fisherman, and so she replied pleasantly, “Yes, do take the boat. We
will not need it for half an hour at least.”
Then, rising, she said to Eva, “Now, Dryad Fern, let us wander about a
bit. I want to show you a pretty view from the other side of the
island.”
And so it chanced a few moments later, when Adele and Everett arrived on
the scene, they could find neither the girls nor the row-boat.
“Well, this is strange!” Everett exclaimed. “But I believe that it will
turn out to be as harmless a mystery as the other.”
“Hark!” Adele said. “I hear the girls calling, and there they come now.”
“Madge, what has become of our boat?” Everett inquired, and Madge, for
answer, pointed out toward the lake, where Everett saw two boats
approaching the shore. A fisherman was rowing a rather rough-looking
craft and towing their own. Madge explained how it had happened, and the
lad went down to the water’s edge to assist at the landing.
“Thank ye,” said the fisherman, as he tossed the painter of the little
craft to Everett. “Strangers from the city, I take it,” he added, as he
looked at the youth’s white flannel suit, with a twinkle under his
shaggy eyebrows. “What would ye think now, if ye’d lived on Little Bear
Lake, as I have, for upward of fifteen year, and not been away from it?”
“Oh, then you must know the story of the Little Bear!” Eva exclaimed
eagerly. “We saw a picture of him over at the inn.”
“Know the story? I should say I do! Why, little gal, that bear was a
good friend of mine and the Kid’s. If ye’ve time to row over to my
shack, I’ll show ye Little Bear’s skin and tell ye the tale about him. I
live in that clump of trees on the mainland yonder.”
“We’d love to go,” Madge replied.
“All aboard!” Everett called, and soon the two boats were crossing the
lake.
In a grove of pine-trees the rude shack stood. A three-legged stool was
in front of the door through which the party entered. There was very
little furniture in the one room, only things that were absolutely
necessary, and those were homemade, it was plain to see. Over a rustic
bed an Indian blanket was thrown. Three-legged stools, a table, and a
stove completed the furnishings.
“I cook on a camp-fire mostly,” the fisherman said. “Stoves are too
civilized for the like o’ me, but when it’s winter that stove comes into
its own. Many a blustery night Little Bear and I would come in chilled
to the bone, and we’d make a crackling fire in that rusty old stove, and
glad we were to have it, I kin tell ye!”
“Oh!” cried Eva. “Did Little Bear live right here with you? Weren’t you
afraid of him? I thought bears were ferocious and ate people up.”
“Well,” said the old fisherman, “I s’pose there are ferocious ones,
maybe, but to my thinking there’s no creature more good-natured and
kindly-intentioned than a bear. He won’t fight a man unless he sees that
the man means to harm him, and the bear’s in the right to fight then, I
should say.”
A brown bear-skin was nailed on the wall of the shack. Smoothing the
rough fur, the old man said tenderly, “And this here skin is all that’s
left now of Little Bear. Sit down, and I’ll tell ye the story.”
“Let’s go outdoors under the pines,” Madge suggested, and so out they
went. The weather-tanned old man sat on the three-legged stool, and the
four young people made themselves comfortable on the soft pine-needles
which formed a thick carpet under the trees.
“Many years ago,” the fisherman began, “no white men lived on this
lake,—just Injuns and bear and deer. But one summer a lumber-camp was
started where the inn stands to-day, and upwards of twenty white men,
armed with axes and guns and knives, built log huts about and began to
live in them. The lake shore in those days was covered with great
pine-trees, and the concern that owned them wanted them cut down for
lumber, but the Injuns had a notion that they owned those pine woods
themselves, and many a hard fight there was between the reds and the
whites, but the guns beat the arrows in the end, and the Injuns moved
away farther north. Bear and deer were thick in those days, and the
lumbermen had plenty to eat and all the fish they wanted when they took
time to catch them. After a while other white men came and started
sheep-raising and farming. They were always big, husky men, who were
used to roughin’ it, but one day a covered wagon arrived, and in it was
a man and a woman and a baby.
“The man looked pale and sick-like. He’d come to the woods for his
health, he said. He offered the wood-cutters all the money he had if
they would give food to his wife and child. He himself wasn’t long for
this earth, he said, and he was right, for he died that night.
“Those rough men were sorry enough for the woman, and they made her as
comfortable as they could. They let her have one of the huts to live in.
She tried to pick up strength for the child’s sake, but she just
couldn’t do it, and a week later she went to join her man. Then there
was that baby boy left in the lumber-camp. The rough men didn’t know
what to do with the kid. Some were for sending him to the nearest
settlement, ten miles away, but one of them had had a kid of his own
once, and he said he’d look out for the young one, so, after that, the
men called Jock Henderson the kid’s foster-father.
“I’m slow coming to the bear, maybe ye think, for it’s my way to begin
at the beginnin’, but prick up yer ears, for the bear is soon coming.
“Kid Henderson, as they called the baby, was a jolly little fellow, and
when the men came home from their work, he toddled around and teased to
be tossed up into the air, so one big man and then another would bounce
the Kid, and how he would squeal and laugh! Somehow or other, those
rough men kept things tidier after that, for having a Kid around made it
seem more like home. And, too, they were careful how they talked,—never
said a hard word in that baby’s hearing. Truth was, Kid Henderson had
crept right into the hearts of those rough lumbermen, and, though not
one would have said it, they all loved him like he was their own. That’s
why they was so frantic-like when the Kid was stolen. Did the Injuns
steal him? Well, wait and you shall hear.
“As I said, the men had all the deer and bear and fish they wanted to
eat, but there was one Irishman, Pat Mahoney, who had a hankering for
bacon, and bacon he was going to have, he said, if he took a week off to
get it. The long and the short of it was that Pat built a pig-pen out of
logs, and then he rode to the nearest settlement and came back with a
litter of little squealing pigs that were just old enough to get on
without the sow. Of course that was a good ways from having bacon, but
Pat said those porkers would be good to eat by winter, and, as it was
then early spring, the men were willing to believe him. Kid Henderson
went wild over those little pigs, and if he had been let, he would have
spent all his time in the pen, rolling about and playing with them. And
now here comes the bear, not Little Bear, I’ll agree, for it was a huge,
big bear that came prowling around the lumber-camp one night, and,
smelling pork, he calmly reached over the fence and carried off one of
the little pigs. Pat Mahoney was mad, I kin tell ye. He set a trap for
old Bruin, but no use, and the next night another little pig was
missing.
“Then Pat decided to set up and watch and shoot the intruder when he
came prowling around, but something happened before night which made all
the men forget about the pigs.
“They always put the Kid in the main hut and barred the door on the
outside when they went away to the woods to work, but at noon Jock
Henderson would ride back and get the Kid’s lunch and put him to bed for
his afternoon nap. The Kid was used to being left alone and he didn’t
make a fuss,—just played around on the floor with the rough toys the men
had made for him.
“Well, the noon of the day after the second pig had been stolen, Jock
Henderson went home the same as usual, but when he got near, he saw that
the hut-door was standing wide open. This was curious, being as the men
had barred it on the outside so’s the Kid nowise could open it.
“Jock sprang into the hut and looked all around. The Kid wasn’t there!
‘Injuns!’ Jock thought on the instant, but his heart went cold when he
saw what the tracks really was. Not Injuns. No, sir; they war
bear-tracks! Looked as though a big bear had stood up to scratch his
back on the rough bark of that door and had pushed off the bar. Then, of
course, the door had opened and Jock Henderson knew the rest. The big
bear had gone off with the little Kid, just as it had with the pigs.
“Jock leaped on his horse and followed the bear-tracks. There’d been a
rain the night before and the tracks was easy to find. They led up into
the hills. Jock knew he was running an awful risk, going right up into
the bear’s den, especially if it was a mother-bear with young; but Jock
didn’t care anything about his own life if he could only save the Kid.
He tied his horse in a pine wood because most horses won’t go anywhere
near a bear, and then, taking his gun, he started through the brush and
slowly made his way up the hill.
“He lost the bear-tracks when the ground became rocky, and he was just
going to change his course when he heard a low growl. Instantly Jock
whirled in that direction, and he saw a huge bear rearing up to its full
height and ready to attack him. There were no trees around, and Jock
knew that his only safety lay in hitting the bear’s heart. If he missed,
the enraged critter would plunge on him and tear him to pieces.
“Jock Henderson was a good shot, but his nerve was pretty much shaken.
He took aim and fired. The bear stood so still for a second that Jock
feared he had missed it entirely, but in another moment the big fellow
fell in a heap on the ground.
“Then Jock looked about for some sign of the little Kid, but he didn’t
find any. Maybe he’d come too late, he was just thinking, when suddenly
he saw something which brought tears of joy into his eyes. He had
rounded a heap of rocks, and there, in the doorway of a cave, lay the
Kid, with his head on the woolly back of a little brown bear, and they
were both sound asleep. The old mother-bear had spared the life of the
little child, as bears often do, and a feeling of tenderness came into
Jock’s heart for the poor mother-bear, but of course he had to kill her
to save his own life.
“Then the lumberman took a strap from around his waist and he made a
muzzle, which he put over the nose of the sleeping cub. Then he lifted
the boy on one arm and took the tiny cub under the other, and down the
hill he went. The small bear was soon awake and struggling for its
freedom. Then the Kid woke up, and finding he was safe in his
foster-father’s arms, he said: ‘Nice bear took Kiddie. Nice bear didn’t
hurt Kiddie.’
“Meanwhile the other men wondered why Jock did not return to the woods
that afternoon, and they was all anxious and watching for him when he
appeared with the Kid and the little cub bear. When they heard the
story, many an eye was wet, and the Kid had to tell over and over how
the nice bear took him, but ‘nice bear didn’t hurt Kiddie,’ he would
always say with that winnin’ smile of his.
“Right then and there the men made up their minds that there wouldn’t
anything get another chance to steal their Kid, and after that they
never left him alone again. If it was fair weather, he was taken to the
camp, and he liked nothing better; while in bad weather the men took
turns staying behind and lookin’ after him, and so the years passed and
the little boy and bear grew up together. Then something happened,” said
the old man with a far-away look in his eyes. “Well, like as not it was
best that it did.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE LITTLE BEAR
“What was it that happened?” the listeners asked eagerly.
“Well, if ye’re not tired of the story,” the old fisherman said, “I’ll
tell ye the rest of it. The men had decided that since the mother-bear
had been so good to their Kid, they’d be good to her little cub, so they
adopted him, and the bear and the Kid grew up together like two
brothers.
“Little Bear was soon as tame as a puppy, and though he grew some, he
never became as big as his mother. Little Bear he was always called, and
how he did love the Kid! When the boy was seven years old, the men put
together and bought him a small horse and a rifle, but wherever he went,
Little Bear ambled after him.
“The men had built a log raft, which they pushed about with poles, and,
when the lake was calm, often the Kid and the bear would sit on the
raft, and the boy would fish. Sometimes the Kid would catch a fish that
wasn’t good to eat. However, Little Bear wasn’t as particular as folks,
but he wouldn’t touch a fish until the Kid tossed it over to him and
called, ‘Little Bear, here’s a fish for ye!’ Then he would snap it and
gobble it up in a hurry.
“Kiddie never had any other playmate except just Little Bear, and he
never seemed to want any. Nights after grub, when the men were all
sitting around, swapping yarns and smoking, Little Bear would curl up on
the ground and the Kid would lie there with his head on the bear’s back.
How the Kid loved to hear their yarns, and the men made them pretty
exciting, just to amuse him.
“That winter a man came to the camp with a fiddle. Then ’twas that the
fun began. The bear took to music like a duck to water, and he just
couldn’t lie still while that fiddle was being played. He up on his
hind-legs and galloped about like he was trying to dance. That gave the
Kid the idea of teaching Little Bear to do tricks, and he learned them
easy. Sometimes the Kid would take hold of Little Bear’s paws while the
fiddle was being played, and they would both dance about, and how the
men would shout to see them! Those were happy evenings in the
lumber-camp, happy for the men and for the Kid and the Little Bear. A
fine lad the boy had grown to be,—tall and slim, with frank blue eyes
looking straight at you out of that handsome, weather-tanned face of
his,—and not a bad word did he know, and that was saying a good deal,
bein’ as he was raised in a lumber-camp with rough men. True, Kid hadn’t
any learnin’ ’cept what he’d picked up watchin’ and studyin’ nature’s
ways, that is, he didn’t have any till Fiddler Fritz came; he taught him
to read out of a book which he always lugged around in his pocket.
Poems, he called it,—stories of knights and ladies. Soon the Kid could
read them aloud, but Jock never saw no sense in the story, but he was
powerful proud because his Kid could read.
“One evening Fiddler Fritz sat smoking, thoughtful-like, and all of a
sudden he said: ‘Jock Henderson, unless I miss my guess, that Kid of
yourn comes of a mighty good family. Maybe ye ought to be looking them
up. Maybe ye’re keeping the Kid from getting a good education and a
start in life.’
“Jock Henderson’s heart turned cold inside of him. He’d thought the same
plenty of times, but he couldn’t bear to part with the Kid. Jock saw
that Fiddler Fritz was expecting an answer, and so he said: ‘The Kid’s
mother was a lady; anybody could see that. She only lived a week after
her man died, but she wrote a letter to some brother she had who was
rich, she said. He’d been angry with her for marrying, and so, maybe,
that’s why he never answered her letter. Anyhow, he never did. I mailed
it myself the day after the woman died, and I wrote on the envelope that
we’d keep the child till called for, so I guess nobody’s a better right
to keep the Kid than I have.’
“Now, just as Jock Henderson finished speaking, there came a rap on the
door, and Jock said, the minute he heard it, he as good as _knew_ that
it was somebody come to take his Kid away. It had to be a stranger
anyhow, for nobody living in those parts stopped to rap.
“Jock could hardly open the door, his hand shook so. There stood a tall,
gray-haired man, and by his clothes Jock knew he was from the city. Near
by another man held the bridles of two horses.
“‘How do ye do, sir,’ the stranger said pleasantly. ‘I have been abroad
for many years, and on my return, last week, I found this letter in my
desk. Can ye explain it to me?’
“It was the letter Jock had mailed the day after the boy’s mother had
died.
“‘Are ye the Kid’s uncle, then?’ Jock asked, and his voice trembled.
“‘I am the brother of the woman who wrote that letter,’ the man replied.
‘If she had a son, I would like to see him.’
“Jock looked down toward the lake. He knew that the Kid had gone walking
along the shore, as he often did at sunset, with Little Bear close at
his heels.
“‘There he comes now,’ Jock said, as he pointed. And the man, turning,
saw a graceful, bare-headed and bare-legged boy leaping along just for
the joy of it, while Little Bear, who was full-grown by then, was
lumbering along, trying to keep up with him.
“‘I beat ye, Little Bear!’ the boy cried; and then, seeing that there
were strangers in front of the shack, he stood still and put one arm
about the bear’s neck.
“The strange man seemed to choke up like. Probably he had been powerful
fond of his sister before he got angry at her. At any rate, he went
toward the boy and said, ‘My lad, I am your mother’s brother; and so I
am your uncle.’
“Jock feared that, since the boy wasn’t brought up to meet strangers, he
might act shy-like, but blood tells, and the Kid stepped up with his
frank smile and held out his hand as he said, ‘I thought, sir, that you
might come to see me some day.’
“‘I’ve come to take you home with me, my lad,’ the stranger said. But
the Kid looked up quickly, as he replied: ‘Why, sir, I don’t believe
that Jock Henderson could spare me. He’s been all the father I’ve ever
had, sir.’ And then, to Jock’s delight, the boy ran to the rough old man
and caught hold of his hard knotted hand and held it tight.
“‘Then it’s you I have to thank for making my sister’s child into such a
fine, manly lad, as I can see at one glance that he is,’ the stranger
exclaimed. ‘I won’t take him away from ye, entirely, Jock Henderson,
that I will not. He shall go to the city for his schooling, but it’s
only ten miles away, and every weekend he can come riding back to visit
ye. How would that do, my lad?’
“But it was Jock Henderson who answered. ‘That will be a first-rate
plan, Kid,’ he said. ‘I’ve been wanting you to get an education, and all
the week I’ll be waiting for Saturday to come, and so will Little Bear
here. He’ll be as lonesome as I’ll be, won’t ye, Little Bear?’ Jock
asked, trying to be cheerful-like.
“And that is what happened. The next day the Kid rode away on his own
small horse, which had been his gift one Christmas from all the men.
Lightning, the Kid called him, on account of his speed, and he loved him
next to Little Bear.
“That was five year ago, and now every Saturday, as sure as the day
dawns, the Kid comes riding down to Little Bear Lake toward evening, to
spend Sunday with old Jock Henderson.
“The lumber-camp was moved north the year after the Kid left, and all
the men went away except Jock Henderson. He had saved enough money to
live on, and there was plenty of fish and game, and so he built him a
little shack up the lake shore and he and Little Bear settled down to
keep house together. Then the inn was built over where the lumber-camp
had been, and summer people began coming. They all loved Little Bear,
and many a sweetmeat he got there, but one day he ate poison, it seemed
like. He moped about all day Saturday, and when the Kid came, Little
Bear dragged over to him and put his head against the boy, and so he
died. The Kid cried just like a child, and no wonder, for Little Bear
had been his only playmate, just as Jock Henderson had been his only
father.”
“Where is Jock Henderson now?” Madge asked, with tears in her eyes.
“He’s telling the story to ye,” the old man said simply.
“I thought so,” Madge replied.
Then the old man continued, “The Kid’s right name is Eric Brownley. He’s
fifteen years old now and preparin’ for college.”
“What!” cried Everett Peterson, springing up. “You don’t mean to tell me
that this is the life-story of our Eric Brownley! Why, he’s our champion
in all the school-games.”
“Sure he is!” said the old man, with shining eyes. “To-day’s Saturday,
you know, and I’ve been a-watching for him, and, unless I’m mistaken,
here he comes now!”
The young people looked eagerly in the direction toward which the old
man pointed, and they saw a horse and rider coming on a gallop.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A FISH SUPPER
The lake road was only a stone’s throw from the shack, and the boy on
horseback was soon at the shore.
“Hello, Daddy Jock!” he cried before he noticed that there were others
with his foster-father. Leaping to the ground, he gave an exclamation of
pleased surprise, as he cried, “Why, Petey, old man, are you here? I
thought you were off somewhere cramming for the entrance examinations.”
The two lads shook hands, but not until Jock Henderson had had a warm
hand-clasp from his boy. Everett Peterson laughingly replied, “That’s
why I’m down here, Eric. Nice quiet place to study, don’t you think so?
But let me do the honors. Miss Peterson, Miss Doring, and Miss Dearman,
permit me to introduce you to the scapegrace of our school.”
Eric smilingly bowed to the girls, as he gayly replied, “‘I deny the
allegation and I defy the alligator,’ but I am truly pleased to meet
three fair maidens in our pine woods.” Then, turning to the old man, who
stood proudly watching him, he exclaimed, “Daddy Jock, you haven’t a
dog-biscuit or any little thing like that around, have you? I’m so
hungry that I could eat more than old Giant Blunderbuss.”
“We would better be going,” Madge declared, “and then you and Mr.
Henderson can have your supper.”
“Don’t go, Miss,” Jock Henderson said. “I had great luck this
day,—caught a fine mess of trout,—and if you’ll stay we’ll cook them
over the camp-fire.”
“I’d powerfully like to accept that invitation!” Everett exclaimed.
Madge turned to the girls. “Adele,” she said, “could you and Eva remain
longer?”
Adele glanced at her little wrist-watch as she replied, “It’s nearly
five now, and I ought to be home by six.”
“We’ll get you there,” Eric declared. “That is, if home isn’t more than
a million miles away.”
“Not a million, quite,” Adele laughingly replied. “We live in Sunnyside.
Three miles, I think they call it.”
“No distance at all,” replied the youth. “I’ll put you both on the back
of my trusty brown steed and we’ll have you there by six surely. Now,
Daddy Jock, show us the fish!”
“Lads, gather the wood and make a fire,” Jock said, “and I’ll have the
fish cooked before any of ye have time to starve.”
Then what a merry scurrying there was! Eric and Everett soon had a
crackling fire in the circle of stones where a fire was often made, and
then, when it had burned down and there was nothing left but red-hot
coals, the fish were cooked a delicious brown. Eric brought from the
shack thick plates and steel knives and forks. These he handed to the
girls with many flourishes.
[Illustration: Eric and Everett soon had a crackling fire.]
“Sit ye down anywhere!” Jock called. “Ladies to be served first, and
these speckled beauties are done to a turn.”
“Oh-h!” Madge exclaimed, when a tempting brown fish was laid on her
plate. “Am I supposed to eat a whole one?”
“Wait till you see me eat a whole twenty,” Eric remarked, as he gave a
fish to Adele and another to Eva. Then, bringing out bread and butter
and filling their tin cups with sparkling water from a spring, Eric
exclaimed, “Now, having filled the immediate wants of our fair guests,
I’ll hie me over to the small whale that I see waiting upon my plate.”
“I never, never tasted fish cooked to such perfection!” Madge declared.
A merry meal it was, and when at last there was nothing left but bones,
Adele looked at her wrist-watch and then sprang up, exclaiming: “It’s
quarter to six. We never can walk to Sunnyside in fifteen minutes!”
“Hark!” cried Eric. “I hear an automobile plunging madly down the lake
road. Come on, Petey. Let’s hold them up, whoever they are, and command
them, at the point of the gun, to take our fair guests to their
destination.”
Snatching up a rifle which stood leaning against the shack, he emptied
the barrel as he ran toward the road. The machine had not yet turned the
curve, and when it did, the driver was indeed surprised to see two
highwaymen standing in the middle of the road, but their laughing,
boyish faces showed that they were not very dangerous. Beside the driver
a young girl was seated. When the car had slowed down, Eric exclaimed,
“Kind sir, if you are going to Sunnyside, we have passengers for you.”