TRICKY PLAYS
Lamplight was shining from the kitchen windows when Homer Steeves
pulled the sled up to the kitchen door. Homer was weary. He
staggered and sat down on the chopping-block beside the door. Flora
went to the sled and unfastened Jim's bonds and helped him to his
feet. She turned to Homer, while Jim supported part of his weight
with an arm across her shoulders.
"Thank you, Homer," she said. "You have been a great help. I don't
know what we should have done without you and the sled."
"It was Flora's idea," explained Jim. "She said that if you knew old
Mrs. Wilson had shot Hammond and that the sheriff wasn't after me,
you wouldn't haul me home--and I imagine she was right. So we didn't
enlighten you, and here we are. Thanks very much, Steeves."
Homer got to his feet slowly and advanced wonderingly.
"What the devil d'ye mean?" he asked in a choking voice.
"Don't come any nearer, or I'll land you one that'll put you to sleep
for a week," cautioned Jim.
At that moment the door opened and Mrs. Ducat looked out. The dogs
bounded past her into the kitchen and Flora ran into her embrace.
Jim followed the mother and daughter into the kitchen, hopping on one
foot; and Homer cleared his snowshoes from his feet and followed Jim.
He did not wait for an invitation. He could not bring himself to
believe that he should ever require an invitation to make himself at
home in that kitchen. Looking about him, he saw the old men and old
Mrs. Wilson seated by the stove. He confronted the widow.
"I hear it was you shot Amos Hammond," he said, and laughed
derisively.
"Sure it was me," returned the old lady tartly. "Who had a better
right to shoot 'im, I'd like to know? What's the joke, young man?"
"You shot 'im?" muttered Homer.
"Ain't I jes' told ye so? Where's yer manners?"
"Does Sheriff Hart know?"
"That he does, an' Hammond, too! The hull world knows it, I reckon."
Homer turned and left the kitchen. He went to the stable and
harnessed his mare in the dark.
Mark Ducat entered the kitchen within a few minutes of Homer's
departure. He had returned from Kettle Pond only that morning, and
was full of enthusiasm for his and Jim's venture.
Jim stopped in the middle of recounting his adventures and gripped
Mark's hand in both of his and expressed intense pleasure at the
sight of his partner by word and look.
"But I won't be able to make the trip north for a week or two because
of this game leg," he explained cheerfully. "I've been having a wild
old time the last few days. But I've learned a lot about women, at
any rate."
"What's that got to do with our trap line?"
"Nothing, of course, but they're as brave as we are, Mark--but even
the best of them is inclined to--well, given to dissembling."
"Has someone been makin' a fool of you, Jim?"
"Not at all."
"Maybe not--but the woods is the place for us, Jim."
"He's got a cut in his leg that'll keep him right here for a week or
so," said Flora, smiling.
Old Hercules Ducat chuckled.
"When I was a young feller," he began--but at that moment the
conversation became general and no one but Widow Wilson heard what he
had to say.