AMOS GIVES WARNING
“Wonder if he’s alone?” Teddy remarked, in a low voice to Dolph, as he
hitched himself along a few inches nearer the spot where his Marlin
shotgun rested against a tree.
“But what under the sun can he want, spying on us this way?” asked the
other, who was in the Michigan pine woods for the first time, and not
so well acquainted with things as the lumberman’s son.
“We’ll soon find that out,” remarked the other, in a louder voice, as
he saw that Dolph could easily reach his own foreign made weapon. “Are
you all ready, boys? Then catch on!”
Each of them snatched up a gun. There was not a sign from the vicinity
of the bushes mentioned by Amos. Could it be that the other had made a
blunder, after all? Had his eyes been blinded with so much looking into
the fire, that he mistook some stump, or the remains of a log, for a
man?
Teddy gained his feet, the others following his example. Three guns
were brought to bear, covering the suspected spot.
“Come out! Show a leg; or we might take a notion to send a shot in
there!” called Teddy, in a belligerant tone, making a threatening
motion with his gun at the same time.
Immediately the bushes stirred. Then a tall and brawny figure came
into view, that of a red-bearded man, clad in rough attire, as became
a woods nomad. In one hand he gripped an old-fashioned gun, something
like that of Amos’. But just then he was busily engaged in holding it
up, as he tried to make the Indian “peace sign,” by exposing the palms
of both hands as well as he was able.
“Hold on, boys; I wouldn’t do nawthin’ rash, if I was you. I’m only too
willin’ ter kim into camp. Jest snuck up ter find out who an’ what ye
war. Happens that thar be lots o’ hard characters aroamin’ those woods
hyarabouts; an’ a decent respectable man hes to be putty keerful who he
makes up with. I jest seen ye was all ter ther good, when ye called me.”
He kept on advancing as he spoke in this strain.
Teddy had seen many just such rough looking men among the scores of
husky loggers employed by his father. He knew it was never safe to
judge a man by either the clothes he wore, or his general appearance.
Some of the hardest looking of them, upon closer acquaintance, would
turn out to be big-hearted fellows, and as honest as the day was long.
Then again, there was just as strong a chance that the same fellow
would prove to be a scoundrel.
In the woods, men have to know each other before they become friends.
Looks go for little, and words less. A man is what he proves himself to
be.
Teddy was only a boy, and he had not rubbed up against a hard world
after the fashion of Amos Simmons. And yet he certainly did not like
the looks of this big man any too well. There was that in the other’s
face to tell only too plainly his love for strong drink; and being a
strictly temperance boy himself, Teddy had little use for any one who
was addicted to liquor.
Besides, he could not help but think there was something mighty
suspicious about the manner in which the man was sneaking about their
camp. Why should he crawl up, and lie there in those bushes, just as
though anxious to listen to what the boys were talking about? If, as
he said, he wished to make sure that they were decent campers, and
not lawless persons, why, a single look at their canoes, and the boys
themselves, must have told him that. There would be no need of all this
caution; unless possibly the man might be a fugitive from justice,
and suspicious of every party he met, thinking it might represent a
sheriff’s posse come to hunt for him.
The thought was not particularly pleasant to Teddy. He determined to
keep his Marlin within each reach while the giant was in camp; and he
sincerely hoped the stranger might not take a notion to remain with
them over night.
Perhaps he had had evil designs on some of their property—the
beautiful green canoes that must look particularly inviting to any one
tired of tramping through the endless pine woods; or could it be that
lovely aluminum set of cooking utensils that was piled up in plain
sight?
Teddy noticed that the man had his eyes fastened almost greedily on the
gun which he himself was holding; why, he did not even seem to waste a
glance upon the more expensive weapon which Dolph sported. And that
would seem to prove that he knew a good thing when he saw it. Indeed,
since he himself carried an old-fashioned gun, no doubt a substantial
up-to-date weapon must appeal to him, as a hunter.
The fellow saw that they no longer made any threatening motions. He
showed his cool assurance by dropping down on the ground, not a great
distance away from the fire; and sniffing the air in a way that could
have but one meaning. He was hungry, and would like to have something
to eat.
Woods hospitality is no respecter of persons. If a hungry man comes
into camp and asks for a bite, common decency compels one to feed him,
even though later you expect to order him on, at the muzzle of your gun.
So Teddy made a motion to Amos, which the latter easily understood. He
started to make a pot of coffee, knowing that the man would never drink
tea. Besides, Amos deliberately opened another can of corned beef,
which he expected the giant would entirely devour, since he must be
possessed of a tremendous appetite.
There were crackers, and some left-over biscuits which Amos had cooked
on the preceding day in a little make-shift oven. All these he began
to set out before the man, before another word had been said.
It was not considered polite to ask any questions before the edge of
the stranger’s appetite had been taken off. The first thing Teddy
inquired was very naturally in connection with his identity.
“Would you mind introducing yourself to us?” he asked, as he watched
the terrific inroads being made on their stock provisions; while Dolph
was figuring on just how many days their larder could stand such an
onslaught.
“Me? I’m Gabe Hackett,” remarked the giant, with a quick glance toward
Amos. “Used to be logger onct; knowed Amos Simmons, too, when I worked
fur ther Woodstock Company a cupple o’ years back. I been about
everything thar is—trapper in winter time, takin’ nigh a thousand
muskrat pelts one season; timber cruiser, a skirmishing through, new
fields lookin’ fur wood that cud be bought up by my company; trader;
spruce gum collector; honey harvester, whar the bees they lays up a
store o’ the sweet stuff in holler trees. Reckon I ’bout near been all
thar is for a honest man ter make a livin, at, up hyar in the Michigan
woods.”
“And what are you doing now?” asked Teddy.
The man started slightly, and gave the other a quick look; but
evidently he was reassured by the manner of his questioner, who
appeared to be solely seeking knowledge, for the inquiry was made in
good faith.
“Right now I’m tackling a new dodge,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t tell
everybody, ’cause thar be some fellers as’d take advantage o’ me; but I
kin see that you ain’t built that way. Why, I’m hunting roots jest now.”
“Roots!” echoed Dolph, greatly interested because it happened that he
was himself more or less interested in botany, and had even gone out
on an expedition in search of medicinal roots with a professor of a
Cincinnati college, whom his rich father thought a good bit of, and
patronized to the extent of sending him to Europe each summer to study.
“That’s it, younker; wild ginseng, golden seal, an’ all them kinder
things ye know, that brings good money, if on ’y ye happen on whar they
grows. Swamps ain’t too planty up this aways; down in Indiana, now,
whar I kim from, why they used to be jest heaps o’ them weeds, but in
them days nobody ever thort they was wuth picking up. I hed an ijee o’
hiking back thar; but a letter tole me the place was jest cleaned out
o’ every root, and that farmers was aplantin’ ginseng by the acre.”
At least the information was interesting. It might be true, or on the
other hand, Gabe Hackett was possibly inventing this plausible excuse
for his presence in that neck of the land. Teddy went on to ask a few
more questions.
“And have you met with any success at all; p’raps you might show us
some of these same roots. I’ve heard a heap about them, but wouldn’t
know one from another, though my chum here, Dolph Bradley, from
Cincinnati, knows something about—what is it, botany, or rootology or
what?”
Gabe shrugged his shoulders, as he replied, with his mouth half full of
beef:
“Reckons ye’d never know what they was like, if so be ye had ter depend
on the amount I’ve been able ter pick up, this far. Why, I ain’t never
set eyes on a thing wuth takin’, and that’s the truth. But I got an
agreement ter meet up wid a feller by the name o’ Crawley, as sez he
kin pilot me ter whar we kin git jest piles o’ that wild ginseng. Hopes
as how he ain’t mistook it fur somethin’ else; ’cause I needs ther
money right bad. I gotter try an’ show up at his shack afore mornin’
too, wuss luck, else I’d like ter stay with ye, an’ heve another shake
at that prime coffee in ther mornin’.”
Teddy and Dolph could not help exchanging a sly look; they were so
glad to hear this last bit of news. It would have been very unpleasant
having such a guest all night long; and his presence must have
necessitated a constant vigil being kept. Indeed, so far as that went,
Teddy was already of a mind that they would be wise to stand guard; for
the very fact of his being somewhere in the vicinity, possibly with a
boon companion of the same stamp, was enough to make one uneasy with
regard to the safety of their belongings.
Happening to glance toward Amos, who had not been saying a word all
this while, Teddy caught him winking one eye, and making a suggestive
motion with his head. He guessed instinctively that the woods boy
wished to find a chance to speak with him aside, where the visitor
might not hear.
Dolph had taken what the man had said about the roots as Gospel truth.
He was trying to squeeze some information out of Gabe; and the other
on his part seemed endeavoring to dodge the same by cautious replies,
so as not to expose his blank ignorance in the matter too much.
So Teddy found an opportunity to stretch himself, and get up from his
seat, as if tired of sitting. He had noticed that Amos was no longer
near the fire; and on glancing toward the twin canoes, saw him bending
over one of the small, dandy craft, as though examining some scratch
that he had noticed before.
Teddy walked in that direction. He knew that he was followed by the
eyes of the visitor, who must have considered it a little odd that the
boy persisted in carrying his gun along with him on such an occasion.
But however that might be, Hackett did not see fit to express his
disgust in words, though he may have frowned some, and gritted those
strong yellow teeth of his in an ugly manner.
Reaching the vicinity of the canoes, Teddy pretended to be as deeply
interested in the supposed scratch made by a snag as Amos was. But when
their heads came close together Amos took advantage of the opportunity
to say softly:
“A bad egg, that Gabe Hackett, Teddy, believe me! Tell you about him
after he’s shook the roost, and gone about his way. Wouldn’t set
anything past him. Watch your gun, and everything else while he’s
around. Why, he’d steal a coffee-pot if he had half a chance. Used to
be the cock of the walk once at the lumber camp; but since then he’s
slid down the ladder some, I’m telling you. Hunting ginseng, he says;
but I’d rather believe he’s bein’ paid by that Woodstock Company to
foller _you_, and find out what the son of the president of the Overton
Lumber Company is doing up in the pine forests; and that’s what!”