TWO MEN
"And the red oar won out," Cora remarked, looking at the old relic
with something akin to reverence. "Perhaps, after all, there is
something in luck."
"Looked like it," agreed Denny. "And after we got back Len couldn't
pay any attention to the half-frozen men, or to me, that had been
pretty well chilled--all he could do was talk about the luck of that
oar."
"I don't blame him," Freda put in. "Your rope had nearly burned, your
light oar broke, one of the heavy pair went overboard and this one did
most of the work getting back, I suppose."
"Right," said Denny, "for while we had another pair to work with, they
were slim, and weak, but that fellow, it sure was tough then; but
lately when I take it down it seems to have shrunk, for it's gettin'
lighter, somehow."
"And how did you come to get it?" asked Cora.
"That's the end of my story," said Denny. "When Len was taken very
sick, of course I used to stay with me friend as much as I could."
Freda unconsciously pushed her chair nearer the old man. Surely to
hear of the last days of her good grandfather's life was a matter too
important to pass over lightly.
"Your father was livin' then, Freddie," Denny went on, "and a fine
healthy young man, too."
"Father died so suddenly," said Freda, "mother hardly ever speaks of
his death. She always seems overcome after talking of it."
"That was a sad thing," Denny digressed. "To go off in the morning,
a-whistlin' and happy, and to be brought home without a word in him.
Freddie, dear, I oughtn't to talk of it."
Freda brushed aside a tear. Her father's death had been caused by
apoplexy, when she was but a mite of a child.
"But the queer part of it was that your grandfather seemed to think I
would outlive his son, and John such a strappin'-lookin' fellow,"
resumed Denny. "Len called me to him, and him sick and miserable, and
he says: 'Denny, John's not as strong as he looks, and I want you to
do all you can to help Louisa,' (your mother of course, Freddie), 'for
she has the child to raise,' he said. Well, he wouldn't let me
interrupt him when I tried to speak of John. He would have it that I
should keep an eye to things. Your grandfather Lewis left me no
papers, however--I supposed John had them--but he left me the old red
oar. He had fairly been playin' with it for years, always polishin' it
or shapin' it off here or there. I often look at the marks of his
knife on it, and wonder why he seemed fond of it."
"I am sure," said Freda, earnestly, "you have kept your promise, Uncle
Denny. Mother often speaks of how good you were when I was small.
Father never had any papers about grandfather's land; all he had
related to family keepsakes. The strange part of it all is to me that
a man of grandfather's intelligence should be so remiss about his
property claims."
"But, Freddie, you don't understand. There seemed no need for deeds
and mortgage papers then about here. Everybody knew everyone else, and
things seemed to be solid forever. But now them plagued land
fellows--well, they've got a good cheek, is all I can say." And he
emptied an unsmoked pipe of tobacco in his indignation.
"But we are going to get after them," Cora declared. "We want to go
slowly, and, if possible, find out what their intentions are. Find
what sort of company they claim to have, in the first place, and if
they are an honorable set of men they ought to make open claims,
instead of sneaking around, and trying to find out things that might
cause a flaw in the title. I am suspicious, for one," she finished
significantly.
"Well, good luck to your spunk," said Denny, "and I never knew the
like of it to fail. But say, tell me about the boat. What did the lads
think of the fixin's?"
"Oh, it was the greatest fun," Freda replied. "They could not imagine
how we ever thought of using the cylinder water for a dishwater
supply. I never gave it away that you suggested it to Cora's
mechanic."
"And I want to thank you, Mr. Shane----"
"Mr. Shane!" Denny interrupted. "Say, if you call me that I'll think
I'm reading me own death notice in the _Beacon_."
Cora laughed at this, and agreed he should be "Uncle Denny" to her as
well as to the others of the neighborhood.
"But it was splendid of you to have the boat all ready for us when we
came. I did not suppose Freda had a chance to get down to it before we
loomed up."
"You don't know the risin' hour for us folks at the Bay," returned
Denny, with a sly wink. "Freddie couldn't stay abed when the sun is
beckonin' on the waves; could you, Freddie?"
"Oh, the early Summer mornings are beautiful," replied Freda, "and I
am sorry I had to lose so many of them. Who's that? The girls, looking
for us! There's Bess puffing, and Belle--fluffing. I do think they are
the most attractive pair."
Cora smiled, for her own devotion to the Robinson twins was only
paralleled by the twins' devotion to Cora.
"Cora! Freda!" called youthful voices from the path. "Where are you?"
"Come in--do!" answered Denny, who always had a spare chair for
visitors.
"Oh, we can't," replied Belle. "Cora, the boys are threatening to take
out the _Chelton_. And oh! I'm completely out of breath. It's dreadful
to try to hurry through the sand."
"Indeed they shall not take the _Chelton_ out without my permission,"
Cora declared. "When we make our initial trip I intend to command it.
For one thing, Uncle Denny is to come along; for another--well, that's
to be a little surprise. This afternoon at two exactly--will you come,
Uncle Denny?"
"I will that," the old sailor replied. "I think it would be a good
thing to have a little weight, like my old head, in her when she
starts out. Them laddies are always up to pranks."
"Oh, we are just crazy to get out on the water," Bess put in, "and
what do you think? That vain little Lottie went all the way to town to
get the exact nautical cap. I wonder if she thinks folks in motor
boats run slowly enough to see little white caps on little light
girls?"
"When we get going I think all that will be seen will be splash, and
all that will be heard will be chug," Cora remarked. "But come on.
Let's hurry along. I promised Rita to help her with something."
"What?" asked Bess, curiously.
"Now, Bessie, that would be telling," replied Cora, stopping just long
enough to empty the sand from her tennis shoe. Denny was trudging
along after them--he could not resist an excuse to go down to the
shore.
"Well, I'll say good-bye," said Freda. "I have to run back to mother.
She will think I am lost."
"But you are coming this afternoon?" Cora insisted.
"Oh, I really can't, Cora, thank you," answered the other. "I have
something so important to look after."
"What are you girls up to?" demanded Belle. "You have been acting
mysteriously ever since you met on the train. Freda, it is really
unpardonable not to take the initial trip with us, but if you really
cannot----"
"I really cannot," returned Freda, decisively, and somehow the girls
realized that Freda's business was urgent.
"Now, I'll show you a short cut," said Denny. "Take that path
there--don't be afraid of the sign that the owner put up--he has no
right to the beach front; then when you get to the Lonely Willow--do
you know where that is?"
Not one of them knew, but they were anxious to find out.
"You can't miss the Lonely Willow, for it stands all alone and looks
as forlorn as the mast of a sunken steamer," said Denny. "It's in the
deep hollow by the watercress patch. Turn around that tree to your
left and you'll see another path. But wait a minute," he broke off,
"maybe it's a bit lonely."
"Oh, there are enough of us to shout if we see bears," Cora laughed.
"We have to hurry, and we will be glad to explore."
"Well, good-bye then, and good luck. I'll be at the dock ahead of
you."
"Isn't he the quaintest old man?" asked Belle as the little party
hurried along. Then she added: "You and Freda made quite a visit. We
began to think you were kidnapped."
"We did make a stay," agreed Cora, "but Denny is a very old friend of
Freda's family, and, to tell you the truth, we could hardly break away
when he started in to tell sea-yarns. Ouch! The mud is deep. I guess
we must be near the Lonely Willow."
"There it is!" exclaimed Belle, who was somewhat in advance of the
others. "Indeed, it does stand all alone."
"Isn't it scary here!" whispered Bess. "See those two men under the
Willow."
All eyes were turned to the big tree. Two men were seated on a branch
that made a comfortable seat. As the girls approached one of the men
wrapped some papers up and thrust them into his pocket. But the
movement was not lost on the girls.
No word was spoken for a few moments. Belle dropped back a little as
if to allow the others to face the strangers first. Of course Cora,
always being the leader, boldly made her way along.
They had to pass almost under the tree to reach the path, but there
was no halting once the girls started out.
Finally they had passed in perfect safety, but as they were almost out
of earshot one of the men said:
"I thought she'd be with him--that old Denny!"
The rest of the remark was lost, but this fragment served to put Cora
on her guard.