
One thing still so puzzled him that his baffled thoughts came back to it
again and again. Was it the two Edmonds who had occupied the Pirate’s
shack yesterday, that quiet Sunday when he and Oscar had sat talking so
long before the cottage door? Was it the smoke from their fire that he
had seen rising from the chimney?
After long reflection, during which his thoughts began to wander
sleepily here and there and had to be brought back again with a jerk, he
began to be certain that it could not have been the two Edmonds
brothers. He himself had seen three men walk across the clearing and
from the letter he could make sure that Dick and his brother had been
alone. Besides, the distance was not so great that he could not have
made out so big a creature as Nicholas, had the dog been with them.
Evidently the pirates had come and gone before the storm—but why?
Evidently the Edmonds, after the wind and rain had come on in such
fierceness, had taken refuge there—but how did they dare? And,
evidently, he was growing very sleepy now, but the force of this new
thought served to rouse him completely again, evidently the pirates
would be returning—and when?
The night wore to a slow end, and day broke at last. With the first gray
light there came a change in his patient, the fever was succeeded by
chills and shivering and for an hour Hugh was doing his utmost with hot
blankets and warming drinks. Gradually the trembling stopped and John
Edmonds, opening his eyes, gave Hugh a look of bewildered amazement and
stared about him as though the cabin and the boy were both totally
unfamiliar. It was not until his eyes fell upon Nicholas that he seemed
satisfied and dropped off to sleep again. It was broad daylight now and
time for Hugh to realize that he was exceedingly hungry. He fell to
examining his own stores, Edmonds’ and Half-Breed Jake’s, to see what
the combined larder afforded. There was not much in his pack, for he had
not thought he would be very long away from the cottage; there was
nothing in Edmonds’, but quite a supply of flour and bacon in Jake’s
store room.
“I don’t care to use anything that belongs to that gang unless I have
to,” he thought. “It was probably all stolen in the first place.”
As he was putting one of the bags back into place, he knocked down a gun
that had been standing in the corner and that now fell at his feet with
a loud clatter. He picked it up and recognized with delight that it was
Oscar’s rifle, the same one that he himself had dropped in the woods the
day that he was lost. This would be a prize indeed to take back with him
when the time should come to go. But how had the pirates come by it? Had
somebody been following that day in the forest, was the same somebody
even now following Oscar wherever he had gone?
He made his breakfast and fed Nicholas from his own supplies.
Fortunately he knew enough not to try to give food to John Edmonds, who
was sleeping uneasily again, as though the fever was once more beginning
to rise. Hugh, sitting beside him, began to do some very intense
calculating as to who would be the most likely to come back first, Dick
Edmonds or Half-Breed Jake. It was impossible to tell, he could only
wait. He sat, staring down at his patient for a long time. The only
proper thing to do was to try to get him across the ravine to Oscar’s
cottage, but could a boy of sixteen possibly hope to convey a heavy,
helpless man that far? To all of his questionings this was the only one
to which there was a definite answer. And the answer was no.
The morning passed, one slow hour after another. It was still raining
heavily, with water pouring from the edge of the cabin roof and
streaming down the windows, and with the flooded creek still thundering
in the ravine below. Every minute that passed brought nearer the
possible return of Half-Breed Jake, since, so Hugh began to think, he
must certainly be the one to come first. More than once he thought he
heard steps outside and felt of his revolver to be ready for whatever
might come, but each time it proved to be a false alarm. Finally he sat
down at the table, facing the door, and laid his revolver before him, to
wait as best he could. He had risen very early the morning that Oscar
had gone away alone—was it a day or a week ago? At least he knew that he
had slept very little since and that he must, at all costs, keep awake
now. Yet slowly his head began to nod, to droop further toward the
table; finally it rested on his arms and he was asleep.
It was the deepest of slumbers into which he had fallen, yet he came out
of it with a suddenness that left him dazed. Nicholas was leaping at the
door, barking loudly to herald some one’s coming, sniffing along the
threshold, then barking and leaping again. Hugh jumped up, so stiff that
he could not move quickly. He took up his revolver and tried to reach
the door, but was only half way across the room when it swung open, and
Dick Edmonds came in.
He was drenched and dripping, and he, too, held a revolver in his hand.
The two boys stared at each other for a long moment, then burst into
roars of laughter. The long strain, the sudden desperate tension, the
relief of each one at seeing a friend when he expected to confront an
enemy, was quite too much for both. Even while they laid down their
threatening weapons and shook hands they were still laughing. It was
Dick who sobered first and went over to stoop down by his brother.
“He must have been getting steadily worse from the time I got him here,”
he said. “Poor old Johnny, if he had been as badly off as this I would
never have left him. But this was as far as I could get him alone and I
was so desperate that I went off for help. I had been hoping against
hope that Jake and his gang were away for some time, but when I saw by
the muddy footprints on the doorstep that some one had gone in since I
went away, I can tell you I was anxious.”
“Did you bring some one back with you?” asked Hugh.
“I never got to Two Rivers at all,” replied Dick. “The first stream I
came to was so far over its banks that I walked for hours trying to find
a place to cross and couldn’t. At last I realized that, even if I got
help, it would risk leaving John alone too long, so I turned back. A lot
of good I did by going!”
“The thing now,” said Hugh, “is to get your brother away as quickly as
we can. The pirates will be coming back any minute.”
“I doubt if even the pair of us could ever get him to Two Rivers,” Dick
returned doubtfully.
“We’ll take him across to Oscar Dansk’s house, there beyond the ravine,”
Hugh said.
Dick hesitated, stammered and flushed.
“I promised—” he began.
“Whatever you promised,” Hugh interrupted him, “you will not be asking
for help from Oscar Dansk. He is not there.”
“Where is he?”
“Out in the woods—looking for you.”
Dick shook his head slowly.
“That beats me,” he said. “I always thought poor Johnny was wrong about
Oscar. I never really understood about that quarrel myself. And lately
John was too sick to know quite what he did think, and he made me
promise over and over, when he knew that we might be somewhere near
where Oscar lived, that I would not go to him for help. They are both so
obstinately proud. But I can see for myself that the only thing now is
to do as you say. I should like to know how you ever got here, Hugh, and
about a hundred other things, but we won’t spend time on explanations
just yet. I suppose we can make a stretcher of blankets and carry him
between us somehow.”
Their preparations were quickly made. John Edmonds, still unconscious,
was lifted to the rude litter they had constructed, and was carried out
of the cabin. They had covered him well against the wind and rain, but
the journey would be a perilous one for him, none the less. Slowly, and
with frequent pauses, they got him across the clearing and down the hill
to the stream, then along its bank to where the fallen tree still held
its place. With the decreasing of the furious rain the flood had dropped
a little, so that to-day the whole of the rude bridge was out of water.
How they got across, Hugh did not ever quite know. The tree swayed and
shook more than it had done before, for the water had undermined the
banks and made the frail support even more uncertain. They worked their
way across, holding their burden high between them, and breathed a
monstrous sigh of relief when at last they were on firm ground again.
Nicholas would not trust their way of crossing, but swam over, with much
difficulty, and was waiting for them on the other shore.
They were a tired and breathless pair when they had finally carried
Edmonds up the steep trail and into Oscar’s cottage. Most eagerly, as
they approached the house, did Hugh look for some sign of his friend’s
return. But the door and the windows were closed, the chimney smokeless,
there was no one there. Only Hulda greeted them with an impatient call
and loud stampings on the floor of her shed, to signify her indignation
at having been forgotten so long. Hugh did not stop for any vain
wonderings.
“Can you get your brother to bed alone,” he asked Dick, “while I go
back?”
“Go back!” exclaimed Dick. “What for?”
“For the things we had to leave behind,” Hugh answered, “and for Oscar’s
rifle. I dropped it in the woods and Jake had picked it up. I would risk
anything to get it back for him.”
“You should not go,” Dick insisted; “the pirates may come back any
second now.”
But the door had already closed behind Hugh and he was speeding down the
trail with Nicholas at his heels. They crossed the stream, even the dog
being willing to use the bridge this time after his last experience with
the wild current. Hugh reached the cabin and secured the rifle and the
two packs that still lay upon the table.
“What luck I have had,” he thought exultantly. “Now I suppose I ought to
put out the fire; it would not be fair to risk burning up their cabin,
no matter who they are.”
He had stepped back to the hearth when a low growl from Nicholas
startled him to sudden attention. The big dog was standing with ears and
head up and the hair on his back beginning to bristle. Tiptoeing to the
window, Hugh peered cautiously out. There, on the side of the clearing
away from the stream, he saw three men coming out of the edge of the
wood. Even at that distance he could recognize the tall figure and
swarthy face of Half-Breed Jake as he came up the hill a little ahead of
the other two. The door was on the opposite side of the cabin, so that
Hugh could slip out undiscovered, but it was a long, long open slope
that lay between him and the sheltering woods.
Down the hill he plunged, cutting off corners of the trail, leaping over
the rocks and scrambling through the low-growing bushes. Nicholas seemed
to cover the distance in two bounds with a speed that Hugh greatly
envied. He was burdened with the two heavy packs and the rifle slung
across his shoulders, but, by some instinctive obstinacy, he would not
drop them for the pirates to capture.
For a minute he thought he could escape unseen, but his progress was
slower than he thought and he had delayed in the cabin an instant too
long. A shout behind him told that he was discovered. He looked
desperately upward as a clattering of feet sounded on the stony trail
and saw three men cross the top of the hill and come running down the
path.