Mr. Hammersly, so-called, turned and thrust forth a huge hand. "Tradin'
Jack," he amended. "Tradin' Jack Hammersly. You need anythin', I got
it. Fairer prices as you'll find in Three Points, Chicago, or Milwaukee.
Need a box of candy for that girl of yours, Ramsay?"
"I haven't any girl," Ramsay said.
"You'll have one," Tradin' Jack declared. "Every young buck like you
needs a pert doe. Can't get along without 'em, I always say. Yup, you'll
have one. When you get one, remember Tradin' Jack."
"I will," Ramsay promised.
While Tradin' Jack washed up at the stand beside the back door, Pieter
led the gray horse to the barn, stripped it of its harness and loosed it
with the little black horse. The two animals touched friendly noses.
Pieter returned, and all three went in to the groaning table which Marta
had ready. It seemed a natural thing here, Ramsay observed, to expect
all passing wayfarers to share whatever there was to be had. Gracefully
Tradin' Jack lifted the tails of his long black coat and sat down.
"Left Milwaukee day before yesterday," he said. "Stopped off to see the
Blounts, down at Blounts' Landin'...."
Marta and Pieter Van Hooven gave rapt attention, and even Ramsay found
himself interested. Aside from being a trader, it appeared that Tradin'
Jack Hammersly was also a walking newspaper. He knew everything about
everybody between Three Points and Milwaukee, and between Milwaukee and
Kenosha. Endlessly he related tales of new babies, new weddings and new
engagements. Tradin' Jack knew that Wilhelm Schmidt's horse had the
colic but probably would recover, and that Mrs. Darmstedt, that would
be the wife of Pete Darmstedt, had shot a black bear right in her own
front yard.
There was nothing about the people he did not know and not much that he
was unwilling to tell. Finished, he got down to business. "Any eggs for
me, Marta?"
"Twenty dozen," she said, "all fresh."
"Fourteen cents a dozen," Tradin' Jack said promptly.
"Yaah," Marta, too, was bargaining now, "I can get that in Three
Points."
"Take it in trade an' I'll allow you fifteen," Tradin' Jack said. "Got
to keep my customers sweet."
Before he went to bed Tradin' Jack arranged with Pieter to have a
butchered pig ready for him when he returned from Three Points the day
after tomorrow. Two and a half cents a pound he would pay, or two and
three-quarters if Pieter would take it in trade. He left with the Van
Hoovens a tempting array of calico, ribbons, needles, pins, a new axe
and hammer, a box of nails and other things which were always useful and
always needed.
The next morning Ramsay roused himself out of bed at dawn to find
Tradin' Jack already gone. He had sensed the storm that was approaching,
Pieter said, and, if possible, he wanted to get into Three Points before
it struck. Ramsay felt a strange uneasiness and an unrest. Going
outside, he saw that yesterday's blue skies had given way to ominous
masses of gray clouds. His uneasiness mounted.
Something terrible was being brewed within the giant lake, and shortly
it would erupt. A strong wind sent high waves leaping up onto the
shore. They fell back, only to be replaced with more waves. Ramsay
shuddered.
If there was terror in this, there was also grandeur. The lake, angered,
was a fearful and wonderful spectacle. It was a gargantuan thing which
seemed to writhe in an agony which, somehow, was created by itself. A
few drops of rain pattered down. The wind blew harder.
Pieter and Ramsay went to the barn to repair tools, and neither spoke as
they stared through the barn's open door. The waves were raging now,
launching endless attacks on the shore and always rolling back.
Suddenly Ramsay leaped to his feet and stifled a cry. Far out in the
lake's surging gray masses he thought that he had seen something pure
white. But he could not be sure. A moment later he saw it again. A sail!
Then he was able clearly to identify a little peanut shell of a boat.
She was the _Spray_, and she was in serious trouble.