The camp was now in the shadow of Long Ridge. Sinth and the Emperor were
silent. Bird-songs that rang in the deep, shaded hall of the woods had
a note of farewell in them. The children were laughing and chattering
as ox and boat-jumper entered the unbroken forest. Zeb stood in front
of the children, his forefeet on the gunwale, and seemed to complain of
their progress.
It was, in a way, historic, that journey of the boat-jumper, that
parting of the ancient wood and the last of its children. Their
expedition carried about all that was left of the spirit of the
pioneer--his ingenuity, his dauntless courage, his undying hope of
"better times." The hollow log, with its heart hewn out of it, groaning
on its way to the sown land, suggested the fate of the forest. Now,
soon, the Lost River country would have roads instead of trails, and its
emperor would be a common millionaire. The jumper and the woodsman had
had their day.
Slowly they pursued their way, skirting thickets and going around fallen
trees, and stopping often to clear a passage. Strong followed, gripping
the handles that rose well above the stern of his odd craft, and so he
served as a rudder and support. An ox is able to go in soft footing,
and they struck boldly across a broad swamp nearly three miles down the
river shore.
It was near sundown when they camped for the night far down the outlet
of Catamount Pond. Strong put up a small tent and bottomed it with
boughs while Sinth was getting supper ready. Their work done, they sat
before the camp-fire and Sinth told tales of the wilderness. Sile sang
again "The Story of the Mellered Bear," and also an odd bit of nonsense
which was, in part, a relic of old times. The first line of each stanza
came out slowly and solemnly while the second ran as fast as he could
move his tongue. In his old memorandum-book he referred to it as "The
Snaik Song," and it ran as follows:
[Illustration: 0298]
[Illustration: 0299]
Strong whittled as he sang, and soon presented the girl with a straight
rod of yellow osier upon which he had carved the brief legend, "Su--her
snaik stick." If she held to that, he explained, no snake would be able
to swallow her.
"I want one, too," said Socky.
"You m-mean a bear stick," Strong answered. "Girls have t' l-look out
fer s-snakes an' boys for b-bears."
They were all asleep on their bough beds before eight o'clock.
At that hour which Strong was wont to designate as "jes' daylight" he
was on his feet again. Whether early or late to bed he was always awake
before dawn. Some invisible watcher seemed to warn him of the coming
of the light. He held to one ol the ancient habits of the race, for he
began every day by kneeling to start a fire. He bent his head low and
brought his lips near it as if the flame were a sacred thing and he its
worshipper.
For a time that morning he was careful not to disturb the others. But
having attended to Patrick, he hurried to call the children. He hurried
for fear that Sinth would forestall him. He loved to wake and wait upon
them and hear their chatter. Their confidence in his power over all
perils had become a sweet and sacred sort of flattery in the view of
Silas. He had, too, a curious delight in seeing and feeling their little
bodies while he helped them to dress. Somehow it had all made him think
less of the pleasures of the wild country and more of Lady Ann. That
"someday" of his laconic pledge was drawing nearer and its light was
in every hour of his life. The children were leading him out of the
brotherhood of the forest into that of men.
He lifted the sleeping boy in his arms and gently woke him. Zeb had
followed and put his cold nose on the ear of Sue. Soon the children were
up and the Emperor kneeling before them, while his great hands awkwardly
held a "teenty" pair of stockings.
Sinth awoke and jealousy remarked, "Huh! I should think you was plumb
crazy 'bout them air childern."
Strong smiled and left them to her and began to prepare breakfast.
Soon all were on their way again, heading for the lower valley of Lost
River. They crossed two ridges and entered a wide swamp. There were many
delays, for they encountered fallen trees which had to be cleared away
with axe and lever, while here and there Strong gave the ox a footing of
corduroy. It was a warm day and the children fell asleep after an hour
or so. Sinth, who had been tossed about until speech wearied her tongue
and put it in some peril, sank into sighful resignation.
The jumper had stopped; Strong had gone ahead to look out his way.
Reaching higher ground he saw man tracks and followed them to an old
trail. Soon a piece of white paper pinned to a tree-trunk caught his
eye. He stopped and read this warning:
_"To Sile Strong_
_"You haint goin t' find the Rainbow country helthy place. If you go
thare youll git hung up by the heels. I mean business."_
The Emperor took off his faded crown. He scratched his head
thoughtfully. That message was probably inspired by some lawless man who
had felt the authority of the woods lover and who wanted no more of it.
He had heard that Migley had four camps on the Middle Branch, between
there and Rainbow, and that they were full of "cutthroats." That was a
word that stood for deer-slayers and all dare-devil men.
Whoever had put this threat in the way of the Emperor had probably heard
of his appointment and was trying to scare him away. The offender might
have been sent by Migley himself.
"W-We'll s-see," Strong muttered, with a stern look, as he returned to
the boat-jumper. Many had threatened him, one time or another, but he
never worried over that kind of thing. To-day, as on many occasions,
he kept his tongue sinless by keeping his mouth shut, and, touching his
discovery on the trail, said only the two words, "W-we'll see," and said
them to himself. He didn't believe in spreading trouble.
Slowly they made their way to a bend in Lost River far from the old
camp. As they halted to seek entrance to the water channel Strong came
forward and poked the children playfully until they opened their eyes.
Then he put a hand on either shoulder of Sinth and gave her a little
shake.
"How ye f-feelin'?" he asked.
"Redic'lous," she answered, "settin' here 'n a holler tree jest as if we
was a fam'ly o' raccoons." It was the most impatient remark she had made
in many days.
"B-Better times!" said the Emperor. He smiled and sat down to rest on
the side of the boat-jumper. He turned to the boy and asked, hopefully,
"How 'bout yer Uncle S-Silas?"
It had been rough, adventurous riding, but full of delight for
the children. That morning their uncle had loomed into heroic and
satisfactory proportions. Socky had long been thinking of the little
silver compass Master had given him one day and which hung on a ribbon
tied about his neck. He hoped they might be going where there would be
other boys and girls. He had been considering how to give to his uncle's
person a touch of grandeur and impressiveness fitting the story of the
"mellered bear" and his power and skill as a hunter. Soberly he removed
the ribbon from his neck and presented the shiny trinket to his uncle.
"Put that on yer neck," said he, proudly.
"Wh-what?" his uncle stammered.
"C'ris'mus present," said the boy, with a serious look.
The Emperor took off his faded crown. He put the ribbon over his head so
that the compass dangled on his breast.
"There," said Socky, "that looks a little better."
In a moment, with that prudence which always kept the last bridge
between himself and happiness, he added, "You can let me have it
nights."
Every night since it fell to his possession he had gone forth into the
land of dreams with that compass held firmly in his right hand.
"Here's twenty-five cents," said Sue, holding out the sacred coin which
her nurse had given her, and which, on her way into the forest, had been
set aside for a sacrifice to the great man of her dreams. At last the
two had accepted him, without reserve, as worthy of all honor. They
could still wish for more in the way of personal grandeur, supplied in
part by the glittering compass, but something in him had satisfied their
hearts if not their eyes. He was again their sublime, their wonderful
Emperor.
"You better keep it; you're going to buy an album for Aunt Sinthy," the
boy warned her.
Her little hand closed half-way on the silver; it wavered and fell in
her lap. She seemed to weigh the coin between her thumb and finger. She
looked from the man to the woman. Socky saw her dilemma and felt for
her.
"I'll get her an album myself," he proposed. In that world of magic
where he lived nothing could discourage his faith and generosity. Their
uncle lifted them in his arms and held them against his breast without
speaking.
"You've squeezed them childern till they're black in the face," said
Sinth, who now stood near him with a look of impatience.
She took them out of his arms and held them closer, if possible, than he
had done.
At the edge of the stream he shouted, "All 'board!" The others took
their seats, and the Emperor sat in the stern with his paddle. Socky
faced him so that he could see the compass. He often asked, proudly,
"Which way we goin'?" and Strong would look at the compass and promptly
return the information, "Sou' by east." The river ran shallow for more
than a mile in the direction of their travel. Patrick hauled them slowly
down the edge of the current. Strong steadied and steered with his
paddle as they crept along, bumping over stones and grinding over gravel
until, at a sloping, sandy beach on the farther shore, they mounted the
bank and headed across Huckleberry Plain.
Noon-time had passed when they left the hot plain. They threaded a
narrow fringe of tamaracks and entered thick woods again. At a noisy
little stream near by they stopped for dinner. Strong caught some trout
and built a fire and fried them, and made coffee. Sinth spread the
dishes and brought sandwiches and cheese and a big, frosted cake and
a can of preserved berries from the boat-jumper. They sat down to the
reward of honest hunger where the pure, cool air and the sylvan scene
and the sound of flowing water were more than meat to them, if that were
possible.
Having eaten, they rose and pressed on with a happy sense of
refreshment. A thought of it was to brighten many a less cheerful hour.
Half a mile from their camping-place they found a smooth trail which led
across level country to the Middle Branch. Socky and Sue were again fast
asleep on the bottom of the boat-jumper long before they reached the
river. When they halted near its bank a broad stream of deep, slow water
lay before them. Strong unhitched the ox and led him along shore until
he came to rapids where, half a mile below, the river took its long,
rocky slope to lower country. There he tethered his ox and returned to
fetch the others. He launched his boat-jumper and got aboard and paddled
carefully down-stream.
Having doubled a point, they came in sight of a slim boy who stood by
the water's edge aiming an ancient, long-barrelled gun. His head, which
rested against the breech, seemed, as the Emperor reported, "'bout the
size of a pippin."
"E-look out!" Strong shouted, as the boy lowered his gun to regard the
travellers with an expression of deep concern.
"See any mushrats?" the boy asked, eagerly.
"N-no; who're you?"
"Jo Henyon."
Strong had heard of old Henyon, who was known familiarly as "Mushrat
Bill." For years Bill had haunted the Middle Branch.
"Wh-where d' ye live?"
"Yender," said the boy, pointing downstream as he ran ahead of them.
Presently they came to an old cabin near the water's edge with a small
clearing around it. A woman wearing a short skirt and Shaker bonnet
stood on one leg looking down at them. Children were rushing out of the
cabin door.
"My land! where's her other leg?" Sinth mused.
The Emperor looked thoughtfully at the strange woman.
"F-folks are like cranes over in this c-country," Strong answered.
"Always rest on one leg."
He drove his bow on a sloping, sandy beach. The woman hopped into the
cabin door. Her many children hurried to the landing. A man with head
and feet bare followed them. An old undershirt, one suspender, and a
tattered pair of overalls partly covered his body. He walked slowly
towards the shore. He was the famous trapper of the Middle Branch.
"F-fur to Rainbow T-Trail?" Strong inquired of him.
The latter put his hand to his ear and said, "What?" Strong repeated his
query in a much louder voice.
"Fur ain't very thick," the stranger answered.
Strong perceived that the man was very deaf and also that he was devoted
to one idea.
"B-big fam'ly," he shouted, as he began to push off.
The trapper, with his hand to his ear and still looking a bit doubtful,
answered, "Ain't runnin' very big this year."
Thereafter the word "mushrats," in the vocabulary of Strong, stood for
unworthy devotion to a single purpose.
Down-stream a little the ox took his place again at the bow of the
boat-jumper. They struck off into thick woods reaching far and wide on
the acres of Uncle Sam. A mile or so inland they came to Rainbow Trail,
and thereafter followed it. Timber thieves had been cutting big pines
and spruces and had left a slash on either side of the trail.
The travellers dipped down across the edge of a wide valley, and after
climbing again were in the midst of burned ground on the top of a high
ridge. Below them they could see Rainbow Lake and the undulating canopy
of a great, two-storied forest reaching to hazy distances. Mighty towers
of spruce and pine and hemlock rose into the sunlit, upper heavens.
It was growing dusk when, below them and well off the trail, they saw a
column of smoke rising. They halted, and Strong stood gazing. The smoke
grew in volume and he made off down the side of the ridge. He came in
sight of the fire and stopped. Some one had fled through thickets of
young spruce and Zeb was pursuing him.
Strong looked off in the gloomy forest and shouted a fierce oath at its
invisible enemy.
Near him flames were leaping above a fallen top and running in tiny jets
over dry duff like the waste of a fountain. Swiftly Strong cut branches
of green birch and began to lay about him. He stopped the flames and
then dug with his hatchet until he struck sand. He scooped it into his
hat and soon smothered the cinders.
His face had a troubled expression as he returned to the boat-jumper.
"Who you been yellin' at?" Sinth asked.
"C-careless cuss," he answered, evasively.
Socky wore a look of indignation. He glibly repeated the oath which he
had heard his uncle use.
"Hush! The Sundayman'll ketch you," Sinth answered, severely.
Strong gave a whistle of surprise.
"Uncle Silas ain't 'fraid o' no Sundayman," Socky guessed.
"Y-yes I be--could kill me with a s-snap of his finger," Strong
declared.
Socky trembled as he thought of that one inhabitant of the earth who was
greater than his Uncle Silas and said no more.
"S-see here, boy," said Strong, as he put his fingers under Socky's chin
and raised his head' a little, "I w-won't never swear ag'in if y-you
won't."
He held out his great hand and Socky took it.
"Y-you agree?"
Socky nodded with a serious look, and so it happened that Silas became
the master of his own tongue. He had "boiled over" for the last time--so
he thought. The old habit which had grown out of a thousand trials and
difficulties must give way, and henceforth he would be emperor of his
own spirit.
As to the fire and the man who had fled before him, Strong was
perplexed, but kept his own counsel. He knew that the law permitted
lumbermen to enter burned lands on the State preserve and take all
timber which fire had damaged. A fire which might only have scorched the
trunks while it devoured the crowns above them gave a rich harvest
to some lucky lumberman. Having gained access, he stripped the earth,
helping himself to the living as well as the dead trees. _Fire,
therefore, had become a source of profit wherein lay the temptation to
kindle it._
Silas Strong knew that his land of refuge was doomed--that the
forerunner of its desolation was even then hiding somewhere in the near,
dusky woods. He thought of the peril after a dry summer. The mould of
the forest would burn like tinder.
The dethroned Emperor reached the shore of Rainbow, put up a tent, and
helped to get supper ready. After supper he lay down to rest in
the firelight, and told the children about the great bear and the
panther-bird. Sinth, weary after that long day of travel, had gone to
sleep. After an hour or so Strong rose and looked down at her.
"Sh-sh!--don't w-wake her," he warned them. "I'll put ye t' b-bed."
He helped them undress.
"You'll have to hear our prayers," Socky whispered.
Strong nodded. He sat on a box and they knelt between his knees and he
put his hands on their heads and bowed his own.
When they had finished he bent lower and dictated this brief kind of
postscript, "An' keep us from all d-danger this n-night."
They repeated the words with no suspicion of what lay behind them.