"No." The young man turned in quick relief. "No, I never knew her. I
was still a small boy when my father came to take charge of the Tumwater
mills, and that tragedy of the Cowlitz had happened several months
before. It has always seemed unaccountable to me; those old voyageurs
understood a canoe; they must have made that trip down to the Columbia a
good many times."
"True," answered the Judge, "but there was a strong spring chinook
blowing, and the sudden melting of snows at the headwaters. The river
was flooding; the current changed and the accident occurred at a
shifting log jam."
There was a brief silence, then he went on, "She was on her way with
Philip's mother to visit their early home in Oregon. There was
something fine in that friendship of those two young women. Their lives
had begun together in that small frontier settlement; they married at
the same time men who were, themselves, warm friends, comrades in
adventure and endurance; and they came that double wedding journey by
canoe and trail, to start a social foundation here at the new capital of
the young territory. And later, they faced their tragedy of the Indian
war, when both husbands fell, fighting in the same skirmish. It softens
the terror of that last journey to know they met the end together.
"But I shall always blame myself for letting them go down the Cowlitz
without me;" and his voice vibrated a soft undernote. "I loved Alice
Hunter. We were to have been married when she returned."
Forrest met the Judge's look; a sudden intelligence, sympathy, shone in
his young eyes. "I understand," he said slowly, "I understand."
"I loved her always, from the first time I saw her, riding her little
pony along the bluffs of the upper Columbia. It was the day I reached
the river after my long journey overland, from New York. She was the
first--the one woman. And--she had promised to be my wife--before John
Hunter came."
"I understand," repeated Forrest, and his glance moved in delicacy to
the window. "I understand."
He saw clearly, in that moment, this great man's devotion, through
years, to that memory; the fineness of his solicitude for her children.
They had shared the home he had established for his brother's boy. He
had lavished benefits upon them; borne the expenses of their liberal
education; made himself their natural protector, guardian, friend.
"And the new Alice is her reincarnation."
The Judge paused and Forrest gave him another look, swift, searching,
and rose from his chair. He stood like a soldier at attention; or, like
a man who sees certain danger, yet prepares himself for that inevitable
of which he is afraid.
"She has the same bright face, the same quick intelligence, the
dauntless spirit speaking in her eyes; the same decided uptilt of the
chin; the same ruddy, shining hair." The Judge rose and moved a step
towards him. "I was still a young man when I brought her home, Paul,
and I have watched her grow. You cannot understand that. What it meant
to see the child unfold; what it cost me later, to be her every-day
companion, friend, to shape her pliant mind, and yet to--make no sign."
Forrest moved to the window, squaring his back to the room. He stood
looking down across the orchard and the maple-lined streets of the town,
to the shining sea; but his hand groped for the casing and held it with
a steadying grip. The Judge drew nearer. He dropped his hand on the
young man's shoulder, and the tender, insistent pleading that was the
chief charm of the orator dominated his voice. "I know I am facing very
possible defeat. It is natural that you two should think a good deal of
each other, Paul, and there isn't another man on earth to whom I could
better trust her. I am fond of you; I believe in you; I have called you
the man of the future Northwest. Still she has chosen that hard life up
in the wilderness, and you are leaving her there. If there is nothing
between you, if you do not love her, I shall ask her to go to Washington
with me--to be my wife."
Forrest turned. His face was gray; suddenly older. "I don't stand in
your way," he said. "I am just her friend, the one she depends on.
That's all. She refused me."
"She refused you?" The Judge laid both hands on the young man's
shoulders, compelling his look. "She refused you? And you love
her--_like this_."
Forrest drew away from his detaining grasp. "I must catch that
steamer," he said. He went back to his chair and picked up his hat.
"Good-by." He lifted his head, smiling a little, and offered his hand;
but his glance moved beyond the Judge to the window once more, and he
started. "She is here," he added unsteadily. "She is there with her
sister on the terrace. Good-by and _good luck_."
He was gone and the Judge stood regarding the closed door. Then a light
step on the threshold of the open window roused him and he turned.
"Good morning, Uncle Silas," she said, "I had to come right in and
congratulate you on the election, though Louise told me you were talking
business with Paul."
Her glance searched the room. Disappointment clouded her face.
"He was here," answered the Judge. "He hurried away to catch the
steamer back to Freeport."
"Why," she said in surprise, "Louise told me he came over with them in
the _Phantom_ to hear the returns, and I thought--of course it was
expected he would wait to go back with them after the ball. But," and
she turned with recovered brightness to the small boy who stood waiting
on the threshold, "this is Lem Myers, Uncle Silas. He came to see town
and the salt water."
"Good morning," said the Judge, weighing this future voter with
speculative eyes. "Good morning. You are just in time for a cruise.
To-morrow my nephew will show you what the _Phantom_ can do. I suppose
you never have boarded a yacht?"
"Wal, no," Lem moved towards the chair the politician offered, stepping
high in new and unaccustomed shoes. "No, I dunno's I hev."
"But of course the first thing, you want to try Olympia oysters. Hop
Sing manages a good pan roast." He rang and gave the order to the
Chinese cook, and Lem proceeded to adapt himself to the elegant
appointments of the table.
The teacher had taken the opposite chair. "Oh," she said presently, "I
know I have missed things; torchlight processions and rallies, and
orations,--I shall read that last speech directly,--and I'm sure you
have been serenaded by all the bands. I do love a band, Uncle Silas."
"They will play again," said the Judge, laughing, "and I hope one at a
time, and tonight you can enjoy the ball. But no doubt that is what
brought you all the way from Nisqually. You expect to lead that ball."
She shook her head. "Your first dance belongs to Mrs. Governor, Uncle
Si; we can't choose. That's the penalty of greatness."
The Judge laughed again, a soft rumble. "My dear," he said, after a
moment, "isn't it about time you left off calling me Uncle?"
She looked at him, flushing, with quick surprise. "I understand," she
said softly, "I understand. I should have thought of it long ago. Of
course I always speak of you differently to strangers, but among
ourselves--why-- It was you who taught me, at the first, when I was a
little girl."
"Oh, but you don't understand," he replied hurriedly. "I mean--you see,
my dear, when you were a child a young man seemed so much your senior;
the years between us do not count so much since you are a woman. In
short, it should be more natural to call me just Silas--or even Si."
"Call you--Si? Oh, how could I?" and she threw her head back and
laughed and laughed. "Good morning--Si. I congratulate you on the
election--Si--" the words came with difficulty, between trills of
merriment. "I am very proud of you--Si. But it was what we expected;
you are the one man big enough for the place--Si--and all the territory
knew it. Oh, indeed, indeed, I cannot. It's so ridiculously familiar.
But, yes, I will do it, I'll try if you--" she paused and looked away
through the open window. "The truth is--of course I want to go to the
ball, immensely, but I came from Nisqually really--because--to ask--"
The Judge laughed, his pleasant undernote. "I see," he said, "I see,
you are ready to come home. I've expected it; I've waited for it, and
I've missed you more than you can ever know. But things are changed. I
am going East in a few months and the house here will be closed. You do
not want to make your home with Louise at Freeport." He broke off and
walked over to the window. Directly he turned, and, with his back to
the light, his hands clasped loosely behind him, stood regarding her.
"The home here was broken up when you went away," he added, "and I shall
find it lonelier still at Washington--unless--"
"Oh," she interrupted brightly, "I'm sure you will be very gay there.
Think what it means; to be the representative from the big new
Northwest. A man distinguished, almost rich, and a bachelor. Why, you
will never have a dull moment--Si."
He caught the swift look from under her lashes and smiled. "You are
still laughing at me, yet that life at the capital would suit you well.
You were meant for pleasant places, to hold your own among bright women
and distinguished men. And I am eager to show what manner of woman the
crude West can produce. My dear, you would outshine them all."
"Oh," she said, and clapped her hands an instant to her ears, "you need
not practise those fine speeches on me, your success is assured; you
will live in a whirl. And don't trouble about me, Uncle Silas; I'm not
asking to come home. I--I only want you to go to the Land Office with
me. I--I am going to--file a claim."
"You are what?"
"I am going to locate a homestead." And her voice tripped on the word.
"You are going to locate a homestead? You?"
"Oh, Uncle Silas,"--she rose and walked a few steps, then turned facing
him with tilting chin and ruffled brows. "Why do you stand and frown
like that at me? I'm not the first woman to take up Government land.
Do you know of any reason why I shouldn't? I'm native born, and I'm
twenty-one."
Lem cast an appreciative wink at the Judge, and, having reached familiar
terms with the dish which Hop Sing had placed before him, he devoted
himself to a second generous installment of Olympia oysters.
"But," said the Judge, "you are not going to improve that homestead like
any settler? You do not intend to live there?"
"Yes," she answered, her voice again wavering, "I do. I am having the
trail cut through to the schoolhouse now; Mose Laramie is doing it, and
I have made a contract with him to cut the logs for my cabin. In
payment he is to have the best gun I can find in Olympia. I want you to
help me select it. But this is the piece,"--she paused to draw a
township plat from her pocket. "It is all that's required; the soil is
a good loam; a fairly level bottom-land at the foot of a great
side-hill. And at the same time, I want to make a timber filing on the
adjoining quarter up the slope. It is almost free of undergrowth except
along the stream. There are some fine old trees. You see, too, the
section is at the headwaters of the Des Chutes and I want to secure the
water rights to these falls."
She was unmistakably in earnest and the incredulity in the Judge's face
changed to dismay. He took the map and studied it. "I see," he said
slowly, "I see." There was a brief silence, then his voice, that voice
of the orator, took its pleading undernote. "Why will you do this
thing? If you must create your own opportunities, there are other ways.
Why, it is unbelievable. If ever there was a woman made for
civilization, you are that one, yet you choose to bury yourself in the
wilderness; to take up a claim in the heart of a jungle; to share the
hardships of rough and ignorant pioneers."
"But I am a pioneer," and he saw the rising storm in her eyes, "the
daughter of pioneers. You taught me to be proud of it, Uncle Silas; you
loved to remind me my mother was born on the Columbia, and that her
father, a New England missionary, followed Marcus Whitman to Oregon.
You never let me forget that my other grandfather was among the first to
enter the Straits of Fuca, and sailed his own ship a hundred miles,
straight up Puget Sound, without chart or pilot. You called it a great
record. And my father was the pioneer surveyor. You talked about those
seasons you spent in camp with him, while he blazed the great military
road through the forest, running his section lines over rocky spurs and
through cedar swamps, until I should count it a triumph to have carried
chain for him. You see it was born in me, Uncle Silas. I can't help
it--and I've got to turn it to the best account. It was my only
inheritance."
Her voice broke at the last, and the assurance dropped from her like a
shell. She stood before him, lovely, irresistible, extenuating a
weakness.
"Oh," he said in evident distress, "you have misunderstood me. I
wouldn't have you any different. Surely you know it? To me you are the
embodiment of all that is fine and sweet and best in this great
Northwest that I love. You are the spirit of it all. And your people
were above criticism, Alice. Only, the memory of their fortitude makes
me tremble for you. Your father, that splendid young fellow with almost
a lifetime before him, was cut off in ambush; and your mother--was
drowned in the Cowlitz. I want to have you--safe."
He began to walk the floor, slowly, with his hands still clasped behind
him, his head bent, a cloud on his face. And she waited in respectful
silence, watching him with a sweet and regretful tenderness in her eyes.
She believed she understood those memories from which had sprung all his
great kindness to her. Finally he stopped at the table and again spread
out the plat. "This must be near the section Forrest told me about," he
said. "Why, it looks like the very one. He was debating on taking it
up, himself, at the time I offered him the management at Freeport."
Her glance fell before his inquiring look, and the ready color flamed.
"Paul doesn't know," she said. "Please say nothing about it to any one.
You see, Uncle Silas,--you see--the country is being settled very fast,
and if I don't make this entry, some one else will."
There was another brief silence, then the Judge said, "Poor Forrest! you
are even bent on taking his chosen section of land."
The color leaped again in her face. She moved a few steps to the window
and stood with her back to him, looking down through the orchard to the
shimmering Sound. "He told you?" she said.
"Yes, he told me. I asked him. It had always seemed so natural you
should care something for him; he is well worth caring for. It seems
incredible that you should refuse a fine, interesting young fellow like
him." He paused, and his voice took its soft undernote. "I asked him,
Alice, because I want to take you to Washington. There is only one way I
can ask you to go. My dear, you understand--I love you."
She moved, startled, and laid her hand on the casing, where Forrest's
had been, waiting. It was the gesture of a woman who feels suddenly,
without premonition, the foundations of her world shake. He saw her
shoulders lift; her whole body trembled. His glance passed from her,
through the window, and on down the slope to the shining sea, and slowly
returned. "It is, then, impossible," he said. "I am impossible. Well,
forget all about it, little girl; it's all right. It's all right. Your
happiness first; nothing else counts."
"Dear Uncle Silas." She turned, smiling, though her lip quivered and
she brushed her hand across her eyes. "_You_ count. I owe all I am to
you. And you--are not impossible. I--I'm very fond of you. Its
true--Silas." She nodded her head brightly, and dashed her hand again
across her eyes. "And I will go to Washington--I'll be--glad--proud--to
be--your wife--as soon as the homestead is safe."
*CHAPTER X*
*LEM AND THE PHANTOM*
Lem never forgot that ball. The teacher found him a nook from which he
overlooked the entire floor; and he never tired of recounting to the
always newly impressed settlement, the glories of the pageant. How
"ther Jedge led ther parade an' was ther biggest toad in ther hull
puddle." How "two fiddles an' er pianer an' er horn kep er goin' all
ter oncet. An' clothes--ther Nisqually hedn't never seed sech clothes.
Why, ther schoolmarm herself was fixed ter beat ther band, in er dress
as soft an' thin as tons o' tissue paper, an' er gold chain, fine as er
thread, clamped 'ith shiny little stones; an' she hed er mighty fine an'
sassy feather--he couldn't fur ther life of him tell off'n what
bird--stuck in her hair. An' pretty, land, ther wa'n't a girl there
could hold er candle to her. An' ther boys all knew it; some of 'em,
Mr. Stratton fur one, 'lowed they wouldn't dance 'ith nobody ef it
couldn't be her; an' ther minute ther fiddles struck up somebody was on
hand ter streak her off. Gee, they'd orter seen her. She jest picked
up er handful o' white goods, an' her little feet went chasin' in an'
out like er couple o' chipmunks foolin' in er holler cedar stump."
But if the ball was unforgettable, the cruise on the _Phantom_, the
following day, marked an epoch in Lem's life.
"I think," said the teacher, as they approached the water front, "we
shall come back at flood-tide with a fine, choppy sea." Her eyes caught
the sparkle of the waves, and she inhaled the salt air in deep, full
breaths. There was the noise of running water about the piers, and the
flat kerthug of the _Phantom_ as she rose and dipped uneasily; but no
whitecaps as yet, though the Sound, whipped by passing gusts, darkened
and ruffled fitfully.
"Oh," said Stratton, who had joined the little party, "you will come
back in the teeth of a gale, I promise you."
Philip stood regarding Lem with quizzical gravity. "I never knew it to
fail with a new hand aboard, and this time I believe we're shipping a
Jonah."
Stratton laughed softly, and handed the ladies aboard. Lem watched the
feat with growing concern.
"There was once a man from Missouri," said Kingsley seriously, "who had
to be lassoed the first time, and brought aboard."
"I'll resk it," and Lem pushed hastily forward, setting his feet on the
gangplank and reaching for the Captain's hand.
"That's right, my boy; and it may encourage you to know that Missourian
lived to be our mayor in time."
The _Phantom_ swung out with a lurch, and, slipping into the seat next
the teacher, Lem grasped firm hold. Stratton took the helm and Philip
went to the shrouds. The sails swelled to a scurrying gust, then flapped
loosely. They filled again from another quarter and the yacht careened
to the swinging boom. Lem's clutch tightened. Alice covered his hand
with her palm. "Isn't it fine?" she asked.
"I'd ruther be erstride o' Ginger." He met her smile with a sidelong
glance and looked again with apprehension at the flapping canvas. "But
Jake 'lowed I'd git used to it."
"Who is Jake?" inquired Stratton.
"Jake?" Lem relaxed his grip on the rail, for the _Phantom_ settled
steadily. "Jake? He's my cousin; Samanthy's brother. An' he's be'n
clear ter British Columby. He went over oncet fur ther Queen o'
Victory's birthday."
"And he had a great time, I'll wager," said Kingsley, coming back to the
helm.
"Yes, but he counted on seeing ther Queen. He 'lowed she'd be to ther
head o' ther parade, 'ith her gold crown on, an' ther rest o' her fine
truck."
"And wasn't she?"
"Naw, she wa'n't ther. Aunt Lucindy 'lowed ther hull thing was er
fizzle; but then she counted on bringin' back er lot o' goods; cloth an'
hats an' shoes; I dunnot what all. You kin get 'em twice as cheap over
to Victory ef you don't hev ter pay no duty. An' she made errangements
'ith ther neighbors ter do buyin' fur em."
"And," said Kingsley, "I suppose she made other arrangements to elude
the Customs officers?"
"Ef you mean she laid out ter fool ther Gov'ment men, you're right. She
made er mattress ter fit over ther one on the steamboat, an' she filled
it 'ith ther goods. But they was too sharp fur her. Fust thing she
knew ther boss was haulin' off ther covers, an' er rippin' open that
ther tick. An' he poured ther stuff all out onter ther cabin floor, 'ith
ther hull crowd lookin' on; an' Jake says they laughed like all purzest.
An' he took the goods,--Jake 'lowed he kept ther pile,--'ith Aunt
Lucindy er cryin' an' er takin' on."
"But it was smuggling, Lem," said the teacher in dismay. "I hadn't
believed a Myers could do a dishonorable thing."
Lem threw back his head and narrowed his ferret eyes. "You kin jes' bet
er Myers ain't er goin' ter let er good chancet slip; not ef he knows
it; no, ma'am."
He thrust his hands into his pockets and leaned back comfortably in his
seat. But if the temporary ease of the yacht had lulled his
apprehensions they were speedily revived by a lurch that carried away
his hat and enveloped his head in spume. He sprang to his feet,
spluttering, clutching at the helm, losing his foothold on the slanting
deck, while the _Phantom_ raced down before the sudden flaw.
"Why, Lem, it's all right, there isn't a bit of danger. And you shall
have a new hat." The teacher placed a dry cushion and drew him down
into his seat. She wrapped him in a shawl, pulling it snugly over his
head, and he cuddled in it like a frightened squirrel, making a peephole
for his small, bright eyes.
Her own hat was gone and she bent to search a locker trying at the same
time with one hand to secure a loosened mass of wet, curling,
wind-roughened hair. Presently she brought to light an oilskin hat,
which she drew over her head, tilting the brim so that the rollicking
wind had still a chance at the shorter hair, tumbling it, twisting it
into burnished spirals about her ears. She stood for a moment, catching
easily the swing of the yacht, and looked far out across the stirring
reach of blue. And surely the spirit of that dauntless explorer, her
grandfather, dominated her; there was an exaltation in her face; delight
in every breath she drew.
Stratton watched her in undisguised pleasure. "There is no other
country as favorable to the traffic," he was saying. "It is utterly
impossible to guard the whole border. A regiment of soldiers might be
able to patrol the woods on the mainland, but it is easier to trail an
Indian than to follow a fleet craft through the Archipelago de Haro."
"No doubt that's the way most smuggling is carried on," replied
Kingsley. "And it's an open secret that there are men on Puget Sound,
living right in Seattle, fine, well-established men, who wouldn't
defraud each other or any business man out of a dollar, yet conduct a
systematic and successful opium ring."
Louise turned to him in protest. "Oh, Philip, you don't know such men,
personally. You ought not to repeat such an idle rumor. Of course, if
you had grounds for the suspicion, knew certain circumstances, you would
do all in your power to aid the Government to apprehend these men. To
stand neutral is to connive in--_crime_."
"Oh, Mrs. Kingsley, that is a harsh word." The quick flush that leaped
in Stratton's face as quickly died, leaving it pale. His glance moved
seaward. "There are enormous duties on some things, for
instance--opium." He paused and his look returned; he smiled. "You
forget you, yourself, are descended from people who objected,
strenuously, to the payment of exorbitant duty. But we should hardly
say that those exemplary Bostonians, who appropriated a whole cargo of
tea, committed a crime."
"Oh," she said, with growing indignation, "how can you draw such a
comparison? How can you? We are a young territory, Mr. Stratton, with
a wide, unsettled border. What will become of us if the few educated
and able men among us fail? If they wilfully break established laws;
sink to the level of common smugglers, thieves?"
She rose in fine scorn from the place beside him and took a distant
seat. Stratton's look followed her and the flush again left his face
pale. "But I forgive her," he said at last, softly, "I forgive her, she
is so charming when she is angry. Where most any other woman's voice
would shrill, hers always drops to that nice contralto note."
"And you know she is right," said Alice, taking the vacant place. "It's
just what I should have said, if she hadn't."
"Yes?" And he smiled again. "That surprises me--after that experience
on the mountain."
"That was different. Mose believed he was justified. He was true to his
traditions. That summit was his holy of holies and we were vandals come
to desecrate." Her eyes turned to the great crest of Mt. Rainier,
looming out of the southeast, its crater hollowed gently, like a throne
between its triple alabaster domes. "Whenever I try to shake that
belief I feel guilty, Mr. Stratton. It's so much more beautiful than any
I can offer in exchange. After all, the most I can do is to educate
Mose in other ways, and give him an occupation. The rest may come."
"I am hopelessly dense," said Stratton. "I fail to see why you draw the
line so sharply. You forgive that young rascal of a horse thief and
help him. But you are uncompromising, exacting, if a man has the
misfortune to be--well--a gentleman."
She gave him a level look. "I consider the motive; whether he knows
better."
"Oh," said Philip, laughing, "you don't know her, Stratton. In her
secret heart she'd love to be a smuggler and a pirate, and defying the
Government, go sailing down among those purple islands of De Haro. And
principle or no principle, it would be great fun, I confess, to match my
little boat against a revenue cutter. Only give me the wind and a fair
start, and I could set a pace for the best of them. There isn't a
channel I haven't taken her through; and I'll wager I know every
tide-rip and shoal the Sound over."
Kingsley said what he pleased; his life was an open sea. If sometimes
he ran too close into the wind, he knew, or he thought that he knew, how
to recover, but his glance moved to his wife and rested a moment.
But clearly Louise no longer listened. Her face, the face of a dreamer,
rapt, sensitive, was turned to the Olympic Mountains, shining across the
ruffled sea. It was as though she saw farther than other women, and
beyond those amethyst peaks and shoulders, breaking through cloud, up at
the source of those shafts of mellow light, that struck the gorges
between the blue foothills, she found a higher country all her own.
He drew his frame erect and began to whistle, lifting his eyes to the
swelling sails. Then Alice took the guitar from a sheltered place and
caught the accompaniment. And presently they began to sing.
"'Twas a gallant bark, with a crew as brave
As ever launched on the seething wave."
The _Phantom_ swung out from the old monastery on Priest Point, and
coming around, raced back before the still freshening wind. They
skirted the Olympia peninsula, and moved on up the narrowing arm. Here
were the white walls of the capitol, rising from a grove of young firs,
and across the channel opened the wooded capes off Cleale Place. Then
came the promontory, breaking from Tumwater ridge; the Indian burial
ground, where the blankets, which screened the canoes of the dead in the
treetops, hung against the dark face of the bluff like gaily painted
squares. And at last the yacht began to feel a back current and stalked
gently up towards the white mills.
This was that "cradle" out of which Forrest had stepped, and there off
the bow rose the glooming cliffs, where the lower Des Chutes hung a
curtain of roped pearls, and the long pale lips of the rapids curled and
menaced below.
Stratton took the guitar and repeated the tune, droning a pleasing
undernote. And presently Louise awakened, and the receding promontory,
catching the contralto, held the song a tragic moment and returned it
transformed to a requiem.
"For the white squall rides on the surging wave,
And the bark is gulfed in an ocean's grave,
In an ocean's grave; in an ocean's grave."
But the soprano was silent.
*CHAPTER XI*
*THE HOUSE-RAISING*
"I've travelled all over ther country, prospectin'
an' diggin' fur gold;
I've tunnelled, hydraulicked an' cradled, an' I hev
be'n frequently sold.
An' I hev be'n frequently s-o-old, an' I hev be'n
frequently sold,
I've tunnelled, hydraulicked an' cradled, an' I hev
be'n frequently sold."
Mose rested on his ax and listened. It was a boy's voice, loud and
clear, though it slurred over difficult notes, and filled in uncertain
words with a whistle. And it startled the woods, rising above the
thunder of the cataract, and rang a hundred echoes from cliff and spur.
"So rollin' my grub in my blanket, an' leavin' my
tools on ther ground,
I started one mornin' to shank it, fur a country
they call Puget Sound.
Fur a country they call Puget So-ou-ound--"
"Saprie, dat ees Lem Myers." Mose lifted his ax and lopped off a branch
which trailed over the rustic table he had completed. All the space
around him was filled with building material; straight logs cut into
even lengths, rows of cedar shakes, piles of hewn flooring, posts and
rafters, newly made by hand from the felled timber of the small
clearing, and surrounded by a resinous litter of boughs and chips.
"'Arrivin' dead broke in mid-winter, I found it
enveloped in fog,
An' covered all over 'ith timber, thick as hair on
ther back of er dog.
Thick as hair on ther back of er do-o-g, thick as hair
on ther back of er dog,--'