IT was Strong who had passed Edith Dunmore as night was falling over
the hollow of Catamount. He was returning from his day of toil at Nick
Pond.
"Just in time," said the young man, who was eating supper at a rude
table, from a pole above which two lighted lanterns hung.
The great body of the Emperor fell heavily on a camp-stool. He blew as
he flung his hat off.
"Hot!" said he, and then with three or four great gulps he poured a
dipper of water down his throat.
Master put a small flask on the table at which they sat.
"Opey-d-dildock?" Strong inquired, softly.
"The same," said Master. "Help yourself."
The Emperor obeyed him without a word.
"How's that?" inquired the young man.
"S-sassy," Strong answered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Fall to," said Master, putting the platter of trout in front of him.
"Here's f-fishin'," said Strong, as he lifted a large trout by the tail.
"Good place to anchor. Anything new?"
"B-bear," Strong stammered, with a little shake of his head.
"Where?"
The Emperor crushed a potato' and filled' his mouth. He chewed
thoughtfully before he answered, "Up t-trail."
"How far?"
Strong pointed with his fork. He stopped chewing and turned and listened
for a breath. "B-bout mile." He sighed and shook his head sorrowfully.
"What's the matter?"
"F-feelin's!" Strong answered, pointing the fork towards his bosom.
"No gun?"
Strong nodded. It was a moment of moral danger. He knew that Satan would
lay hold of his tongue unless it were guarded with great caution. He sat
back and whistled for half a moment.
"S-safe!" he exclaimed, presently, with a sigh, as he went on eating.
"Which way was he travelling?"
"Th-this way--limpin'," said Strong.
"Limping?"
"W-wownded," Strong, added, softly, gently, as if he were still on
dangerous ground.
They finished their meal in silence and drew up to the fire and filled
their pipes.
He rose and lighted his pipe and returned to the table as soon as he
had begun smoking. He took out his worn memorandum-book and thoughtfully
wrote these words:
_"July the 6
"See a bear--best way to kepe the ten commandments is to kepe yer mouth
shet."_
Strong resumed his chair at the camp-fire. Suddenly he raised his hand.
They could hear the cracking of dead brush across the cove.
"S-suthin'," Strong whispered.
Again the sound came to their ears out of the silent forest.
"Hearn it d-dozen times," said the Emperor.
They listened a moment longer. Then Strong rose.
"B-bear!" he whispered. "Light an' rifle."
Master tiptoed to the shanty. He lighted the dark lantern--a relic of
deer-stalking days--with which he had found his way to Catamount the
night before. He adjusted the leathern helmet so its lantern rested
'above his forehead. He raised his rifle and opened the small box of
light. A beam burst out of it and shot across the darkness and fell on
a thicket. The spire of a little fir, some forty feet away, seemed to be
bathed in sunlight. The beam glowed along the top of his rifle-barrel,
and he stood a moment aiming to see if he could catch the sights.
Strong beckoned to him. The young man came close to the side of the
hunter and suggested, "Maybe it's a deer."
"'T-'tain' no deer," Strong whispered. "S-suthin' dif'er'nt." He
listened again. "It's over on th-that air cove."
He explained briefly that in his opinion the bear, being wounded, had
come down for rest and water. He presented his plan. They would cross
the cove in their canoe. When they were near the sound he would give the
canoe a little shake, whereupon Master should carefully open the slide
and throw its light along the edge of the pond. If he saw the glow of a
pair of eyes he was to aim between, them and fire.
They tiptoed to the landing, lifted their canoe into water, and, without
a sound louder than the rustle of their garments or the fall of a
water-drop, took their places, Master in the bow and Strong in the
paddle-seat behind him. The hunter leaned forward and felt for bottom
and gave her a careful shove. Then, with a little movement of his back,
he tossed his weight against the cedar shell and it moved slowly into
the black hollow of Catamount. The hunter sank his paddle-blade. It
pulled in little, silent, whirling slashes. The canoe sheared off
into thick gloom, cleaving its way with a movement soundless and
indistinguishable.
For a few seconds Master felt a weird touch of the soul in him--as if,
indeed, it were being stripped of its body and were parting with the
senses. Then he could scarcely resist the impression that he had risen
above the earth and begun a journey through the black, silent air. So,
for a breath, his consciousness had seemed to stray from its centre;
then, quickly, it came back. He began to know of that which, mercifully,
in the common business of life, is just beyond the reach of sense. He
could hear the muffled rivers of blood in his own body; he felt his
heart-beat in the fibres of the slender craft beneath him, sensitive as
a bell; he became strangely conscious of the great, oxlike body behind
him--of moving muscles in arm and shoulder, of the filling and emptying
of its lungs, of its stealthy, eager attitude.
The night life of the woods was beginning--that of beasts and birds that
see and wander and devour in the darkness.. From far away the faint,
wild cry of one of them wavered through the woods. It was like the yell
of a reveller in the midnight silence of a city.
The sky was overcast. Dimly Master could see the dying flicker of his
firelight on the mist before him. A little current of air, nearly
spent, crept over the pine-tops and they began to whisper. The young man
thought of the big, blue, tender eyes which had looked up at him that
day, so full of childish innocence and yet full of the charm and power
of womanhood.
Master turned his head quickly. Near him he had heard the sound of a
deep-drawn, shuddering breath, and then a low moan. He thought with pity
of the poor creature now possibly breathing its last. He was eager to
end its agony. He trembled, waiting for the signal to open his light.
The bow brushed a lily-pad. He could feel the paddle backing with its
muffled stroke. The canoe had stopped.
Again he heard a movement in the brush. It was very near; he could
feel the canoe backing for more distance. Then he felt the signal. That
little shake in the shell of cedar had seemed to go to his very heart.
He raised his hand carefully and opened the lantern-slide. The beam fell
upon tall grass and flashed between little columns of tamarack. At the
end of its misty pathway he could just dimly make out the foliage. He
could see nothing clearly.
Again he felt the signal. He knew that the hunter had seen the game. Now
the light-beam illumined the top of his rifle-barrel.
Suddenly the trained eye of Strong had caught the gleam of eyes--then
the faint outline of lips dumb with terror. He struck with his paddle
and swung his bow.
The hammer fell. A little flame burst out of the rifle-muzzle, and a
great roar shook the silences. A shrill cry rang in its first echo. The
canoe bounded over lily-pads and flung her bow on the bank a foot above
water. Master sprang ashore followed by Strong. They clambered up the
bank.
"Strong, I've killed somebody," said the young man, his voice full of
the distress he felt. He swept the shore with his light. It fell on the
body of a young woman lying prone among the brakes. Quickly he knelt
beside her and threw the light upon her face.
"My God! Come here, Strong!" he shouted, hoarsely.
His friend, alarmed by his cry, hurried to him. Master had raised the
head of Miss Dun-more upon his arm and was moaning pitifully. He covered
the beautiful white face with kisses.
Strong, who stood near with the lantern, had begun to stammer in an
effort to express his thoughts.
"K-keep c-cool," he soon succeeded in saying.
"I switched the canoe an' ye n-never t-touched her. She's
scairt--th-that's all."
Edith Dunmore had partly risen and opened her eyes. Master lifted her
from the earth and held her close and kissed her. His joy overcame him
so that the words he tried to utter fell half spoken from his lips. She
clung to him, and their silence and their tears and the touch of their
hands were full of that assurance for which both had longed.
"T-y-ty!" Strong whispered as he held the light upon them.
For a long moment the lovers stood in each other's embrace. . .
"I don't know why I came here," said she, presently, in a troubled
voice.
He took her hands in his and raised them to his lips.
"I must go; I must go," she said.
"Come, we will go with you," said the young man.
He put his arm around the waist of the girl. They walked slowly up the
side of the ridge, with Strong beside them, throwing light upon their
path. Master heard from her how it befell that darkness had overtaken
her in the basin of Catamount, and she learned from him why they had
come out in their canoe.
"You will not be afraid of me any more," he said.
She stopped and raised one of his hands and held it against her cheek
with a little moan of fondness. Curiously she felt his face.
"It is so dark--I cannot see you," she whispered.
"I loathe the darkness that hides your beauty from me," said the young
man.
Strong turned his light upon her face. Tears glittered in the lashes of
her eyes and a new peace and trustfulness were upon her countenance.
"We shall see better to-morrow," the young man said.
"My father is coming--he will be angry--he will not let me see you
again--" Her voice trembled with its burden of trouble.
"Leave that to me--no one shall keep us apart," he assured her. "I will
see him tomorrow and tell him all."
They walked awhile in silence. The whistle blew for the night-shift at
Benson Falls. Its epic note bellowed over the plains and up and down
the timbered hills of the Emperor. It seemed to warn the trees of their
doom.