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Les diagrammes suivants illusrrent la m*thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2 1.0 I.I 1.25 2.8 1^ turn 140 1.4 II 2.5 1 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 s= - APPLIED IKA^GE Inc ^I ^53 Eos' Main SIreet r^ " JChestP--, New York '4609 USA ^= '16) <.»i - OJOO - Phone ^= '16) 288 - 5989 - Fo« The KDIfH ami LORNP: PIERCE COLLECTION of CANADI ANA ^ccus C/niversity at Kingston 'A • RAYTON: BACKWOODS MYSTERY H'ORKS OF Theodore Goodr'dge Roberts yj Captain of Raleigh's yl Cavalier of Virginia . Captain Love .... ^Brolben of 'Peril . . Hemming, the Adventurer T^^aylon : Jl JjaclfWoods Alys iery ^Ktt 'Postpaid Comrades of the Trails *Che Red Feathers . Fl\)ing Plover . . $1.50 1.50 1.30 1.50 1.50 1.25 I. 38 1.50 1.50 1.50 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. t i I aIeu y[fK'\\t~) 1^KiT0r^/\3'O.V/CDD^ MYSTiliY RAYTON: J BACKWOODS MYSTERY (By THEODORE GOODRIDGE "ROBERTS Jiuthor of " Jl Captain ofRaUigh't," " Comrades of the "Crails," " "Red Feathers, " etc. Illustrated by JOHN GOSS BOSTON ♦ L. C. PAGE & COMPANY -*- MDCCCCXII Copyright, igtO, by Street & Smith Copyright, igio, by La Salle Publishing Company Copyright, igi2, by L. C. Page & Company (incorporated) All rights reserved First Impression, January, 1912 Second Impression, February, 1912 BItclrotyped and Printed by TBS COLON I AL PRESS C. n. Simcnds 6- Co., Boston, U. S. A. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. The Game That Was Not Finished Jim Harley Tells an Old Story . David Marsh Decides to Speak — and DOESN T The Trapper's Confes.sion Doctor Nash's Suspicions — Young Marsh's Misfortune David Takes a Misfortune in a Poor Spirit Mr. Banks Takes a Hand in the Game Rayton Goes to Borrow a Saucepan Rayton Confesses Red Crosses Again An Unfortunate Moment for the Doctor Rayton Is Reminded of the Red Crosses Captain Wigmore Suggests an Amazing Thing Fear Forgotten — and Recalled Mr. Banks Is Stung .... The Little Cat and the Big Mouse An Astonishing Discovery Dick Goodine Returns Unexpectedly The Captain's Charge Thf, Chosen Instrument of Fate . Tin; Dk.\th c^ the Curse . In the Way of Happiness PAGE I 17 33 46 61 76 91 107 122 138 154 169 184 200 215 230 245 260 275 291 302 312 3iSM^o • • LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAr.E Frontisficce NiXL Harley " Jim Harley snatched up the card " . "He advanced slowly, painfully, a pitiful figure" " Plunged at Rayton, with his fists flying " . " ' It is because — because I care so for you — ' " " Then he halted and recoiled, clutching at the cold walls ! " 233 5 72 '65 201 RAYTON: A BACKWOODS MYSTERY CHAPTER I THE GAME THAT WAS NOT FINISHED Samson's Mill Settlement had, for the past fifteen years, prided itself on its absolute respecta- bility; and then came Reginald Baynes Ray ton, with his unfailing good humor, his riding breeches, and constant " haw-haw " — and corrupted the community. So it happened that five representative men of the settlement, and Mr. Rayton, sat and played poker one October night in Rayton's snug living room. They had done it before — only last week, in fact — but the sense of guilty novelty !iad not yet worn off. Only Rayton and old Wigmore were absolutely at their ease. White beans had to do in the place of the usual chips. The standard of play was very moderate — a one- 1 • 1 A Backwoods Mystery ciiil iiiiU- and a live-cent limit — -but it seemed reck- less to some of those representative citizens. "Jane (|neslioned me pretty sharp, to-ni,i,dit," said I'.enjamin Samson, the owner of tlie mill that sawed lumber and ground buckwheat for the whole Ik'aver I'.rook valley; "but I give her a bagful of evasive answers. Yes, sir-ee! I guess she sus- picioned something. She's been kinder cxpectin' nic to fall from grace ever since she first married me." " Haw-haw! " brayed Mr. Rayton. " Mrs. Sam- son is a clever woman. She knows a bad egg, Benjamin, witliout having to break the shell." The others chuckled. " She ain't as smart as you think," replied Sam- son, awkwardly shuffling the cards, " for at last I said to her, * I'm goin' to see Rayton,' says I. ' He's started a kinder lit'ry club for his male friends.' ' Then you'll learn no harm from him,' says she, ' for I'm sure his morals is as good as his manners. The way he lifts his hat to me is a reg- ular treat. He knows whats my due, even if some other folks don't,' says she." Five men, including Samson himself, roared at this; but Rayton's haw-haw lacked, for once, its usual heartiness. The Game That Was Not Finished i3 " Oh, cuiiK' now," he protested shamefacedly. " It's not just the thing to — to be making fun of a lady. Of course I raise my hat to Mrs. Samson, i'roud to do it, I'm sure; and I'm glad she appre- ciates it. Harley, you are banker, I think. I'ass me over fifty beans. Benjamin, when you've fin- ished shoveling those cards about — I don't call it shuflling — give us a chance to cut for deal." Jim Harley, a shrewd man of about thirty years of age, who farmed in the summer and operated in the lumber woods, on a small but jjaying scale, in the winter months, counted t)Ul beans to the company in return for (piarters and dimes. Sam- son shot the cards across the table, backs up, and every one drew. Old Captain Wigmore won the deal. He brought the cards together in a neat pile with one sweep of . land, shuffled them swiftly and skillfully, and dccdt so fast as to keep three in the air at once. It was a pleasure to watch him. Even Rayton was a fumbler with tlie pasteboards beside him. The six picked up their cards and looked at them, each in a w-ay characteristic of him. Honest Ben- jamin, catching sight of two kings and feeling Doctor Nash's prying glance upon him, struggled to hide a smirk of satisfaction that was too strong A Backwoods Mystery for him. Ray ton beamed; but that might mean anything. Old Wigniorc's bewhiskercd face ex- pressed nothing, as usual. The other visages showed hope or disgust as plainly as if the words were printed across them. Discards were thrown to the centre of the table, and Wigmore distributed others. "What — ?" (lueried young David Marsh, and immediately relapsed into silence. "What zvhat?" asked Rayton. " Oh, it will keep," replied Marsh. " Davy wants to know if four aces are any gotxl?" suggested the doctor, winking at Rayton. Benjamin Samson, torn with doubt, ventured three beans on the chances of his pair of kings. That started things briskly; but on the second round David Marsh went the limit. That brought things to a standstill, and the pool went to David without a challenge; but he showed his cards for all that. " What I want to know is, who's marked this six of clubs?" he asked. "That's what I began to ask, a minute back," he added, looking at Doctor Nash. " Four of a kind," murmured Samson enviously. " But look at the six of clubs," urged Marsh. 'JI.M 1IAKI-L\ i.NAU litU LI' I'liE CAKU.' The Game That Was Not Finished 5 " Look at the two red crosses in the middle of it, will you! " All got to their feet and stared down at the card. " What's it for? " demanded David Marsh. " If it was marked on the back, now, it might be of some use. I've heard of such things." " The marks weren't there last night," said Ray- ton, " for I was playing patience with this very pack and would have seen them.'" At that moment Jim Harley snatched up the card and held it close to his eyes. " Hell! " he ex- claimed. " The red crosses ! " They gazed at him in astonishment, and saw that his face was colorless under the tan. The stout, excitable Benjamin laughed hysterically and fin- gered a pocket of his curving vest to make sure that his watch was still there. He felt very un- easy; but perhaps Jim was only playing a trick on them? That was not like Jim — but who can say what a man may not do who has fallen to poker playing ? Old Captain Wigmore shared this sus- picion evidently. " Very amusing. James," he said. " You would have made a first-rate actor. But suppose we go on with the game. Have you another deck, Regi- (i A Backwoods Mystery :1; nald — one that our smart young friend has not had a chance to monkey with?" "Do you mean that I marked this one?" cried Haiiey. "Wi.at the devil would I do that for? Why, you — you old idiot, I'd sooner break my leg than sec But what's the good of talkin'? " Old Wigmore sighed patiently, sat down, and began to fill his pipe. The others stared at Jim Harley in amazed consternation. They saw that he was not joking and so thought that he had sud- denly become insane. " Yes, I quite agree with you, Jim," said Doctor Nash soothingly. " Captain Wigmore is : . old idiot, beyond a doubt, and it is a most remarkable thing that the card should be marked with two red crosses. Sit down and tell me all about it, like a good fellow.'' " You go chase yourself, doc," returned the other unpleasantly. " You think I'm off my nut, I guess; but I'm saner than yon are — by a long sight." " I never knew you to act so queer before, Jim." complained Benjamin Samson. " You give me the twists, you do. Wish I'd stayed home, after all. This card playin' ain't healthy. I guess." " Have a drink, Jim. Something has upset you," said Ray ton. The Game That Was Not Finished 7 Harley accepted a glass of whisky and water. Then he sat down and again examined the six of chihs, the otlicrs watching him keenly. "Oh, of course it's all foolishness!" he ex- claimed. "But it gave mc a turn. 1 nuist say — and it heing dealt to 'Javc, and all that. Looked ((ueer, for a minute, I must say, Ihit I guess Mr. Rayton just marked it with red ink ruid forgcjt all ahout it." Rayton shook his head. " Sorry," he replied, '* hut there's not a drop of red ink in the house." " Then some one else did it," said Harley. " It just happened, that's all. No good in talking ahout it ! Go on with the game, boys. I'll just go home and get to bed." " No, you don't, my son," cried Doctor Nash. " You'll just sit where you are and tell us what all this rot is about. You've interrupted our game, and now you have to explain things. You hinted that it was strange that the marked card should go to Davy Marsh. Now what did you mean by that ? You've got something on your mind, I'll bet a dollar." " I'm going home," repeated Harley firmly. " Are you stepping, too, Davy ? I want to have a word with you." 8 A Backwoods Mystery " Ves, I'll come," replied Marsh. He turned to the doctor and whispered: "Safer to have some- body along with him, I guess. He don't seem him- self, to-night." " I'm off. too," said Samson. " I don't feel right, I can tell you. Jim, your queer actions has upset me. Wish I'd stayed quietly at home, with Jane, and read last week's newspaper like a re- spectable Christian." " I'm stepping, too," said the doctor. " It's my duty to keep an eye on him, Rayton," he added, in an aside to his host. The man who had caused the disturbance went over to Rayton and shook his hand. His tanned cheeks had not yet reg i the glow of health and vitality that was usual co th;m. " I guess I've broken up your party by my fool- ishness," he said, " and I'm all-fired sorry. I wasn't myself, for a minute — nor I don't feel quite right, even now. I don't know that I'm free to explain my actions. If I am I'll let you know just how it was, next time T see you." " Not another word, my dear fellow," returned Rayton. " I'm sorry you have to go, of course — but don't u<.rry about it. y\nd hang explaining ! Don't tell mc a word you don't want to. No doubt The Game That Was Not Finished 9 It's a private superstition of some kind — or some- thing of that sort. Why, there was my poor old pater — and he was a parson — always got into a funk if three rooks perched on top of his hat — or something of that kind. So I understand, Jim. I'll look at the cards, next time, before we begin playing." Reginald Baynes Ray ton did not often say so much in one burst. It cost him a serious effort. " I believe you do understand," said Harley gratefully. " You've shot mighty close to the mark, anyhow. I guess you're smarter than some people give you credit for, Mr. Rayton." It was not until four of his guests had been sped into the night with kindly words, that Rayton realized Jim liarley's tactless but well-meant remark. " Hah-hah ! " he laughed. " That was too bad. Hah-hah ! " " What are you braying about, now, Regi- nald?" asked old Wigmore, who still sat at the table, smoking his pipe and gazing at the scattered card " A joke of Harley's. It was quite unintentional, I think," returned Rayton. The old man shot a keen glaiKc at the other from ti'^ 10 A Rackwoods Mystery under liis shaggy eyebrows. " Those marks on the card seemed to hit him hard," he remarked. " I can't make it out. He is a prosperous, steady-going chap, without any crazy notions or troubles, and very clear-he;idc(l, smiling frankly, " I wonder at your living in this place. You seem to be — if you'll pardon my saying it — of quite an- other world than these simple people." "And what about you, Reginald?" " Oh, I'm just an ordinary chap. Came out here to farm — and here I am. All this suits me to the tick — working in the fields, fishing, feeding cattle, and moose shooting. But you are not a farmer, and why you should have selected Samson's Mill Settlement to live in, after the life you must have lived, beats me. You have no relations here. I can't understand it, captain." Old Wigmore got to his feet, his gray beard aquiver with anger. " Really, sir," he cried, " what business is it of yours where I choose to live? Damn it all! — really, I did not expect you, at least, of prying into my affairs. Where are my hat and coat? Thanks for your whisky — which might be better — and good night to you." " Oh, I say ! Don't go, captain ! " cried the good-natured Rayton; but the old man had already . 14 A Backwoods JVIystcry I stepped briskly from the room. In another mo- ment, the (lo(jr banged behind him. " Now tliat's t(jo bad, really," solilociuized the En.c;lishman. "Gad! I wouldn't have offended him, intentionally, for fifty dollars. But he is a cranky old Johnny, I must say." lie filled his pipe, cleared the cards from tlie table, and sat down ])efore the cracklin.ij^ sto\e. Old Wigmore's show of temper soon gave way, in his mind, to the ni(^re startling and mysterious events of the evening. The marks on the card were strange enough; but the way in which the sight jf those marks had affected Jim Ilarley was altogether extraordinary. It was not what he would have expected from Ilarley — or from any one in the settlement, for that matter. The inciilciit smacked of file Wild West of iictioii rather than of the real backwoods of Xcw Ilrunswick. And Ilarley was such a sensible fellow, too; hard-working, pros- perous, with a fine wife, two chililren, and such a delightful sister. \'es, a charming sister ! And yet he had llown clean off the handle at sight of two little red marks on the face of the six of clubs. Really, it was i)reposlcrous! Idiotic! Perhaps the poor chap was ill — on the verge of a nervous breakdown from overwork? Or perhaps some silly The Game That Was Not Finished I.'j I i ,,1(1 superstition was to blame tor the distressing' incident? " Well, it heats nie to a stan(l>till," he tniirmured, at last; "but I think Jim llarley will feel like a fool when he w.ikc^ u\) to-morrow morum- and remembers what an ass he has made of himself. 1 hope the other fellows have kept him from making a scene at home and frightening that fine httle sister of his — or his wife, either, of course." Then Mr. Rayton closed the drafts of the stove, fastened doors and windows, and went upstairs to bed. In the meantime, Jim Harley had walked up and down the country roads for an hour and a half before he had convinced Doctor Nash and Benja- min Samson that he was not insane, not feverish, and not to be forced into an explanation of his remarkable behavior at Rayton's. They went of! to their homes at last, Samson disheartened, Nash sarcastic. Then Harley turned to young David Marsh. " Davy," he said, " I don't want you to think I have gone cracked in the upper story; but I can't tell you, just now, why I've been acting so (lueer to-night. I got a scare — but I guess there's noth- ing to it. Anyhow, I want you to keep clear of I 10 A Backwoods Mystery my placo for a day or two — to kci'p clear of Nell." "What's that!" exclaimed Marsh indip^antly. " Keep clear of your place, is it ? What the devil is the matter with me — or with you ? Vou think I ain't good enough for your sister, do you — be- cause you've got some money and I haven't. Damn your place! " CHAPTER II 1 JIM IIARLEY TELLS AN OLD STORY Jim IIarlky groaned. "Davy, you are all wrong," he said gloomily. "Hang it all, man, don't be a fool! Uon't go and make things worse for me. I don't know just how Nell feels for you, but I like you first-rate — pretty near as well as any young fellow I've ever met. But — but it's for your own good, Davy. It's abo\it that card going to you, don't you see ? That sounds crazy — but I'm not crazy." " The card ? Dang the card ! " returned David. "What d'ye take me for, Jim Harley, to try to scare me with such fool talk as that? You acted darn well to-night, I must say; but I guess I see your game. You've invented some sort of fairy story to try to scare me away from Nell. And so you marked that card. Red crosses on a card! D'ye take me for a darn, ignorant Injun or half- breed? Oh, you can't fool me! You want to catch that hee-haw Englishman for Nell, I guess." 17 I 18 A Backwoods Mystery Harley grabbed the younger man by the shoulder with fingers hke the jaws of a fox trap for strength. "You blasted young idiot!" he cried, his voice trcml)ling with an.^^r. " D'ye think I'u take the trouble to monkey with cards, and all that sort of tommy rot, if I wanted to scare you away from my sister? No, David Marsh, I'd just tell you to keep clear — and if you didn't I'd knock the stuffin' out of you. I guess you know me well enough to believe that." " I don't know what to bel'^ve," returned David sulkily, " except that you're actin' more like a darn, crazy half-breeid than • white man, to-night. Let go my shoulder, anyhow, or maybe you'll learn that two can play at that game." Jim loosed his grip, and let his arm fall to his side. For a full minute they ^'ced each other in silence in the chill half dark , 1 che October night, there on the d solate backwoods road. David Marsh broke the silence. " I don't want to fight with you, Jim," he said, " but — but I must ay this talk ot yours about that conf(ninded card, and the way ymt are actin' to- night, and — and what you just said about Nell — mak- .ne mad as a bobcat. If you can tell me what it is you're drivin' at, for Heaven's sake tell Jim Harley Tells an Old Story 19 me quick ! I don't want to think you've gone nutty, Jim, and no more do I want to think — to think " "What?" asked Harley sharply. " That you're a liar." " If you think that, you'd better keep it to your- self!" "Well, then, I don't think it. But, jumpin' Moses, I must tliink somctlwui'." " I've asked ytni to keep away from my house, and my sister," returned Harley, " so perhaps I had better explain things to you, as well as T can. Then you can judge for yourself if Yn\ doing right or not. You'll laugh. I guess — and maybe I'll laugh mvsolf, Uvmorrow morning. I'ut, first of all. Davy, you must give me your word to keep what I tell you to yourself. Maybe I'll have \o tell it to Rayton, if Nell don't object, because of the row I kicked up in his house. That would be only polite, I suppose." " I'll keep ([uiet, Jim." " Let's wallc along, to keep warm." said Harley. " It's a long story, Davy, and I guess you'll think it a mighty fot)lish one." " I'ire away," returned Marsh. " Foolishness is in the air to-night, I reckon." i I 20 A Backwoods Mystery " Well," began the other slowly, " it starts with my mother's mother. That's kind of a long jump backward, but it can't be helped. It's the way it was told to me. My mother's mother was a pretty fine young woman, I guess, and her parents weren't just the common run — they came from Bot'on and settled in St. John about the time George Washington got up and hit the other George that smack over the head which we've all read about. Well, the girl grew up a regular beauty, to judge by the way the young fellows carried on about her. Two men led all the others in the running, though. One was a Spaniard, and t'other was an English- man ; and, after a while, it looked as if the Eng- lishman was getting along with the girl better than the Spaniard. The Spaniard called himself a count, or something of that kind. " One night, at one of those parties the men used to have in those days, after they'd all eaten antl drunk about as much as they could hold, they sat down to play cards. I don't know what the game was. but T do know that they used to bet a horse, or a gold watch, or a few acres of land as quick as us fellows will bet five white beans. Well, it happened that the Spanish count and the young Englishman — he was a navy officer, I've heard — i Jim Harley Tells an Old S^ory 21 imd two more were at the same table. Pretty soon the navy officer got a card dealt to him with tzvo red crosses marked on it. I forgot what card it was. " Well, they didn't make any fuss abont it, and went on wiUi the game; but when they were think- ing of going liome the count got the young fellow by the elbow and whispered something in iiis ear. The other men didn't hear what it was that he whispered, but every one in the room heard the navy officer's answer — and the lad who afterward married my mother's mother was one of the fellows that heard it. What the Englishman yelled was: ' That's what it means in your country, is it ! The devil take you, and your lies, and your damn mon- key tricks ! ' Yes, that's what he yelled, right into the count's yellow face. They drank a terrible lot of liquor in those days. More than was good for them, I reckon." Jim Harley paused. " It sounds like a crazy sort of yarn to be telling,' .le said apologetically. " Go ahead," said David Marsh. " It's a fine yarn, Jim — and your folks must have been pretiy big potatoes. It's better than a book. What was it the count whispered to the navy officer ? " " That they never found out," replied Jim. " But 2? A Backwoods Mystery the ofHccr told a friend of his — tlie fellow \ ''o got the girl, after all — tl- he Spaniard \va.> trying to bluff him out of tli< ne — not out of the game of cards, but away from the girl. Anyhow, the count up and let fly a glass of liquor fair into the [•Jiglishman's face, jusi die way it's written in stories. Then there was a rumpus, the Spaniard spitting like a cat, and the other lad trying to smack him in the eye with his fist. But fists weren't con- sidered good enough to fight with, in those days, and it wasn'c polite just to pitch in when you felt like it. So they went right out, and off to a field at the edge of the town, ami fought a duel with pistols. It was a moonlight night. It looked as if the Spanish count fired half a second too soon — nnyliow. he jMit a hole smash throu'^li the F.ng- lishman's head. Well, that was too much for the other lads, drunk as most of thorn were, and they went up to the count and told him that if he wasn't out of the country before sunrise they'd hang him up by the neck like any common murderer. So he went. And he never came back again, as far as I ever heard." " I giicss that happened cpiite a while ago," said Marsh. " Yes, a giiud many years ago. Cut I've heard Jim Harley Tells an Old Story 23 :« that the old lady talked about it to the day of her death." " And who was the man she married ? " "Just my grandfather — my mother's father. He was a young lawyer, or something of that kind." " Well," said Marsh, with a sigh of relief, " that's notliing hut ancient history. I wouldn't believe more than half of that even if T had been taugh*- it in school, out of a book. If that's all you've got to say against the red crosses then they don't worry me a mite. Anyway, where's the Spanish count ? You'll have to dig up a Spanish count, Jim, afore you can get any change out of me with little red crosses on a playin' card." " Yes, that is ancient history," replied Harley, "and I won't swear to the truth of it. The duel is true enough, though, for my own father saw it written down in the records. But you've not heard the whole story yet, Davy. The real thing — the part that bothers me — is yet to come." " By the great horn spoon ! " exclaimed Marsh. " And it must be near ten o'clock! Hurry up with the rest of it, Jim — and if it's not any worse than what you've told I'll think you've been makin' a fool of me." " The rest of the story is about my own father 24 A Backwoods Mystery — and my cwn mother," said Harlcy. " Nell and I don't talk about it, even to eacli other; and this is the first time it's been told to any "no outside the family. I'd almost forgotten it — till I saw that eard to-night. Then it jumped into my mind like — like a flash from hell's flames." David Marsh felt a sudden embarrassment, and quick clnll at his heart. " Maybe you d rather not tell it, Jim," he said. " If it's anything bad I'll take your word for it." " It is bad enough." returned the other, " but it is not disgraceful. I must tell it to you, Davy, and then you can think over what happened tonight and work it out for yourself. It's only right that you should know all that I can tell y<)U — and then, if you think it all foolishness, it's your own funeral." David could not see his companion's face in the darkness, though he fairly strained his eyes to make it out. He wet his dry lips widi his tongue. " I'm listening," he said, and forced an uneasy laugh. " My mother lived in St. Joim with her parents, until she married, and moved over to the Mira- michi," began Harley. " My father's home was in St. John, too, when he was a young fellow ; but he was a sailor in those days and so spent most of his time at sea. He was a smart lad, and no mistake i» I Jim Harley Tells an Old Story 25 — mate of a foreign-goin' bark when he was nineteen and skipper when he was twenty-one. His schooling liad been good, and he owned some shares in the ship, so lie wasn't one of the common run of shellbacks. " When he first met my mother he was layin' off a voyage to recover from a dose of malarial fever that had got into his blood down in Brazil. He saw her at a party of some kind; and, not be- ing troubled with shyness, he went right after her. She was a beauty, I guess, like her mother before her — and, like her mother again, there was a whole bunch of young fellows courting her. My father, though, was a fine, upstanding lad, with good looks, fine manners, and a dashing way in everything he did. So he sailed right in ; but he didn't have every- thing all his own way, at first. " I've heard my motlier say that, Sunday eve- nings, as many as six young men would call at her father's house — and she was the only girl, mind you. But they'd all pretend to be pleased to see each other, and there would be singing, and piano playir,: and cake and wine — yes, and the old gent would invite one or two of them into his library to smoke his cigars, and the old lady would talk away to the rest of them about the grand times in 26 / Backwoods Mystery f St. John when she was young. Sometimes she'd tell about how the navy officer and the Spanish count fought about her — and, of course, she'd mention the queer marks on the card. She called it a romantic story. " Well, it wasn't long before my father thought he had the other fellows beaten out, so he popped the question. My niotlicr said ' \'es ' — and so the old people announced the engagement. They were pretty stylish, you.'See. My father was all cured of his malarial Fever, by this time, and ready for sea again. About a week after my mother had given him her promise, and ick Goodine know anvthimr David Marsh Decides to Speak 35 about the story of the red crosses, even if the state of his feehngs had become sufficiently violent to incite him to make use of them? And he had not been at Rayton's, last night. How could he have marked the card? So David dismissed the trapper from his mind, for the time, and turned elsewhere for a solution of the mystery. There was young Rayton, the Englishman. The thing had happened in his house, and the marked card belonged to him. He was a stranger to the settlement, for he had been only six months in the place. He seemed honest and harmless — but that was not enougl; to clear him. The dazzling smile, clear, gray eyes, and ready haw-haw might cover an unscrupulous and vicious nature. What was known in Samson's Mill Settlement of his past? Nothing but a few unlikely sounding anec- dotes of his own telling. He had traveled in other parts of the province, looking for a farm that suited both his tastes and his purse, so he might very easily have heard something of the fate of Jim Harley's father. So far, so good! But was he in love with Nell Harley? He had shown no signs of it, certainly; and yet if he took an interest in any young woman in the settlement, or within ten miles of it in any 86 A Backwoods Mystery * direction, it would naturally be in Nell Harley. She was well educated — and so was the English- man, seemingly. No one had ever denied her quiet beauty. Any one with half an eye could see that she and Jim came of a stock that was pretty special. That would attract the Englishman, no doubt, for he, too, looked and talked like something extra in the way of breed. But, in spite of all this, David had to admit to himself that he had neither heard nor seen anything to lead him to suppose that Rayton was his rival. Well, who else, then? What about Doctor Nash? Nash was a bachelor, and a great hand at making himself agreeable with the women, ^ut David knew that Nell did not like Nash; but, of course, a little thing like that wouldn't bother Nash if he had taken a fancy in that direction. Yes, the doctor might be the man. The idea was worth keeping in sight. David could not bring any other suspect to mind. Benjamin Samson and old Wigmore had been there when the marked card made its appearance, 'tis true; but, in spite of his anxiety to solve the mystery, David put these two harmless gentlemen from his thoughts with a chuckle. At last David Marsh was on the verge of sleep David Marsh Decides to Speak 37 when a sudden, galling question flashed into his mind and prodded him wide awake again. Why should anybody who might be in love with Nell Harley look upon him — upon David Marsh — as a dangerous rival? Why, indeed! He was sweet on Nell, there was no denying it, and had been for the past three years or more, and no doubt there had been talk about his frequent calls at Jim's house; but had she ever treated him as anything but just a good friend? Not once. He was honest enough with himself to admit this, but it hurt his vanity. And had he ever told her that he loved her? No. He had meant to, over and over again ; but, somehow, things had never seemed to be exactly in line for the confession. The fact is, there was something in the young woman's frank manner with him, and in the straightfor- ward glance of her eyes, that always made him feel that next time would do. He had never even found sufificient courage to try to hold her hand. " I guess she likes me, though," he murmured. " I'll go to-morrow and tell her how I feel toward her. Yes, by thunder! I'll show the fellow who fixed that card trick on me that I ain't scared of him — nor of her, neither. Why should I be scared 88 A Backwoods Mystery li!!jl fplf 1: of her? I'm honest — and I'm making good money — and Jim likes me, all right. That card trick settles it, by ginger! I'll go and tell her to- morrow. I'll give that skunk a run for his money, whoever he may be." As much in the dark as ever about the mystery of the marked card, but fully determined on his course of action as regards Miss Harley, David Marsh fell asleep at last. His alarm clock had been set for six, however, as he had a busy day before him; so he was soon awake again. He sat up, grumbling, and lit the little oil lamp that stood on a chair beside his bed. There was no turning over and going to sleep again for him, for he had to get a load of provisions and some kit in to his camp on Teakettle Brook before night; for he was expecting a sportsman from the States along in a few days. From the nearer camp be would have to portage a lot of grub across a half mile of bad trail and take it up, by canoe, to his shack on the headwaters of Dan's River. " I've got to hustle ! " he exclaimed, and jumped courageously out of his warm bed; but the instant his feet struck the cold floor, the queer happenings and stories of the previous night flashed into his mind. " Hell !" he exclaimed. " 1 must see Nell, David Marsh Decides to Speak 39 I guess — but I've simply got to get that jay of stuff in to the Teakettle by dark." He grumbled steadily while he dressed. Dawn was breaking, and the world outside looked de- pressingly cold and rough. He had a hard day before him and a hard to-morrow after that; but he must snatch a half hour for his interview with Nell. He shaved in cold water, with a razor that needed honing — and this did not lighten his spirits. " The devil take that foolishness ! " he grumbled. "Why can't things leave me alone?" He went downstairs in his sock feet, pulled on his heavy boots in the kitchen, and lit the fire. He was a handy young fellow — as a guide and woodsman needs to be — and set briskly to work to cook his own breakfast. He was sitting up to his tea and bacon, close to the crackling stove, and the world outside was looking considerably brighter, when his mother entered the room. "What is worryin' you, Davy?" she inquired anxiously. "I heard you tossin' and turnin' last night." " Nothing much," he replied. " I was just planning things. IVe a heap to do before Mr. Banks lands here with his patent range finders, and seventeen different kinds of rilles. He's not V 40 A Backwoods Mystery the kind to kick at hard hunting, and he's gener- ous; but he likes to have everything tidy and liandy." " I'm sure he'll have nothin' to complain of, Davy, so long as you look after him." returned Mrs. Marsh. " But what kept you out so late last night? " " I was talking to Jim flarley." "Oh, you were at the TIarleys' place, were you? You seem to be gettin' along fine in that quarter, Davy." The young man blushed. " T wasn't at the house, mother," he said. " I met Jim over at Rayton's, and we went for a walk tcjgether. He had a regu- lar talking fit on, I can tell you." " I didn't know Jim was ever took that way," returned the mother. " So you saw young Mr. Rayton, did you? And how is he?" " He's all right, I guess." " He's a very polite, agreeable young man." " Oh, yes, he's polite enough." Mrs. Marsh looked at him sharply. " What have you got against Mr. Rayton? " she demanded. " Nothing." replied David. " Nothing at all. motlier. I don't know anything about him, good David Marsh Decides to Speak 41 or bad. But it's easy enough to be pohte, I guess — and it don't cost anything." The mother sighed and smiled at the same time. " If it's so easy," she said, " then I wish more folks about here would try it." David drained his cup, and got to his feet. " Well, I must hustle along, mother," he said. " I've got to run over to Harley's before I load up for Teakettle Brook." "Jim goin' with you?" "No. Oh, no!" " You wouldn't go call in' on a young lady this time in the morning, surely?" "Oh, quit your fooling, mother! I've simply (jot to speak to Nell this morning." The moment the (Xoov had shut behind David, Mrs. Marsh went to the foot of the stairs. " Wake up, pa ! " she called. "Wake up!" repeated a voice from above bit- terly. " Bless my soul, I've been awake an hour and up this last fifteen minutes; but I'm stuck for want of my pants! D'ye expect me to chase 'round in the mud in my Sunday-go-to-meetin's, ma?" "Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Marsh. "I was patchin' them last night and left them in the sittin' 1 1,? ,1, 42 A Backwcxids Mystery -V room." She ran and got her husband's required garnients, and threw them, flapping v; gracefully, up the narrow back staircase to him. Soon after that old Davy appeared. " Where'3 the boy? " he asked. " lie's had his breakfast, and now he'h run over to see Nell llaiiey," replied Mrs. JVIarsh, beaming. "Then the nK)re fool him!" said old Davy. " It's time he cut that out. Ain't he g(jt an eye in his head? He's got no more chance of marryin' her than I'd have if I was into the game." " D'ye mean that she don't think him good enough for her?" asked the other .sharply. " I guess she don't think anything about him at all, from what I can see. He's good enough for any girl — but he ain't got the character to catch Nell Harley. That's it — he ain't got the char- acter." " He's got as good a character as any young man in the province — as good as you had, at his age, David Marsh! " The old man .shook his head, smiling. " He's a good lad. I've nothin' to say against our youngest son, ma. But he's all for his sportsmen and his savings-bank account — all for himself. He's smart and he's honest — but he's all for Number David Marsh Decides to Speak 43 One. To catch a girl hke Nell Harley a man would want to jump right into the joh with both feet, hell bent for election, holusbolus and hokus- pokus and never say die — like I done when I went a-courtin' you, ma." Mrs. Marsii's face recovered its usual expression of good humor. " Maybe you're right, pa," she said. " He don't seem to give his hull mind to his courtin', I must say." In the meantime, young David had tramped the half mile of road that lay between the Marsh farm and Jim Ilarley's place. The sun had come up white and clean in a clear sky, promising a fine day. A few vivid red and yellow leaves still hung in the maples and birches, and the frost sparkled like diamonds in the stubble, and shone like powdered glass along the fence rails. The air went tingling to heart and head like a wine of an immortal vintage. David felt fairly reckless under the influence of it; but when he came face to face with Nell Harley, in the kitchen door, his reck- lessness turned to confusion. " You are out early, Davy," said the young woman, smiling pleasantly. " Do you want to see Jim?" "Well — yes, I guess I do, Nell." i 44 A Backwoods Mystery r ' •1 " Notliing the matter over at your house, I liope? " *' No. Everything's all right." "Come in. We've finished breakfast, hut Jim is not down yet. He was out until late, last night, and I don't think he slept well." David followed her as far as the dining-room door, but there he halted. " I guess I won't trouble him, Nell," he said. " I'm in a hurry, too. I have to get a load in to my camp on the Teakettle to-day." " Can I give him a message?" "Oh, no! It ain't important. Good morning, Nell." He was halfway home, thoroughly disgusted with himself, when a voice hailed him. Looking up, he saw old Captain W'igmore apprcjaching. " Good morning to you, David," said the cap- tain, haltin r in front of him. " Did James Harley explain bis extraordinary behavior to you, last night?" " Yes." "Ah! And what was thu explanation?" " You'd Ijetter ask him yourself, cap. He told me not to tell." The old man drew himself up and rapped his David Marsh Decides to Speak 45 MJck oil tlic j^ioiuitl. " Ci)nf()iiii(l his inijKTti- iioiicc! " he cxflaiiiK'd. " 1 shall ask him. certainly. ^Tc owes me an explanation. Queer way to behave before a man of my age and position! And he called me an old idiot! " h i t Ifc'-'n*- B! '' ti^ .. CHAPTER IV THE trapper's CONFESSION Old Captain W'igmore returned to his lonely bnt well- furnished and well-painted house, ate a re- dective breakfast, smoked a cigar, and then set out to find Jim Harley. Wigmore lived with a servant or companion — a very old, grizzled, silent fellow, who did not seem to be " all there." It was from this old chap, Timothy Fletcher by name, that the people of the settlement had learned to give Wig- more the title of captain. As to what kind of a captain he had been, opinions differed. Wigmore found llarley in the farm-yard help- ing a teamster get away with a wagonload of pork, flcnir, and oats for his lumber camp on Harley Brook, five miles away. As soon as man and load were gone, the captain addressed the lumber opera- tor. " James," said he. slowly and with dignity, " I feel that you (uve mc an e\i)lanatiun of your strange behavior oi last night." 4G The Trapper's Confession 47 Harley sighed. " I can't explain it to you, cap- tain," he said. " It has to do with — with a purely family matter; but I beg your pardon for anything amiss that I may have said to you in my excite- ment." "Granted, James! Granted!" returned Wig- more, with a fine gesture of the left hand. "But I am sorry, of course, that you — but it does not matter; I am old, more or less of a stranger, and of no importance. You ex- plained your agitation to youhg Marsh, I under- stand?" " Yes, I felt that I owed it to him." "Very good, James. Of course I am anxious, and fairly itching with curiosity — but my curiosity does not matter in th least. It struck me as a most remarkable thing, though." "I was foolish," saia the other; "but should it happen that — that it turns out to be serious — to really mean anything — may I confide in you, captain? May I ask your advice?" " Please do so, my dear boy," replied Wigmore cordially. " I shall be only too happy to do any- thing for you — or for any member of j^our family. But now I'll not keep you from your work any longer, James. If I may, I'll just step over to L' <), I 48 A Backwoods Mystery the house and pay my respects to the ladies. I have a new book in my pocket tliat they may be inter- ested in." " They'll be glad to see you, captain," said Jim sincerely. " Tliey always are." So the captain went to the house and Mrs. Ilailey and Xcll wito .ijlad to see liini, in spite of the fact that it was rather a busy time of day for them to receive a caller. But the captain could be very entcrtainin'^ when he tO(jk the trouble to try — and he always took the required amount of trouble when he met the Harley women. Now he produced the new book from his pocket, and laid it on the table. It was a volume of literary essays; and Nell took it up eagerly. The captain talked a little of books, lightly and gracefully, and a little of travel and big cities. He had a pretty wit. Except for the gray in his beard and mustache and neatly brushed, thick hair, he did not look to be more than middle-aged while he talked. Tli -ugh he always walked with a slight limp, now he stood very straight. His bright, dark eyes turned to Nell when she looked away from him. He remained for about twenty minutes, and then went away, leaving a very pleasant impression in the minds of both young women. The Trapper's Confess'on 49 " What a catch he would be if he wasn't so old! " said Jim's wife, laughing. Nell shook her head seriously. " He is very entertaining," she replied, " and has read a great deal and seen a great deal; but there is something about his eyes that — well, that is not attractive." " Most eccentric people have eyes like that," re- turned Mrs. Harley — who, by the way, was not a native of the settlement — " and I do not think them unattractive. Now there is poor Dick Goodine. FTis eyes are like t'nat. loo — so l)riLrht and quick." " But Dick's are honest — and Captain Wig- more's look sly." "Oh! You like Dick's eyes, Nell? Well, T think you might find eyes to admire belonging to some one more worth whi.e than Dick Goodine." "Don't be silly, Kate, please!" cried Nell. "I am no more interested in the eyes of the young men of this place than you are." "W1iat about David Marsh?" " Poor David. He is not amusing ; and, though he looks so simple, I must say that I cannot under- stand him." Jim Harley went to see Rayton, and found him bringing his horses in from the fields just at the fall of the dusk. The Englishman had been doing 50 A Backwoods Mystery M "I" ' 'l4' a last bit of fall plowing before the frost gripped the land in earnest. He was muddy, but cheerful ; and as hospitable as ever. Harley stayed to supper — a very good supper of his host's own cooking. Then they lit their pipes and went into the sitting room, where a fine fire was crackling in the open stove. Harley told Rayton the same story that he had told, the night before, to young Marsh " Good heavens ! That is very tragic ! " ex- claimed the Englishman. " But I must say that I think last night's incident was nothing but chance. The card had become marked in some way, quite by accident — and there you are." They talked for an hour or two, and Rayton would not give way an inch in his argument, that the affair of the previous night had been nothing but blind chance. He was much more impressed by the other's story of the past, and felt a new interest in Jim Harley. " I wish I could look at it as you do," said Jim, as he was leaving for home. " But ii seems to be more than chance to me — it looks like that same damnable hate that killed my father." " But why should it descend upon young Marsh ? Surely he is not — that is, Miss Harley does not " 1)1 i: The Trapper's Confession 51 " I don't know," replied Jim. " I don't think so — but I don't know. The thing worries me, any- how — worries me like the devil ! I'll keep my eyes open, you may bet on that; and I'd consider it mighty friendly of you to do the same." " I'll do it, then, Jim, though I must say I'm not much of a hand at solving mysteries or catch- ing sinners. But I'll keep my peepers open, you may gamble on that." Reginald Baynes Rayton returned to his warm chair by the fire, and fixed his mind, with an effort, on the solving of the mystery. He liked Jim Harley, so he'd get to the bottom of that card trick if it burst his brain. Suddenly he slapped his hand on his knee. " I have it ! " he cried. " By George, I have it ! It's that blithering bounder, Nash. He's always up to some rotten joke or other; and he's heard that story about the mother and grandmother some- where, and so marked that card to take a rise out of Jim. He hasn't enough sense to know if a thing is sacred or not. He's one of those dashed fools who enjoy jumping in where an^^els fear to tread. That's it. By George, it didn't take me long to work out that puzzle! But I'll just kct-p it to myself for a while — to make sure, you know." 52 A Backwoods Mystery So he put the incident of the previous night out of his mind, and thought of Ilarley's story, and of Ilarley's sister, instead. He knew Kell, of course, but had not talked with her more than half a dozen times. He admired her greatly ; and now, since hearing this story of her jjarents and her grandmother, he felt an extraordinary stirring of tenderness toward her. He sighed, lit another pipe, and went up to bed. He wanted to be up in the morning at even an earlier hour than u.sual, for he had planned a long day in tlie woods. He had arranged with a lad on the ne.xt farm to tend the stock for hini during the day. Rayton gave the animals their morning feed and breakfasted himself by lantern light. Then, with the pockets of his shooting coat stored with sand- wiches and a flask of whisky and water, ami with his grown spaniel, Turk, wriggling about his feet, he set out for the big timber that crowded right up to his back pastures from the hundreds of square miles of wilderness beyond. A heavy frost had gripped the earth during the night. The buckwheat stubble was crisp with it. l^awn was sprmding over the southeastern skv as he came to the edge of the forest. He halted there, called Turk to heel, and filled and started The Trapper's Confession 53 his pipe. His equipment was remarkable, and it would bother some people to say what game he intended to go after with a dog and a rifle. But Rayton knew what he was about. He wanted to bag a few brace of ruffled grouse; but he did not want to miss any good chance that might otifcT at moose, caribou, or deer. And he could not carry both shot-gun and rifle. The dog was .^11 trained and could be depended upon not to trail, rush, or startle any big game. So it was Rayton's method to let Turk flush the birds from the ground into the trees, from which he would then shoot them with the rifle. He always fired at the head. Of course, he missed the mark frequently, in which case the bird flew away uninjured, as it is almost impossible to catch sight of a flying bird in the high and thick covers of that country, this was a good and sportsmanlike plan; and then he always had his rifle with him in case he came across some- thing bigger than grouse. Rayton carried a comp?is<;, and was not above consulting it now and again. Men have been lost in less formidable wildernesses than that — and have never been found. By noon he had five grouse attached to his ' ^It — each minus its head — and had failed to get a clean shot at a bull moose. I 1i \4 54 A Backwoods Mystery He had crossed two small streams, and was now close to the Teakettle. He sat down on a fallen hemlock, and brought a bone for Turk, and half the sandwiches from his pocket. Suddenly the spaniel jumped to his feet with a low, inquiring yap. Rayton turned and beheld Dick Goodine. " Hello, Goodine, you're just in time," he cried cheerfully. At that, Turk lay down again and gnawed at the bone. " Good day, Mr. Rayton," replied the trapper. He carried a rille under his arm, and an axe and small pack on his shoulder. He advanced, laid his axe and pack on the ground, and shot)k hands with the Englishman. He was a handsome man, younger than the farmer by a year or two, perhaps, and not so tall by a couple of inches. His eyes were large and dark, and just now had a somewhat sullen light in their depths. His face was swarthy and clean-shaven. He leaned his rifle against an upheaved root, and sat down on the log beside Rayton. " Any luck? " he asked. " No," replied the Englishman, *' How about you p " " I'v ; shot my three head already. I'm just 1.1! The Trapper's Confession 55 cruisin' now, kcepin' an eye open for b'ar and fixin' up a few dead falls. Plenty of signs of fur this year." " Glad to hear it ; but you don't look as gay as usual for all that. But help yourself, Dick. Help yourself, and here's the flask." Guodine removed his wide felt hat, smiling re- flectively. " Thank'e," he said, and took up a sandwich. Half of it was gone — and he ate slowly — before he spoke again. " Well, 1 don't feel gay," he said. "What's the trouble?" "Oh, I have my troubles — like most of us, I guess. But just for the moment it's Davy Marsh is kinder stickin' in my crop." The other started, almost upsetting the flask which stood on the log beside him. "What's the matter with Davy?" he asked. " I saw him this morn in', yonder at his camp on the Teakettle," replied the trapper. " We had an argyment about guidiii', a month or two ago — only a word or two — an' he holds it against me. He was loadin" his canoe, for Dan's River, when I sighted him. I sung out to him, friendly as you please — and he didn't much more than answer me. Well, I've always put up with Davy, because f. u >■ H '/' li 'I Jt' 1 • >)f'tl 56 A Backwoods Mystery he can't help his manners, 1 guess, so 1 kep' right along and helped him trim his canoe and get away do\\nstr:am. But he was sulky as a b'ar with a bee in his ear all the time, and kep' lookin' at me as if I was dangerous. He was darn uncivil — an' that's a thing I can't stand. I've bin sorter chewin' on it, ever since." " Cheer up, Dick," returned Rayton, and lauglied heartily. " You mustn't let Davy Marsh's bad manners hump you. Take a drink and forget it." He offered the flask. Goodine shook his head. *' I guess not, thank'e all the same," he said. " I kncnv your liquor is good. I've drunk it before, and there's no man in the country I'd sooner take a s>iiilc with than you, Mr. Rayton; but I'm leavin' the stuff alone, now." " Right you are, Dick," replied the other, re- turning the flask to his pocket without (quenching his own thirst. " You see," said the trapper, " it makes a beast of me. H I got a taste of it, now. I'd go out to the settlement and get some more, and keep at it till T v.as a regular l)cast. So I reckon I'll cut it out." He looked keenly at the Englishman. " Last time I was cornered," he continued, "she saw me!" The Trapper's Confession 57 ' Ah!" exclaimed Rayton. "Who saw you?" "Nell Harley — the whitest wuinati on top the earth ! She saw me when I was more like a hog than a man. I was shamed. I'm sick with the shame of it this very tninr.te." Rayton looked cnil irrassed. "Oh! I'm a fool to he talkin'." continued the Mier hilteily; "but I can't keep wrestlin' with my- self all the lime. She's treated me right — but I know she don't care a damn for me. And why shoul(' she? Oh! I ain't quite a fool! I5ut I want her to think well of me — I want to -^how her that I'm as decent as most men 'round these parts, and decenter than some. Yes, I want hei to see that — • and I can be decent, if 1 try. I'm poor — Ijut that's no disgrace in this country, thank (lod ! My old man was a drunkard; but n v mother is a good woman, and hone^t. She is French, from up Quebec way. I reckon ^ )ni" folks round here think that's something for n.c i be ashamed of. " "Think 7i'liat is somethii -,^ to be ashamed of?" " Bein' half French." " The devil ! " exclaimed Rayton indignantly. "Then thev show their ignorance, Dick. French blood is glorious blood. I'm pure English myself, 58 A Backwoods Mystery n but I say that and stick to it. Whnt was your mother's name? " " Juhc Lemoyne was licr maiden .." " That was a great name in Que. ., in the old days." rcphed Rayton enthusiastically; "and it may still be, for all I know. There have lK>en great soldiers by that name, and some famous scholars, too." lie clippetl a hand on the trapper's knee. ''So cheer up!" he cried. "Very likely you are descended from soldiers and .H-h(/lars. Take it for granted, anyway, and act accordingly — and you'll be the etpial of anybody in this province. Never mind Davy's bad manners, but take th .n for a warning. And if — if you care f(jr some one you consider to be too gocjd for you, just show her, by your actions — and by your life — that it is an honor to enjoy your regard and friendship." Dick Goodine looked at the speaker with gk)vving eyes. " You've done me good ! " he cried. " I feel more like a man, already. You're a wonder, Mr. Rayton — a livin' wonder. Shake on it! I'm your friend, by damn! from now till hell freezes over." " Thanks. And I'm your friend," said Rayton, shaking the prolTen.d hand vigorously. " And I hope you'll forgive me for preaching," he added. ^l!l 1^ 'i The Trapper's Confession 50 I' orgive you? I'll bless you for it, mure likely, returned Dick. They were about to part — for the trapper meant to spend the night in the woods and the farmer wanted to get home before ii if ■ ^ CHAPTER V DOCTOR NASH's SUSPICIONS — YOUNG MARSH's MISFORTUNE Doctor Nash was a gentleman blessed with the deportment of tarly and untrained youth, and with the years of middle age. His manners were those of a first-year medical student, though he considered himself to be a polished and sophisticated man of the world. He had practised in four diiTerent parts of the country, but had nowhere impressed the peo- ple favorably by his cures, c • his personality. He was a bachelor. He was narrow and lanky of build, but fat and ruddy of face. His hair was carroty on top of his head, but of a darker shade in mus- tache and close-trimmed beard. His eyes were small and light, and over the left, the lid drooped in a remarkable way. Whenever he happened to remember the dignity of his profession he became ridiculously consequential — and even when he for- got it he continued to make a fool of himself. These traits of character did not endear Doctor Nash to Mr. Rayton, but they did not mar the 61 h f ; il u ^ 62 A Backwoods Mystery perfection of the farmer's simple hospitality. He produced a cold venison pie for supper, made coffee and buttered toast, and flanked these things with a decanter of whisky on one side and a jug of sweet cider on the other. " Cold meat pie," remarked Nash slightingly — and immediately began to devour it. After saying that he had never heard of such a thing as buttered toast for supper he ate more than half the supply. He lost no time in informing the other that he had always dined in the evening before fate had thrown him away on a backwoods practice. Rayton haw-hawed regularly, finding this the easiest way of hiding his feelings. "Whisky!" exclaimed Nash, after his second cup of coffee with cream. " I believe you live for it, Rayton. I never have it in my own house except for medicinal purposes." Then he helped himself to a bumper that fairly outraged his host's sense of proportions. " I saw Miss Harley to-day," he said. " She told me that Jim had been to see you, last night." "Well?" queried Rayton, puzzled. "She does not object, does she?' His mind had been fur- tively busy with the young woman throughout the meal. .'' I Doctor Nash's Suspicions 6S " So I thouglit that he may have explained his queer behavior to you," said the other. " Yes, he did." "What did he say?" " Really, Nash, I don't know that I have any ric^ht to repeat what he told me." " Did he ask you not to ? " " No ; but perhaps he intended to do so and forgot." Nash laughed uproariously. " You are the limit ! " he exclaimed. " You beat the Land ! Why sh ukl he tell you a thing that he would not want t..^ to .-enow? " Rayton suspected several reasons; but he did not want to offend his guest by advancing them. "Have you seen Jim since that night?" he asked. " No." " But saw his sister? " " Yes. Jim wasn't at home." Rayton lit his pipe, reflected for half a minute, and then gave his guest a brief and colorless version of the story. He told it grudgingly, wishing all the while that Harley had asked him not to re- peat it. Nash straddled his long, thin legs toward the 'l<. * .-; I' ( f . ^< ■ ^! ; 64 A Backwoods Mystery fire. " So that's the yarn, is it? " he sneered. " And do you believe it? " "Believe it? What Harley told me?" " Yes." "Certainly I do." " Then you arc more of a fool than I took you for. Don't you see it's all a g.une of Harley's to keep that young cub away from his sister? He doesn't want to have such a lout hanging 'round nil the time for fear it may scare some one else away — some one who'd be a better catch. So he rigged the card and invented the fine story." Ray ton withdrew his pipe from his lips and stared at his guest blankly. " Oh ! that was easy," continued Nash compla- cently. " I thought, until you told me that yarn, that I really had hold of a problem worth solving. But it is easy as rolling ofT a log. Here is the marked card. See, it is marked in red chalk. A man vould do that in two winks, right under our no.ses." He handed the card to Rayton — the cross-marked six of clubs. Rayton took it, but did not even glance at it. His gaze was fixed steadily upon his guest. " I don't quite follow you," he said — " or, at least. I hope I don't." f / i: f: ■ Doctor Nash's Suspicions 65 " Hopt you don't follow me ? What do you mean ". " " I mean just this, Doctor Nash. When you happen to be in my house be careful wliat you say about my friends." Nash stared. Then he laughed unpleasantly. " Are you bitten, too? " he a^ked. Rayton {?ot to his feet. " See here, Nash, I don't want to cut up rusty, or be rude, or anything of tha kind," he exclrimed, "but I warn you that if you do 't drop this personal strain there'll be trouble." " Personal strain ! " retorted the other. " How the devil are we to talk about that card trick, and the cause of it, without becoming personal?" Rayton was silent. " But you know what I think about it," con- tinued Nash, " so you can make what you please of it. I'll be going now. I'm not used to be jawed at by a — by a farmer." The Englishman laughed, helped his offended guest mto his overcoat, followed him to the stable, and hitched-in the nag for him. " A word of advice to you," said Nash, when he was nil ready to drive away. "If you have your eye on Miss Harley, take it off. Don't run away iJ; tl t .'I GO /\ DilLKWUOUS IV lysicry with any idea that Jim is tryinp^ to scare young Marsh out so as to clear the road for you." Then the whip snapped and away he rolled into the darkness. Rayton stood in the empty barnyard for a long time, as motionless as if he had taken root. " I'll keep a grip on my temper," lie said at last. " For a while, anyway. When I do let myself out at that silly ass it'll be once and for all." Then he returned to the sitting-room fire and thought about Nell Harley. " Goodine, Marsh, and Nash — they're all in love with her," he mutteied. " So it looks as if some one was up to some sort of dirty game with that marked card, after all; but who the devil can it be? It's utter nonsense to suspect poor Dick Goodine — or Jim; but it will do no harm to keep my first idea about Nash in my mind. If he did it, though, I don't believe it was in the way of a joke, after all." Now to go back to the morning, and David Marsh. At break of day the guide had started the horses and wagon back along the nuiddy twelve- mile road to the settlement, in charge of a young nephew. They had been gone an hour when Dick Goodine appeared. At that appearance it had im- « { Doctor Nash's Suspicions 67 mediately jumped into his mind that the trapper was spying on him; but he had kept the thought to himself. He had been greatly relieved, however, to get away from the trapper's company and un- solicited assistance. There was plenty of water in the brook, so he paddled swiftly down the brown current for a mile or two. Then, feeling that he had got clear of Goodine, he let the heavily loaded canoe run with the current and filled his pipe. " The more I see of that Goodine," he reflected, " the more I mistrust him. And the cheek of him, poor and shiftless, to think about Nell. I bet it was him put the marks on that card, somehow or other. The dirty French blood in him would teach him how to do them kinder tricks. Why, he ain't much better than a half-breed — and yet he talks about bein' above coukin' for .sports, and lookin* after them in camp. He's too lazy to do honest work, that's what's the matter. So long's he can raise enough money to go on a spree now and then, he's happy. I don't trust him. I don't like them black eyes of his. I bet he's been spying on me ever since I got to the camp last night. Let him spy! He'd be scared to try anything on with me; and if he thinks a girl like Nell would have any- V Ir I ^: >i ' I \ \ :ii C8 A Backwoods Mystery tiling to do with a darn jumpin' Frenchman Hke him, he better go soak his head." So as the stream carried him farther and farther away from the spot where he had left the trapper, his indignation against that young man increased and his uneasiness subsided. " I wish I'd up and asked him what the devil he wanted," he muttered. " I'd ought to let him see, straight, what I think of him. But maybe he was just lookin' for trouble — for a chance to get out his knife at me. He wouldn't mind killin' a man, I guess — by the looks of him. No. he wouldn't go so far as that, yet a while. That would cook his goose, for sure." Three miles below the camp, the Teakettle emp- tied into a larger stream that was known as Dan's River. It was on the headwaters of this river that Marsh had his second and more important sporting camp in a region full of game. On reach- ing Dan's River, Marsh swung the bow of his canoe upstream, keeping within a yard or two of the right bank. He laid h . naddle aside, took up a long pole of spruce, and got to his feet, perfectly balanced. For the first quarter (jf a mile it was lazy work, and then he came to a piece of swift and broken water called Little Rapids. This was ' 1 ^ !■ f '1 ■■ Doctor Nash's Suspicions 09 a stiff piece ol p<>ling, tliuugh not stiff enough under any circumstances to drive an experienced canoe man to portaging around it. David Marsh had mastered it, both ways, at all depths of water, more than a dozen times. The channel was in midstream. The canoe shot across the current and then headed up into that long rush and clatter of waters. The young man set his feet more firmly and put his body into his work. The slim, deep-loaded craft crawled upward, foot by foot, the cla.shing waters snarling along her gunwales and curling white at her gleaming bow. Now David threw every ounce of his .strength, from heel to neck, into the steady thrust. The long pole bent under the weight, curved vali- antly— and broke clean with a report like a rifle shot. David was flung outward, struggling to re- gain his balance; and, at the same moment, the canoe swung side-on to the roaring water and then rolled over. David Marsh fought the whirling, buffeting waters with frantic energy. He was struggling for his life. That was his only thought. He struck out to steady himself, to keep clear of the boiling eddies where the black rocks seemed to lift and sink, and to keep his head above the smother. The f ■f . » 1 1 t •v I , J I 11 70 A Hackwoods Mystery beating, roaring, and slopping of the rapids almost deafened hini, and fdled liitn with a shuddering dread of those raging, clamorous surfaces, and silent, spinning depths. Now he saw the clear, blue sky with a hawk ailrift in the sunshine — and now he glim[)sed one shore or the other, with dark green of spruce, and a spot or two of frost-bitten red — and now black sinews and twisting ribbons crossed his vision, and torn spray beat against his sight with white hands. The deathly chill of the water bit into blood and bone. It seemed to him that he was smothered, spun and hammered in this hell of choking tumult for hours. At last the roar and clatter began to soften in his ears — to soften and sweeten to a low song. Wonderful lights swam across his eyes — red, clearest green, and the blue of the rainbow. A swift, grinding agony in his right arm aroused him. He was among the locks at the tail of the rapids. For a minute he fought desperately; and then he dragged himself out of the shouting river and lay still. Marsh was young and strong, and had not swal- lowed a serious amount of water. For ten min- utes he lay under the leafless willows, unconsciously struggling for his breath. Then he sat up, swayed i Doctor Nash's Suspicions 71 dizzily, and screamed suddenly with the pain in his arm. It was that excruciating pain, burning and stabbing from wrist to shoulder, that brought him fully to his senses. He staggered to his feet and gazed up and down the bright course of the river. He shivered with cold and weakness. "Arm smashed!" he cried, almost sobbing. " Outfit lost ! My God ! " He sank again, easing himself to the ground by the willows with his left hand. With the bandanna handkerchief from his neck, a piece of cord from his pocket, a fow handfuls of dry grass, and a thin slip of driftwood he made a rough support for his arm and fastened it securely to his side. This took him fully half an hour, and cau'>ed him intense pain and severe nervous fatigue. He was shaking and gasping by the time it was done — yes, and on the verge of tears. " The pole broke," he whimi>ered. " And it was a good pole — the best I ccjuld find. It never hap- pened before." He got to his feet again, and started painfully along the shore. The bank was steep, with only a narrow fringe of rocky beach. In some places the overhanging thicket forced him to wade knee- deep in the water. He stumbled along, groaning MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2 1.0 I.I 1^ I Z8 III 2.5 I 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ /APPLIED IfWlGE Inc ^^ 653 Eos' Mon Street r^ -ochester, Ne* ^ork 1A609 USA ■^= "16) 482 - 0300 - Phone :^ ^16) 288 - 5989 - Fa, (!i :!, n* < i ; 72 A Backwoods Mystery with the pain of his arm. His cheeks vrer^ blood- less under the tan, and there was a haunted look in his eyes. Fear still gripped him — not the vio- lent, sickening horror that he had felt while strug- gling in the eddies of the rapid, but a quiet, vague fear that he could give no name to. Marsh rested for a few minutes (du a little grassy flat at the mouth of the Teakettle. By this time the sun. and his own exertions, had warmed him a little; but still the shadow of fear was in his eyes. " It was a strong pole," he kept muttering. " I cut it myself — and tested it. How did it come to break ! " He found the ft)oting along the smaller stream even more difficult than that which he had left behind. Both banks were flanked with impene- trable snarls of underbrush that overhung the gliding current, and so he was forced to wade, knee-deep. The bottom was rocky and slippery, and the swift water dragged mercilessly at his weary legs. He advanced slowly, painfully, a piti- ful figure. Sometimes he stumbled, almost fell, and jarred his shattered arm in his recovery. Sometimes he groaned. Sometimes he cursed aloud. "My luck's gone!" he cried. "The pole broke on me — and it was a good pole. Never i: M I HE AliVAN( Kit SiOWLV, F A I \ Kl ' l.I. V, A I'lTim. FIi.rKK.' u- 1! I I I) ■ ! t Doctor Nash's Suspicions 73 broke a pole before! Never got spilled before! Something damn queer about that!" He was forced to rest fretpiently, sitting on a stranded log or flat rock, or perhaps standing and clinging to the alders and willows. His arm ached numbly now. Now showers of silver sparks streamed across his vision, and again he saw little blue and red dots dancing in the sunlight. It took him a long time to cover the three miles from the mouth of the Teakettle up to the little camp that he had sped so swiftly away from early that morning. It was long past ncjon when he dragged himself up the steep path, unfastened the door, and stumbled into the shack. After a few minutes' rest on the floor, he managed to light a fire in the stove and put a kettle of water on to boil. He needed tea — tea, hot and strong. That would pull him together for the twelve-mile jour- ney that lay between him and Doctor Nash. But he'd lie down until the water boiled. He pulled off his moccasins and crawled into a bunk, drawing two pairs of heavy blankets over him. He was too tired to think — too tired even to continue his whimpering and cursing. After a minute he dozed off. David Marsh was awakened shortly by a touch '1? ! t I i i ) 74 A Backwoods Mystery on his injured arm. He yelled with the pain of it even before he opened his eyes. Then he stared, for there stood a young woman named Maggie Leblanc, gazing at him in astonishment. She was a fine-looking young woman in a striking, but rather coarse red and black way. She was roughly dressed, and had an old muzzle-loading gun by her side, and five partridges ' inging at her belt. She was the eldest of many children belonging to a worthless couple who lived about two miles from the Marsh farm, in a poor community called French Corner. It was in that same part of the settlement that Dick Goodine's mother lived. " Hell ! " exclaimed Marsh. " Where'd you come from, Maggie? " "What are you yelling about?" asked the girl. " An' what are you layin' there for, this time o' day?" " I'm hurt," returned David. " My arm is broke, I guess." Then he told her all about his morning's misfortune. "And Dick Goodine was here, was he!" cried the girl. " He helped you load the canoe, did he ! And then your pole broke! Are you good friends with Dick Goodine ? " ■;!;;; Doctor Nash 's Suspicions 75 David looked at her eagerly. " Not particular," he answered. " What are you drivin' at ? " " He's after youi girl, ain't he? " she asked, her black eyes glistening. " Look here, what are you drivin' at, Maggie? " She came close to the edge of the bunk. " Maybe he knows what made the pole break 1 I've heard o' that trick before. He put it in the canoe for you, didn't he?" " Yes ! " cried the young man furiously. " Yes, he did. Damn him ! — if he played that dirty trick on me." "You lay quiet," said Maggie Leblanc. "I'll cook you a bite o' dinner, an' then I'll light out for Doctor Nash. You ain't fit to travel another step." i )ij tl 'I ff''i CHAPTER VI DAVID TAKES A MISFORTUNE IN A POOR SPIRIT David drank tea, Maggie Leblanc holding the tin mug to his Hps. The pain in his arm became more intense as his strength returned. His temper was raw. He refused the bacon which the girl fried for him. "Hell!" he exclaimed. "I feel too bad to eat. I feel like the very devil, Maggie. Arm busted, canoe and outfit lost! Hell! " " I guess that skunk, Dick Goodine, done you pretty brown," remarked the girl. " Dick's cute. Always was. He bested you just like he'd best a mink or a fox. You ain't no match for Dick Goodine, Davy." David Marsh cursed bitterly. "That durn half-breed!" he cried. "Me no match for him! You wait and see. Maggie. I'll get square with him, one of these days." " Dick ain't no half-breed," retorted the girl. " He's French and English — and that mixture 76 A Misfortune 77 don't made a breed. Got to have Injin blood, like me, to make a breed." " Injin blood's better'n his mixture," said David. "Hell, yes! Dick Goodine's pure skunk. But I'll do him yet. You just watch, Maggie. Arm busted ! Canoe busted and outfit sunk! He'll pay me for that." " You think a heap o' yer money, Davy," said Maggie Leblanc. " You go get the doctor," returned the young woodsman sullenly, " and leave my affairs alone. Money? Well, I guess I make it hard enough. You go 'long now, Maggie, like a good girl, and get Doctor Nash — or maybe I'll never have the use o' this arm again. It's stiffenin' up terrible quick. I'll make it worth yer while, Maggie. Five dollars! How'll five dollars do? " " I'm goin'," answered Maggie. " But you keep yer money. I don't want yer five dollars. I'll fetch the doc, and I'll help you get square with that skunk Dick Goodine, all for nothin'. You bet! Lay still, now, and I'll light out for the settle- ment. " "I thought you was sweet on Dick Goodine; but you don't seem much that way now, Maggie. What's he bin doin' to you?" asked David. L '•] I . I I ) !'■ 78 A Backwoods Mystery " Yer mind yer own business, Davy Marsh," retorted the young woman, " and don't you give none o' yer cheek to me. I'm helpin' you, ain't I? Then mind yer manners! " Then, with a toss of her handsome head, she hurried from the shack. Left alone under that low roof in the quiet forest, with the afternoon sunshine flooding in by open door and window, David gave his mind unreserv- edly to his accident, considering it from many points of view. He had accepted Maggie Leblanc's suggestion without question — that Goodine had caused the disaster by injuring his canoe pole in some way. Now, alone in the silent forest, he thought of the marks on the card, and remembered the story that Jim Harley had confided to him. It was foolishness, of course, to set any store by two red crosses on a playing card — and yet — and yet Queer things happen, he reflected. The devil still takes a hand in the games of men. The idea of the blow being the work of a supernatural agency, directed by the marked card, grew upon him. But even so, what more likely than that Dick Goodine had cut his canoe pole — had been chosen as the instrument of fate? One has strange fancies whoii A Misfortune 79 lying faint and hurt in a silent wilderness, in a golden, empty afternoon. The sunlight gradually died away from window and door. David thought of his loss and counted the money that would slip from his fingers, owing to the broken arm. This was bitter food for the mind of such a man as David Marsh. Mr. Banks, tlie rich and generous American sportsman, would soon be at Samson's Mill Settlement — only, alas, for the profit of some othe- than the unfortunate Davy. It was a hard fact to consider, but at last the sullen young man fell asleep with the weight of it on his mind. He dreamed of a life-and-death struggle with a Spanish count, who looked like Dick Goodine dressed up in queer clothes. The Spanish noble- man ran a knife into his arm and the pain was sickening. The count vanished, and beside him stood a young man in a blue coat with brass but- tons, whom they called Jackson. This Mr. Jackson had a terrible leer on his face, and a huge pistol in his right hand. Seizing David by the collar, he hammered him with the pistol upon the wound made by the Spaniard's knife. David yelled with the pain of it — and woke up! Above him leaned Doctor Nash, holding a lantern, and with a finger I ' „ t ii^' 80 /\ Hackwoods Mystery • 111 the broken arm. " (Juit it! " cried David. " Ouit it, doc! Tliat's tlie busted place yer iiinchin'." A painful period of twenty minutes f(jllowed, and at the end of it David's arm \v;is in splints and bandages, and David's face was absolutely colorless. Nash brought him 'round with a long drink of brandy. " Hell ! " said David. " That's all I want to see of you for the rest o' my life, doc." The doctor grinned, mopped his heated brow, and set the lantern on the table. " Oh, that's noth- ing," he said. " Bcxih I I've done ten times as much as that before breakfast. Keep still, now, and give it a chance. Your arm will be as good as new in a few months." David groaned. Nash built up the fire. " I'm hungry," he said. " Where d'you keep your grub ? Got anything fit to eat ? " " I reckon yes," returned the woodsman. " There's plenty of grub in this camp, and every durn ounce of it is fit for anybody to eat. Well, I guess! There's eggs in that there box on the floor, and bacon in the cupboard, and tea and coffee, and everything. Help yourself, doc. It was bought to feed Mr. Banks — so I guess you'll find it good enough, for you. I .1 t ;' 1, 1' ' Ji, A Misfortune 81 " Don't ;4ct excited, David."' retorted tlie iloetor. Keep your hair on, or maybe you'll keep )our arm from knittinj^." He cooked a good meal, gave a little of it to his patient, and devoured the choicer, and by far the larger, share of it himself. Then he lit his pipe and drew a stool close up to tiie bunk in which David lay. " You are not fit to move to-night," he said, " so I'll stay here and take you in to-morrow morning. I managed to get my rig through the mud-holes without breaking anything, I guess." David moved his feet uneasily. " Guess you'll be chargin' me pretty heavy for this, doc," he returned. " Don't you worry," returned Nash. " I'll only charge what's fair, Davy. Of course it was quite a serious operation, and a long drive — but don't you worry." He drew at his pipe for a little while in silence. At last he said : " Maggie Leblanc tells me it was Dick Goodine who worked the dirty trick on you. Is that so?" " I guess so. Don't see what else. The pole was a good one, far's I know." >i » 1 If' 1 u ill '' L « ; i I i i I ' 82 A Backwoods Mystery "What's the trouble between you and Dick? I didn't know he was that kind." " Well, we had an argyment a while back. Nothin' serious; but he's a spiteful kind of cuss. Dirty blood in him, I guess." Nash nodded. "And perhaps you think the marks on that card had something to do with it. Isn't that so, Davy? I guess jim Harley has told you what those marks mean." "That's all durned foolishness. Marks on a card! How'd them little crosses break my pole and upset me into the rapids?" " Sounds fine, Davy; but you are scared of that marked card, all the same. Don't lie to me — for it's no use. I think the ii...rks on the card have something to do with your broken arm." " How, doc? No, yer foolin'! Yer tryin' to make game of me. I ain't a scholar, like you, doc, but I ain't fool enough to oelieve in ghosts, just the same." " I am not saying anything about ghosts, Davy. You just keep your hair on, and I'll tell you what I think. In the first place, just remember that I am a man with a trained mind and a wide knowledge of life." "Guess yer right, doc. Fire away!" iiHl > A Misfortune 83 "Jim Harley told you that long story of his about his grandmother?" " That's so." " Do you believe it? " " Maybe I do — and mayba I don't. What's that to you?" "Of course you believe it! That's because your mind is untrained, and you don't know anything of the ways of the world." " You just leave my mind alono, doc. It ain't hurtin' you, I guess. You talk as if I hadn't any •jnore brains than a sheep." Nash grinned, and rubbed his long hands briskly together. He enjoyed this sort of thing. " Right you are. You believe Jim's story — and I don't. What I think is this: Jim Harley marked the card, dealt it to you, and then invented the yarn. He is trying to scare you away — away from fooling around his sister." " You just let his sister alone, doc ! And mind yer own business, too ! " " Keep cool, my boy. Well, he scares you a bit with his story. Then he has a talk to Dick Goodine. He knows Dick and you are not very good friends. So he fixes Dick, and Dick fixes your canoe pole — and there you are! Jim and . ■ f f ^ ! 1 1: Mi ! i t« I , 84 A Backwoods Mystery Dick do the busting, and I do the mending. What do you think of that?" " Du.ned foolishness! " retorted David. " Maybe Goodine done it; but Jim didn't set him to it. I guess I know Jim Harley a durn sight better'n you do." " Oh, yes! You are a devilish clever chap, David — in your own opinion. Just the same, my smart young friend, take the hint from me and stop think- ing about Nell Harley. You are not wanted 'round that vicinity, and if Jim can't scare you away with his card trick and his silly story, he'll scare you with something else." David Marsh was raging; but he was helpless in the bunk, with a broken arm to remember. He swore like the proverbial trooper — and Doctor Nash sat and smoked, with his sneering grin broad on his fat face. He did not say a word in reply to tne woodsman's tirade. At last David lay back weakly, breathless, and empty of oaths. Nash re- filled his pipe. " Think it over quietly." he said. " Aie the red marks after you? Or is Dick Goodine after you, on his own trick? Or is Jim Harley working a game on you? Think it over, Davy, and don't swear at your friends." 1: " A Misfortune 85 David's reply was a grunt; but he spent half the night in thinking it over. The harder he thought the more hopelessly confused he be- came. During the drive to the Marsh farm next morn- ing, Doctor Nash carefully avoided the subject of the marked cards and his suspicions. As there was not much else to talk of in Samson's Mill Settle- ment, just then, the drive was a quiet one. After helping his patient into the house the doctor drove away. Jim Harley came over to see David in the after- noon. The sufferer received him with open sus- picion, but Barley's manner soon drove the shadow away. He listened to the story of the accident with every sign of distress, and was impressed by the fact that Dick Goodine had helped load and launch the canoe. He knew that David and the trapper were not on friendly terms, and he believed the latter to be dangerously quick-tempered; but he could scarcely bring himself to believe that he would carry a grudge so far as to endanger a man's life. " Have you and Dick had words about anything else?" he asked, "anything more than that argu- ment about guiding sportsmen? " • I 86 A Backwoods Mystery ' f i t i.' ).■ " I guess he holds something else against me," admitted the guide. " What is it ? What have you ever done to him? " asked H-^rley. David shifted about uneasily in his chair, and became very red in the face. In the depth of his heart he feared Jim Harley. "I ain't done anything to him," he said falter- ingly. "I — I ain't said one uncivil w^ord to him, except that time we had the tongue fight. He just don't like me, that's all. He don't like me because I'm a smarter guide than him, and get hold of all the rich sports; and — and I guess he thinks — well, he thinks " "What? What does he think?" demanded Harley. "Well, you see, Jim, he — I guess he kinder thinks I've got the — the inside track, so to speak." "Inside track? You mean with the sportsmen? You have the best camps, and all that sort of thing. I guess he's right, Davy." " That ain't just exactly what I mean, Jim. I ain't talking about guidin' and campin' now. Lookee here, you know as how I'm kinder — well, as how I am almighty fond o' Nell. You know that, Jim, for I've told you before. Well, Dick A Misfortune 87 Goodine's struck a bit that way, too, far's I can make out. Durned cheek; but that's the truth. So I guess that's maybe why he's got an axe be- hind his back for me." Jim Harley sighed and shook his head mourn- fully. "I hadn't thought about that," he said; "but now that you mention it, Davy, I see that it may be so. I've always found Dick a good-hearted fellow — but I guess he goes on the rip now and again. Not extra steady — and not the kind to marry my sister. He's not steady, you see — and he's so danged ignorant." Jim made these last remarks in a low, reflective voice, as if he were talking only to himself. Tone and words fanned David's old suspicions into sud- den flame. " Yes, he's danged ignorant ! " he cried. '"' Danged ignorant, just like me. That's what you mean, ain't it? You don't want Nell to marry a bush- whacker like Dick Goodine — nor like me. That's about right, ain't it, Jim? My first guess was right t'other night, I do believe." Harley stared at him in angry amazement. "You are talking like a blasted fool!" he ex- claimed. " You were on the same string before, •I 88 < I (;;.>: 't 1 1 r 1 Ill ; f 'U .(■ 1 11 1 A Backwoods Mystery and I went to a good deal of trouble to set you right. Too much trouble, I see now. But I tell you again, if I objected seriously to you. David, you'd damn soon know it. You make me tired." " I didn't mean to rile you, Jim," returned the guide, " but what with the gnawin* pain in my arm, and — and that story you told me about them marks on the card — and them marks being dealt to me — I tell you. jini, [ (l(Mi't feel easy. I fed jum])y as a cat. Here I am with my arm busted already, and a canoe and outfit gone clear to the devil. I never lost a canoe before — nor bust my arm be- fore." " I am sorry, David. I am mighty sorry," said Harley. " It is hard luck, no mistake about that, but all I can say is, I don't wish you any harm, and never have. If you think Goodine is laying for you, keep your eye on him. If you think there is anything in those marks on the card — well, you know the story. Act as you think best for yourself, Davy." " Thankee. I'll keep my eye skinned; but I tell you now, Jim, I ain't scart o' them marks on the card. T believe all yon told me — but I guess it was just luck that brought them marks to this settlement and handed them out to me. I don't A Misfortune 8d think fer one minute they busted my arm or upset my canoe." After the evening meal, Jim Harley visited Rayton. The EngHshman was in his sitting room, writing letters before a good fire. He pushed his papers aside and received his visitor with that man- ner of perfect hospitality which was as natural to him as his frecjuent laughter. He had already heard rumors of David's accident, but wlien Jim tuld the full story, he replied in forceful terms that Dick Goodine had no part in it. " But it looks queer," persisted Jim Harley. "Looks!" retorted the Englishman. "My dear Harley, didn't a ^anoe pole ever break before? Is this the first man who ever smashed his arm? Rot! I know Goodine, and he's the right sort. He's a man." Harley had great faith in Reginald Rayton's opinions; but he could not get his suspicions of the trapper out of his head. " Don't think any more about it." urged his host. " You might as well suspect Ben Sam- son — or old Wigmore. Drop it — and have a -Irink." So Jim dropped it an.! luul a drink. But he was worried and preoccupied throughout the evening. ' I 1 I > ( i 11 1 ■ / in -i. i ! 90 A Backwoods Mystery When he was about to leave, however, he shook himself together. "If you are ever lonely," he said, "come over and see us." " Thanks very much," returned Rayton, gripping his hand. " I get a bit lonely, sometimes. Ah — perhaps you'll see me to-morrow night, if that will be convenient." At that moment Turk jumped to his feet, uttered a low growl, and ran to the window. Rayton jumped after him and snatched the curtain aside. Nothing was to be seen, though a pale half-moon was shining clearly. "That's queer," said Rayton. "Turk never gives false alarms." CHAPTER VII MR. BANKS TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME Mr. Harvey P. Banks, of New York, was an angry and dejected man when he arrived at Samson's Mill Settlement, only to learn that his guide of several past seasons — in fact, the only available professional guide in the district — was laid up with a broken arm. He poured the full stream of his wrath upon the unfortunate David Marsh. He was a big man — tall, thick, broad, and big of face and hand, big of voice, foot, and outlook upon life — and his size seemed to fill the litde farmhouse bedroom and press poor David against the wall. After expressing himself at length, he asked why the guide had not wired to him, so as to give him time to make other arrangements. Now that was a (question that David had asked himself, too late. He answered truthfully, his courage reviving as he realized that his excuse was a pretty good one. He told of his accident in de- tail, of his suspicion of Dick Goodinc, and then, 91 :!f . f !i I ■ J ' M Ir*.' ■J, 92 A Backwoods Mystery after another (lucstiun or two, he went back and described the game of poker, the marked card, and told Jim Ilarley's story. Thus he explained a state »'f mind that had turned big business considerations into unimportant shadows and meaningless whis- perings. nnough it all Mr. Harvey P. Ranks sat in a splint-bottomed chair — bulging generously over the edges of the seat — smoking a long cigar, and gazing unblinkingly at the young woodsman. He nodded his big head when David finished, and dipped a two-inch white ash from the end of his cigar to the hooked mat at his feet. " That's good enough for me, Marsh." he said. " I take back the hard names I called you a few minutes ago. No wonder you forgot to send me a wire." He turned his head and gazed through the window at a f^eld of buckwheat stubble, rusty-red, and a green-black wall of spruces and firs. "Jim Harley told you the story, you say?" "Yes, sir; Jim Harley. Doctor Nash don't be- lieve it." " Nash be blowed ! And you say Jim acted very strangely when he saw the marks on the card in vour hand." I !) Mr. Banks Takes a Hand 93 " Yes, sir; he acted niiglity (jueer. Doctor Nash says it was all a bluff, though." " T'hell with Nash ! How did the others take the sight of the red crosses?" " Quiet enough, sir. They was all took up with Jim's (jueer look and words." "And Rayton?" " He just looked like an astonished horse, Mr. Banks. That's his natural look." "And Captain Wigmore?" " Oh, it didn't bother him none, you can bet yer hat on that." Mr. Banks nodded again. " It wouldn't," he said reflectively. " A mark ' n a card wouldn't interest that old clam, I in .ne, unless it was on the back, where it might be of some use to him." He asked several more questions abf t the chances of obtaining good heads of moose and cari- bou in the Beaver Brook, Teakettle, and Dan's River country this season, talked of past adven- tures which he had shared with the young woods- man, and slipped in more than one query concern- ing Maggie Leblanc. Then, promising to see David again in a day or two, he lit another cigar and took his departure. pi ■ I ) t «'■ •ft ■) 94 A Backwoods Mystery Ten minutes later, on the road, Harvey V. Hanks met Reginakl Haynes Kayton. The Knglislnnan wore his oldest pair of breeches, but their cut was undeniable. Hanks' eyes were sharp, though their expression was usually exceedingly mild. " Vou are Mr. Kayton. who is farming the old Bill Hooker place, I am sure." he said. Ves. And you are Mr. Hanks, ..f New York. I'm quite positive." returned Kayton. lifting a shabby felt hat. and la-ghing plea.santly. There was "'•thing to laugh at — but Keginal.I had a way of kuighing politely at everything and nothing. It meant nothing, but it covere.l profound mean- ings. Mr. Hanks returned the unexpected .salute with a fine gesture of his tweed cap. and then the two shook hands. " I have just been to see poor David Marsh." said Banks. " I blew him up pretty high, at first, but I melted when I heard what he has on his mind." " Yes, ho seems to be in a funk about one thing and another," returned Rayton. " But it is rough on y(,u, too. But — ah — I think I can help you — if you d(yn't consider it cheeky of me to — to make a suggestion." ti \ ■»■■ m. Mr. Ranks Takes a Hand 95 "Cheeky! My clear Mr. Raytoii, I'll bless you fur a likely siigj^estioti." " Then let mc put you on to some j^'ood shoot iiifj. I know this country fairly well, considering I'm a new settler, and this is my slack season on the farm. I can help you to a cou])le of good hei'ds, I'm positive. W'c can ir.ake my house our hcad- (piarters, for the game is very close in this year. The house is snug, and I am something (piite special in the cooking line. What do you say?" " It sounds mighty tempting, but — well, Mr. Rayton, I am a business man, and I like to see the business end of every proposition before I start m. Rayton laughed freely, but politely. "Of course," he said. "I am a farmer — and I see what you mean. The business end of some propositions is like the hinder end of a wasp, isn't it? Hah-hah! But — if you don't mind — well, I don't see how we can put any business end to this. Ah — if you will be so kind as just to con- sider yourself my guest. Hope you don't think it cheeky of me! " "Well! 'Pon my word, Mr. Rayton, you are very kind. Why should you befriend me like this? It is astonishing." fm )• ^i; I*. I i'l:- I fl: . ■1 ' t ^ m h ■> 8|' ; iV, ' <«i r :ifr !■■ it; 96 A Backwoods Mystery " Not at all. We can have some good talks, you see. I am a bit lonely, sometimes. It is all serene, isn't it? Good. Where are your traps? Come along." So they turned and walked side by side along the road and across the empty fields to Rayton's house. Mr. Banks glanced frequently and wonder- ingly at his new friend. Never before, in all his wide and active life, had his confidence been cap- tured so quickly. " And he seems to take me quite as a matter of course," he reflected. That afternoon the two new friends, with Turk's assistance, shot a few brace of woodcocks and grouse, in quiet swales and corners around the out- skirts of the farm. Then, together, they cooked supper. Shortly after supper, while they were play- ing a game of chess, and smoking two of Mr. Banks' long and superior cigars, old Captain Wigmore knocked on the front door, and entered without waiting for it to be opened for him. Rayton welcomed him as affabiy as if they had last parted on the most polite terms. He intro- duced the small old man to the big middle-aged one. " We have met before," said the captain. [i;i 1 5 11 1: 1 r,i Mr. Banks Tak^s a Hand 97 " Yes, I knew Captain Wigmore last year," said Banks. Wigmore accepted a cigar from the New York- er's bulging case. " That is the real thing — the real leaf," he said. He looked at the chessmen. " Reginald, when are we to have another game of poker? I am sure Mr. Banks plavb the game of his nation. We must sit in again soon. We must not be frightened away from a harmless amusement by that silly trick Jim Harley played on us a few nights ago." Mr. Banks feigned astonishment. " What was the trick?" he asked. "I should never have sus- pected Harley of playing a trick — especially a card trick. He has always seemed to me a very serious chap." " Rather a queer thing happened a few nights ago, while we were playing poker, here," said Ray- ton. " Captain Wigmore thinks Harley was at the bottom of it; but I don't. Tell about it, captain." So for the second time. Banks heard of the card marked with two red crosses and dealt to young David Marsh. He watched Wigmore throughout the telling as intently as ae had watched the guide. "Very interesting? Jim Harley is not such a l\ 98 rn \ I *«! 'ii:i; r h 1 1 • 1.:, A Backwoods Mystery- serious fellow as I thought," he said, by way of comment. And thai was all until after Wigmore took his leave, at half-past ten. Wigmore had not mentioned the tradition behind the two red marks. W hen the tioor had closed upon the queer old cap- lain, Kuyton and Banks talked for nearly an hour about Harley's story of the red crosses, and David Marsh's experience of them. The Englishman convinced the New Yorker that Dick Goodine had played no part in David's accident. Mr. Banks, like ^:m Harley, found it natural to accept Rayton's readings of men and things. Mr. Banks lay awake in his comfortable bed for a full hour after turning in, his mind busy with the mystery of Samson's Mill Settlement. He de- cided that whoever marked the card had known the tragic story of the Harley family. He did not take much stock in David's accident. That had been nothing more nor less than a piece of bad lucL. Canoe poles break frequently, owing to some hidden flaw in the white wood. But he felt sure that the two red crosses on the face of the card were not matters of chance. " I'll work this thing out if it drives me crazy. I have always had an itch to do a bit of detective work," he murmured. II Mr. Banks Takes a Hand 99 Then he sank into deep and peaceful slum- ber. When Banks entered the kitchen next morning, at an early hour, he founa the porridge neglected and sullenly boiling over the brim of the pot onto the top of the stove, and his host standing with drooped shoulders gazing mournfully at a five-foot length of spruce pole that stood in the corner. Banks jumped ponderously and rescued the por- ridge. "What's the trouble?" he asked. "Are you thinking of beating some one with that stick? " Rayton laughed joylessly. " This is too bad ! " he said. " Molly Canadian, the busy old idiot, brought this in to me only a few minutes ago. Silly old chump! " " What is it? And who is Molly Canadian? " " She's an old squaw — and a great pal of mine. This thing is a piece of a canoe pole." " Ah ! Piece of a pole. Why does it interest and depress you so? " " She found it at the foot of the rapids in which young Marsh came to griei. Yesterday, she says. If you look at the broken end of it you'll notice that the surface is remarkably smooth for about halfway across." )i i>< :,i 100 A Backwoods Mystery "Ahi It has been cut! Cut halfway through! Do you think it is David's pole? " " I am afraid it is the one he broke. It was found at the foot of the rapids." Mr. Banks scratched his clean-shaven chin. " Looks as if you had put your trust in a lame horse," he said. " Yes, it looks that way," admitted the English- man, "but I don't believe Dick Goodine cut that pole! I know Gooc'ine — but I'm not so sure of this pole. Sounds siUy; but that's the way I feel. I'm not much on reasoning th'■"''^ out, but I've a few pretty clear ideas on this su . . From what you tell me that Marsh told you, it js quite evident that Maggie Leblanc is anxious to get Dick into a mess. Well? " "You think the girl cut the pole?" "Yes. Why not? She has Maliseet blood in her, you know — English, French, and Maliseet. She is a fine looking girl, in her way and of her kind, but I've seen two devils shining in her eyes." "Would she run the risk of killing one man, just on the chance of getting another into trouble? " " I won't say that of her, Banks, but there'd be no need for her to run that risk. Finding David m his camp, wath a broken arm, evidently suggested II Mr. Banks Takes a Hand 101 ^^ to her the chance of making trouble for Goodine. Then why shouldn't she travel over to the rapids and hunt for the pole — or a part of it? With luck, she'd find it. Then she could trim the broken end a little, and leave it where it would be most likely to be found." " Where was it found? In an eddy? " " No. High and dry on top of a flat rock." " That certainly looks fishy ! " exclaimed the New Yorker. *' I'm with you, Rayton, no matter how severely you test my — my imagination. Shake on it, old man ! " They shook. " I am greatly relieved," said the Englishman. " You see, unless I get outside opinion, I am never quite sure if the things I think of all by myself have any sense in them or not. Well, I am mighty glad you see it the same way I do. As soon as Molly told me where she had found the piece of pole. I smelt a rat. Of course I'd never have thought of all that about Maggie Leblanc, except for my thorough belief in Dick Goodine. That set me to work. Now we had better have breakfast." Mr. Banks nodded. " Why don't you set seriously to work to i ( lir mn )ii III!: r I ! 1.5 1 I. 'I I !'.';r '' 'ii ill 102 A Backwoods Mystery straighten out the marked card business?" he asked. " I have; but it just takes me 'round and 'round," said Rayton. They had just finislied their breakfast when Dick Goodine appeared, ready to take them into die woods for a day, after moose. He brought a boy with him to look after the place and the live stock, in case the sportsmen should be kept out all night. The three left the house shortly after seven o'clock. Early in the afternoon Banks shot an old bull moose carrying a fine pair of antlers. They skinned and dressed it, and hung hide, flesh, and antlers in a tree; they pressed forward, for they were near a great square of barren land, where the chances of finding caribou were good. They reached the barren, siglited a small herd, and Rayton dropped a fair-sized stag, and after making packs of the antlers, hide, and the best cuts, they struck the homeward trail. It was dark by the time the tree in which the remains of the moose was hung was reached, so they made camp there for the night. At the first break of dawn they were up and afoot again, and though heavily loaded, they made good time. They Mr. Banks Takes a Hand 103 halted only half an hour for their niiddu) meal, and reached Rayton's farm shortly after three o'clock in the afternoon. Old Captain Wigmore was there to welcome them. They found him in the sitting room, very much at his ease, with a decanter of the Englishman's whisky on the table in front of him. Rayton laughed good-humored'y, shook his hand cordially, and invited him to stay for the remainder of the day. " Gladly, my dear boy," returned the captain. He seemed to be in a much better humor than was usual with him. The sportsmen washed, changed, and had a long and rjuiet smoke, and when the smoke was finished it was time to get the evening meal. Rayton and Dick Goodine went to the kitchen, and set to work. They were interrupted by Timothy Fletcher, the captain's reserved and disagreeable old servant. Timothy's wrinkled face wore an expression of intense anxiety and marks of fatigue. "Cap'n here?" he asked, looking in at the kit- chen door. " Yes, he's here," replied Rayton, with a note of sharpness in his voice. The soul of politeness him- self, he could not stand intentional rudeness in others. '«4 t . 4 '4 V*' I '' • 11 i rl ^O'^ A Backwoods Mystery "Glad to hear it. I've been huntin' over the hull damn country for him," remarked Timothy. " Do you want to speak to him? " asked Rayton. Before the other could answer, Wigmore him- self darted into the kitchen. "What the devil do you want?" he cried, go- ing close up to his servant, and shaking a thin but knotty fist in his face. " Go home, I tell you." His frail body trembled, and his very beard seemed to bristle with wrath. " But — but I thought you was lost," stammered the old servant. " Get out ! " screamed Wigmore. " Go home and mind your own business." Timothy Fletcher stood his ground for a few seconds, staring keenly into the captain's face. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the kitchen. Old Wigmore glared around, swore a little, mumbled an excuse, and followed his servant. "That old captain is a character," said Mr. Banks. " He's worth watching." " He's a queer cuss, and no mistake," agreed Dick Goodine. " Not a bad sort at heart," said Rayton, dishing the fried potatoes. " He has had his troubles, I Mr. Banks Takes a Hand 105 imagine, but when he is feeling right he is a very agreeable companion." " I like his room better nor his company," said the trapper. A couple of hours later, when the three were smoking lazily by the sitting-room fire, they were startled by the sounds of a vehicle and horse tear- ing up to the house at top speed. Rayton and Turk got quickly to their feet. The front door flew open and heavy boots banged along the un- carpcted hall. Then the door of the room was flung wide, and David Marsh burst in. His right arm was bandaged and slung, but in his left hand he held a heavy stick. "Have you seen that skunk, Dick Goodine?" he cried. " My camp on Teakettle Brook's burnt to the ground! Oh, there you are! " By this time Mr. Banks and Goodine were also on their feet. Marsh started forward, with murder in his eyes, and his mouth twisted. Rayton stepped in front of him. " Kindly remember that you are in my house," said the Englishman quietly. " Just stop where you are, please, and explain yourself." "Get to hell out of my way!" cried David. " I ain't talkin' to you. There's the sneak I'm H I 106 A Backwoods Mystery after — the dirty coward who cut halfway through my canoe p(jle, and then set my camp afire, stores and all! Let me at him, you pie-faced English- man ! " I'uT. Riv: 'Mi": t/, F. -i. r < 11 CHAPTER VIII RAYTON GOES TO BOKKOW A SAUCEPAN "What do you want of me, Davy Marsli?" dcmaiulcd the trapper. "If you think I cut your canoe pole, yer a fool, and if you say so, yer a Har!" " And what is all this ahout your camp? " asked Raytun, v. renching the club from David's hand. " Keep cool, and tell us about it." — !" cried the jj^uido, "I'd knock the i;y- stuffin' out of the two o' ye if I had the use o' my arm! You call me a liar, Dick Goodine? That's easy — now — with my right arm in splints. And as you are so damn smart, Rayton, can you tell me who burnt down my camp? And can you tell me who cut that pole? There's a piece of it standin' in the corner — proof enough to send a man to jail on! " " This is the first I have heard of the camp," replied Rayton, " and I am very sorry to hear of it now. When did it happen?" 107 .• I m Wi f . ;:: j ^i i :f ■■>■ n\ ,1 10S A Hiukucxxis Mystery " IlapiJCii? " cried Marsh bitifrly. " It hapiKMiccl tliis very day. I'ctcr (lri<,'gs was out tliat way with a load of f^nuh for otic o" 1 larlcy's camps, this very atteiiioon. and it was just !)uriuu' j^^iod when he <-"'»"ie to it. Hadn't hin set niore'n an hour, lie cal lated, hut it was too far ^'oiie for him to stop it. So he unhitchetl one of ins horses and rode in to tell me, hopin" I'd he able to cateh the damn skunk who done it. And here he is, by hell!" " Von are wroiij; there. Marsh," said .Mr. H.inks. '■ (loodine has been with us since early yesterday morning, way over in the Long liarrens country — and we didn't get home till this afternoon." " We made camp near the Barrens last night, said Ray ton. " Is that the truth? " asked Marsh. " Cross your heart! So help you G boy. I see iMiss Ilarley on the veranda, in a very becom- ing and seasonable jacket of red wool. No doubt she'll be able to find you a saucepan. Good morn- ing, Reginald." Captain Wigmore lifted his hat to the yoimg woman on the veranda, and then turned aside and moved briskly away. Rayton also lifted his hat, but he continued to advance. Upon reaching the steps leading up to the veranda he uttered a cho- kmg sound of embarrassment and concern, for it was quite evident that Nell Harley had been weeping recently. But the right to refer to this lamentable ■ir.' Ix 'Ifi I: m^ Rayton Goes to Borrow a Saucepan 115 fact was not his. He must hide his pity and tendei curiosity. " Good morning, Miss Harley. Isn't it a ripping morning for the time of year? " he said. " I am afraid it is going to rain," she rephed. " Of course," agreed Rayton, somewhat abashed, and glancing up at the gray sky. " That's what I meant, you know. Rain's just what we need. It will keep the frost off for a while longer, don't you think so? " " Oh, please don't talk about the weather, Mr. Rayton. I feel too — too worried to talk about the weather." " Worried ! " exclaimed the young man. " I am sorry. Is there anything I can do, Miss Harley? If so, just name it, please. I'd be delighted, you know. May — may I ask what is the trouble?" " Please come in. There is a fire in the sitting room. Come in, if you can spare the time, for I want to tell you all about it — though I suppose you know already." Reginald followed her into the sitting room and took a seat across the glowing hearth from her. He felt torn by her undisclosed trouble, and be- wildered by his own good fortune. He forgot to inquire after Jim and Mrs. Harley, and the sauce- •*t- m Hi'' il IIG A Backwoods Mystery pan of very particular dimensions fled from his mind. He sat in a low chair and gazed anxiously and expectantly at Nell Harley. She sat with her elbow on her knee, her round chin on the heel of her hand, and the shadow of retrospection over her bright, pale face. Her eyes were lowered, but presently, and it set.ned to him as suddenly as a flash of lightning, she raised them to his glance. " It is about that card I am worrying so," she sa:d. '* I have heard all about it — about the card that was dealt to David Marsh with the two little red crosses drawn upon the face of it. Already he has broken his arm, lost his canoe, and had his camp burned down. It is terrible — and I am frightened. I know the tradition, and believe it fully. Jim does not like to talk about it, and Kate thinks it is all nonsense, though she is too kind to actually say so. But 1 know that every word of the old story is true. It frightens me. Do you believe that — that the curse is still following us — or does it all seem utterly ridiculous to you?" Reginald turned his eyes away from her face with a visible effort, gazed into the heart of the fire for a moment or two, studied the pattern of the rug at his feet, and inspected the ceiling. His Rayton Goes to Borrow a Saucepan 117 frl glance returned to her face, held fur a niunient, then veered in panic to the window. "Of course I believe the story that Jim told to me," he said, " and 1 consider it a — a very remark- able story — and terribly sac', tea; but it was the work of man, or men, of course. There was noth- ing supernatural about it. An enemy — a rival — used those red marks on a card in each case, as a warning. I-'irst it was the Spanish count, and ne.\t it was that Mr. Jackson. But now, in Samson's Mill Settlement — why, 1 feel quite sure it is noth- ing but chance. Nobody but Jim knew of that family story, and he certainly did not mark the card. And — and the conditions are not right. At least, that's how it looks to me." "The conditions?" she queried softly. Rayton shot a brief, but imploring glance at her. " What I mean is — ah — why should David Marsh get the card? I hope — I mean I can't see — ah — I can t see any association between a chap like David an " He fell silent, became very red, and blinked at the fire. " Please go on," she whispered. " Please tell me what you think, for I know you are honest, fearless and sane, Mr. Rayton. You must forgive me for U J 1 i,; I? -I: a j|,.j \ ' » I'M •II! i |; 1 1 "„ ^ife ii i 118 A Backwoods Mystery speaking so frankly — but that is what Jim says of you. You were saying that you cannot see any connection between David Marsh and — and what?" Reginald took a deep breath and squared liis shoulders. " Between Marsh and those others who received the marked cards," he said. " First, it was the young sailor, the chap in the navy — the Spaniard's winning rival. Next it was your father — a man of character and — and breeding. Now David Marsh gets the card! That seems absurd to me. It seems like a man going out to kill a partridge with an elephant gun. It — it does not look to me like a continuation of the — the same idea at all." " Why not? Please be quite frank with me. Why does it seem different?" "But really. Miss Ilarley, I — I have no right to air my — my opinions." " I want you to. T beg you to. I am sure your opinions will help me." " If anything I can say will make you feel easier, then I'll — ril go ahead. What I'm driving at is, that the navy chap was the kind of chap your grandmother might have become — ah. very fond of. Perhaps she was. He was a serious proposi- Ray ton Goes to Borrow a Saucepan 119 tion. So with your father. The others who were fond of your niotlier saw in him a real rival — a dangerous man. But — it is not so with Marsh. He is not big. He is not strong. The truth is, if you forgive me for saying so, there is no dan- ger of — of your caring for a chap Hke David Marsh. There! So the case is not like the others, and the old idea is not carried out. Fate, or the rival, or whatever it is, has made a stupid mistake." He glanced at the girl as he ceased speaking. Her clear face was flushed to a tender pink, and her eyes were lowered. " There is a good deal of truth in what you say, Mr. Rayton," she murmured. " It sounds like very clear reasoning to nie. And you are rigiit in— in believing that I do not care at all for David Marsh, in the way you mean. But may we not go even farther in disproving any connection between this case and the other two? " For the fraction of a second her glance lifted and encountered his. " Even if David happened to correspond with that young sailor of long ago, or with my dear father, the rival is missing." she said uncertainly. " The rivals were the most terrible features of the other cases." • , i ;.r, I t 1: \ '■ " I'i 1 * « 'ft irr •l^: -f! I': :i 1:1 i: I 120 A Backwoods Mystery Rayton got nervously to his feet, then sank down again. "There would be plenty of rivals — of a kind," he said. " That is the truth, as you must know. But like poor Marsh, none is — would be — worth considering. So, you see, fate, or whatever it is that plays this game, is playing stupidly. That is why I think it nothing but chance, in this case — the whole thing nothing but the maddest chance." " You have eased my mind very greatly " she said. The Englishman bowed and rose from his chair. " I am glad," he said simply. " Now I must be starting for home. I left Banks and Goodine work- ing over a moose head that Banks got yesterday." " You do not think Dick Goodine set fire to David's camp, do you? There is bad blood be- tween them, you know," she said anxiously. " He was with us all yesterday and the day be- fore," he answered, " so I knew he had nothing to do with it." At the door the young woman said, " I am very glad you came over tliis morning." And then, with an air of sudden awakening to the common- places of life, " Did you come for anything in par- ticular? To see Jim. perhaps? " she asked. "■f:i ' Rayton Goes to Borrow a Saucepan 121 " No. Oh, no," he answered, hat in hand. " I just came — that is, I just happened along." He was halfway home when he remembered me saucepan. i , !l ijl Hi •n f CHAPTER IX RAYTON CONFESSES Old Timothy I'lctcher, Captain Wigniore's ser- vant and companion, was more of a mystery to the people of Samson's Mill Settlement than the cap- tain himself, lie was nut as sociable as his master, kept to the h(nise a j,'reat deal, and moved with a furtive air whenever he ventured abroad. In speech lie was reserved to such an extent that he seldom addressed a word to anybody but Wigmore, and Ml nianner he was decidedly unpleasant. He was neither liked nor understood by his neighbors. He did not care a rap what the people thought of him, and yet. with all his ouecrness and imscK'iability' he possessed many co.t.mon human traits. He served the captain faithfully, haf those long cigars, and a tin box of fat cigaK ites — and he knew he was welome to his bed and board. He felt a warm friendship for his host and the Harleys, and a deep interest in all the other people of the place. Captain Wigmore and his old servant excited his curiosity like the first — or last — volume of an old-style novel. They suggested a galloping story; but Benjamin Samson, David Marsh, and the others suggested nothing more exciting than character studies. Doc- tor Nash did not interest the New Yorker at all, but of course the doctor could not realize this fact, and persisted in considering himself to be Mr. Banks' only congenial companion in the neighbor- hood. On the day of the first snow Dick Goodine walked over to Rayton's farm to borrow a draw- Rayton Confesses 135 knife. He was making an extra pair of snow- shoes, and overliauling his outfit for the winter's trapping. Banks and Turk were afield, looking for hares and grouse ; but Dick found the Englishman in his red bari, threshing buckwheat. Rayton threw his flail aside and the two shook hands. "Have you sech a thing as a drawknife, Mr. Rayton? " " Two of them, Dick. I use them mostly to cut my fingers with." " Can I have the loan of one for a few days? " " I'll give you one, lOick. You'll be doing me a kindness to take it and keep it, old chap, for I am a regular duffer with edged tools." He found the knife and spent ten minutes in forcing it upon the trapper as a gift. At la.st Dick accepted it. " But I tell you right now, Mr. Rayton," he said, " I'll git mad if you try givin' me a horse, or a cow, or your farm. You've already give me something of i)retty near everything you own. It ain't right." Rayton laughed. Then his face became sud- denly very grave. " See here, Dick, I've something serious to say .f t l» i' if.! it ill i 1 I I;. Mi 4f .1 I V I' < ! 130 A Rack woods Mystery to you," he said. " Something I've been worrying over for the last day or two. You've always been honest with me — the soul of honesty — so I must be honest with you." "What have I bin doin'?" asked the trapper uneasily. " You? Oh, you haven't done anything that you shouldn t, (jld man. I am thinking of myself. You told mc, a little while ago, that you were — ah — very fond of Miss Harley. But you told me in ''vrh a way, old man, as to lead me to think that— that you didn't believe yourself to have — much chance — in the (luarter." " That's right, Mr. Rayton," replied the trapper frankly. " I knew there wasn't any chance for me, and I know it stili. I saiu that you was the kind of man she'd ought to marry, some day. I'm a good trapper, and I try to be an honest friend to them as act friendly to me; but I'm just a tough, ignorant bushwhacker. She ain't my kind — nor David Marsh's kind — and neither is Jim. She's more like you and Mr. Banks." Rayton blushed deeply. " My dear chap, you must not talk like that," he said. " You live in the bush, of course, but so do I, and so do all of us. But — but what I Ray ton Confesses 137 want to say, Dick, is this: I am — I am in love with Miss Harley! " "Gc^d for you!" exclaimed the trapper. He extended his hand. "Lay it there! And good Ivick to you ! " CHAPTER X ♦,( 1' ■ .; RED CROSSES AGAIN " I AM investigating the mysteries of Samson's Mill Settlement along lines of my own," said Harvey P. Banks. " My system of detection is not perfect yet, but it is good enough to go ahead with. So far I have not nailed anything down, but my little hammer is ready, I can tell you. 1 am full of highly colored suspicions, and there is one thing I am reauy to swear to." " What is that? " asked Reginald Baynes Rayton. "Just this, Reginald. I'll eat my boots — and they cost me twelve plunks — if the burning of young Marsh's camp and the attack upon old Timothy Fletcher are not parts of the same game. I don't see any connection, mind you, but I'll swear it is so. I have two pieces of this picture puzzle on the table, and I am waiting for more. I know that these two pieces belong 1 > the same picture." "And what about the marked card?" inquired Rayton. " Is it part of your puzzle? " "Certainly. It is the title of the picture. But 138 m i Red Crosses Again 139 I want more pieces, and just at this stage I need another game of poker. Can you get the same bunch of players together for to-night — and Dick Goodine? " " I'll try. If we both set to work we can make the round this afternoon. Jim Harlcy fs home, I knew. Why do you want Dick? I give you my word, H. P., that you'll not find him one of the crooked pieces of your puzzle picture." " Right you are, son ! But he has sharp eyes, and as he is our friend it would not be polite to give a party and leave him out. He needn't play. Somebody must sit out, anyway, or we'll have too many for a good game, but he can talk, and look on, and help burn tobacco." " Good ! Then we must get Goodine, Nash, Wigmore, Marsh, Jim Harle>, and Benjamin Sam- son." " .,ever mind Samson. We don t need him. He is harmless and hopeless — and one too many. Also, he has promised Mrs. Samson never to stay out again after ten o'clock at night." " All serene. We'd better start out with our in- vites right after grub. And as the roads are bad we may as well ride. You can have Buller and I'll take Bobs. Who do you want to call on?" '" :^B^ ;■ 'Sf 1 fHlff '^ f 'I, ( ' ^', ' . : 1 * 1 h ■' * 1 fl }* ' 1 f t' > fi ! 1 H k 'V » 1 I Ilk''- Ti';; 140 A Backwoods Mystery and leave the " I'll see Nash and Wigmore, others to you." So, after the midday meal, they saddled the two farm horses and set out. Mr. Banks rode straight to Captain Wigmore's house. The air was still mild and the sky was clouded. About four inches of slushy snow lay upon the half- frozen ruts of the roads. The New Yorker hitched BuUer in an open carriage shed, and hammered with the butt of his whip upon the front door. He waited pa- tiently for nearly ten minutes, then hammered again. This time the summons brought old Tim- othy Fletcher, looking even more sullen than usual and with his gray-streaked hair standing up like the crest of some grotesque fowl. His eyes had the appearance of being both sharp and dull at the same time. They showed inner points, glinting like ice, and an outer, blinking film like the shadow of recent sleep. For several seconds he stood with the door no more than six inches ajar, staring and blinking at the caller, his wind-tanned brow for- bidding, but his lower face as expressionless as a panel of the door. "Who d'ye want, sir?" he ii.^uired at last, in a grudging voice. "Good!" exclaimed Mr. Banks. "I really Red Crosses Again 141 want to Is he at thought you were asleep, Timothy. I speak to the captain for a few minutes. home?" Timothy Fletcher lowered his staring eyes for an instant, then raised them again, blinking owl- isbly. The glint in their depths brightened, and took on sharper edges. "What d'ye want to speak to him about?" he asked suspiciously. " I'll tell that to your master," replied Mr. Banks blandly. " He ain't at home." "Not at home? Guess again, my good man." " I tell ye, he ain't at home ! " "Not so fast," said the sportsman coolly, and with astonishing swiftness he advanced his heavily booted right foot, and thrust it across the threshold. The door nipped it instantly. " It is not polite to slam doors in the fac^-s of your master's friends," he said. Then he threw all his weight against the door, flinging it wide open and hurling Timothy Fletchei- against the wall. " I don't like your manners," he said. " I in- tend to keep my eye on you. I give you fair warn- ing, Timothy Fletcher." r I 142 A Backwoods Mystery » f Wi It ... -,■ m>\ m l!!t ± The old fellow stood against the wall, breathing heavily, but in no wise abashed. He grinned sar- donically. " Warning? " he gasped. " Ye warn me! Chuck it!" Mr. Banks halted and gazed at him, noting the narrow, heaving chest and gray face. " I hope I have not hurt you. I opened the door a trifle more violently than I intended," he said. Fletcher did not answer. Banks glanced up the stairs and beheld Captain Wigmore standing at the top and smiling down at him. He turned sharply to the servant. "There!" he whispered. "Just as I suspected! You were lying." The old fellow twisted his gray face savagely. That was his only answer. Timothy retired to the back of the house as Captain Wigmore descended the stairs. The cap- tain was in fine spirits. He clasped his visitor's hand and patted his shoulder. " Come into my den," he cried. " What'll you hav? Tea, whisky, sherry? Give it a name, my boy." " A drop of Scotch, if you have it handy," replied the sailer. *' But I came over just for a ii\ Red Crosses Again 143 moment, captain, to see if you can join us to-night in a little game of poker." " Delighted ! Nothing I'd like better. We've been dull as ditch water lately," answered the cap- tain, as he placed a glass and decanter before his visitor. " Just a moment," he added. " There is no water — and there is no bell in this room. Timothy has a strong objection to bells." Wigmore left the room, returning in a minute with a jug of water. He closed the door behind him. " Same crowd, I suppose," he said, " and the cards cut at eight o'clock." Banks nodded, and sipped his whisky and water. " Yes, about eight," he answered. " We don't keep city hours." " Do you expect the marked card to turn up again?" asked Captain Wigmore, fixing him with a keen glance. The New Yorker looked slightly disconcerted, but only for a fraction of a second. " Yes, I am hoping so," he admitted. " I want to see those marks. Do you think there is any chance of the thing working to-night ? " " That is just what I want to know," returned the captain. "If the devil is at the bottom of that 144 A Backwoods Mystery .' 1 iff m i trick, as Jim Harley would have us all believe, I see no reason why he should neglect us to-night. But, seriously, I am convinced that we might play a thousand games and never see those two red crosses on the face of a card again. It was cliance, of course, and that the Ilarleys should have that family tradition all ready was a still more remarka- ble chance." Mr. Banks nodded. " We'll look for you about eight o'clock," he said, and then, very swiftly for a man of his weight, he sprang from his chair and yanked open the dcn^T. There, with his feet at the very threshold, stood Timothy Fletcher. Banks turned to the captain with a gesture that drew the old man's attention to the old servant's position. " I'd keep my eye on this man, if I were you," he said. " I have caught him both at lying and eavesdropping to-day." " Timothy, what the devil do you mean by such behavior?" cried Wigmore furiously. Timothy leered, turned, and walked slowly away. Mr. Banks mounted his horse and set out for Doctor Nash's at a bone-wrenching trot. " I'll bet a dollar old Fletcher is at the bottom of the whole business," he murmured. " I wonder where Wigmore picked him up. He looks like Red Crosses Again 145 something lifted from the bottom of the sea." During the ride to the doctor's, and throughout the homeward journey, his mind was busy with Tim- othy Fletcher. When he reached home he told something of his new suspicion to Rayton. " How could that poor old chap have got at that card?" asked Rayton. "He has never been inside my sitting room in his life." "That is just what you think, Rcginal( re- plied Mr. Banks. " But we'll soon know all ab«nit it, you take my word. I am on a hot scent!" Jim Ilarlcy was the first of the company to arrive. He looked worried, but said nothing about his anxieties. Next came young Marsh, with his right arm in a sling and a swagger in his stride. Dick Goodine and Captain Wigmore appeared to- gether, having met at the gate. The captain wore a cutaway coat, a fancy waistcoat, and a white sdk cravat fastened with a pearl pin. His whiskers were combed and parted to a wish, his gray hair was slick as the floor of a roller-skating rink, and his smiling lips disclosed his flashing " store " teeth. He was much merrier and smarter than on the night of the last game. Doctor Nash was still to come. " We'll give him fifteen minutes' grace," said 146 A Backvvoo"ds Mystery i; H Rayton, " and if he does not turn up by then we'll sit in to the game without him." " He is trying to be fashionable," said Captain Wigmore. "Poor fellow!" Banks produced his cigars and cigarettes. David Marsh drew his chair close up to Dick Goodine's and began to talk in guarded tones. " D'ye know, Dick, I'm mighty upset," he whis- pered. " I'd feel easier if I knew you'd done me dirt than the way I do now. I can stand up to a man — but this here mysterious business ain't the kind o' thing nobody can stand up to." "Scart?" inquired Dick. " No, I ain't scart. Just oneasy. D'ye reckon them little crosses will turn up to-night ? " "Guess not. That sort o' thing don't happen more'n once." " Will you swear you didn't cut my canoe pole, Dick — so help you God!" " So help me God, I didn't cut it nor harm it in ary way. And I don't know who did." " I believe you — now. I guess there's some- thing worse nor you on my trail. If that marked card turns up to-night, and comes to me, I'll git out o' the country. That'll be the cheapest thing to do, I guess." Red Crosses Again 147 " I wouldn't if I was you. I'd just lay low and keep my eyes skinned." Then Doctor. Nash arrived, and all pulled their chairs to the table except Dick Goodine. They drew for cards and Mr. Banks produced an ace. The pack was swiftly shuffled, cut, and dealt. David Marsh put his left hand on the table, touched his cards, hesitated for a moment, and then sprang to his feet. His face was twisted with a foolish grin. "I guess not!" he exclaimed. "It ain't good enough for me." The captain, having settled down to business, had lost his sweet and playful temper. "What's that?" he snapped. "Not good enough! What's not good enough?" "The risk ain't good enough," replied Marsh, sullenly and yet with an attempt at lightness. " I don't like them red crosses. I've had enough of 'em, whoever works 'em — man or devil — he's cured me ! " "Cured you?" queried Jim Harley, glancing up from his hand. "Yes, cured me!" cried Marsh forcibly, "and I don't care who knows it. I ain't 'shamed to say it, neither I've broke my arm, lost a canoe, and 148 A Backwoods Mystery i*» ') iJr a camp — and a good job! Ain't that enough? I quit! I quit right now." " Do you mean you'll quit playing cards? " asked Rayton. " I guess you know what I mean," retorted David. " And I guess Jim Harley knows, too." "Oh, shut up!" snapped old Wignicire. "We came here to play poker, not to listen to you. Who sits in and takes this heroic gentleman's place? Goodine, it's up to you." " Don't care if I do," said the trapper; so he and David Marsh changed seats. The game went on for half an hour without any fuss. Doctor Nash was winning. Then, after a throwdown, Rayton gathered up the old pack and replaced them with a new. " You are grr^ ng extravagant, Reginald," said the captain, glanc.ig at him keenly. Rayton laughed. " I hear Turk scratching," he said. " Excuse me for half a minute." He went into the kitchen, and threw the old pack of cards into the stove. He returned immediately to his place at the table and the game went on. Nash's pile of blue chips dwindled steadily and Dick Goodine began to stack up the red, white, and Red Crosses Again 149 blue. Mr. Banks seemed to be playinK' a slack game, i^aptain Wigmore played keenly and snapped at cvciy one. Kay ton left his chair tor a few seconds and pbced glasses, a decanter, and cold water on the table. " Help yourselves," he .said. " We'll have cotTee. and sonietlr.ng to eat, lati -." Captain Wigmore waved the li«iuor aside, but the. lers diarged their glasses. Good ine displayed three aces and scooped in a jack pot that had stood secure and accumulating for several rounds.^^ " Hah, Davy, ynu dropptxl out too soon," said Nash. " You got cold feet at the wrong time of day. Don't you wish, now. that you'd stayed in the game? " "Wouldn't risk :t, doc --not even for a ten- dollar pot," replied Marsh. "Bah! " exclaimed old Wigmore, as he cut the deck for Jim Harley. Jim dealt. Rayton ' .oked steadily at his f^ve cards, then slipped ihem together between thumb and finger, .mc. tilted his chair well back from the table. "You look as if you'd been given something pretty good," said Captain Wigmore. "Not half bad," answered the Englishman quietly. 150 A Backwoods Mystery 'ill k i-v m t li.i. " On the side," said Nash, " I bet you a dollar, even, that I hold the best hand — pat." Rayton shook his head. *' Not this titr h, if you don't mind," he replied (juietly. ,ant to take carils." " That's easily managed," persisted the doctor. " I want cards, too; but we can lay our discards aside and show them later. Come, be a sport! Thought all Englishmen were sports." Rayton hesitated. Hushing. " Righ^-o! " he said. " But I'll not be what you call a sport on one dollar! Twenty-five is my bet, Nash — even money. Come! How does that suit you?" " It doesn't suit me at all — thanks just the same," returned the doctor sullenly. " Perhaps you'll leave the English sporting in- stinct alone, after this," said Mr. Banks. "For Heaven's sake, get on with the game!" cried old Wigmore. All " came in " and took cards. Rayton asked for two, and though he did not bet, he kept the five cards in his hand. Wigmore took the money, this time. " Supper," said the Englishman quickly, and gathered up all the cards with swift hands, his own Red Crosses Again 151 included. He entered the kitchen quickly, and they hoard him clattering about the stove. After supper the game went on, with another fresh pack of cards. They had been playing for about a quart t of an hour when Captain Wigmore suddenly began to chuckle. "What's the matter with you? Have you laid an egg?" asked Nash insolently. For a second the old man's face was twisted with white-hot rage and his eyes fairly flamed upon the doctor. He trembled — then smiled calmly. " Some one has, evidently," he said, and spread his five cards face-up upon the table. He pointed at the ace of clubs with a lean finger. It was marked with two little red crosses! " You! " cried Jim Harley, staring incred Jously from the card to the old man and back again to the card. Nash and David Marsh began to laugh uproar- iously. Goodinc and Rayton looked bewildered, and Banks scratched his head reflectively. " That beats the band ! " cried Nash, at last. "Jim, the spook who works that family curse of yours must be going daffy. Good for you, cap- tain! There's life in tlio old dog yet! No wonder you are dressed up so stylish." 152 A Backwoods Mystery ■U \\ ! I He leaned halfway across the table, guffawing in the old man's face. Wigmore's hands darted forward. One gripped Nash's necktie, and the other darted into an inner pocket of his coat. "Here! Drop it, you old devil!" cried the doctor. Captain Wigmore sat back in his chair, laughing softly. He held something in his hand — some- thing that they had all seen him draw from Nash's pocket. " Gentlemen," he said, " look at this. It is an- other card marked with the two red crosses. I took it from the pocket of our worthy young pill roller. Who'd ever ha.'e thought that he was the mysterious indicator of trouble — the warning oi the gods — the instrument of fate?" "You darned old fool!" cried Nash, " tliat is the same card that was dealt to Davy Marsh last time we played. You know it as well as I do, you old ape! Look at it. Look at the back of it. Here, Rayton, you take a look at it." ^^ ^ " It is the same old card," said Rayton. ' Nash took it away with him that night." " Ah! My mistake," said the captain mildly. i<- Red Crosses Again 153 When the company left the house, Ray ton called Jim Harley back, "I can't make it out," he said, looking from Banks to Harley, " but I want you chaps to know that two marked cards were dealt to me before supper. I kept quiet and changed the pack each time." Harley clutched the Englishman's shoulder. " You ! " he exclaimed, with colorless lips. "Twice! Is that true?" " Yes, it's true ; but it is nonsense, of course," returned the Englishman. "Don't worry, Jim," said Mr. Banks calmly. " The thing is all a fake — and I mean to catch the faker before I leave Samson's Mill Settlement! " CHAPTER XI Ij'i Ji »' AN UNFORTUNATE MOMENT FOR THE DOCTOR The morning after the second card party found Banks and Ray ton eating an early breakfast with good appetites. If Rayton felt uneasy, face and manner showed nothing of it. The big New Yorker was in the highes*: spirits. He had found an unfamiliar sport — a new form of hunting — a twisted, mysterious trail, with the Lord knows what at the far end of it. lie was alert, quiet, smiling to himself. He ate five rashers of bacon, drank three cups of coffee, and then lit a cigar. " I'll have my finger on him within the week," he oaid, leaning back in his chair. The Englishman glanced up at him, and smiled. " I do not think we should encourage the idiot by paying any further attention to his silly tricks," he said. " Whoever he is, let him see that he does not amuse or interest any one but himself. Then he'll get tired and drop it. The whole thing is absolute foolishness, and the man at the bottom of it is a fool." 164 An Unfortunate Moment 155 " I mean to trail him, and pin him down, fool or no fool," replied Banks. " I'll make him pay dear for his fooling, by thunder 1 He is having his fun — and I mean to have mine." Rayton laughed. " Go ahead and have your fun, old chap; but I tell you that the more notice you pay his silly tricks, the more you tickle his vanity." " I'll tickle more than his vanity before I'm done with him," promised Banks. The two were washing the dishes, when the kitchen door opened, and Dick Goodine stepped into tV I om. • "We're in for another spell o' soft weather," he said. " It's mild as milk this mornin'. This little lick o' snow'U be all gone by noon. It don't look as if I'll ever get into the woods with my traps." He sat down, filled and lit his pipe, and put his feet on the hearth of the cookstove. "That was an all-fired queer thing about old Wigmore," he said. " All the fools ain't dead yet, I reckon. Since the captain got that there card, the thing don't look as serious to me as it did. Not by a long shot! What d'you say, Mr. Banks? " " You are right, Dick, according to your lights," replied the New Yorker. 156 !M I > li if ■ i^> A Backwoods Mystery The trapper looked puzzled. " He means that you don't know all the par- ticulars of what happened last night," said Ray ton. " Captain Wigniore got the marked card, right encnigh, after supper — but I got it twice, be- fore supper. That is the puzzlin,,^ part of it, Dick." The care-free smile fled from Goodine's hand- some and honest countenance. His dark cheeks paled, and a shadow, starting far down, came up to the surface of his eyes. "You!" he exclaimed. "Twice — before sup- per ! That — that looks bad to me. That's the worst yet." " My dear chap, if the silly thing was dealt to me every night, and chucked into my bedroom win- dow every morning, it wouldn't be a jot less silly," replied Rayton. " Some idiot, who has heard Jim Harley's story, is trying to have some fun out of it. That is all. It amuses him evidently, and doesn't hurt us." Dick Goodine shook his head. " I guess it hurt David Marsh," he said — " whatever it may be. It smashed his arm, an' pretty near drownded him, an' burned his camp, an' about fifty dollars' .worth o' gear an' grub. That don't look much like fun An Unfortunate Moment 157 to mc — not like fun for the man who gets the card, anyhrnv. I'll tell you right now, if ever it comes to me I'll light out within the hour, an' hit the trail for m\ trappin' grounds over beyond the lack o' nowhere." " Don't believe it, Dick." "But that's just what I'fl do all the same. It ain'" natural It's more nor a same, I tell you — it's lik< something I've read about, somewheres or other." "You're vrong there, Dick," said Mr. Banks. " It is a game — a dangeruus one, maybe, but a g: ne, for all that. I'll show you the player, one of the. e days, as sure as my name is Harvey P. Banks! In the meantime, Dick, I'll bet you five dollars that if you happened to be picked out to receive those red marks, as Reginald has been picked out — for the same reason, I mean, accord- ing to the family tradition — you'd not budge an inch or back water half a stroke. You'd just put your finger to your nose at the warning, as Reginald does, even if you thought Fate, family curses, Spanish ghosts, old Jackson, and the devil were all on your trail." The color came back to the trapper's cheeks. He lowered his glance to the toes of his steaming boots H! ■J '! « I'n t!' 15 !f 158 A Backwoods Mystery on the hearth of the stove, and shifted uneasily in his chair. " I guess yer right," he said huskily. "' I ^aess I'd be brave enough to face it, devil an' all, if I had that reason to be brave. But I ain't got that reason, an' never will have — so I'm scart. I'm a durned ignorant bushwhacker, I reckon. Any- how, I'm scart." Rayton placed a hand on the other's choulder for a second. " That is like you," he said. " You are more frightened about your friend than you'll ever be about yourself. But cheer up, old man! I don't think Fate will break any canoe poles on me." "Fate!" repeated Mr. Banks, laughing mer- rily. " Oh, you are safe enough from Fate, Reg- inald!" But Dick Goodine shook his head. During the morning, Rayton went over to the Harley place. The sun was glowing with a heat as of September, and the snow was already a mix- ture of slush and mud. Dick Goodine went about his business; and Mr. Banks sat by the kitchen stove, smoking and strug.^^ling with his puzzle. Rayton found Jim TTarley in tlie barnyard. Jim's greeting was emotional. Tie gripped the ICnglish- I ft