STRONG was chopping and hewing on his birch log until late bedtime.
He was like Noah getting ready for the destruction of the world. Having
finished, he took his lantern off a branch beside him and surveyed a
singular device. He called it a boat-jumper, and, inspired by a thought
of the children, whispered to himself, "Uncle S-Silas is improvin'." It
was a mere shell about two inches thick, flat on the bottom and sheared
on one end, canoe-fashion. It would serve as a jumper--a rough, sledlike
conveyance--on the ground and as a boat on the rivers; it would carry
Sinth and the children, with tents, blankets, provisions, and bedding
enough to last until he could return for more.
He hurried to camp and helped his sister with the packing. When a dozen
great bundles lay on the floor, ready for removal, Sinth went to bed.
But the tireless Emperor had more work to do. He made two seats, with
back-rests upon each, for the boat-jumper and fastened a whiffle-tree to
the bow end of the same. On its stern he put two handles--like those
of a plough--so that he might lay hold of them and steady the jumper in
rough places.
Next morning a little before sunrise he made off on the trail to Pitkin.
At the general store and post-office in that hamlet he received a
letter. It was from the forest, fish, and game commissioner, who thus
addressed him:
_"Dear Mr. Strong,--I hear that timber thieves and deer-slayers are
operating on State land near Rainbow Lake. I learn also that you are
about to leave your camp at Lost River. If that is true I wish you would
accept an appointment as deputy for that district and go at once and do
what you can to protect the valley of Rainbow. The salary would be five
hundred dollars. A letter just received informs me that 'Red' Macdonald
is there with dogs. If you could deliver him into custody you would be a
public benefactor, but I warn you that he is a desperate man. Please let
me hear from you immediately."_
This gave Strong a new and grateful sense of being "ahead." Before
leaving the post-office he penned his acceptance of the offer. Then he
proceeded to the home of Annette and found her gone for the day. He sat
down at the dinner-table and wrote these lines with all the deliberation
their significance merited:
_"Deer lady,--In Ogdensburg an' anxious to move. Patrick can snake me
out. Meet me at Benson Falls Friday if possibul an' youll heare some
talkin' done by yours hopin fer better times,
"S. Strong.
"P.S. Strong's ahed."_
Meanwhile Sinth was in trouble. Young Mr. Migley had come, with a gang
of sawyers and axemen, to dethrone the Emperor and take possession. He
had his customary get-off-the-earth air about him--an air that often
accompanies the title to vast acreage. He found only Sinth and the
children and summarily ordered them to leave. Then she gave him what she
called "a piece of her mind." It was a good-sized piece, all truth and
just measure.
While the furniture was being thrown out-ofdoors she got ready to go.
In the heart of Sinth indignation had supplanted sorrow. It was in
her countenance and the vigor of her foot-fall and in the way that she
filled and closed and handled her satchel. Some of the brawny woodsmen
stood looking as she and the children came out-of-doors--a solemn-faced
little company. Something from the hearts of the men made Sinth touch
her eyes with her handkerchief. Then a curious thing happened. Some of
the lumber-jacks dropped their saws and axes.
Those people could forgive much in "a good fellow"--they could forgive
almost any infamy, it would seem, but the stony heart. Let one do a mean
thing and rouse their quick sympathies a little and their oaths were as
a deadly, fateful curse upon him. They never forgot the tear of sympathy
or the wrath of resentment.
The sorrow of the weak now seemed to touch the hearts of the strong. The
children, seeing the tears of their aunt as she turned for a last look
at her home, followed slowly with an air of great dejection. Then a
strange pathos rose out of their littleness, and an ancient law seemed
to be writ upon the faces of the men: "Whoso shall offend one of these
little ones which believe in Me, it were better for him that a millstone
were hanged about his neck and that he were drowned in the depth of the
sea."
A murmur of disapproval arose, and suddenly one voice blared a sacred
name coupled and qualified with curious adjectives--jumped up, livin',
sufferin', eternal--as if it would be most explicit.
"Boys," the voice added, "I can't see no woman ner no childern treated
that way."
A man took the satchel out of Sinth's hand.
"You stay here," said he. "We won't stan' fer this."
Another burly woodsman had lifted little Sue in his arms.
"I'm goin' down the trail to wait fer Silas," said Sinth, brokenly.
She put out her hand to take the satchel.
"We'll carry it an' the childern too," said the woodsman, whose voice,
which had been harsh and profane, now had a touch of gentleness. They
made their way down the trail in silence.
"He better try t' be a statesman," said one of the escort. "He ain't fit
t' be a bullcook."
They passed a second gang with horses and a big jumper bearing supplies
for the camp. The Emperor had surrendered; the green hills were taken.
Half a mile or so from the camp Sinth halted.
"I'll wait here, thank ye," said she.
With offers of assistance the men left them and returned.
All through the night Sinth had been thinking of their new trouble and
was in a way prepared for the worst. But now, as she was leaving forever
the old, familiar trees and the still water she sat down for awhile and
covered her face. Already the saws had begun their work. She could hear
them gnawing and hissing and the shouts and axes of the woodsmen. Socky
and Sue came near their aunt and stood looking at her, their
cheeks tear-stained, their sympathy now and then shaking them with
half-suppressed sobs. The reason for their departure and for the coming
of the woodsmen they were not able to understand. Zeb lay lolling on his
stomach, bored, but, like his master, hoping for better times.
"Aunt Sinthy--you 'fraid?" Sue ventured to ask, and her doll hung limp
from her right hand.
Socky felt his sword and looked up into the face of his aunt.
"Where we goin'?" he asked, with another silent sob.
"Pon my soul, I dunno," Sinth answered, wearily.
"Don't you be 'fraid," he said, waving his sword manfully.
Sinth took her knitting out of the satchel and sat down comfortably on a
bed of leaves. Zeb began to growl and run around them in a circle,
like the cheerful jester that he was. It seemed as if he were trying
to remind them that, after all, the situation was not hopeless. He
continued his gyrations until Socky and Sue joined him. Soon the big
trees began falling and their thunder and the hoots of the "briermen"
echoed far. The children came to their aunt.
"What's that?" they asked, with awe in their faces.
"The trees," Sinth answered, solemnly. "They're a-mowin' of 'em down."
In a moment, thinking of the young man who had heartlessly put her out,
she added:
"I guess he'll find he's hurt himself more'n he has us."
"Who?" Socky asked.
"That mehopper."
The children turned with a look of interest.
"What's a mehopper?" Socky asked.
Sinth sat looking thoughtfully at her knitting.
"He steals folks' albums," said Sue, confidently, "an' he can run like a
deer."
"Ain't a bit like a deer," Sinth responded. "He can't go nowhere but
down-hill--that's why ye always find him in low places--an' he's so
'fraid folks won't see him that he swears an' talks about himself."
Sue looked at her aunt as if she thought her a woman of wonderful parts.
"He better look out for the Sundayman," Sinth continued.
"Who's the Sundayman?" they both asked.
"He's a wonderful hunter an' he ketches all the wicked folks," Sinth
answered. "An' them that swears he makes 'em into mehoppers, an' them
that does cruel things he turns their hearts into stones, an' them that
steals he takes away everything they have, an' if anybody lies he makes
a fool of 'em so they b'lieve their own stories, an' he takes an' marks
the face of every one he ketches so if ye look sharp ye can always tell
'em."
In a moment they heard some one coming down the trail. It was young Mr.
Migley who suddenly had found himself in the midst of a small rebellion.
Half his men had threatened to "histe the turkey" unless he brought
back the "woman and the kids." It was not their threat of quitting that
worried him, however--it was a consequence more remote and decisive.
"Miss Strong, I was hot under the collar," he began. "I didn't mean to
put you out. I want you to come back and stay as long as you like. We
can spare you one of the cabins."
"No, sir," Sinth answered, curtly.
"All right," said he, "you're the doctor."
In a moment she asked, "What you goin' t' do with them sick folks that's
camped over at Robin?"
"I won't hurry 'em," said he; "but they'll have t' git out before long."
"It's a shame," Sinth answered. "You oughto hev consumption an' see how
you'd like it."
"There are plenty of hotels east of here."
"But they're poor folks an' can't afford to pay board, even if they'd
let 'em in, which they wouldn't."
"I can't help it--we've got to get these logs down to the river before
snow flies--it's business."
With him that brief assertion was the end of many disputes. They were
few that even dared question the authority of the old tyrant whom Silas
had called Business.
The young man began to walk away. Sinth sent a parting shot after him.
"It's business," said she, "to think o' nobody but yerself."
It was long past mid-day when Silas came with the ox. He stood
listening, his hands upon his hips, while Sinth related the story of
their leaving camp and of Migley's effort to bring them back.
"S-Sawed himself off," said Strong, with a smile. "You s-see." The
dethroned Emperor turned, suddenly, and drew a line across the trail
with the butt of his ox-whip.
"All t-toe the s-scratch," he demanded, soberly.
He led Sinth and Sue forward and stopped them with their toes on the
line. He motioned to Socky, who took his place by the others. Zeb sat
in front of them. The boy seemed to wonder what was coming. His fingers
were closed but his thumbs stood up straight according to their habit
when the boy's heart was troubled.
"Th-thumbs down," Strong commanded.
He surveyed his forces with an odd look of solemnity and playfulness.
"S. Strong has been app'inted W-warden o' Rainbow V-valley," said the
exiled Emperor. "F-forward march." His command was followed by a brief
appeal to the ox.
"Purty good luck!" Sinth exclaimed, with a look of satisfaction. "But
they's a lot o' pirates over there--got t' look out fer 'em."
"They'll m-move," said Strong, as if he had no worry about that.
Slowly they went up the trail and soon reentered Lost River camp. The
young lumberman saw them coming and went off into the woods.
Some men, who had been at work near, gathered about the Emperor and
offered to stand by him as long as he wished to remain. Strong shook his
head. "W-we got t' g-go," he stammered. He looked sadly at the fallen
tree-trunks--at the door-yard, now full of brush. "D-don't never w-want
t' s-see this place ag'in," he muttered.
He brought the boat-jumper into camp and loaded it. Then with Sinth on
the bow seat and Socky and Sue behind her they set out, the men cheering
as they moved away.
A clear space at the stern afforded room for the Emperor if he should
wish to get aboard in crossing water and an axe and paddle were stored
on either side of it.
Strong had tacked a notice on one of the trees, and it read as follows: