MORE than a month had passed since the journey of Sinth to Buck-horn;
but nothing had come of it. Silas, tramping with a party of fishermen,
had met Dunmore one day, but the latter had stopped only for a word of
greeting.
Master had left his little camp and Strong was to send for him on
the arrival of important news. The candidate had canvassed every mill
village among the foot-hills of the county but had found it up-hill
work. Many voters had lately become bosom friends of Joe Socket,
the able postmaster at Moon Lake. Once Master had wandered into the
Emperor's camp with a plan to invade the stronghold of Dunmore and
release the girl if, perchance, she might desire to be free. Strong had
wisely turned the young man's thought from all violence. He had taken
out his old memorandum-book and pointed to this entry:
_"Strong says the best thing fer a man to do in hell is kepe cool.
Excitement will increase the heat."_
So a foolish purpose had ended in a laugh.
Since midsummer some rain had fallen, but not enough to slake the thirst
of the dry earth. Now in the third week of September the tops were
ragged and the forest floor strewn with new leaves and with great rugs
of sunlight. Big, hurtling flakes of red and gold fell slowly and shook
out the odors of that upper, fairy world of which Edith Dunmore had told
the children.
One still, sunlit day of that week the old struggle between Satan and
Silas Strong reached a critical stage. Sinth had gone for a walk with
Sue and Socky, and young Migley, coming down from his camp at Nick,
had found the Emperor alone. He was overhauling a boat in his little
workshop. .
"Well, Colonel," said the young lumberman, "we want to know why you're
fighting us."
Strong had lately gone over to the scene of his quarrel on the State
land and plugged some of the pines with dynamite and posted warnings. He
had rightly reckoned that thereafter the thieves would not find it easy
to hire men for that job.
"You're f-fightin' me," said Strong, as he continued his work.
"How's that?"
"C-cause ye ain't honest."
"Look here, Colonel, you'd better fight for us." The young man spoke
with a show of feeling. "We'd like to be friendly with you."
Strong went on with his work, but made no answer.
"We're only taking old trees that are dead or dying over there on the
State land. Some of 'em are stag-headed--full of 'widow-makers,'" said
Thomas Migley.
It should be explained that a big, dead branch was called a
"widow-maker" by the woods folk.
"We shall obey the law and pay a fine for every stump," the young man
continued. "That's square."
"N-no," said the Emperor, firmly. "That l-law was intended to p-protect
the forest."
"You want us to be too -------- honest to live," said young Migley, with
an oath.
"N-no. I'll t-tell ye what's the matter with y-you," said Strong.
"Y-you 'ain't got no r-res-pec' fer God, country, man, er f-fish."
"You must agree to stand for us against all comers or get out of here
to-morrow," the young man added.
"Th-that's quick," said Strong, as he laid down his draw-shave and
looked at Thomas Migley.
"You can do as you like," said the latter. "We're willing to let you
stay here as long as you want to."
Strong saw clearly that the words were a bid for his manhood. He weighed
it carefully--this thing they were seeking to purchase--he thought of
his sister and the children, of his talk with Master on the journey from
Bees' Hill. The skin upon his forehead was now gathered into long, deep
furrows. His body trembled a little as he rose and slowly crossed the
floor. There was a kind of gentleness in his hand as he touched the
shoulder of the young man. He spoke almost tenderly one would have
thought who heard him stammer out the one word, "Run." Suddenly his big
hand shut like the jaws of a bear on Migley's arm and then let go.
The young man hesitated and was rudely flung through the open door. He
scrambled to his feet and made for the trail in frantic haste.
"R-run!" the Emperor shouted, in hot pursuit of young Thomas Migley,
whose feet flew with ridiculous animation.
Strong stopped at the edge of the clearing. He leaned against a
tree-trunk and shook his head and stammered half an oath. Soon he
hurried into one of the cabins and sat down. He looked about him--at
the fireplace and the mantel, at the straight, smooth timbers of young
spruce, at the floor of wooden blocks, patiently fitted together, at the
rustic chairs and tables, at the sheathing of riven cedar. He thought of
all that these things had cost him and for a moment his eyes filled.
He went to the cook-tent and found a map and spread it on the table.
He could go over on the State land, pitch a couple of tents and build
a shanty with a paper roof and siding, and make out for the rest of the
summer. There would be two rivers and some rather wet land to cross. For
a few moments he looked thoughtfully at the map. Soon he took out his
worn memorandum-book and wrote as follows:
_"Sep the 25. Strong has a poor set of feel in's in him Satans ahed but
Strong will flore him."_
He took his axe and saw and went to a big birch-tree which he had felled
in the edge of the clearing a few days before. He cut a twelve-foot log
out of the trunk and began to hollow it. He stuck his axe when he heard
Sinth and the children coming. He lifted Socky and Sue in his arms and
carried them into camp.
"G-goin' t' m-move," he said to Sinth as he put them down.
"Move!" his sister exclaimed. "They're going to put us out?"